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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/34308-8.txt b/34308-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0873eed --- /dev/null +++ b/34308-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12913 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Avarice-Anger, by Eugène Sue + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Avarice-Anger: + two of the seven cardinal sins + +Author: Eugène Sue + +Illustrator: Adrian Marcel + +Release Date: November 13, 2010 [EBook #34308] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AVARICE-ANGER *** + + + + +Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Google Print project.) + + + + + + + + + +THE SEVEN CARDINAL SINS + +AVARICE + +[Illustration: "_Axe in hand._" + +Original etching by Adrian Marcel.] + + + +Illustrated Cabinet Edition + +Avarice--Anger +Two of the Seven Cardinal Sins +By Eugene Sue + +Illustrated with Etchings by +Adrian Marcel + +Dana Estes & Company +Publishers +Boston + +_Copyright, 1899_ +BY FRANCIS A. NICCOLLS & CO. + + + +Avarice--Anger + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +CHAPTER PAGE + +AVARICE. + +I. AN UNFORTUNATE CHOICE 13 + +II. A TOUCHING EXAMPLE OF UNSELFISH DEVOTION 25 + +III. A SHAMEFUL DECEPTION 36 + +IV. THE VOICE OF THE TEMPTER 46 + +V. FATHER AND SON 57 + +VI. A FATHER'S AMBITION 65 + +VII. THE FORGED LETTER 72 + +VIII. A STARTLING DISCOVERY 78 + +IX. COMMANDANT DE LA MIRAUDIÈRE'S ANTECEDENTS 86 + +X. THE MYSTERY EXPLAINED 97 + +XI. HIDDEN TREASURE 106 + +XII. A VOICE FROM THE GRAVE 113 + +XIII. THE MISER EXTOLLED 118 + +XIV. PLANS FOR THE FUTURE 122 + +XV. MADAME LACOMBE'S UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER 126 + +XVI. A CAPRICIOUS BEAUTY 132 + +XVII. THE HÔTEL SAINT-RAMON 139 + +XVIII. A NOVEL ENTERTAINMENT 146 + +XIX. A CHANGE OF OWNERS 152 + +XX. THE RETURN 159 + +XXI. THE AWAKENING 166 + + +ANGER. + +I. THE DUEL 177 + +II. ANOTHER EBULLITION OF TEMPER 186 + +III. THE WARNING 194 + +IV. "THOSE WHOM THE GODS DESTROY THEY FIRST MAKE MAD" 199 + +V. DEADLY ENMITY 208 + +VI. A CUNNING SCHEME 217 + +VII. HOME PLEASURES 225 + +VIII. THE CAPTAIN'S NARRATIVE 234 + +IX. CONCLUSION OF THE CAPTAIN'S NARRATIVE 240 + +X. SEGOFFIN'S DISSIMULATION 248 + +XI. SABINE'S CONFESSION 255 + +XII. SUZANNE'S ENLIGHTENMENT 265 + +XIII. ONÉSIME'S CONQUEST 271 + +XIV. ARGUMENTS FOR AND AGAINST 279 + +XV. AN UNWELCOME VISITOR 287 + +XVI. SEGOFFIN'S RUSE 294 + +XVII. THE VOICE OF THE TEMPTER 302 + +XVIII. "MY MOTHER'S MURDERER STILL LIVES!" 309 + +XIX. AFTER THE STORM 316 + +XX. THE MIDNIGHT ATTACK 322 + +XXI. A LAST APPEAL 329 + +XXII. CONCLUSION 338 + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. + + + PAGE + +"AXE IN HAND" _Frontispiece_ + +"'GO AWAY AND LET ME ALONE'" 53 + +"'MY STAR HAS NOT DESERTED ME'" 155 + +"SEVERAL MEN RUSHED UPON HIM" 236 + + +Avarice and Anger. + + + + +THE MILLIONAIRES + + + + +AVARICE. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +AN UNFORTUNATE CHOICE. + + +The narrow street known for many long years as the Charnier des +Innocents (the Charnel-house of the Innocents), near the market, has +always been noted for the large number of scriveners who have +established their booths in this densely populated part of Paris. + +One fine morning in the month of May, 18--, a young girl about eighteen +years of age, who was clad in working dress, and whose charming though +melancholy face wore that peculiar pallor which seems to be a sort of +sinister reflection of poverty, was walking thoughtfully down the +Charnier des Innocents. Several times she paused as if in doubt in front +of as many scriveners' booths, but either because the proprietors seemed +too young or too unprepossessing in appearance or too busy, she went +slowly on again. + +Seeing, in the doorway of the last booth, an old man with a face as good +and kind as it was venerable, the young girl did not hesitate to enter +the modest little establishment. + +The scrivener, struck in his turn by the young girl's remarkable beauty +and modest bearing, as well as her timid and melancholy air, greeted her +with almost paternal affability as she entered his shop, after which he +closed the door; then drawing the curtain of the little window, the good +man motioned his client to a seat, while he took possession of his old +leather armchair. + +Mariette--for that was the young girl's name--lowered her big blue eyes, +blushed deeply, and maintained an embarrassed, almost painful, silence +for several seconds. Her bosom rose and fell tumultuously under the +small gray shawl that she wore over her faded calico gown, while the +hands she had clasped in her lap trembled violently. + +The old scrivener, anxious to reassure the poor girl, said to her, +almost affectionately, "Come, come, my child, compose yourself. Why +should you feel this embarrassment? You came to ask me to write some +request or petition for you, or, perhaps, a letter, did you not?" + +"Yes, monsieur, it was--it was to ask you to write a letter for me that +I came." + +"Then you do not know how to write?" + +"No, monsieur," replied Mariette, blushing still more deeply, as if +ashamed of her ignorance, whereupon the scrivener, regretting that he +had thus humiliated his client, said, kindly: + +"You certainly cannot suppose me capable of blaming you for your +ignorance. On the contrary, it is a sincere compassion I feel for +persons who, for want of an education, are compelled to come to me, to +apply to a third party, who may betray their confidence, and, perhaps, +even ridicule them! And yet they are compelled to confide their dearest +and most secret thoughts to these strangers. It is very hard, is it +not?" + +"It is, indeed, monsieur," replied Mariette, touched by these words. "To +be obliged to apply to a stranger to--" + +The young girl did not finish the sentence, but blushed deeply, and her +eyes filled with tears. + +Gazing at his youthful client with even greater interest, the scrivener +said: + +"Do not be so troubled, my child. You have neither garrulousness nor +ridicule to fear from me. I have always regarded as something +indescribably touching and sacred the confidence which persons who have +been deprived of the advantages of an education are obliged to repose in +me." + +Then, with a kindly smile, he added: "But pray do not suppose for one +moment, mademoiselle, that I say this to glorify myself at the expense +of my _confreres_, and to get their clients away from them. No, I am +saying exactly what I think and feel; and at my age, one certainly may +be allowed to do that." + +Mariette, more and more surprised at the old man's words, said, +gratefully: + +"I thank you, monsieur; you relieve me very much by thus understanding +and excusing my embarrassment. It is very hard not to know how to read +and write," she added, sighing," but, alas! very often one cannot help +it." + +"I am sure, my poor child, that in your case, as in the case of many +other young girls who apply to me, it is not the good-will but the +opportunity that is lacking. Many of these young girls, from being +obliged to take care of their young brothers and sisters while their +parents are busy away from home, have had no chance to attend school. +Others were apprenticed at an early age--" + +"Like myself, monsieur," said Mariette, smiling. "I was apprenticed when +I was only nine years old, and up to that time I had been obliged to +remain at home and take care of a little brother, who died a short time +before my father and mother." + +"Poor child! your history is very similar to that of most young girls of +your station in life. But, since your term of apprenticeship expired, +have you made no effort to acquire a little education?" + +"Since that time I have had to work all day and far into the night to +earn enough to keep my godmother and myself alive, monsieur," said +Mariette, sadly. + +"Alas! yes, time is bread to the labourer, and only too often he has to +choose whether he shall die of hunger or live in ignorance." + +Then, becoming more and more interested, he added: "You spoke of your +godmother just now; so your father and mother are both dead, I suppose?" + +"Yes, as I told you a little while ago," replied Mariette, sadly. "But +pardon me, monsieur, for taking up so much of your time instead of +telling you at once what I want you to write for me." + +"I am sure my time could not have been better spent, for I am an old +man, and I have had a good deal of experience, and I feel sure that you +are a good and worthy girl. But now about the letter. Do you prefer to +give me a rough idea of what you wish to write and let me put it in my +own words, or do you prefer to dictate the letter?" + +"I would rather dictate it, monsieur." + +"Then I am ready," said the old man, putting on his spectacles, and +seating himself at his desk with his eyes fixed upon the paper so as not +to increase his client's embarrassment by looking at her. + +So, after a moment's hesitation, Mariette, with downcast eyes, proceeded +to dictate, as follows: + +"Monsieur Louis." + +On hearing this name, the old scrivener made a slight movement of +surprise,--a fact that was not noticed by Mariette, who repeated, in a +less trembling voice this time, "Monsieur Louis." + +"I have written that," said the scrivener, still without looking at +Mariette, whereupon the latter continued, hesitating every now and then, +for, in spite of her confidence in the old man, it was no easy matter to +reveal her secret thoughts to him: + +"I am greatly troubled, for I have heard nothing from you, though you +promised to write me while you were away." + +"While you were away," repeated the scrivener, whose face had suddenly +become thoughtful, and who was saying to himself, with a vague anxiety: +"This is a singular coincidence. His name is Louis, and he is away." + +"I hope you are well, M. Louis," Mariette continued, "and that it is not +on account of any illness that you have not written to me, for then I +should have two causes of anxiety instead of one. + +"To-day is the sixth of May, M. Louis, the sixth of May, so I could not +let the day pass without writing to you. Perhaps the same thought will +occur to you, and that day after to-morrow I shall receive a letter from +you, as you will receive one from me. Then I shall know that it was not +on account of forgetfulness or sickness that you have delayed writing to +me so long. In that case, how happy I shall be! So I shall wait for day +after to-morrow with great impatience. Heaven grant that I may not be +disappointed, M. Louis." + +Mariette stifled a sigh as she uttered these last words, and a tear +rolled down her cheek. + +A long pause followed. The features of the scrivener who was bending +over his desk could not be seen by the young girl, but they were +assuming a more and more anxious expression; and two or three times he +tried to steal a furtive glance at his client, as if the interest he had +felt in her had given place to a sort of distrust caused by grave +apprehensions on his part. + +The young woman, keeping her eyes still fixed upon her lap, continued: + +"I have no news to tell you, M. Louis. My godmother is still very ill. +Her sufferings seem to increase, and that renders her much more +irritable. In order that I may be with her as much as possible, I sew at +home now most of the time, instead of going to Madame Jourdan's, so the +days seem long and gloomy; for the work done in the shop with my +companions was almost a pleasure, and seemed to progress much more +rapidly. So I am obliged to work far into the night now, and do not get +much sleep, as my godmother suffers much more at night than in the +daytime, and requires a great deal of attention from me. Sometimes I do +not even wake when she calls me because I am so dead with sleep, and +then she scolds, which is very natural when she suffers so. + +"You can understand, of course, that my life at home is not very happy, +and that a friendly word from you would be a great comfort, and console +me for many things that are very unpleasant. + +"Good-bye, M. Louis. I expected to have written to you through +Augustine, but she has gone back to her home now, and I have been +obliged to apply to another person, to whom I have dictated this letter. +Ah, M. Louis, never have I realised the misfortune of not knowing how to +read or write as much as I do at this present time. + +"Farewell, M. Louis, think of me, I beg of you, for I am always thinking +of you. + +"With sincere affection I once more bid you adieu." + +As the young girl remained silent for a minute or two after these words, +the old man turned to her and asked: + +"Is that all, my child?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"And what name is to be signed to this letter?" + +"The name of Mariette, monsieur." + +"Mariette only?" + +"Mariette Moreau, if you think best, monsieur. That is my family name." + +"Signed, Mariette Moreau," said the old man, writing the name as he +spoke. + +Then, having folded the letter, he asked, concealing the secret anxiety +with which he awaited the girl's reply: + +"To whom is this letter to be addressed, my child?" + +"To M. Louis Richard. General delivery, Dreux." + +"I thought as much," secretly groaned the old man, as he prepared to +write the address Mariette had just given him. + +If the young girl had not been so deeply preoccupied she could hardly +have failed to notice the change in the expression of the scrivener's +face,--a change which became still more noticeable when he discovered +for a certainty for whom this missive was intended. It was with a look +of positive anger now that he furtively watched Mariette, and he seemed +unable to make up his mind to write the address she had just given him, +for after having written upon the envelope the words, "To Monsieur," he +dropped his pen, and said to his client, forcing a smile in order to +conceal alike his resentment and his apprehensions: + +"Now, my child, though this is the first time we ever saw each other, it +seems to me you feel you can trust me a little already." + +"That is true, monsieur. Before I came here, I feared I should not have +the courage to dictate my letter to an entire stranger, but your manner +was so kind that I soon got over my embarrassment." + +"I certainly see no reason why you should feel the slightest +embarrassment. If I were your own father, I could not find a word of +fault with the letter you have just written to--to M. Louis, and if I +were not afraid of abusing the confidence you say that you have in me, I +should ask--but no, that would be too inquisitive." + +"You would ask me what, monsieur?" + +"Who this M. Louis Richard is?" + +"That is no secret, monsieur. M. Louis is the clerk of a notary whose +office is in the same building as the shop in which I work. It was in +this way that we became acquainted on the sixth of May, just one year +ago to-day." + +"Ah! I understand now why you laid such stress upon that date in your +letter." + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"And you love each other, I suppose,--don't blush so, child,--and expect +to marry some day, probably?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"And M. Louis's family consents to the marriage?" + +"M. Louis has no one but his father to consult, and we hope he will not +refuse his consent." + +"And the young man's father, what kind of a person is he?" + +"The best of fathers, M. Louis says, and bears his present poverty with +great courage and cheerfulness, though he used to be very well off. M. +Louis and his father are as poor now, though, as my godmother and I are. +That makes us hope that he will not oppose our marriage." + +"And your godmother, my child,--it seems to me she must be a great trial +to you." + +"When one suffers all the time, and has never had anything but +misfortunes all one's life, it is very natural that one should not be +very sweet tempered." + +"Your godmother is an invalid, then?" + +"She has lost one of her hands, monsieur, and she has a lung trouble +that has confined her to the bed for more than a year." + +"Lost her hand,--how?" + +"She used to work in a mattress factory, monsieur, and one day she ran a +long, crooked needle into her hand. The wound became inflamed from want +of care, for my godmother had not time to give it the attention it +should have had, and the doctors were obliged to cut her arm off. The +wound reopens now and then, and causes her a great deal of pain." + +"Poor woman!" murmured the scrivener, absently. + +"As for the lung trouble she has," continued Mariette, "many women who +follow that trade contract the disease, the doctors say, from breathing +the unwholesome dust from the old mattresses they make over. My +godmother is bent almost double, and nearly every night she has such +terrible fits of coughing that I have to hold her for hours, sometimes." + +"And your godmother has nothing but your earnings to depend on?" + +"She cannot work now, monsieur, of course." + +"Such devotion on your part is very generous, I must say." + +"I am only doing my duty, monsieur. My godmother took care of me after +my parents died, and paid for a three years' apprenticeship for me. But +for her, I should not be in a position to earn my living, so it is only +right that she should profit now by the assistance she gave me years +ago." + +"But you must have to work very hard to support her and yourself?" + +"Yes; I have to work from fifteen to eighteen hours a day, monsieur." + +"And at night you have to nurse her instead of taking the rest you so +much need?" + +"Who else would nurse her, monsieur?" + +"But why doesn't she try to get into some hospital?" + +"They will not take her into a hospital because the lung trouble she has +is incurable. Besides, I could not desert her like that." + +"Ah, well, my child, I see that I was not mistaken. You are a good, +noble-hearted girl, there is no doubt of it," added the old man, holding +out his hand to Mariette. + +As he did, either through awkwardness, or intentionally, the scrivener +overturned the inkstand that stood on his desk in such a way that a good +part of the contents ran over the letter, which lacked only the address +to complete it. + +"Good heavens! How unfortunate, the letter is covered with ink, +monsieur!" exclaimed Mariette. + +"How awkward in me!" responded the old man, with a disgusted air. +"Still, it doesn't matter very much, after all. It was a short letter. I +write very rapidly, and it will not take me more than ten minutes to +copy it for you, my child. At the same time, I will read it aloud so you +can see if there is any change you would like to make in it." + +"I am truly sorry to give you so much trouble, monsieur." + +"It serves me right, as it was all my fault," responded the old man, +cheerfully. + +And he began to read the letter aloud as he wrote, exactly as if he were +recopying it, as he proceeded with the reading. Nevertheless, from the +scrivener's manner it seemed evident that a violent struggle was going +on in his breast, for sometimes he sighed and knit his brows, sometimes +he seemed confused and kept his eyes sedulously averted from the +ingenuous face of Mariette, who sat with one elbow resting upon the +table, and her head supported on her hand, watching with envious eyes +the rapid movements of the old man's pen, as it traced characters which +were undecipherable to her, but which would, as she fondly supposed, +convey her thoughts to the man she loved. + +The young girl expressing no desire to make the slightest change in her +artless missive, the scrivener handed it to her after having carefully +sealed it. + +"And now, monsieur, how much do I owe you?" timidly inquired the girl, +drawing a little purse containing two small silver corns and a few sous +from her pocket. + +"Fifty centimes," replied the old man after a moment's hesitation, +remembering, perhaps, that it was at the cost of a day's bread that the +poor girl was writing to her lover; "fifty centimes," repeated the +scrivener, "for you understand, of course, my child, that I expect you +to pay for only one of the letters I have written. I alone am +responsible for my awkwardness." + +"You are certainly very honest, monsieur," said Mariette, touched by +what she considered a proof of generosity on the part of the scrivener. +Then, after having paid for her letter, she added: + +"You have been so kind to me, monsieur, that I shall venture to ask a +favour of you." + +"Speak, my child." + +"If I have any other letters to write, it would be almost impossible for +me to apply to any one but you, monsieur." + +"I shall be at your service." + +"But this is not all, monsieur. My godmother is as I am. She can neither +read nor write. I had a friend I could depend upon, but she is out of +town. In case I should receive a letter from M. Louis, would you be kind +enough to read it to me?" + +"Certainly, my child. I will read your letters to you with pleasure. +Bring them all to me," replied the old man, with much inward +gratification. "It is I who should thank you for the confidence you +manifest in me. I hope I shall soon see you again, and that you leave +here much more easy in mind than when you came." + +"I certainly could not expect such kindness as you have shown me from +any one else." + +"Farewell, then, my child, and be sure that you consider me your reader +and secretary henceforth. It really seems as if we must have known each +other a dozen years." + +"That is true, monsieur. _Au revoir._" + +"_Au revoir_, my child." + +Mariette had hardly left the booth when a postman appeared in the +doorway, and holding out a letter to the old scrivener, said, cordially: + +"Here, Father Richard, is a letter from Dreux." + +"A letter from Dreux!" exclaimed the old man, seizing it eagerly. "Thank +you, my friend." Then, examining the handwriting, he said to himself: +"It is from Ramon! What is he going to tell me? What does he think of my +son? Ah! what is going to become of all the fine plans Ramon and I +formed so long ago?" + +"There are six sous to pay on it, Father Richard," said the postman, +arousing the old scrivener from his reverie. + +"Six sous! the devil! isn't it prepaid?" + +"Look at the stamp, Father Richard." + +"True," said the scrivener, sighing heavily, as he reluctantly drew the +ten sous piece he had just received from his pocket and handed it to the +postman. + +While this was going on, Mariette was hastening homeward. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +A TOUCHING EXAMPLE OF UNSELFISH DEVOTION. + + +Mariette soon reached the gloomy and sombre thoroughfare known as the +Rue des Prêtres St. Germain-l'Auxerrois, and entered one of the houses +opposite the grim walls of the church. After traversing a dark alley, +the girl began to climb a rickety stairway as dark as the alley itself, +for the only light came through a courtyard so narrow that it reminded +one of a well. + +The porter's room was on the first landing only a few steps from the +stairway, and Mariette, pausing there, said to the woman who occupied +it: + +"Madame Justin, did you have the goodness to go up and see if my +godmother wanted anything?" + +"Yes, Mlle. Mariette, I took her milk up to her, but she was in such a +bad humour that she treated me like a dog. Had it not been for obliging +you, I would have let the old crosspatch alone, I can tell you." + +"You must not be too hard on her, Madame Justin; she suffers so much." + +"Oh, you are always making excuses for her, I know. It shows how +good-hearted you are, but it doesn't prevent your godmother from being a +hateful old thing. Poor child, you certainly are having your purgatory +in advance. If there is no paradise for you hereafter you will certainly +be cheated out of your rightful dues. But wait a minute, I have a letter +for you." + +"A letter?" exclaimed Mariette, her heart throbbing with relief and +hope, "a letter from some one out of the city?" + +"Yes, mademoiselle, it is postmarked Dreux, and there are six sous to +pay on it. Here it is, and see, on the corner of the envelope the writer +has put the words, 'Very urgent.'" + +Mariette seized the letter and slipped it into her bosom; then, drawing +out her little purse again, she took from it her last ten sous piece and +paid the woman, after which she hastened up to her room, pleased and at +the same time anxious and sad; pleased at having received a letter from +Louis, anxious concerning the significance of those words, "Very +urgent," written in a corner of the envelope, and sad because several +hours must elapse before she would know the contents of the letter, for +she dared not absent herself again after having left her godmother alone +so long. + +It was with a sort of dread that she finally opened the door of the room +on the fifth floor that she occupied with her godmother. The poor woman +was lying on the only bed the two women possessed. A thin mattress now +rolled up out of the way in a corner, but laid on the floor at night, +served as a bed for Mariette. A table, an old bureau, two chairs, a few +cooking utensils hanging on the wall near the fireplace, were the only +articles of furniture in the dimly lighted room, but everything was +scrupulously clean. + +Madame Lacombe--for that was the invalid's name--was a tall, frightfully +pale, and emaciated woman, about fifty years of age, with a peevish, +disagreeable face. Bent nearly double in the bed, one could see of her +only her mutilated arm swathed in bandages, and her irascible face, +surrounded by an old cap from which a wisp of gray hair crept out here +and there, while her bluish lips were continually distorted by a bitter +and sardonic smile. + +Madame Lacombe seemed to be suffering greatly. At all events she was in +an execrable temper, and her hollow eyes gleamed ominously. Making an +effort to turn herself in bed, so as to get a look at her godchild, she +exclaimed, wrathfully: + +"Where on earth have you been all this time, you gadabout?" + +"I have been gone barely an hour, godmother." + +"And you hoped to find me dead when you got back, didn't you, now? Oh, +you needn't deny it. You've had enough of me, yes, too much. The day my +coffin lid is screwed down will be a happy day for you, and for me, too, +for it is too bad, too bad for any one to have to suffer as I do," added +the poor woman, pressing her hand upon her bosom, and groaning heavily. + +Mariette dried the tears her godmother's sarcastic words had excited, +and approaching the sufferer, said, gently: + +"You had such a bad night last night that I hoped you would be more +comfortable to-day and get a little sleep while I was out." + +"If I suffer or if I starve to death it makes no difference to you, +evidently, provided you can run the streets." + +"I went out this morning because I was absolutely obliged to, godmother, +but before I left I asked Madame Justin--" + +"I'd as lief see a death's-head as that creature, so when you want to +get rid of me you have only to send her to wait on me." + +"Shall I dress your arm, godmother?" + +"No, it is too late for that now. You stayed away on purpose. I know you +did." + +"I am sorry I was late, but won't you let me dress it now?" + +"I wish to heaven you would leave me in peace." + +"But your arm will get worse if you don't have it dressed." + +"And that is exactly what you want." + +"Oh, godmother, don't say that, I beg of you." + +"Don't come near me! I won't have it dressed, I say." + +"Very well, godmother," replied the girl, sighing. Then she added, "I +asked Madame Justin to bring up your milk. Here it is. Would you like me +to warm it a little?" + +"Milk? milk? I'm tired of milk! The very thought of it makes me sick at +my stomach. The doctor said I was to have good strong bouillon, with a +chop and a bit of chicken now and then. I had some Monday and +Wednesday--but this is Sunday." + +"It is not my fault, godmother. I know the doctor ordered it, but one +must have money to follow his directions, and it is almost impossible +for me to earn twenty sous a day now." + +"You don't mind spending money on clothes, I'm sure. When my comfort is +concerned it is a very different thing." + +"But I have had nothing but this calico dress all winter, godmother," +answered Mariette, with touching resignation. "I economise all I can, +and we owe two months' rent for all that." + +"That means I am a burden to you, I suppose. And yet I took you in out +of the street, and had you taught a trade, you ungrateful, hard-hearted +minx!" + +"No, godmother, I am not ungrateful. When you are not feeling as badly +as you are now you are more just to me," replied Mariette, restraining +her tears; "but don't insist upon going without eating any longer. It +will make you feel so badly." + +"I know it. I've got dreadful cramps in my stomach now." + +"Then take your milk, I beg of you, godmother." + +"I won't do anything of the kind! I hate milk, I tell you." + +"Shall I go out and get you a couple of fresh eggs?" + +"No, I want some chicken." + +"But, godmother, I can't--" + +"Can't what?" + +"Buy chicken on credit." + +"I only want a half or a quarter of one. You had twenty-four sous in +your purse this morning." + +"That is true, godmother." + +"Then go to the _rôtisseur_ and buy me a quarter of a chicken." + +"But, godmother, I--" + +"Well?" + +"I haven't that much money any longer, I have only a few sous left." + +"And those two ten sous pieces; what became of them?" + +"Godmother--" + +"Where are those two ten sous pieces, tell me?" + +"I--I don't know," repeated the poor girl, blushing. "They must have +slipped out of my purse. I--I--" + +"You lie. You are blushing as red as a beet." + +"I assure you--" + +"Yes, yes, I see," sneered the sick woman, "while I am lying here on my +death-bed you have been stuffing yourself with dainties." + +"But, godmother--" + +"Get out of my sight, get out of my sight, I tell you! Let me lie here +and starve if you will, but don't let me ever lay eyes on you again! You +were very anxious for me to drink that milk! There was poison in it, I +expect, I am such a burden to you." + +At this accusation, which was as absurd as it was atrocious, Mariette +stood for a moment silent and motionless, not understanding at first the +full meaning of those horrible words; but when she did, she recoiled, +clasping her hands in positive terror; then, unable to restrain her +tears, and yielding to an irresistible impulse, she threw herself on the +sick woman's neck, twined her arms around her, and covering her face +with tears and kisses, exclaimed, wildly: + +"Oh, godmother, godmother, how can you?" + +This despairing protest against a charge which could have originated +only in a disordered brain restored the invalid to her senses, and, +realising the injustice of which she had been guilty, she, too, burst +into tears; then taking one of Mariette's hands in one of hers, and +trying to press the young girl to her breast with the other, she said, +soothingly: + +"Come, come, child, don't cry so. What a silly creature you are! Can't +you see that I was only joking?" + +"True, godmother, I was very stupid to think you could be in earnest," +replied Mariette, passing the back of her hand over her eyes to dry her +tears, "but really I couldn't help it." + +"You ought to have more patience with your poor godmother, Mariette," +replied the sick woman, sadly. "When I suffer so it seems as if I can +hardly contain myself." + +"I know it, I know it, godmother! It is easy enough to be just and +amiable when one is happy, while you, poor dear, have never known what +happiness is." + +"That is true," said the sick woman, feeling a sort of cruel +satisfaction in justifying her irritability by an enumeration of her +grievances, "that is true. Many persons may have had a lot like mine, +but no one ever had a worse one. Beaten as an apprentice, beaten by my +husband until he drank himself to death, I have dragged my ball and +chain along for fifty years, without ever having known a single happy +day." + +"Poor godmother, I understand only too well how much you must have +suffered." + +"No, child, no, you cannot understand, though you have known plenty of +trouble in your short life; but you are pretty, and when you have on a +fresh white cap, with a little bow of pink ribbon on your hair, and you +look at yourself in the glass, you have a few contented moments, I +know." + +"But listen, godmother, I--" + +"It is some comfort, I tell you. Come, child, be honest now, and admit +that you are pleased, and a little proud too, when people turn to look +at you, in spite of your cheap frock and your clumsy laced shoes." + +"Oh, so far as that is concerned, godmother, I always feel ashamed, +somehow, when I see people looking at me. When I used to go to the +workroom there was a man who came to see Madame Jourdan, and who was +always looking at me, but I just hated it." + +"Oh, yes, but for all that it pleases you way down in your secret heart; +and when you get old you will have something pleasant to think of, while +I have not. I can't even remember that I was ever young, and, so far as +looks are concerned, I was always so ugly that I never could bear to +look in the glass, and I could get no husband except an old drunkard who +used to beat me within an inch of my life. I didn't even have a chance +to enjoy myself after his death, either, for I had a big bill at the +wine-shop to pay for him. Then, as if I had not trouble enough, I must +needs lose my health and become unable to work, so I should have died of +starvation, but for you." + +"Come, come, godmother, you're not quite just," said Mariette, anxious +to dispel Madame Lacombe's ill-humour. "To my certain knowledge, you +have had at least one happy day in your life." + +"Which day, pray?" + +"The day when, at my mother's death, you took me into your home out of +charity." + +"Well?" + +"Well, did not the knowledge that you had done such a noble deed please +you? Wasn't that a happy day for you, godmother?" + +"You call that a happy day, do you? On the contrary it was one of the +very worst days I ever experienced." + +"Why, godmother?" exclaimed the girl, reproachfully. + +"It was, for my good-for-nothing husband having died, as soon as his +debts were paid I should have had nobody to think of but myself; but +after I took you, it was exactly the same as if I were a widow with a +child to support, and that is no very pleasant situation for a woman who +finds it all she can do to support herself. But you were so cute and +pretty with your curly head and big blue eyes, and you looked so pitiful +kneeling beside your mother's coffin, that I hadn't the heart to let you +go to the Foundling Asylum. What a night I spent asking myself what I +should do about you, and what would become of you if I should get out of +work. If I had been your own mother, Mariette, I couldn't have been more +worried, and here you are talking about that having been a happy day for +me. No; if I had been well off, it would have been very different! I +should have said to myself: 'There is no danger, the child will be +provided for.' But to take a child without any hope of bettering its +condition is a very serious thing." + +"Poor godmother!" said the young girl, deeply affected. Then smiling +through her tears in the hope of cheering the sick woman, she added: + +"Ah, well, we won't talk of days, then, but of moments, for I'm going to +convince you that you have at least been happy for that brief space of +time, as at this present moment, for instance." + +"This present moment?" + +"Yes, I'm sure you must be pleased to see that I have stopped crying, +thanks to the kind things you have been saying to me." + +But the sick woman shook her head sadly. + +"When I get over a fit of ill-temper like that I had just now, do you +know what I say to myself?" she asked. + +"What is it, godmother?" + +"I say to myself: 'Mariette is a good girl, I know, but I am always so +disagreeable and unjust to her that way down in the depths of her heart +she must hate me, and I deserve it.'" + +"Come, come, godmother, why will you persist in dwelling upon that +unpleasant subject, godmother?" said the girl, reproachfully. + +"You must admit that I am right, and I do not say this in any +faultfinding way, I assure you. It would be perfectly natural. You are +obliged almost to kill yourself working for me, you nurse me and wait on +me, and I repay you with abuse and hard words. My death will, indeed, be +a happy release for you, poor child. The sooner the undertaker comes for +me, the better." + +"You said, just now, that when you were talking of such terrible things +it was only in jest, and I take it so now," responded Mariette, again +trying to smile, though it made her heart bleed to see the invalid +relapsing into this gloomy mood again; but the latter, touched by the +grieved expression of the girl's features, said: + +"Well, as I am only jesting, don't put on such a solemn look. Come, get +out the chafing-dish and make me some milk soup. While the milk is +warming, you can dress my arm." + +Mariette seemed as pleased with these concessions on the part of her +godmother as if the latter had conferred some great favour upon her. +Hastening to the cupboard she took from a shelf the last bit of bread +left in the house, crumbled it in a saucepan of milk, lighted the lamp +under the chafing-dish, and then returned to the invalid, who now +yielded the mutilated arm to her ministrations, and in spite of the +repugnance which such a wound could not fail to inspire, Mariette +dressed it with as much dexterity as patience. + +The amiability and devotion of the young girl, as well as her tender +solicitude, touched the heart of Madame Lacombe, and when the unpleasant +task was concluded, she remarked: + +"Talk about Sisters of Charity, there is not one who deserves half as +much praise as you do, child." + +"Do not say that, godmother. Do not the good sisters devote their lives +to caring for strangers, while you are like a mother to me? I am only +doing my duty. I don't deserve half as much credit as they do." + +"Yes, my poor Mariette, I would talk about my affection for you. It is a +delightful thing. I positively made you weep awhile ago, and I shall be +sure to do the same thing again to-morrow." + +Mariette, to spare herself the pain of replying to her godmother's +bitter words, went for the soup, which the invalid seemed to eat with +considerable enjoyment after all, for it was not until she came to the +last spoonful that she exclaimed: + +"But now I think of it, child, what are you going to eat?" + +"Oh, I have already breakfasted, godmother," replied the poor little +deceiver. "I bought a roll this morning, and ate it as I walked along. +But let me arrange your pillow for you. You may drop off to sleep, +perhaps, you had such a bad night." + +"But you were awake even more than I was." + +"Nonsense! I am no sleepyhead, and being kept awake a little doesn't +hurt me. There, don't you feel more comfortable now?" + +"Yes, very much. Thank you, my child." + +"Then I will take my work and sit over there by the window. It is so +dark to-day, and my work is particular." + +"What are you making?" + +"Such an exquisite chemise of the finest linen lawn, godmother. Madame +Jourdan told me I must be very careful with it. The lace alone I am to +put on it is worth two hundred francs, which will make the cost of each +garment at least three hundred francs, and there are two dozen of them +to be made. They are for some kept woman, I believe," added Mariette, +naïvely. + +The sick woman gave a sarcastic laugh. + +"What are you laughing at, godmother?" inquired the girl, in surprise. + +"A droll idea that just occurred to me." + +"And what was it, godmother?" inquired Mariette, rather apprehensively, +for she knew the usual character of Madame Lacombe's pleasantries. + +"I was thinking how encouraging it was to virtue that an honest girl +like yourself, who has only two or three patched chemises to her back, +should be earning twenty sous a day by making three hundred franc +chemises for--Oh, well, work away, child, I'll try to dream of a rest +from my sufferings." + +And the sick woman turned her face to the wall and said no more. + +Fortunately, Mariette was too pure-hearted, and too preoccupied as well, +to feel the bitterness of her godmother's remark, and when the sick +woman turned her back upon her the girl drew the very urgent letter the +portress had given her from her bosom, and laid it in her lap where she +could gaze at it now and then as she went on with her sewing. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +A SHAMEFUL DECEPTION. + + +Discovering, a little while afterward, that her godmother was asleep, +Mariette, who up to that time had kept the letter from Louis +Richard--the scrivener's only son--carefully concealed in her lap, broke +the seal and opened the missive. An act of vain curiosity on her part, +for, as we have said, the poor girl could not read. But it was a +touching sight to see her eagerly gaze at these, to her, +incomprehensible characters. + +She perceived with a strange mingling of anxiety and hope that the +letter was very short. But did this communication, which was marked +"Very urgent" on a corner of the envelope, contain good or bad news? + +Mariette, with her eyes riveted upon these hieroglyphics, lost herself +in all sorts of conjectures, rightly thinking that so short a letter +after so long a separation must contain something of importance,--either +an announcement of a speedy return, or bad news which the writer had not +time to explain in full. + +Under these circumstances, poor Mariette experienced one of the worst of +those trials to which persons who have been deprived of the advantages +of even a rudimentary education are exposed. To hold in one's hand lines +that may bring you either joy or sorrow, and yet be unable to learn the +secret! To be obliged to wait until you can ask a stranger to read these +lines and until you can hear from other lips the news upon which your +very life depends,--is this not hard? + +At last this state of suspense became so intolerable that, seeing her +godmother continued to sleep, she resolved, even at the risk of being +cruelly blamed on her return,--for Madame Lacombe's good-natured fits +were rare,--to hasten back to the scrivener; so she cautiously rose from +her chair so as not to wake the sick woman, and tiptoed to the door, but +just as she reached it a bitter thought suddenly checked her. + +She could not have the scrivener read her letter without asking him to +reply to it. At least it was more than probable that the contents of the +letter would necessitate an immediate reply, consequently she would be +obliged to pay the old man, and Mariette no longer possessed even +sufficient money to buy bread for the day, and the baker, to whom she +already owed twenty francs, would positively refuse, she knew, to trust +her further. Her week's earnings which had only amounted to five francs, +as her godmother had taken up so much of her time, had been nearly all +spent in paying a part of the rent and the washerwoman, leaving her, in +fact, only twenty-five sous, most of which had been used in defraying +the expenses of her correspondence with Louis, an extravagance for which +the poor child now reproached herself in view of her godmother's +pressing needs. + +One may perhaps smile at the harsh recriminations to which she had been +subjected on account of this trifling expenditure, but, alas! twenty +sous does not seem a trifling sum to the poor, an increase or decrease +of that amount in their daily or even weekly earnings often meaning life +or death, sickness or health, to the humble toiler for daily bread. + +To save further expense, Mariette thought for a moment of asking the +portress to read the letter for her, but the poor girl was so shy and +sensitive, and feared the rather coarse, though good-natured woman's +raillery so much, that she finally decided she would rather make almost +any sacrifice than apply to her. She had one quite pretty dress which +she had bought at a second-hand clothes store and refitted for herself, +a dress which she kept for great occasions and which she had worn the +few times she had gone on little excursions with Louis. With a heavy +sigh, she placed the dress, together with a small silk fichu, in a +basket to take it to the pawnbroker; and with the basket in her hand, +and walking very cautiously so as not to wake her godmother, the girl +approached the door, but just as she again reached it Madame Lacombe +made a slight movement, and murmured, drowsily: + +"She's going out again, I do believe, and--" + +But she fell asleep again without finishing the sentence. + +Mariette stood for a moment silent and motionless, then opening the door +with great care she stole out, locking it behind her and removing the +key, which she left in the porter's room as she passed. She then +hastened to the Mont de Piété, where they loaned her fifty sous on her +dress and fichu, and, armed with this money, Mariette flew back to the +Charnier des Innocents to find the scrivener. + +Since Mariette's departure, and particularly since he had read the +letter received from Dreux that morning, the old man had been reflecting +with increasing anxiety on the effect this secret which he had +discovered by the merest chance would have upon certain projects of his +own. He was thus engaged when he saw the same young girl suddenly +reappear at the door of his shop, whereupon, without concealing his +surprise, though he did not betray the profound uneasiness his client's +speedy return caused him, the scrivener said: + +"What is it, my child? I did not expect you back so soon." + +"Here is a letter from M. Louis, sir," said the young girl, drawing the +precious missive from her bosom, "and I have come to ask you to read it +to me." + +Trembling with anxiety and curiosity, the girl waited as the scrivener +glanced over the brief letter, concealing with only a moderate degree of +success the genuine consternation its contents excited; then, uttering +an exclamation of sorrowful indignation, he, to Mariette's intense +bewilderment and dismay, tore the precious letter in several pieces. + +"Poor child! poor child!" he exclaimed, throwing the fragments under his +desk, after having crumpled them in his hands. + +"What are you doing, monsieur?" cried Mariette, pale as death. + +"Ah, my poor child!" repeated the old man, with an air of deep +compassion. + +"Good heavens! Has any misfortune befallen M. Louis?" murmured the girl, +clasping her hands imploringly. + +"No, my child, no; but you must forget him." + +"Forget him?" + +"Yes; believe me, it would be much better for you to renounce all hope, +so far as he is concerned." + +"My God! What has happened to him?" + +"There are some things that are much harder to bear than ignorance, and +yet I was pitying you a little while ago because you could not read." + +"But what did he say in the letter, monsieur?" + +"Your marriage is no longer to be thought of." + +"Did M. Louis say that?" + +"Yes, at the same time appealing to your generosity of heart." + +"M. Louis bids me renounce him, and says he renounces me?" + +"Alas! yes, my poor child. Come, come, summon up all your courage and +resignation." + +Mariette, who had turned as pale as death, was silent for a moment, +while big tears rolled down her cheeks; then, stooping suddenly, she +gathered up the crumpled fragments of the letter and handed them to the +scrivener, saying, in a husky voice: + +"I at least have the courage to hear all. Put the pieces together and +read the letter to me, if you please, monsieur." + +"Do not insist, my child, I beg of you." + +"Read it, monsieur, in pity read it!" + +"But--" + +"I must know the contents of this letter, however much the knowledge may +pain me." + +"I have already told you the substance of it. Spare yourself further +pain." + +"Have pity on me, monsieur. If you do really feel the slightest interest +in me, read the letter to me,--in heaven's name, read it! Let me at +least know the extent of my misfortune; besides, there may be a line, or +at least a word, of consolation." + +"Well, my poor child, as you insist," said the old man, adjusting the +fragments of the letter, while Mariette watched him with despairing +eyes, "listen to the letter." + +And he read as follows: + + * * * * * + +"'MY DEAR MARIETTE:--I write you a few lines in great haste. My soul is +full of despair, for we shall be obliged to renounce our hopes. My +father's comfort and peace of mind, in his declining years, must be +assured at any cost. You know how devotedly I love my father. I have +given my word, and you and I must never meet again. + +"'One last request. I appeal both to your delicacy and generosity of +heart. Make no attempt to induce me to change this resolution. I have +been obliged to choose between my father and you; perhaps if I should +see you again, I might not have the courage to do my duty as a son. My +father's future is, consequently, in your hands. I rely upon your +generosity. Farewell! Grief overpowers me so completely that I can no +longer hold my pen. + +"'Once more, and for ever, farewell. + +"'LOUIS.'" + + * * * * * + +While this note was being read, Mariette might have served as a model +for a statue of grief. Standing motionless beside the scrivener's desk, +with inertly hanging arms, and clasped hands, her downcast eyes swimming +with tears, and her lips agitated by a convulsive trembling, the poor +creature still seemed to be listening, long after the old man had +concluded his reading. + +He was the first to break the long silence that ensued. + +"I felt certain that this letter would pain you terribly, my dear +child," he said, compassionately. + +But Mariette made no reply. + +"Do not tremble so, my child," continued the scrivener. "Sit down; and +here, take a sip of water." + +But Mariette did not even hear him. With her tear-dimmed eyes still +fixed upon vacancy, she murmured, with a heart-broken expression on her +face: + +"So it is all over! There is nothing left for me in the world. It was +too blissful a dream. I am like my godmother, happiness is not for such +as me." + +"My child," pleaded the old man, touched, in spite of himself, by her +despair, "my child, don't give way so, I beg of you." + +The words seemed to recall the girl to herself. She wiped her eyes, +then, gathering up the pieces of the torn letter, she said, in a voice +she did her best to steady: + +"Thank you, monsieur." + +"What are you doing?" asked Father Richard, anxiously. "What is the use +of preserving these fragments of a letter which will awaken such sad +memories?" + +"The grave of a person one has loved also awakens sad memories," replied +Mariette, with a bitter smile, "and yet one does not desert that +grave." + +After she had collected all the scraps of paper in the envelope, +Mariette replaced it in her bosom, and, crossing her little shawl upon +her breast, turned to go, saying, sadly: "I thank you for your kindness, +monsieur;" then, as if bethinking herself, she added, timidly: + +"Though this letter requires no reply, monsieur, after all the trouble I +have given you, I feel that I ought to offer--" + +"My charge is ten sous, exactly the same as for a letter," replied the +old man, promptly, accepting and pocketing the remuneration with +unmistakable eagerness, in spite of the conflicting emotions which had +agitated him ever since the young girl's return. "And now _au revoir_, +my child," he said, in a tone of evident relief; "our next meeting, I +hope, will be under happier circumstances." + +"Heaven grant it, monsieur," replied Mariette, as she walked slowly +away, while Father Richard, evidently anxious to return home, closed the +shutters of his stall, thus concluding his day's work much earlier than +usual. + +Mariette, a prey to the most despairing thoughts, walked on and on +mechanically, wholly unconscious of the route she was following, until +she reached the Pont au Change. At the sight of the river she started +suddenly like one awaking from a dream, and murmured, "It was my evil +genius that brought me here." + +In another moment she was leaning over the parapet gazing down eagerly +into the swift flowing waters below. Gradually, as her eyes followed the +course of the current, a sort of vertigo seized her. Unconsciously, too, +she was slowly yielding to the fascination such a scene often exerts, +and, with her head supported on her hands, she leaned farther and +farther over the stream. + +"I could find forgetfulness there," the poor child said to herself. "The +river is a sure refuge from misery, from hunger, from sickness, or from +a miserable old age, an old age like that of my poor godmother. My +godmother? Why, without me, what would become of her?" + +Just then Mariette felt some one seize her by the arm, at the same time +exclaiming, in a frightened tone: + +"Take care, my child, take care, or you will fall in the river." + +The girl turned her haggard eyes upon the speaker, and saw a stout woman +with a kind and honest face, who continued, almost affectionately: + +"You are very imprudent to lean so far over the parapet, my child. I +expected to see you fall over every minute." + +"I was not noticing, madame--" + +"But you ought to notice, child. Good Heavens! how pale you are! Do you +feel sick?" + +"No, only a little weak, madame. It is nothing. I shall soon be all +right again." + +"Lean on me. You are just recovering from a fit of illness, I judge." + +"Yes, madame," replied Mariette, passing her hand across her forehead. +"Will you tell me where I am, please?" + +"Between the Pont Neuf and the Pont au Change, my dear. You are a +stranger in Paris, perhaps." + +"No, madame, but I had an attack of dizziness just now. It is passing +off, and I see where I am now." + +"Wouldn't you like me to accompany you to your home, child?" asked the +stout woman, kindly. "You are trembling like a leaf. Here, take my arm." + +"I thank you, madame, but it is not necessary. I live only a short +distance from here." + +"Just as you say, child, but I'll do it with pleasure if you wish. No? +Very well, good luck to you, then." + +And the obliging woman continued on her way. + +Mariette, thus restored to consciousness, as it were, realised the +terrible misfortune that had befallen her all the more keenly, and to +this consciousness was now added the fear of being cruelly reproached by +her godmother just at a time when she was so sorely in need of +consolation, or at least of the quiet and solitude that one craves after +such a terrible shock. + +Desiring to evade the bitter reproaches this long absence was almost +sure to bring down upon her devoted head, and remembering the desire her +godmother had expressed that morning, Mariette hoped to gain forgiveness +by gratifying the invalid's whim, so, with the forty sous left of the +amount she had obtained at the Mont de Piété still in her pocket, she +hastened to a _rôtisseur's_, and purchased a quarter of a chicken there, +thence to a bakery, where she bought a couple of crisp white rolls, +after which she turned her steps homeward. + +A handsome coupé was standing at the door of the house in which Mariette +lived, though she did not even notice this fact, but when she stopped at +the porter's room as usual, to ask for her key, Madame Justin exclaimed: + +"Your key, Mlle. Mariette? Why, that gentleman called for it a moment +ago." + +"What gentleman?" + +"A decorated gentleman. Yes, I should say he was decorated. Why, the +ribbon in his buttonhole was at least two inches wide. I never saw a +person with such a big decoration." + +"But I am not acquainted with any decorated gentleman," replied the +young girl, much surprised. "He must have made a mistake." + +"Oh, no, child. He asked me if the Widow Lacombe didn't live here with +her goddaughter, a seamstress, so you see there could be no mistake." + +"But didn't you tell the gentleman that my godmother was an invalid and +could not see any one?" + +"Yes, child, but he said he must have a talk with her on a very +important matter, all the same, so I gave him the key, and let him go +up." + +"I will go and see who it is, Madame Justin," responded Mariette. + +Imagine her astonishment, when, on reaching the fifth floor, she saw the +stranger through the half-open door, and heard him address these words +to Madame Lacombe: + +"As your goddaughter has gone out, my good woman, I can state my +business with you very plainly." + +When these words reached her ears, Mariette, yielding to a very natural +feeling of curiosity, concluded to remain on the landing and listen to +the conversation, instead of entering the room. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE VOICE OF THE TEMPTER. + + +The speaker was a man about forty-five years of age, with regular though +rather haggard features and a long moustache, made as black and lustrous +by some cosmetic as his artistically curled locks, which evidently owed +their raven hue to artificial means. The stranger's physiognomy +impressed one as being a peculiar combination of deceitfulness, cunning, +and impertinence. He had large feet and remarkably large hands; in +short, despite his very evident pretensions, it was easy to see that he +was one of those vulgar persons who cannot imitate, but only parody real +elegance. Dressed in execrable taste, with a broad red ribbon in the +buttonhole of his frock coat, he affected a military bearing. With his +hat still on his head, he had seated himself a short distance from the +bed, and as he talked with the invalid he gnawed the jewelled handle of +a small cane that he carried. + +Madame Lacombe was gazing at the stranger with mingled surprise and +distrust. She was conscious, too, of a strong aversion, caused, +doubtless, by his both insolent and patronising air. + +"As your goddaughter is out, my good woman, I can state my business with +you very plainly." + +These were the words that Mariette overheard on reaching the landing. +The conversation that ensued was, in substance, as follows: + +"You asked, monsieur, if I were the Widow Lacombe, Mariette Moreau's +godmother," said the sick woman tartly. "I told you that I was. Now, +what do you want with me? Explain, if you please." + +"In the first place, my good woman--" + +"My name is Lacombe, Madame Lacombe." + +"Oh, very well, Madame Lacombe," said the stranger, with an air of mock +deference, "I will tell you first who I am; afterwards I will tell you +what I want. I am Commandant de la Miraudière." Then, touching his red +ribbon, he added, "An old soldier as you see--ten campaigns--five +wounds." + +"That is nothing to me." + +"I have many influential acquaintances in Paris, dukes, counts, and +marquises." + +"What do I care about that?" + +"I keep a carriage, and spend at least twenty thousand francs a year." + +"While my goddaughter and I starve on twenty sous a day, when she can +earn them," said the sick woman, bitterly. "That is the way of the +world, however." + +"But it is not fair, my good Mother Lacombe," responded Commandant de la +Miraudière, "it is not fair, and I have come here to put an end to such +injustice." + +"If you've come here to mock me, I wish you'd take yourself off," +retorted the sick woman, sullenly. + +"Mock you, Mother Lacombe, mock you! Just hear what I have come to offer +you. A comfortable room in a nice apartment, a servant to wait on you, +two good meals a day, coffee every morning, and fifty francs a month for +your snuff, if you take it, or for anything else you choose to fancy, if +you don't,--well, what do you say to all this, Mother Lacombe?" + +"I say--I say you're only making sport of me, that is, unless there is +something behind all this. When one offers such things to a poor old +cripple like me, it is not for the love of God, that is certain." + +"No, Mother Lacombe, but for the love of two beautiful eyes, perhaps." + +"Whose beautiful eyes?" + +"Your goddaughter's, Mother Lacombe," replied Commandant de la +Miraudière, cynically. "There is no use beating about the bush." + +The invalid made a movement indicative of surprise, then, casting a +searching look at the stranger, inquired: + +"You know Mariette, then?" + +"I have been to Madame Jourdan's several times to order linen, for I am +very particular about my linen," added the stranger, glancing down +complacently at his embroidered shirt-front. "I have consequently often +seen your goddaughter there; I think her charming, adorable, and--" + +"And you have come to buy her of me?" + +"Bravo, Mother Lacombe! You are a clever and sensible woman, I see. You +understand things in the twinkling of an eye. This is the proposition I +have come to make to you: A nice suite of rooms, newly furnished for +Mariette, with whom you are to live, five hundred francs a month to run +the establishment, a maid and a cook who will also wait on you, a +suitable outfit for Mariette, and a purse of fifty louis to start with, +to say nothing of the other presents she will get if she behaves +properly. So much for the substantials. As for the agreeable part, there +will be drives in the park, boxes at the theatre,--I know any number of +actors, and I am also on the best of terms with some very high-toned +ladies who give many balls and card-parties,--in short, your goddaughter +will have a delightful, an enchanted life, Mother Lacombe, the life of a +duchess. Well, how does all this strike you?" + +"Very favourably, of course," responded the sick woman, with a sardonic +smile. "Such cattle as we are, are only fit to be sold when we are +young, or to sell others when we are old." + +"Ah, well, Mother Lacombe, to quiet your scruples, if you have any, you +shall have sixty francs a month for your snuff, and I shall also make +you a present of a handsome shawl, so you can go around respectably with +Mariette, whom you are never to leave for a moment, understand, for I am +as jealous as a tiger, and have no intention of being made a fool of." + +"All this tallies exactly with what I said to Mariette only this +morning. 'You are an honest girl,' I said to her, 'and yet you can +scarcely earn twenty sous a day making three hundred franc chemises for +a kept woman.'" + +"Three hundred franc chemises ordered from Madame Jourdan's? Oh, yes, +Mother Lacombe, I know. They are for Amandine, who is kept by the +Marquis de Saint-Herem, an intimate friend of mine. It was I who induced +her to patronise Madame Jourdan,--a regular bonanza for her, though the +marquis is very poor pay, but he makes all his furnishers as well as all +his mistresses the fashion. This little Amandine was a clerk in a little +perfumery shop on the Rue Colbert six months ago, and Saint-Herem has +made her the rage. There is no woman in Paris half as much talked about +as Amandine. The same thing may happen to Mariette some day, Mother +Lacombe. She may be wearing three hundred franc chemises instead of +making them. Don't it make you proud to think of it?" + +"Unless Mariette has the same fate as another poor girl I knew." + +"What happened to her, Mother Lacombe?" + +"She was robbed." + +"Robbed?" + +"She, too, was promised mountains of gold. The man who promised it +placed her in furnished apartments, and at the end of three months left +her without a penny. Then she killed herself in despair." + +"Really, Mother Lacombe, what kind of a man do you take me for?" +demanded the stranger, indignantly. "Do I look like a scoundrel, like a +Robert Macaire?" + +"I don't know, I am sure." + +"I, an old soldier who have fought in twenty campaigns, and have ten +wounds! I, who am hand and glove with all the lions of Paris! I, who +keep my carriage and spend twenty thousand francs a year! Speak out, +what security do you want? If you say so, the apartment shall be +furnished within a week, the lease made out in your name, and the rent +paid one year in advance; besides, you shall have the twenty-five or +thirty louis I have about me to bind the bargain, if you like." + +And as he spoke, he drew a handful of gold from his pocket and threw it +on the little table by the sick woman's bed, adding: "You see I am not +like you. I am not afraid of being robbed, Mother Lacombe." + +On hearing the chink of coin, the invalid leaned forward, and cast a +greedy, covetous look upon the glittering pile. Never in her life had +she had a gold coin in her possession, and now she could not resist the +temptation to touch the gleaming metal, and let it slip slowly through +her fingers. + +"I can at least say that I have handled gold once in my life," the sick +woman murmured, hoarsely. + +"It is nothing to handle it, Mother Lacombe. Think of the pleasure of +spending it." + +"There is enough here to keep one in comfort five or six months," said +the old woman, carefully arranging the gold in little piles. + +"And remember that you and Mariette can have as much every month if you +like, Mother Lacombe, in good, shining gold, if you wish it." + +After a long silence, the sick woman raised her hollow eyes to the +stranger's face, and said: + +"You think Mariette pretty, monsieur. You are right, and there is not a +better-hearted, more deserving girl in the world. Well, be generous to +her. This money is a mere trifle to a man as rich as you are. Make us a +present of it." + +"Eh?" exclaimed the stranger, in profound astonishment. + +"Monsieur," said the consumptive, clasping her hands imploringly, "be +generous, be charitable. This sum of money is a mere trifle to you, as I +said before, but it would support us for months. We should be able to +pay all we owe. Mariette would not be obliged to work night and day. She +would have time to look around a little, and find employment that paid +her better. We should owe five or six months of peace and happiness to +your bounty. It costs us so little to live! Do this, kind sir, and we +will for ever bless you, and for once in my life I shall have known what +happiness is." + +The sick woman's tone was so sincere, her request so artless, that the +stranger, who could not conceive of any human creature being stupid +enough really to expect such a thing of a man of his stamp, felt even +more hurt than surprised, and said to himself: + +"Really, this is not very flattering to me. The old hag must take me for +a country greenhorn to make such a proposition as that." + +So bursting into a hearty laugh, he said, aloud: + +"You must take me for a philanthropist, or the winner of the Montyon +prize, Mother Lacombe. I am to make you a present of six hundred francs, +and accept your benediction and eternal gratitude in return, eh?" + +The sick woman had yielded to one of those wild and sudden hopes that +sometimes seize the most despondent persons; but irritated by the +contempt with which her proposal had been received, she now retorted, +with a sneer: + +"I hope you will forgive me for having so grossly insulted you, I am +sure, monsieur." + +"Oh, you needn't apologise, Mother Lacombe. I have taken no offence, as +you see. But we may as well settle this little matter without any +further delay. Am I to pocket those shining coins you seem to take so +much pleasure in handling, yes or no?" + +And he stretched out his hand as if to gather up the gold pieces. + +With an almost unconscious movement, the sick woman pushed his hand +away, exclaiming, sullenly: + +"Wait a minute, can't you? You needn't be afraid that anybody is going +to eat your gold." + +"On the contrary, that is exactly what I would like you to do, on +condition, of course--" + +"But I know Mariette, and she would never consent," replied the sick +woman, with her eyes still fixed longingly upon the shining coins. + +"Nonsense!" + +"But she is an honest girl, I tell you. She might listen to a man she +loved, as so many girls do, but to you, never. She would absolutely +refuse. She has her ideas--oh, you needn't laugh." + +"Oh, I know Mariette is a virtuous girl. Madame Jourdan, for whom your +goddaughter has worked for years, has assured me of that fact; but I +know, too, that you have a great deal of influence over her. She is +dreadfully afraid of you, Madame Jourdan says, so I am sure that you +can, if you choose, persuade or, if need be, compel Mariette to +accept--what? Simply an unlooked-for piece of good fortune, for you are +housed like beggars and almost starving, that is evident. Suppose you +refuse, what will be the result? The girl, with all her fine +disinterestedness, will be fooled sooner or later by some scamp in her +own station in life, and--" + +"That is possible, but she will not have sold herself." + +"That is all bosh, as you'll discover some day when her lover deserts +her, and she has to do what so many other girls do to save herself from +starving." + +[Illustration: "'_Go away and let me alone._'" + +Original etching by Adrian Marcel.] + +"That is very possible," groaned the sick woman. "Hunger is an evil +counsellor, I know, when one has one's child as well as one's self to +think of. And with this gold, how many of these poor girls might be +saved! Ah! if Mariette is to end her days like them, after all, what is +the use of struggling?" + +For a minute or two the poor woman's contracted features showed that a +terrible conflict was raging in her breast. The gold seemed to exercise +an almost irresistible fascination over her; she seemed unable to remove +her eyes from it; but at last with a desperate effort she closed them, +as if to shut out the sight of the money, and throwing herself back on +her pillow, cried, angrily: + +"Go away, go away, and let me alone." + +"What! you refuse my offer, Mother Lacombe?" + +"Yes." + +"Positively?" + +"Yes." + +"Then I've got to pocket all this gold again, I suppose," said the +stranger, gathering up the coins, and making them jingle loudly as he +did so. "All these shining yellow boys must go back into my pocket." + +"May the devil take you and your gold!" exclaimed the now thoroughly +exasperated woman. "Keep your money, but clear out. I didn't take +Mariette in to ruin her, or advise her to ruin herself. Rather than eat +bread earned in such way, I would light a brazier of charcoal and end +both the girl's life and my own." + +Madame Lacombe had scarcely uttered these words before Mariette burst +into the room, pale and indignant, and throwing herself upon the sick +woman's neck, exclaimed: + +"Ah, godmother. I knew very well that you loved me as if I were your own +child!" + +Then turning to Commandant de la Miraudière, whom she recognised as the +man who had stared at her so persistently at Madame Jourdan's, she said +contemptuously: + +"I beg that you will leave at once." + +"But, my dear little dove--" + +"I was there at the door, monsieur, and I heard all." + +"So much the better. You know what I am willing to do, and I assure +you--" + +"Once more, I must request you to leave at once." + +"Very well, very well, my little Lucrece, I will go, but I shall allow +you one week for reflection," said the stranger, preparing to leave the +room. + +But on the threshold he paused and added: + +"You will not forget my name, Commandant de la Miraudière, my dear. +Madame Jourdan knows my address." + +After which he disappeared. + +"Ah, godmother," exclaimed the girl, returning to the invalid, and +embracing her effusively, "how nobly you defended me!" + +"Yes," responded the sick woman, curtly, freeing herself almost roughly +from her goddaughter's embrace, "and yet with all these virtues, one +perishes of hunger." + +"But, godmother--" + +"Don't talk any more about it, for heaven's sake!" cried the invalid, +angrily. "It is all settled. What is the use of discussing it any +further? I have done my duty; you have done yours. I am an honest woman; +you are an honest girl. Great good it will do you, and me, too; you may +rest assured of that." + +"But, godmother, listen to me--" + +"We shall be found here some fine morning stiff and cold, you and I, +with a pan of charcoal between us. Ah, ha, ha!" + +And with a shrill, mirthless laugh, the poor creature, embittered by +years of misfortune, and chafing against the scruples that had kept her +honest in spite of herself, put an end to the conversation by abruptly +turning her back upon her goddaughter. + +It was nearly night now. + +Mariette went out into the hall where she had left the basket containing +the sick woman's supper. She placed the food on a small table near the +bed, and then went and seated herself silently by the narrow window, +where, drawing the fragments of her lover's letter from her pocket, she +gazed at them with despair in her soul. + + * * * * * + +On leaving Mariette, the commandant said to himself: + +"I'm pretty sure that last shot told in spite of what they said. The +girl will change her mind and so will the old woman. The sight of my +gold seemed to dazzle the eyes of that old hag as much as if she had +been trying to gaze at the noonday sun. Their poverty will prove a much +more eloquent advocate for me than any words of mine. I do not despair, +by any means. Two months of good living will make Mariette one of the +prettiest girls in Paris, and she will do me great credit at very little +expense. But now I must turn my attention to business. A fine little +discovery it is that I have just made, and I think I shall be able to +turn it to very good account." + +Stepping into his carriage, he was driven to the Rue Grenelle St. +Honoré. Alighting in front of No. 17, a very unpretentious dwelling, he +said to the porter: + +"Does M. Richard live here?" + +"A father and son of that name both live here, monsieur." + +"I wish to see the son. Is M. Louis Richard in?" + +"Yes, monsieur. He has only just returned from a journey. He is with his +father now." + +"Ah, he is with his father? Well, I would like to see him alone." + +"As they both occupy the same room, there will be some difficulty about +that." + +The commandant reflected a moment, then, taking a visiting card bearing +his address from his pocket, he added these words in pencil: "requests +the honour of a visit from M. Louis Richard to-morrow morning between +nine and ten, as he has a very important communication which will brook +no delay, to make to him." + +"Here are forty sous for you, my friend," said M. de la Miraudière to +the porter, "and I want you to give this card to M. Louis Richard." + +"That is a very easy way to earn forty sous." + +"But you are not to give the card to him until to-morrow morning as he +goes out, and his father is not to know anything about it. Do you +understand?" + +"Perfectly, monsieur, and there will be no difficulty about it as M. +Louis goes out every morning at seven o'clock, while his father never +leaves before nine." + +"I can rely upon you, then?" + +"Oh, yes, monsieur, you can regard the errand as done." + +Commandant de la Miraudière reëntered his carriage and drove away. + +Soon after his departure a postman brought a letter for Louis Richard. +It was the letter written that same morning in Mariette's presence by +the scrivener, who had addressed it to No. 17 Rue de Grenelle, Paris, +instead of to Dreux as the young girl had requested. + +We will now usher the reader into the room occupied by the scrivener, +Richard, and his son, who had just returned from Dreux. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +FATHER AND SON. + + +The father and son occupied on the fifth floor of this old house a room +that was almost identical in every respect with the abode of Mariette +and her godmother. Both were characterised by the same bareness and lack +of comfort. A small bed for the father, a mattress for the son, a +rickety table, three or four chairs, a chest for their clothing--these +were the only articles of furniture in the room. + +Father Richard, on his way home, had purchased their evening repast, an +appetising slice of ham and a loaf of fresh bread. These he had placed +upon the table with a bottle of water, and a single candle, whose faint +light barely served to render darkness visible. + +Louis Richard, who was twenty-five years of age, had a frank, honest, +kindly, intelligent face, while his shabby, threadbare clothing, worn +white at the seams, only rendered his physical grace and vigour more +noticeable. + +The scrivener's features wore a joyful expression, slightly tempered, +however, by the anxiety he now felt in relation to certain long +cherished projects of his own. + +The young man, after having deposited his shabby valise on the floor, +tenderly embraced his father, to whom he was devoted; and the happiness +of being with him again and the certainty of seeing Mariette on the +morrow made his face radiant, and increased his accustomed good humour. + +"So you had a pleasant journey, my son," remarked the old man, seating +himself at the table. + +"Very." + +"Won't you have some supper? We can talk while we eat." + +"Won't I have some supper, father? I should think I would. I did not +dine at the inn like the other travellers, and for the best of reasons," +added Louis, gaily, slapping his empty pocket. + +"You have little cause to regret the fact, probably," replied the old +man, dividing the slice of ham into two very unequal portions, and +giving the larger to his son. "The dinners one gets at wayside inns are +generally very expensive and very poor." + +As he spoke, he handed Louis a thick slice of bread, and the father and +son began to eat with great apparent zest, washing down their food with +big draughts of cold water. + +"Tell me about your journey, my son," remarked the old man. + +"There is very little to tell, father. My employer gave me a number of +documents to be submitted to M. Ramon. He read and studied them very +carefully, I must say. At least he took plenty of time to do it,--five +whole days, after which he returned the documents with numberless +comments, annotations, and corrections." + +"Then you did not enjoy yourself particularly at Dreux, I judge." + +"I was bored to death, father." + +"What kind of a man is this M. Ramon, that a stay at his house should be +so wearisome?" + +"The worst kind of a person conceivable, my dear father. In other words, +an execrable old miser." + +"Hum! hum!" coughed the old man, as if he had swallowed the wrong way. +"So he is a miser, is he? He must be very rich, then." + +"I don't know about that. One may be stingy with a small fortune as +well as with a big one, I suppose; but if this M. Ramon's wealth is to +be measured by his parsimony, he must be a multi-millionaire. He is a +regular old Harpagon." + +"If you had been reared in luxury and abundance, I could understand the +abuse you heap upon this old Harpagon, as you call him; but we have +always lived in such poverty that, however parsimonious M. Ramon may be, +you certainly cannot be able to see much difference between his life and +ours." + +"Ah, father, you don't know what you're talking about." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Well, M. Ramon keeps two servants; we have none. He occupies an entire +house; we both eat and sleep in this garret room. He has three or four +courses at dinner, we take a bite of anything that comes handy, but for +all that we live a hundred times better than that skinflint does." + +"But I don't understand, my son," said Father Richard, who for some +reason or other seemed to be greatly annoyed at the derogatory opinion +his son expressed. "There can be no comparison between that gentleman's +circumstances and ours." + +"My dear father, we make no attempt to conceal our poverty at all +events. We endure our privations cheerfully, and if I sometimes, in my +ambitious moments, dream of a rather more comfortable existence, you +know it is not on my own account, for I am very well satisfied with my +lot." + +"My dear boy, I know what a kind heart you have, I know, too, how much +you love me, and the only thing that consoles me for our poverty is the +knowledge that you do not repine at your lot." + +"Repine at my lot when you share it? Besides, what we lack is really +only the superfluous. We do not eat capons stuffed with truffles, it is +true, but we eat with a good appetite,--witness the rapid disappearance +of this big loaf of bread; our clothes are threadbare, but warm; we +earn, both together, from seventeen to eighteen hundred francs a year. +Not a colossal amount, by any means, but we owe no man a penny. Ah, my +dear father, if Heaven never sends me any worse trouble than this, I +shall never complain." + +"You have no idea how much pleasure it gives me to see you accept your +lot in life so cheerfully. But tell me, are you really happy?" + +"Very happy." + +"Really and truly?" + +"Why should I wish to deceive you? Do I ever look glum and sour like a +man who is discontented with his lot?" + +"That is only because you have such an uncommonly good disposition, +perhaps." + +"That depends. If I were obliged to live with that abominable old +skinflint Ramon, I should soon become intolerable." + +"Why are you so hard upon that poor man?" + +"The recollection of the torture I endured under his roof, I suppose." + +"Torture?" + +"What else do you call it, father, to live in a big, cold, dilapidated, +cheerless house,--a house so dreary, in fact, that the grave seems a +cheerful abode in comparison? And then to see those two thin, +solemn-faced, famished-looking servants wandering about in that grim +sepulchre! And the meals,--meals at which the master of the house seems +to count each morsel that you eat! And his daughter,--for the man has a +daughter who will perpetuate the breed, I suppose,--and his daughter, +who doles out scanty portions for the domestics, and then carefully +locks up the remains of the meagre meal!" + +"Louis, Louis, how is it that you, who are usually so charitably +inclined, should be so strangely hostile to this poor man and his +daughter?" + +"His daughter! Can you call such a thing as that a daughter, a big, +raw-boned creature, with feet and hands like a man's, a face like a +nutcracker, and a nose,--great Heavens! what a nose,--a nose as long as +that, and of a brick-red colour? But justice compels me to say that this +incomparable creature has yellow hair and black teeth to make up for her +red nose." + +"The portrait is not flattered, evidently, but all women cannot be +pretty, and a kind heart is much better than a pretty face." + +"True, father, but how strange it is that there should be such +remarkable contrasts in some families." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Judge of my surprise on seeing in one of the apartments of that gloomy +house the portrait of a woman with such a charming, refined, +distinguished face that it seemed as if the picture must have been +placed there expressly to spite hateful Miss Red Nose. You shake your +head, father, but I am sure you ought not to censure me very severely. +At first I felt very sorry for the young lady when I saw her so +excessively ugly, and, above all, condemned to live with such an old +skinflint of a father; but afterwards, when I saw her nearly badger the +life out of those two poor servants, scolding them continually for the +merest trifle, and doling out the very smallest amount of food that +would suffice to keep them alive, my compassion changed to aversion and +positive loathing. But to return to the subject of the picture. The +portrait bore such a striking resemblance to one of my old schoolmates +that I asked old Harpagon who the lady was, and greatly to my surprise +he told me that it was a portrait of his sister, the late Madame de +Saint-Herem. 'Then this lady is, doubtless, the mother of the young +Marquis de Saint-Herem?' I asked, and if you could only have seen old +Ramon's face! One would have supposed I had just evoked the very devil +himself. Miss Red Nose, too, made a gesture of pious horror (I forgot to +tell you, to complete the picture, that she is one of the worst of +bigots), whereupon her worthy parent answered that he had the misfortune +to be the uncle of an infernal scoundrel named Saint-Herem." + +"This M. de Saint-Herem must bear a very bad reputation, I judge." + +"What! Florestan? the bravest and most delightful fellow in the world." + +"But his uncle--" + +"Listen, father, and you shall judge for yourself. Saint-Herem and I +were very intimate at college, but I had lost sight of him for a long +time, when about six months ago, as I was walking along the boulevard, I +saw everybody turning to look at a beautiful mail phaeton drawn by two +magnificent horses, and with two tiny footmen perched up behind. And who +do you suppose was driving this exquisite turnout? My old college +friend, Saint-Herem, who looked handsomer than ever; in fact, it would +be impossible to conceive of a more distinguished-looking young man." + +"I should judge that he must be a terrible spendthrift, though." + +"Wait until you hear the end of my story, my dear father. The vehicle +stopped suddenly, the little grooms jumped down and ran to the horses' +heads. Saint-Herem sprang out of the phaeton, rushed up to me, and +positively embraced me in his delight at meeting me again after such a +long separation. I was dressed like the poor devil of a notary's clerk +that I am, and you must admit, my dear father, that most men of fashion +would have shrunk from even recognising such a plebeian-looking +creature, but Florestan did not even seem to notice my plain apparel. As +for me, I was both pleased and embarrassed by this manifestation of +friendly feeling on his part, for we seemed to attract a great deal of +attention. Saint-Herem, too, must have noticed the fact, for he +exclaimed: + +"'Did you ever see such a set of gaping idiots? Where are you going?' + +"'To the office.' + +"'Then get in with me. We can talk as we drive along.' + +"'What! get into that stylish carriage with my clumsy shoes and big +umbrella? What will people think?' I replied. But Florestan only +shrugged his shoulders, and, seizing me by the arm, half led, half +dragged me to the carriage. On our way to the office he made me promise +that I would come and see him, and finally he set me down at the +notary's door with the warmest protestations of friendship and +good-will. Now what do you think of a man who would act like that, +father?" + +"Pooh!" responded the scrivener, with a by no means enthusiastic air, +"he yielded to a kindly impulse, that is all. I always distrust people +who are so inclined to make a display of their friendship; besides, you +are in no position to keep up such an acquaintance." + +"I know that; still, under the circumstances, I felt obliged to keep my +promise to take breakfast with Florestan on the following Sunday. The +kind-hearted fellow treated me as if I were a prince, and begged me to +come again, but I left for Dreux soon afterward, so I have not seen him +since." + +"It is very strange that you never said anything to me about your visit +to him." + +"Shall I tell you why I did not? I said to myself: 'My poor father loves +me so much he may fear that the sight of Florestan's splendour will +excite my envy, and make me dissatisfied with my own humble condition in +life, so I will conceal the fact that I once breakfasted with a +Sardanapalus or a Lucullus.'" + +"My dear, brave boy!" exclaimed the old man, with deep emotion, "I +understand; and the delicacy of your conduct touches me deeply. It is +only one more proof of your kindness and generosity of heart, but I beg +that you will now listen to me attentively for a moment, for it is to +this very generosity of feeling, as well as to your affection for me, +that I am about to appeal. There is an extremely grave and important +matter about which I must speak to you." + +The scrivener's expression had become so serious and even solemn that +the young man gazed at him with surprise; but just then the porter +knocked at the door and said: + +"Here is a letter for you, M. Louis." + +"Very well," replied the young man, abstractedly, too much engaged in +wondering what the important matter to which his father had alluded +could be to pay much attention to the letter, which Father Richard +instantly recognised as the one which he had written to his son that +morning, and which he had addressed to the Rue de Grenelle instead of to +Dreux, as poor Mariette had requested. + +Knowing the contents of the missive, the old scrivener was on the point +of advising his son to read the letter immediately, but, after a +moment's reflection, he adopted the opposite course, and said: + +"My dear boy, you will have plenty of time to read your letter by and +by. Listen to me now, for I repeat there is a matter of great importance +both to you and to me, that I must consult you about." + +"I am at your service, my dear father," replied Louis, laying the letter +which he had been about to open on the table. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +A FATHER'S AMBITION. + + +Father Richard remained silent for a moment, then, turning to his son, +said: + +"I have warned you that I am about to appeal to your generosity as well +as to your affection for me." + +"Then you have only to speak, father." + +"You told me just now that, if you sometimes dreamed of a less humble +existence than ours, it was not on your own account, but mine." + +"And that is perfectly true." + +"Ah, well, my son, it only depends upon yourself to see this desire +realised." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Listen to me. Reverses of fortune which closely followed your mother's +death, while you were but an infant, left me barely property enough to +defray the expenses of your education." + +"Yes, my dear father, and the courage and resignation with which you +have endured this misfortune have only increased my love and respect for +you." + +"Our pecuniary condition seems likely to speedily become worse instead +of better, I regret to say. With old age fast coming on, and my failing +vision, I realise that the day is near at hand when it will be +impossible for me to earn even the pittance needed for my support." + +"But, father, you may be sure--" + +"Of your willing aid, I know that; but your own future is precarious in +the extreme. The most you can hope for is to become chief clerk in a +notary's office, for it takes money to study a profession, and I am +poor." + +"Do not worry, father. I shall always be able to earn money enough for +us two." + +"But what if sickness should come, or some accident should befall either +of us, or you should be thrown out of employment for several months, +what would become of us then?" + +"My dear father, if we poor people stopped to think of the misfortunes +that might befall us, we should lose courage. Let us close our eyes to +the future, and think only of the present. That, thank Heaven! is not +alarming." + +"Yes, I admit that it is better not to think of the future when it is +alarming, but when it may be happy and prosperous, if we choose to make +it so, is it not well to open our eyes instead of closing them?" + +"Certainly." + +"So I repeat, that it depends entirely upon yourself to make our future +both happy and prosperous." + +"You may consider it done, then. Only tell me how I am to do it." + +"I shall surprise you very much, I am sure, when I tell you that this M. +Ramon with whom you have just spent several days, and whom you so +cruelly misjudge, is an old friend of mine, and that the visit you just +paid him was planned by him and me." + +"But the papers my employer--" + +"Your employer kindly consented to assist us by charging you with a +pretended mission to Ramon." + +"But why was it considered necessary to resort to this trick?" + +"Ramon wished to see you and study you; in other words, to become +thoroughly acquainted with you without your suspecting it, and I feel it +my duty to tell you that he is delighted with you. I received a long +letter from him this very morning, in which he speaks of you in the +highest terms." + +"I regret that I am unable to return the compliment; but how can M. +Ramon's good or bad opinion affect me?" + +"It does affect you very seriously, though, my dear boy, for the +prosperous future of which I spoke is entirely dependent upon the +opinion Ramon has of you." + +"You speak in enigmas, father." + +"Ramon, without being what is called rich, possesses a comfortable +fortune, which, by reason of his wise economy, is increasing every day." + +"I can readily believe that, only what you call economy is contemptible +stinginess, father." + +"Don't let us haggle about terms, my son. Call it parsimony or economy, +or what you will, in consequence of it Ramon is sure to leave his +daughter a handsome fortune, though he will give her nothing during his +lifetime." + +"That does not surprise me in the least; but I really cannot imagine +what you are driving at, father?" + +"I rather hesitate to tell you, because, however erroneous first +impressions may be, they are very tenacious, and you have expressed +yourself so harshly in relation to Mlle. Ramon--" + +"Miss Red Nose? On the contrary, I assure you that I have been extremely +lenient." + +"Oh, you will get over your prejudice, I am sure. Believe me, Mlle. +Ramon is one of those persons who have to be known to be appreciated. +She is a young woman of remarkable strength of character as well as of +the most exemplary piety. What more can one ask in the mother of a +family?" + +"The mother of a family?" repeated Louis, who, though he was far from +suspecting the danger that menaced him, began to be conscious of a vague +uneasiness. "And what difference does it make to me whether Mlle. Ramon +proves an admirable mother of a family or not?" + +"It is a matter of vital importance to you." + +"To me?" + +"Yes." + +"And why?" demanded Louis, anxiously. + +"Because it is the one desire of my life to see you Mlle. Ramon's +husband," answered the old man, firmly. + +"Mlle. Ramon's husband!" cried Louis, springing up with a movement of +positive horror; "I marry that woman?" + +"Yes, my son. Marry Mlle. Ramon, and our future is assured. We will go +to Dreux to live. The house is large enough for us all. Ramon will give +his daughter no dowry, but we are to live with him, that is decided, and +he will procure you a lucrative situation. When your father-in-law dies, +you will come into a handsome fortune. Louis, my son, my beloved son," +added the old man, imploringly, seizing his son's hands, "consent to +this marriage, I beg of you. Consent to it, and you will make me the +happiest of men." + +"Ah, father, you do not know what you are asking," replied Louis. + +"You are going to say that you do not love Mlle. Ramon, perhaps; but +mutual respect and esteem are sufficient, and you can give both to Mlle. +Ramon, for she deserves them. As for her father, the parsimony that +shocked you so much at first, will seem less objectionable when you +recollect that, after all, you are the person who will profit by it, +eventually. Ramon is really a most estimable man. The one ambition of +his life is to leave his daughter and the husband of her choice a +handsome fortune; to attain this end, he keeps his expenses down as much +as possible. Is this any crime, I should like to know? Come, Louis, my +dear boy, answer me, give me a word of hope." + +"Father, much as it costs me to thwart your plans, what you ask is +impossible," replied the young man, sadly. + +"Louis, can it be you that answers me in this way when I appeal to your +love for me?" + +"In the first place, you would derive no personal advantage from this +marriage. You are thinking only of my interest when you urge it upon +me." + +"What! is it nothing to be able to live with Ramon without being obliged +to spend a sou? For it is understood that we are to live there for +nothing, I tell you, as he gives his daughter no dowry." + +"So long as I have a drop of blood in my veins, I will accept charity +from no man, father. More than once already I have begged you to abandon +your profession of scrivener, and let me supply our modest wants without +any assistance from you. I can easily do it by working a little harder." + +"But if your health should fail, and old age should prevent me from +earning a livelihood, there would be nothing left for me but to go to +the almshouse." + +"I have faith in my courage. I shall not lose my health, and you will +want for nothing; but, if I had to marry Mlle. Ramon, I should certainly +die of grief and despair." + +"You are not in earnest, Louis?" + +"I certainly am, father. I feel, and I always shall feel, an +unconquerable aversion to Mlle. Ramon; besides, I love a young girl, and +she, and she alone, shall be my wife." + +"I fancied I had your confidence, and yet you have come to such an +important decision as this without my even suspecting it." + +"I have been silent on the subject, because I wished to give convincing +proofs of the permanent nature of this attachment before I confided my +intentions to you. I, and the young girl I love, accordingly agreed to +wait one year in order to see if our natures were really congenial, and +if what we considered real love were only an ephemeral fancy. Our love +has withstood every test, thank God! The year expires to-day, and I +shall see the girl I love to-morrow, in order to decide upon the day +that she will broach the subject to her godmother who reared her. +Forgive me, father," added Louis, interrupting the old man as he was +about to speak; "I wish to say one word more. The girl I love is poor, +and works for her daily bread as I do, but she is the best and noblest +creature I know. Never will you find a more devoted daughter. Her +earnings and mine will suffice for our needs; she is accustomed to even +greater privations than we are. I will toil with redoubled ardour and +diligence, and, believe me, you shall have the rest you so much need. +Any disagreement between you and me is intensely painful to me. This is +the first time, I believe, that we have ever differed in opinion, so +spare me the sorrow of again refusing to comply with your request, I +beseech you. Do not insist further upon the subject of this marriage. I +can never resign myself to it, never! Nor will I ever have any other +woman for my wife than Mariette Moreau!" + +Louis uttered these last words in such a firm, though respectful tone +that the old man, not considering it advisable to insist further, +replied, with a disappointed air: + +"I cannot believe, Louis, that all the reasons I have urged in favour of +this marriage will remain valueless in your eyes. I have more faith in +your heart than you have in mine, and I feel sure that a little +reflection on your part will lead you to reconsider your decision." + +"You must not hope that, father." + +"I will so far comply with your wishes as to insist no further at this +time; I trust to reflection to bring you to a different frame of mind. I +give you twenty-four hours to come to a final decision. I will promise +not to say another word to you on the subject until that time expires; +and I must request you, in turn, to make no further allusion to your +wishes. Day after to-morrow we will talk the matter over again." + +"So be it, father, but I assure you that at the expiration of--" + +"We have agreed not to discuss the matter further at this time," +interrupted the old man, beginning to walk the room in silence, with an +occasional furtive glance at Louis, who, with his head supported on his +hands, still remained seated at the table on which he had placed the +letter a short time before. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THE FORGED LETTER. + + +His eyes having at last chanced to fall upon this letter addressed to +him in a handwriting he did not recognise, Louis broke the seal +mechanically. + +A moment afterward, the old man, who was still silently pacing the +floor, saw his son suddenly turn pale and pass his hand across his +forehead as if to satisfy himself that he was not the victim of an +optical delusion, then re-read with increasing agitation a missive which +he seemed unable to credit. + +This letter, which Father Richard had written in a disguised hand that +morning, ostensibly from Mariette's dictation, far from expressing that +young girl's real sentiments, read as follows: + + * * * * * + +"M. LOUIS:--I take advantage of your absence to write you what I should +not dare to tell you,--what, in fact, I have put off confessing for more +than two months for fear of causing you pain. All idea of a marriage +between us must be abandoned, M. Louis, as well as all idea of ever +seeing each other again. + +"It is impossible for me to tell you the cause of this change in my +feelings, but I assure you that my mind is fully made up. The reason I +did not inform you yesterday, the sixth of May, M. Louis, the sixth of +May, is that I wished to think the matter over once more, and in your +absence, before telling you my decision. + +"Farewell, M. Louis. Do not try to see me again. It would be useless +and would only cause me great pain. If, on the contrary, you make no +attempt to see me, or to induce me to reconsider my determination, my +happiness as well as that of my poor godmother is assured. + +"It is consequently for the sake of the happiness and peace of mind of +both of us, M. Louis, that I implore you not to insist upon another +meeting. + +"You are so kind-hearted that I am sure you would not like to cause me +unnecessary pain, for I solemnly swear that all is over between us. You +will not insist further, I hope, when I tell you that I no longer love +you except as a friend. + +MARIETTE MOREAU. + +"P.S. Instead of addressing this letter to Dreux, as you requested, I +send it to your Paris address, in order that you may find it there on +your return. Augustine, who has written for me heretofore, having gone +home on a visit, I have had recourse to another person. + +"I forgot to say that my godmother's health remains about the same." + + * * * * * + +The perusal of this letter plunged Louis into a profound stupor. The +ingenuous style of composition, the numerous petty details, the +allusion, twice repeated, to the sixth of May, all proved that the +missive must have been dictated by Mariette, so, after vainly asking +himself what could be the cause of this sudden rupture, anger, grief, +and wounded pride, all struggled for the mastery in the young man's +heart, and he murmured: + +"She need not insist so strongly upon my making no attempt to see her +again! Why should I desire to do so?" + +But grief soon overcame anger in the young man's heart. He endeavoured +to recall all the particulars of his last interview with Mariette, but +no indication of the slightest alienation of affection presented itself +to his mind. On the contrary, never had she seemed more loving and +devoted,--never had she seemed so eager to unite her lot with his. And +yet, unless appearances were deceiving him, Mariette, whom he had always +believed so pure and honest, was a monster of dissimulation. + +Louis could not believe that; so, impatient to solve the mystery, and +unable to endure this suspense any longer, he resolved to go to +Mariette's home at once, even at the risk of offending her godmother, +who, like Father Richard, had had no suspicion of the young people's +mutual love up to the present time. + +Not one of the different emotions which had in turn agitated the young +man had escaped the scrivener's watchful eye, as, thinking it quite time +to interfere, he said: + +"Louis, we must leave for Dreux early to-morrow morning, for, if we do +not, Ramon is sure to be here day after to-morrow, as has been agreed +upon." + +"Father!" + +"Such a proceeding on our part does not compromise us in the least, and +if you are determined to oppose the dearest wish of my heart, I only ask +that you will spend a few more days with Ramon and his daughter, as a +favour to me. After that, you will be perfectly free to act as you see +fit." + +Then seeing Louis pick up his hat, as if he intended to go out, Father +Richard exclaimed: + +"What are you doing? Where are you going?" + +"I have a slight headache, father, and I am going out for awhile." + +"Don't, I beg of you," exclaimed the old man, with growing alarm. "You +have looked and acted very strangely ever since you read that letter. +You frighten me." + +"You are mistaken, father. There is nothing the matter with me. I have a +slight headache, that is all. I shall be back soon." + +And Louis left the room abruptly. + +As he passed the porter's lodge, that functionary stopped him, and said, +with a mysterious air: + +"M. Louis, I want to see you alone for a moment. Step inside, if you +please." + +"What is it?" asked Louis, as he complied with the request. + +"Here is a card that a gentleman left for you. He came in a magnificent +carriage, and said that his business was very important." + +Louis took the card, and, approaching the lamp, read: + + * * * * * + +"_Commandant de la Miraudière, + +17 Rue du Mont-Blanc._ + +"Requests the honour of a visit from M. Louis Richard to-morrow morning +between nine and ten, as he has a very important communication, which +will brook no delay, to make to him." + + * * * * * + +"Commandant de la Miraudière? I never heard the name before," Louis said +to himself, as he examined the card, then, turning it over mechanically, +he saw, written in pencil on the other side: + +"Mariette Moreau, with Madame Lacombe, Rue des Prêtres St. Germain +l'Auxerrois." + +For M. de la Miraudière, having jotted down Mariette's address on one of +his visiting cards, had, without thinking, written upon the same card +the request for an interview which he had left for Louis. + +That young man, more and more perplexed, endeavoured in vain to discover +what possible connection there could be between Mariette and the +stranger who had left the card. After a moment's silence, he said to the +porter: + +"Did the gentleman leave any other message?" + +"He told me to give you the card when your father was not present." + +"That is strange," thought the young man. + +"What kind of a looking man was he--young or old?" he asked, aloud. + +"A very handsome man, M. Louis, a decorated gentleman, with a moustache +as black as ink, and very elegantly dressed." + +Louis went out with his brain in a whirl. This new revelation increased +his anxiety. The most absurd suspicions and fears immediately assailed +him, and he forthwith began to ask himself if this stranger were not a +rival. + +In her letter Mariette had implored Louis to make no attempt to see her +again. Such a step on his part, would, she said, endanger not only her +own happiness, but that of her godmother as well. Louis knew the trying +position in which the two women were placed, and a terrible suspicion +occurred to him. Perhaps Mariette, impelled as much by poverty as by her +godmother's persistent entreaties, had listened to the proposals of the +man whose card he, Louis, had just received. In that case, what could be +the man's object in requesting an interview? Louis racked his brain in +the hope of solving this mystery, but in vain. + +These suspicions once aroused, the supposition that he had been betrayed +for the sake of a rich rival seemed the only possible explanation of +Mariette's strange conduct. Under these circumstances he abandoned his +intention of going to Mariette's house for the present, or at least +until after his interview with the commandant, from whom he was resolved +to extort an explanation. + +He returned home about midnight, and his father, convinced by the gloomy +expression of his son's countenance that he could not have seen the girl +and discovered the deception that had been practised upon both of them, +again proposed that they should leave for Dreux the next morning, but +Louis replied that he desired more time for reflection before taking +this important step, and threw himself despairingly on his pallet. + +Sleep was an impossibility, and at daybreak he stole out of the room to +escape his father's questions, and after having waited in mortal anxiety +on the boulevard for the hour appointed for his interview with +Commandant de la Miraudière, he hastened to that gentleman's house. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +A STARTLING DISCOVERY. + + +When Louis presented himself at the house of Commandant de la +Miraudière, that gentleman was sitting at his desk, enveloped in a +superb dressing-gown, smoking his cigar, and examining a big pile of +notes and bills. + +While he was thus engaged, his servant entered, and announced: + +"M. Richard." + +"Ask M. Richard to wait in the drawing-room a moment. When I ring, show +him in." + +As soon as the servant left the room, M. de la Miraudière opened a +secret drawer in his desk, and took out twenty-five one thousand franc +notes, and placed them beside a sheet of the stamped paper used for +legal documents of divers kinds, then rang the bell. + +Louis entered, with a gloomy and perturbed air. His heart throbbed +violently at the thought that he was, perhaps, in the presence of a +favoured rival, for this poor fellow, like sincere lovers in general, +greatly exaggerated the advantages which his competitor possessed, so M. +de la Miraudière, wrapped in a handsome dressing-gown, and occupying an +elegant suite of apartments, seemed a very formidable rival indeed. + +"Is it to M. Louis Richard that I have the honour of speaking?" inquired +M. de la Miraudière, with his most ingratiating smile. + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"The only son of M. Richard, the scrivener?" + +These last words were uttered with a rather sarcastic air. Louis noted +the fact, and responded, dryly: + +"Yes, monsieur, my father is a scrivener." + +"Excuse me, my dear sir, for having given you so much trouble, but it +was absolutely necessary that I should talk with you alone, and as that +seemed well-nigh impossible at your own home, I was obliged to ask you +to take the trouble to call here." + +"May I ask why you wished to see me, monsieur?" + +"Merely to offer you my services, my dear M. Richard," replied M. de la +Miraudière in an insinuating tone. "For it would give me great pleasure +to be able to call you my client." + +"Your client? Why, who are you, monsieur?" + +"An old soldier, now on the retired list,--twenty campaigns, ten +wounds,--now a man of affairs, merely to pass away the time. I have a +number of large capitalists as backers, and I often act as an +intermediary between them and young men of prospective wealth." + +"Then I do not know of any service you can render me." + +"You say that, when you are leading a life of drudgery as a notary's +clerk, when you are vegetating--positively vegetating--living in a +miserable attic with your father, and dressed, Heaven knows how!" + +"Monsieur!" exclaimed Louis, fairly purple with indignation. + +"Excuse me, my young friend, but these are, I regret to say, the real +facts of the case, shameful as they appear. Why, a young man like you +ought to be spending twenty-five or thirty thousand francs a year, ought +to have his horses and mistresses and enjoy life generally." + +"Monsieur, if this is intended as a joke, I warn you that I am in no +mood for it," said Louis, angrily. + +"As I have already told you, I am an old soldier who has proved his +valour on many a well-fought field, my young friend, so I can afford not +to take offence at your manner, for which there is plenty of excuse, I +must admit, as what I am saying must seem rather extraordinary to you." + +"Very extraordinary, monsieur." + +"Here is something that may serve to convince you that I am speaking +seriously," added the man of affairs, spreading out the thousand franc +notes on his desk. "Here are twenty-five thousand francs that I should +be delighted to place at your disposal, together with twenty-five +hundred francs a month for the next five years." + +Louis, unable to believe his own ears, gazed at M. de la Miraudière in +speechless astonishment, but at last, partially recovering from his +stupor, he said: + +"You make this offer to me, monsieur?" + +"Yes, and with very great pleasure." + +"To me, Louis Richard?" + +"To you, Louis Richard." + +"Richard is a very common name, monsieur. You probably mistake me for +some other person." + +"No, no, my young friend, I know what I am talking about, and I also +know who I am talking to. It is to Louis Désiré Richard, only son of M. +Alexandre Timoléon Bénédict Pamphile Richard, aged sixty-seven, born in +Brie Comte Robert, but now residing at No. 17, Rue de Grenelle St. +Honoré, a scrivener by profession. There is no mistake, you see, my +young friend." + +"Then as you know my family so well, you must also know that my poverty +prevents me from contracting any such a loan." + +"Your poverty!" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"It is shameful, it is outrageous, to rear a young man under such a +misapprehension of the real state of affairs," exclaimed the commandant, +indignantly, "to compel him to spend the best years of his life in the +stock, as it were, and to compel him to wear shabby clothes and woollen +stockings and brogans. Fortunately, there is such a thing as +Providence, and you now behold a humble instrument of Providence in the +shape of Commandant de la Miraudière." + +"I assure you that all this is extremely tiresome, monsieur. If you +cannot explain more clearly, we had better bring this interview to an +immediate conclusion." + +"Very well, then. You believe your father to be a very poor man, do you +not?" + +"I am not ashamed of the fact." + +"Oh, credulous youth that you are! Listen and bless me ever afterward." + +As he spoke, M. de la Miraudière drew a large leather-bound book +resembling a ledger toward him, and, after a moment's search, read aloud +as follows: + +"'Inventory of Personal Property of M. Alexandre Timoléon Bénédict +Pamphile Richard, from information secured by the Committee on Loans of +the Bank of France, May 1, 18----. + + "'1st. Three thousand nine hundred and twenty + shares of the Bank of France, market value, 924,300 fr. + + "'2d. Notes of the Mont de Piété, 875,250 + + "'3d. On Deposit in the Bank of France, 259,130 + _____________ + "'Total, 2,058,680 fr.' + +"You see from these figures, my ingenuous young friend, that the known +personal property of your honoured parent amounted, on the first of this +month, to considerably over two million francs; but it is more than +likely that, after the fashion of most misers who take a vast amount of +pleasure in seeing and handling a part of their wealth, he has a large +amount of money hoarded away in some convenient hiding-place. Even if +this should not be the case, you see that the author of your being +possesses more than two million francs, and as he spends barely twelve +hundred francs out of an income of nearly one hundred thousand, you can +form some idea of the amount of wealth you will enjoy some day, and you +can no longer wonder at the offer I have just made you." + +Louis was petrified with astonishment by this revelation. He could not +utter a word, but merely gazed at the speaker with inexpressible +amazement. + +"You seem to be knocked all in a heap, my young friend. You act as if +you were dazed." + +"I really do not know what to think of all this," stammered Louis. + +"Do as St. Thomas did, then. Touch these bank-notes and perhaps that +will convince you. The capitalists who are backing me are not inclined +to run any risk with their lucre, and they are willing to advance you +this money at seven per cent., with a like commission for my services in +addition. Interest and loan together will scarcely amount to one-half of +your father's yearly income, so you will still be piling up money, even +if you should live as a gentleman ought to live, and spend fifty +thousand francs a year. It will be impossible for you to get along on +less than that, but you can at least wait with patience for the hour of +your honoured parent's demise, you understand. And, by the way, I have +provided for every contingency, as you will see when I tell you about +the little scheme I have invented, for of course your good father will +be astonished at the change in your mode of living, so you are to invest +in a lottery ticket--the prize, a magnificent five hundred louis +diamond; price of tickets, ten francs each. The drawing takes place day +after to-morrow; you will win the prize and sell it again for eight or +nine thousand francs. This money you must allow a friend to invest for +you in a wonderfully successful enterprise, which will yield three +hundred per cent a year. Thanks to this stratagem, you can spend +twenty-five or thirty thousand francs a year under your father's very +nose. Tell me, now, young man, haven't you good cause to regard me in +the light of a guardian angel, or a beneficent Providence? But what on +earth is the matter with you? What is the meaning of this clouded brow, +this solemn air, this gloomy silence, when I expected to see you +half-delirious with joy, and fairly turning somersaults in your delight +at being transformed from a clerk into a millionaire, in less than a +quarter of an hour. Speak, young man, speak! Can it be that joy and +astonishment have bereft him of reason?" + +It is a fact that a revelation which would undoubtedly have filled any +one else with the wildest joy had only aroused a feeling of painful +resentment in Louis Richard's breast. The deception his father had +practised upon him wounded him deeply, but bitterer still was the +thought that, but for Mariette's cruel desertion, he might have shared +this wealth with her some day, and changed the laborious, squalid life +the young girl had always led into one of ease and luxury. + +This reflection, reviving as it did such poignant regrets, dominated him +so completely that, forgetting everything else, he drew out the visiting +card the commandant had left for him, and demanded, abruptly: + +"Will you tell me how it happens that Mlle. Moreau's name and address +are written in pencil on the back of this card?" + +"What!" exclaimed the commandant, amazed at the question, especially at +such a moment. "You wish to know--" + +"How it happens that Mlle. Moreau's address is on this card. When I ask +a question, I expect to have it answered." + +"The devil! My young friend, you are trying to carry things with a high +hand, it strikes me." + +"You are at perfect liberty to take offence at my manner, if you +choose." + +"Really, monsieur!" exclaimed the usurer, straightening himself up and +twirling his black moustache quite ferociously. Then, with a sudden +change of manner, he added: "Oh, nonsense! I have proved my valour +beyond all question. An old soldier, with any number of wounds, I can +afford to let many things pass; so I will merely say, my dear client, +that that young girl's name and address happen to be on the card because +I wrote them there so I would not forget them." + +"You know Mlle. Mariette, then?" + +"I do." + +"You are paying court to her, perhaps?" + +"Rather." + +"With hopes of success?" + +"Decidedly." + +"Very well, I forbid you ever to set foot in her house again." + +"Ah, ha! so I have a rival," the usurer said to himself. "How funny! I +understand the girl's refusal now. I must get ahead of my client, +though. He is young and unsophisticated,--that means he is jealous. He +will be sure to fall into the trap, then I can oust him, for I've set my +heart on the girl, and if I can't get her this young fellow sha'n't. I'm +resolved upon that!" + +After which, he added aloud: + +"My dear friend, when I am forbidden to do anything, I consider it my +bounden duty to do precisely what I am forbidden to do." + +"We will see about that, monsieur." + +"Listen, young man. I have fought fifty-seven duels, so I can easily +dispense with fighting the fifty-eighth with you. I prefer, +consequently, to try to induce you to listen to the voice of reason, if +possible. Permit me, therefore, to ask you one question: You have just +returned from a journey, I believe?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"You were absent several days, I think. May I ask if you have seen +Mariette since your return?" + +"No, monsieur, but--" + +"Ah, well, my young friend, the same thing has happened to you that has +happened to many other lovers. Mariette was not aware that you were the +son of a millionaire; I presented myself in your absence, and offered +her what has never yet failed to turn the head of a half-starved +grisette. Her godmother, who was also dying of hunger, craved the +fleshpots of Egypt, naturally,--and, well, '_les absents ont toujours +tort_,' you know. Ha, ha, you understand!" + +"My God!" groaned Louis, his anger giving place to profound despair. "My +God! it is true, then." + +"If I had known that I was interfering with a prospective client, I +would have abstained, I assure you. Now it is too late. Besides, there +are as good fish in the sea--You know the proverb. Come, my young +friend, don't take it so much to heart. The girl was entirely too young +for you. She needs training. You will find plenty of charming women +already trained and thoroughly trained. I can particularly recommend a +certain Madame----" + +"Wretch!" exclaimed Louis, seizing the man of affairs by the collar, +"wretch!--" + +"Monsieur, you shall answer for this!" exclaimed the commandant, trying +to wrench himself from his rival's iron grasp. + +Just then the door opened suddenly, and, at the sound of a loud laugh, +both men turned simultaneously. + +"Saint-Herem!" exclaimed Louis, recognising his old schoolmate. + +"You here!" exclaimed Florestan de Saint-Herem, while the usurer, +adjusting the collar of his dressing-gown, muttered savagely under his +breath: + +"What the devil brought Saint-Herem here just at this most inopportune +moment, I should like to know!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +COMMANDANT DE LA MIRAUDIÈRE'S ANTECEDENTS. + + +M. de Saint-Herem was a handsome man, not over thirty years of age, with +a remarkably distinguished manner and bearing. His refined and rather +spirituelle face sometimes wore an expression of extreme +superciliousness, as when he addressed any remark to Commandant de la +Miraudière, for instance; but at the sight of his old schoolmate he +seemed to experience the liveliest joy. He even embraced him +affectionately, and Louis returned the embrace heartily, spite of the +conflicting emotions that agitated him. + +But this manifestation of surprise and pleasure over, the chief actors +in the scene relapsed into the same mood they had been in when +Saint-Herem so unexpectedly burst in upon them, and Louis, pale with +anger, continued to cast such wrathful glances at the usurer that M. de +Saint-Herem said to that gentleman, with a mocking air: + +"You must admit that I arrived very opportunely. But for my timely +appearance upon the scene of action, it seems to me my friend Louis +would soon have taken all the starch out of you." + +"To dare to lay his hand on me, an old soldier!" exclaimed the +commandant, advancing a step toward Louis. "This matter shall not be +allowed to end here, M. Richard." + +"That is for you to say, M. de la Miraudière." + +"M. de la Miraudière? Ha, ha, ha!" roared Florestan. "What! my dear +Louis, you really take that fellow seriously? You believe in his title, +in his cross, in his campaigns, his wounds, his duels, and his +high-sounding name?" + +"Enough of this jesting," said the pretended commandant, colouring with +vexation. "Even friendly raillery has its limits, my dear fellow." + +"M. Jerome Porquin," began Florestan, then, turning to Louis, he added, +pointing to the usurer, "his real name is Porquin, and a very +appropriate name it is, it seems to me." + +Then once more addressing the pretended commandant, Florestan added, in +a tone that admitted of no reply: + +"This is the second time I have been obliged to forbid your calling me +your dear friend, M. Porquin. It is different with me, I have bought and +paid for the right to call you my dear, my enormously, entirely too dear +M. Porquin, for you have swindled me most outrageously--" + +"Really, monsieur, I will not allow--" + +"What is that? Since when has M. Porquin become so terribly sensitive?" +cried Saint-Herem, with an affectation of intense astonishment. "What +has happened? Oh, yes, I understand. It is your presence, my friend +Louis, that makes this much too dear M. Porquin squirm so when I expose +his falsehoods and his absurd pretensions. To settle this vexed question +once for all, I must tell you--and let us see if he will have the +effrontery to contradict me--who M. le Commandant de la Miraudière +really is. He has never served his country except in the sutler's +department. He went to Madrid in that capacity during the late war, and +as he proved to be too great an expense to the government, he was asked +to take himself off. He did so, and transformed himself into what he +calls a man of affairs, or, in other words, into a usurer, and an +intermediary in all sorts of shady transactions. The decoration he +wears is that of the Golden Spur, a papal order, which one holy man +procured from another holy man as a reward for his assistance in a most +atrocious swindle. He has never fought a duel in his life, in the first +place because he is one of the biggest cowards that ever lived, and in +the second place because he bears such a bad reputation that he knows +perfectly well that no respectable man would condescend to fight with +him, and that if he becomes insolent the only thing to do is to give him +a sound thrashing." + +"When you want to make use of me you do not treat me in this fashion, +monsieur," said the usurer, sullenly. + +"When I need you, I pay you, M. Porquin, and as I know all your tricks, +my too dear M. Porquin, I feel it my duty to warn my friend, M. Richard, +against you. You are doubtless eager to devour him; in fact, it is more +than likely that you have already begun to weave your toils around him, +but--" + +"That is the way some persons reward faithful service!" exclaimed M. +Porquin, bitterly. "I reveal a secret of the highest importance to him, +and--" + +"I understand your motive now," responded Louis Richard, dryly, "so I +owe you no gratitude for the service you have rendered me,--that is, if +it be a service," he added, sadly. + +The usurer had no intention of losing his prey, however, and, deeming it +advisable to ignore the insults M. de Saint-Herem had heaped upon him, +he said to Saint-Herem, with as much assurance as if that gentleman had +not so roughly unmasked him: + +"Your friend, M. Richard is at perfect liberty to tell you the +conditions of the bargain I just proposed to him, and you can then judge +whether my demands are exorbitant or not. As my presence might be a +constraint, gentlemen, will you kindly step into the adjoining room? I +will await M. Richard's decision here; that is, of course, if he +desires to ask your advice on the subject." + +"An admirable suggestion, truly, my too dear M. Porquin," responded +Florestan, promptly. And, taking Louis by the arm, he led him toward the +door, remarking to the usurer, as he did so: + +"On my return, I will tell you the object of my visit, or rather, I will +tell you now. I must have two hundred louis this evening. Here, examine +these securities." + +And M. de Saint-Herem, drawing some papers from his pocket, threw them +to the usurer, then entered the adjoining room, accompanied by his +friend. + +The revelation of M. Porquin's real character was another terrible blow +to Louis Richard. The knowledge that it was for the sake of such a +wretch as this that Mariette had been false to him caused him bitter +sorrow, and, unable to restrain his feelings, as soon as he found +himself alone with his friend, he seized both Saint-Herem's hands, and, +in a voice trembling with emotion, exclaimed: + +"Oh, Florestan, how miserable I am!" + +"I suspected as much, my dear Louis, for it must be worse than death for +a sensible, industrious fellow like you to find yourself in the clutches +of a scoundrel like Porquin. What is the trouble? Your habits have +always been so frugal, how did you manage to get into debt? Tell me +about it. What seems an enormous sum to you may be but a trifle to me. I +just told that rascal in there that he was to let me have two hundred +louis this evening, and I am sure he will. You shall share them with me, +or you can have the whole amount if you want it. Two hundred louis will +certainly pay all the debts any notary's clerk can have contracted. I do +not say this to humiliate you, far from it. If you need more, we will +try to get it elsewhere, but for God's sake don't apply to Porquin. If +you do you are lost. I know the scoundrel so well." + +Saint-Herem's generous offer gave Louis such heart-felt pleasure that he +almost forgot his sorrows for the moment. + +"My dear, kind friend, if you knew how much this proof of your +friendship consoles me," he exclaimed. + +"So much the better. You accept my offer, then." + +"No." + +"What?" + +"I do not need your kind services. This usurer, whom I had never heard +of before, sent for me yesterday to offer to loan me, each year, more +money than I have spent in my whole life." + +"What! He makes you such an offer as that, this usurer who never loans +so much as a sou without the very best security. Men of his stamp set a +very small valuation on honesty, industry, and integrity, and I know +that these are your sole patrimony, my dear Louis." + +"You are mistaken, Florestan. My father is worth over two millions." + +"Your father!" exclaimed Saint-Herem, in profound astonishment. "Your +father?" + +"Yes. In some mysterious way this usurer has managed to discover a +secret, of which even I had not the slightest suspicion, I assure you, +so he sent for me--" + +"To offer you his services, of course. He and others of his ilk are +always on the lookout for hidden fortunes, and when they find them they +offer to the prospective heirs such advances as will enable them to +squander their wealth before they inherit it. So you are rich, my dear +Louis! You need not feel any doubts on the subject. If Porquin has made +you such an offer, he knows it for a certainty." + +"Yes, I think so, too," said Louis, almost sadly. + +"Why do you speak so mournfully, Louis? One would suppose that you had +just made some terrible discovery. What is the matter with you? What is +the meaning of those tears I saw in your eyes a little while ago? And +of that exclamation, 'I am very miserable!' You miserable, and why?" + +"Do not ridicule me, my friend. The truth is, I love, and I have been +deceived." + +"You have a rival, then, I suppose." + +"Yes, and, to crown my misfortunes, this rival--" + +"Go on." + +"Is this rascally usurer." + +"Porquin, that old scoundrel! The girl prefers him to you? Impossible! +But what leads you to suppose--" + +"Several suspicious circumstances; besides, he says so." + +"Fine authority that! He lies, I am certain of it." + +"But, Florestan, he is rich, and the girl I loved, or rather whom I +still love in spite of myself, is terribly poor." + +"The devil!" + +"Besides, she has an invalid connection to take care of. This +scoundrel's offers must have dazzled the poor child, or want may have +induced her to listen to the voice of the tempter, as so many others do. +What does the discovery of this wealth profit me now? I care nothing for +it if I cannot share it with Mariette." + +"Listen, Louis, I know you, and I feel confident that you must have +placed your affections wisely." + +"Yes; and for more than a year Mariette has given every proof of her +faithful attachment to me, but yesterday, without the slightest warning, +came a letter breaking our engagement." + +"A good girl who has loved a man as poor as you were faithfully for a +year would not have been so quickly won over by the promises of an old +villain like Porquin. He lied to you; I haven't a doubt of it." + +Then calling out at the top of his voice, to the great surprise of +Louis, he exclaimed: + +"Commandant de la Miraudière, come here a minute!" + +"What are you going to do, Florestan?" asked Louis, as the usurer +appeared in the doorway. + +"Keep still and let me manage this affair," replied his friend. Then, +turning to the usurer, he continued: + +"M. de la Miraudière, I feel sure that you must be labouring under a +misapprehension in relation to a very nice young girl who--according to +your account--has fallen a victim to your charms. Will you do me the +favour to tell me the truth so I may know what action to take in the +matter?" + +Concluding that it would be politic to sacrifice a caprice that he had +little chance of gratifying to the advantage of having Louis Richard for +a client, Porquin replied: + +"I must confess that I deeply deplore a stupid jest that seems to have +annoyed M. Richard so much." + +"I told you so," remarked Florestan, turning to his friend. "And now M. +le commandant must do me the favour to explain how the idea of this +stupid jest, or rather what I should call an atrocious calumny, happened +to occur to him." + +"The explanation is very simple, monsieur. I saw Mlle. Mariette several +times in the establishment where she is employed. Her beauty struck me. +I asked for her address, secured it, and, finding her godmother at home +when I called, I proposed to her that--" + +"Enough, monsieur, enough!" cried Louis, indignantly. + +"Permit me to add, however, that the aforesaid godmother declined my +offer, and that the young lady, herself, chancing to come about that +time, coolly ordered me out of the house. I am making a frank +confession, you see, M. de Saint-Herem. I do it, I admit, in the hope +that it will gain me M. Richard's confidence, and that he will decide to +accept my services. As for you, M. de Saint-Herem," continued the +usurer, in his most ingratiating manner, "I have examined the securities +you submitted to me, and I will bring you the money you want this +evening. And, by the way, when you hear the offer I have made to M. +Richard, I feel confident that you will consider my terms very +reasonable." + +"I do not want your money, monsieur," said Louis, "and I consider it an +insult for you to think me capable of trading upon my father's death, as +it were--" + +"But, my dear client, permit me to say--" + +"Come, Florestan, let us go," Louis said to his friend, without paying +the slightest attention to the usurer's protest. + +"You see, my too dear M. Porquin," said Saint-Herem, as he turned to +depart, "you see there are still a few honest men and women left in the +world. It is useless to hope that this discovery will serve either as an +example or a lesson for you, however. You are too set in your ways ever +to reform; but it is some comfort to know of your double defeat." + +"Ah, my dear Florestan," remarked Louis, as they left the house, "thanks +to you, I am much less miserable. The fact that Mariette treated this +villain with the scorn he deserved is some comfort, even though she has +decided to break her engagement with me." + +"Did she tell you so?" + +"No, she wrote me to that effect, or rather she got some other person to +do it for her." + +"What, she got some other person to write such a thing as that for her!" + +"You will sneer, perhaps, but the poor girl I love can neither read nor +write." + +"How fortunate you are! You will at least escape such epistles as I have +been receiving from a pretty little perfumer I took away from a rich but +miserly old banker. I have been amusing myself by showing her a little +of the world,--it is so pleasant to see people happy,--but I have not +been able to improve her grammar, and such spelling! It is of the +antediluvian type. Mother Eve must have written in much the same +fashion. But if your Mariette can neither read nor write, how do you +know but her secretary may have distorted the facts?" + +"With what object?" + +"I don't know, I am sure. But why don't you have an explanation with +her? You will know exactly how you stand, then." + +"But she implored me, both for the sake of her peace of mind and her +future, to make no attempt to see her again." + +"On the contrary, see her again, and at once, for the sake of her +future, now you are a prospective millionaire." + +"You are right, Florestan, I will see her, and at once; and if this +cruel mystery can be satisfactorily explained, if I find her as loving +and devoted as in the past, I shall be the happiest man in the world. +Poor child, her life up to this time has been one of toil and privation. +She shall know rest and comfort now, for I cannot doubt that my father +will consent. My God!" + +"What is the matter?" + +"All this has made me entirely forget something that will surprise you +very much. My father insists that I shall marry your cousin." + +"What cousin?" + +"Mlle. Ramon. A short time ago I went to Dreux; in fact, I have just +returned from there. I had not the slightest suspicion of my father's +plans, when I first saw the young lady, but, even if I had not been in +love with Mariette, your uncle's daughter impressed me so unfavourably +that nothing in the world--" + +"So my uncle is not ruined, as he pretended he was several years ago," +said Florestan, interrupting his friend. "No, evidently not, for if your +father wishes you to marry my cousin, it is because he thinks such an +alliance would be to your advantage. Doubtless my uncle's pretended +failure was only a subterfuge." + +"My father resorted to the same expedient, I think, though he has always +given me to understand that extreme poverty was the cause of the +parsimonious manner in which we lived." + +"Ah, Uncle Ramon, I knew that you were sulky, ill-tempered, and +detestable generally, but I did not believe you capable of such +cleverness of conception. From this day on I shall admire and revere +you. I am not your heir, it is true, but it is always delightful to know +that one has a millionaire uncle. It is such a comforting thought in +one's financial difficulties; one can indulge in all sorts of delightful +hypotheses, in which apoplexy and even cholera present themselves to the +mind in the guise of guardian angels." + +"Without going quite as far as that, and without wishing for any one's +death," said Louis, smiling, "I must admit that I would much rather see +your uncle's fortune pass into your hands than into those of his odious +daughter. You would at least enjoy the possession of it, and, with all +that wealth, I feel sure that you would--" + +"Contract debts without number," Saint-Herem interrupted, majestically. + +"What, Florestan, with a fortune like that--" + +"I should contract debts without number, I tell you. Yes, of course I +should." + +"What, with a fortune of two or three million francs?" + +"With ten, even twenty millions, I should still contract debts. My +theory is that of the government,--the larger a country's debt, the +better that country's credit is. But I will expound my financial +theories some other time. Don't lose a moment now in hastening to +Mariette, and be sure and tell me what success you meet with. Here it is +nearly noon, and I promised the little perfumer--who amuses me +immensely--that she should try a new saddle-horse to-day, the +handsomest hack in Paris,--it cost me a nice price, by the way,--and +she wrote me this morning to remind me that I had promised to take her +to the Bois. So hasten to your Mariette. I feel confident that your love +affair will end happily after all. But write to me, or else come and see +me as soon as possible, for I shall be so anxious to hear the result of +your interview." + +"You shall hear from me, my dear Florestan, whatever happens." + +"Farewell then, my dear Louis, it is agreed that I shall see or hear +from you before to-morrow." + +As he spoke, M. de Saint-Herem stepped into the handsomely appointed +brougham which was waiting for him at the usurer's door, and Louis +Richard wended his way on foot to Mariette's home. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE MYSTERY EXPLAINED. + + +When Louis Richard entered the room occupied by Mariette and her +godmother, he paused a moment on the threshold, overwhelmed with grief +and despair at the affecting scene that presented itself to his gaze. + +Mariette was lying to all appearance lifeless on a mattress on the +floor. Her features, which were overspread with a death-like pallor, +contracted convulsively from time to time. Her eyes were closed, and +there were still traces of tears on her marble cheeks, while in one of +the clenched hands crossed upon her breast was the envelope containing +the fragments of the letter she had received from Louis. + +Madame Lacombe's usually grim and sardonic face showed that she was a +prey to the most poignant grief and distress. Kneeling beside the +mattress on which her goddaughter was lying, she was supporting +Mariette's head upon her mutilated arm, and holding a glass of water to +the girl's inanimate lips with the other. + +Hearing a sound, Madame Lacombe turned hastily, and her features resumed +their usually hard and irascible expression, as she saw Louis standing +motionless in the doorway. + +"What do you want?" she demanded, brusquely. "Why do you come in without +knocking? I don't know you. Who are you?" + +"My God! in what a terrible condition I find her!" exclaimed Louis. + +And without paying any attention to Madame Lacombe's question, he sprang +forward, and, throwing himself on his knees beside the pallet, +exclaimed, imploringly: + +"What is the matter, Mariette? Answer me, I beseech you." + +Madame Lacombe, who had been as much surprised as annoyed at the young +man's intrusion, now scrutinised his features closely, and, after a +moment's reflection, said, sullenly: + +"You are Louis Richard, I suppose?" + +"Yes, madame, but in Heaven's name what has happened to Mariette?" + +"You have killed her, that is all!" + +"I? Great God! But, madame, something must be done. Let me run for a +doctor. Her hands are like ice. Mariette, Mariette! Oh, my God! my God! +she does not hear me." + +"She has been in this state ever since last night, and it was your +letter that caused it." + +"My letter! What letter?" + +"Oh, you intend to deny it now, I suppose. You needn't, for last night +the poor child couldn't bear it any longer, and told me all." + +"Great Heavens! What did she tell you?" + +"That you never wanted to lay eyes on her again, and that you had +deserted her for another. That is always the way with you men!" + +"On the contrary, I wrote to Mariette that--" + +"You lie!" exclaimed the old woman, more and more incensed. "She told me +what was in the letter. She has it here in her hand. I haven't been able +to get it away from her. Hadn't she enough to bear without your treating +her in this way? Get out of this house, you scoundrel! Mariette was a +fool, and so was I, to refuse the offer made us, and I told her so at +the time. 'See how we shall be rewarded for our honesty,' I said to +her. And my words have come true. She is dying, and I shall be turned +out into the street, for we are behind in our rent, and the little +furniture we have will be taken from us. Fortunately, I have a quarter +of a bushel of charcoal left," she added, with a grim smile, "and +charcoal is the friend and deliverer of the poor." + +"This is horrible!" cried Louis, unable to restrain his tears; "but I +swear to you that we are all the victims of a most deplorable mistake. +Mariette, Mariette, arouse yourself! It is I--I, Louis!" + +"You are determined to kill her, I see!" exclaimed Madame Lacombe, +making a desperate effort to push the young man away. "If she recovers +consciousness, the sight of you will finish her!" + +"Thank God!" exclaimed Louis, resisting Madame Lacombe's efforts, and +again bending over Mariette; "she is moving a little. See! her hands are +relaxing; her eyelids are quivering. Mariette, darling, can't you hear +me? It is Louis who speaks to you." + +The girl was, in fact, gradually recovering consciousness, and her +tear-stained eyes, after having slowly opened and wandered aimlessly +around for a moment, fixed themselves upon Louis. Soon, an expression of +joyful surprise irradiated her features, and she murmured, faintly: + +"Louis, is it really you? Ah, I never expected--" + +Then, the sad reality gradually forcing itself upon her mind, she +averted her face, and, letting her head again fall upon Madame Lacombe's +bosom, she said, with a deep sigh: + +"Ah, godmother, it is for the last time! All is over between us!" + +"Didn't I tell you how it would be?" exclaimed Madame Lacombe. "Go, I +tell you, go! Oh, the misery of being so weak and infirm that one cannot +turn a scoundrel out of one's house!" + +"Mariette," cried Louis, imploringly, "Mariette, in pity, listen to me. +I do not come to bid you farewell; on the contrary, I come to tell you +that I love you better than ever!" + +"Good God!" exclaimed the young girl, starting up as if she had received +an electric shock; "what does he say?" + +"I say that we are both the victims of a terrible mistake, Mariette. I +have never for one moment ceased to love you, no, never! and all the +time I have been away I have had but one thought and desire,--to see you +again and make all the necessary arrangements for our speedy marriage, +as I told you in my letter." + +"Your letter!" exclaimed Mariette, in heart-broken tones, "he has +forgotten. Here, Louis, here is your letter." + +And, as she spoke, she handed the young man the crumpled, tear-blurred +fragments of the letter. + +"He will deny his own writing, see if he don't," muttered Madame +Lacombe, as Louis hastily put the torn pieces together. "And you will be +fool enough to believe him." + +"This is what I wrote, Mariette," said Louis, after he had put the +letter together: + + * * * * * + +"'MY DEAREST MARIETTE:--I shall be with you again the day after you +receive this letter. The short absence, from which I have suffered so +much, has convinced me that it is impossible for me to live separated +from you. Thank God! the day of our union is near at hand. To-morrow +will be the sixth of May, and as soon as I return I shall tell my father +of our intentions, and I do not doubt his consent. + +"'Farewell, then, until day after to-morrow, my beloved Mariette. I love +you madly, or rather wisely, for what greater wisdom could a man show +than in having sought and found happiness in a love like yours. + +"'Yours devotedly, + +LOUIS. + +"'I write only these few lines because I shall reach Paris almost as +soon as my letter, and because it is always painful to me to think that +another must read what I write to you. But for that, how many things I +would say to you. + +Yours for ever. + +"'L.'" + + * * * * * + +Mariette had listened to the letter with such profound astonishment that +she had been unable to utter a word. + +"That, Mariette, is what I wrote," remarked Louis. "What was there in my +letter to make you so wretched?" + +"Is that really what was in the letter, M. Louis?" asked Madame Lacombe. + +"See for yourself, madame," said Louis, handing her the scraps of paper. + +"Do you suppose I know how to read?" was the surly response. "How was it +that the letter was read so differently to Mariette, then?" + +"Who read my letter to you, Mariette?" asked Louis. + +"A scrivener." + +"A scrivener!" repeated Louis, assailed by a sudden suspicion. "Explain, +Mariette, I beg of you." + +"The explanation is very simple, M. Louis. I asked a scrivener on the +Charnier des Innocents to write a letter to you. He wrote it, and just +as he was about to put your address on it he overturned his inkstand on +the letter, and was obliged to write it all over again. On my return +home, I found your letter waiting for me; but having no one to read it +to me in Augustine's absence, I went back to the scrivener, a very kind +and respectable old man, and asked him to read what you had written to +me. He read it, or at least pretended to read it, for, according to him, +you said that we must never meet again, that your future and that of +your father demanded it, and for that reason you entreated me--" + +But the poor girl's emotion overcame her, and she burst into tears. + +Louis understood now that chance had led Mariette to his father for +assistance, that the pretended accident had been merely a stratagem that +enabled the scrivener to write a second letter of an entirely different +import from the first, and to address it, not to Dreux, but to Paris, so +Louis would find it on his arrival in that city. He understood, too, his +father's object in thus deceiving Mariette in regard to the real +contents of the second letter, when she again applied to him. The +discovery of this breach of confidence on the part of his father--the +reason of which was only too apparent--overwhelmed Louis with sorrow and +shame. He dared not confess to his sweetheart the relation that existed +between him and the scrivener, but, wishing to give the two women some +plausible explanation of the deception that had been practised upon +them, he said: + +"In spite of this scrivener's apparent kindness of heart, he must have +taken a malicious pleasure in playing a joke upon you, my poor Mariette, +for he read you the exact opposite of what I had written." + +"How shameful!" cried the girl. "How could he have had the heart to +deceive me so? He had such a benevolent air, and spoke so feelingly of +the sympathy he always felt for those unfortunate persons who, like +myself, could neither read nor write." + +"But you can see for yourself that he did deceive you shamefully? Still, +what does it matter, now?" added Louis, anxious to put an end to such a +painful topic. "We understand each other's feelings now, Mariette, +and--" + +"One moment," interposed Madame Lacombe; "you may feel satisfied and +reassured, Mariette, but I do not." + +"What do you mean, godmother?" + +"I mean that I strongly disapprove of this marriage." + +"But listen, madame," pleaded Louis. + +"As you are the son of a public scrivener, you haven't a sou to your +name. Mariette hasn't, either, and two people in such circumstances as +that have no right to marry. My goddaughter has me to take care of. She +would be sure, too, to have a lot of children, and a nice fix we should +all be in!" + +"But, godmother--" + +"Don't talk to me. I know what you intend to do. The first thing you'll +try for is to get rid of the old woman. There won't be bread enough for +us all, and I shall be turned out into the street to be arrested as a +public vagabond. I shall be sent to the workhouse, so you won't be +troubled with me any more. Oh, yes, I understand your scheme." + +"Oh, godmother, how can you imagine such a thing as that?" + +"Dismiss all such fears from your mind, I beg of you, madame," Louis +made haste to say, "This very day I made a most unexpected discovery. My +father, for reasons which I must respect, has concealed from me the fact +that we are rich, very rich." + +Mariette manifested much more astonishment than delight on hearing this +startling announcement, but turning to Madame Lacombe after a moment, +she said: + +"You see you need be troubled by no more of these terrible misgivings in +regard to my future, godmother." + +"Ha, ha!" laughed Madame Lacombe, sardonically; "so she really believes +it--" + +"But, godmother--" + +"Nonsense, child, can't you see that he has invented this story so I +will consent to your marriage?" + +"But I swear, madame--" + +"I tell you it is all a lie," exclaimed Madame Lacombe; "for if you were +as rich as you say, you wouldn't want Mariette any longer. Would the son +of a rich man be fool enough to marry a poor working girl who can +neither read nor write?" + +Though she did not exactly share her godmother's doubts, Mariette gazed +at Louis a little sadly and uneasily, as she thought of the great change +in his fortunes. + +The young man must have understood the meaning of the look, for he said: + +"You are very much mistaken, Madame Lacombe; the son of a rich man keeps +the promise he made as a poor man when the happiness of his life depends +upon that promise." + +"Bah! that is all talk!" interrupted the invalid, in surly tones; "but +rich or poor, you won't get Mariette without I am sure of a living. I +don't ask much,--six hundred francs a year will do,--but the money must +be deposited in the hands of a reliable notary before the marriage +contract is signed." + +"Oh, godmother, have you no more confidence in Louis than that?" + +"A nice fix you'll find yourself in if you place confidence in any man," +exclaimed the poor creature. "Oh, I know all about it. Before marriage +they'll promise anything you ask; afterward, they'll take the old woman +by the arm, and drag her off to the poorhouse without saying so much as +by your leave. I'm not afraid that Mariette would turn me into the +street. I've been a sad burden to her, and she has had quite enough of +me, I know, but she is a kind-hearted little thing; besides, she's +afraid of me; but once married, she will side with her husband, and out +I shall have to go. No, there sha'n't be any marriage unless I'm sure of +six hundred francs a year." + +While Madame Lacombe was indulging in these recriminations, Mariette and +Louis exchanged sadly significant glances. + +"You hear her, Louis," the girl seemed to say. "Was I not right when I +told you that she had been hopelessly embittered by her many +misfortunes?" + +"Poor Mariette," the young man seemed to say in reply, "how much you +must have suffered! And how hard it is to see such tender and saint-like +devotion as yours rewarded in such a way!" + +"Madame," replied Louis, when the sick woman had ended her tirade, "you +may rest assured that you shall be well provided for. Mariette and I +will never forget that you took her in when she had no other home, and +whether you prefer to live with us, or to live alone, you shall be made +comfortable for life." + +"Oh, thank you, Louis, thank you for sharing my feeling for my poor +godmother, my second mother," exclaimed Mariette, gratefully. + +And the girl bent over Madame Lacombe to embrace her, but the invalid, +pushing her away, said, angrily: + +"Can't you see that he is only amusing himself at our expense? Marry +you? Pension me for life? Was such a thing ever heard of? He wants to +get around me, that is all, and if he is rich, as he says he is, he will +only fool you, and some fine day you'll hear of his marriage with +another girl, so I forbid him ever to set foot in this house again." + +"But you will at least allow me to present myself here in company with +my father to make a formal request for Mariette's hand in marriage?" + +"Oh, yes, when you come for that purpose it will be when two Sundays +come together," answered the old woman, sneeringly. + +"It will be to-morrow, Madame Lacombe." + +Then, turning to the young girl, he added: + +"Farewell, Mariette. I shall come to-morrow, accompanied by my father." + +On hastening to his father's office a few moments afterward, Louis found +it closed, and ascertained upon inquiry that M. Richard had not been +there at all that day. Amazed at this strange change in the old man's +regular habits, Louis hastened to the lodgings they shared in the Rue de +Grenelle. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +HIDDEN TREASURE. + + +As Louis was passing the porter's lodge, that functionary remarked to +him: + +"Your father went out a couple of hours ago, M. Louis. He left this note +for you, which I was to take to the office where you are employed, if +you did not return before two o'clock in the afternoon." + +The young man took the note. It read as follows: + + * * * * * + +"MY DEAR SON:--I am in receipt of a few lines from my friend, Ramon, who +apprises me of his intention of leaving Dreux in company with his +daughter almost simultaneously with his letter. He will, consequently, +reach Paris to-day. As he has never been on a railway in his life, and +is anxious to try that mode of travel, he will stop at Versailles, and +he wishes us to meet him there. We can visit the palace, and afterward +come on to Paris together by one of the late trains. + +"I am to meet Ramon at the Hôtel du Reservoir. If we should leave there +to visit the palace before you arrive, you can easily find us. It is +understood that this meeting with Mlle. Ramon is not to compromise you +in the least. I merely desire that you should take advantage of this +opportunity to see the injustice of your prejudice against that young +lady. Besides, whatever your plans may be, you must realise that it +would be very discourteous to Ramon, one of my most particular friends, +to fail to keep the appointment he has made with us. So come, my dear +Louis, if only for appearance's sake. + +"From your father who loves you, and who has but one desire in the +world,--your happiness. + +"A. RICHARD." + + * * * * * + +But Louis, in spite of the deference he usually showed to his father's +wishes, did not go to Versailles, feeling the utter uselessness of +another meeting with Mlle. Ramon, as he was now even more than ever +determined to marry Mariette. + +The discovery of his father's wealth made no change in the industrious +habits of Louis, who hastened to the office to perform his usual duties, +and apologise for his absence during the morning. A desire to atone for +that, as well as the preparation of several important documents, kept +him at the office much later than usual. As he was preparing to leave, +one of his fellow clerks rushed in excitedly, exclaiming: + +"Ah, my friend, such a terrible calamity has occurred!" + +"What has happened?" + +"There has been a frightful accident on the Versailles railroad." + +"Good God!" exclaimed Louis, turning pale. + +"The Paris train was derailed, several cars were telescoped, they took +fire, nearly all the passengers were either crushed or burned to death, +and--" + +Louis could wait to hear no more. Forgetting his hat entirely, he rushed +out of the office, and, running to a neighbouring cab-stand, he sprang +into one of the vehicles, saying to the coachman: + +"Twenty francs _pourboire_ if you take me to the Versailles railway +station at the top of your speed,--and from there, but I don't know +yet,--only start, in Heaven's name start at once!" + +"On the right or left bank of the river, monsieur?" asked the coachman, +gathering up the lines. + +"What?" + +"There are two roads, monsieur, one on the right, the other on the left +bank of the river." + +"I want to go to the road where that terrible accident just occurred." + +"This is the first I have heard of it, monsieur." + +Louis drove back to the office to inquire of the fellow clerk who had +brought the news, but, finding no one there, he ran out and was about to +enter the cab again when the driver said: + +"I have just learned that the accident was on the left line, monsieur." + +Louis accordingly ordered him to drive to that station. Here the sad +news was confirmed. He also learned at what point on the line the +accident had occurred. The main road and then a cross road enabled him +to reach Bas Mendon about nightfall, and, guided by the blaze of the +burning cars, he soon found the scene of the catastrophe. + +The press of the time gave such graphic accounts of this frightful +calamity that is not necessary to enter into further particulars; we +will merely say that all night Louis searched in vain for his father +among the charred, disfigured, and terribly mutilated bodies. About four +o'clock in the morning the young man, overcome with grief and fatigue, +returned to Paris, with a faint hope that his father might have been one +of the few who had escaped injury, and that he might have returned home +during the night. + +The carriage had scarcely reached the house before Louis sprang out and +ran to the porter's lodge. + +"Has my father returned?" he exclaimed. + +"No, M. Louis." + +"Ah! there can be no further doubt, then," murmured Louis. "Dead! +dead!" + +His knees gave way under him, and he was obliged to sit down. After +resting a few moments in the room of the porter, who offered him the +usual condolences, Louis went slowly up to his room. + +On seeing the bare, poorly furnished room so long shared with a father +who had loved him so devotedly, and who had just met with such a +frightful death, Louis's grief became uncontrollable, and he threw +himself down on the bed, and, burying his face in his hands, wept long +and bitterly. + +About half an hour afterward he heard some one knock at the door, and +the porter entered. + +"What do you want?" asked Louis. + +"I am sorry to disturb you at such a time, monsieur, but the coachman--" + +"What coachman?" asked Louis, who in his grief had forgotten all about +the carriage. + +"Why, the coachman you kept all night. He says you promised him twenty +francs drink money, which, with his charge for yesterday afternoon and +last night, makes forty-nine francs in all that you owe him, and he +wants his money." + +"Pay him and let him go!" responded the young man, with sorrowful +impatience. + +"But forty-nine francs is a large sum of money, and I haven't that much, +M. Louis." + +"Good Heavens! what is to be done?" exclaimed Louis, suddenly aroused by +this demand of the material interests of life. "I have no money, +either." + +And he spoke the truth, for he had never had at his disposal one-fourth +of the amount that he owed the coachman. + +"Then why did you keep the carriage so long, and above all, why did you +promise the driver such a large _pourboire_? You must be mad! What are +you going to do? Hadn't you better see if there is any money in your +father's desk?" + +These last words reminded Louis of a fact which, in his grief, he had +entirely forgotten. His father was rich, and thinking that there might +be some money concealed somewhere in the room, but not wishing to +institute a search for it in the porter's presence, he said: + +"I may need the cab again this morning, so tell the man to wait. If I am +not down in half an hour, you can come back again, and I will give you +the money." + +The porter went out, and the young man, thus left alone, experienced a +feeling almost akin to remorse, as he thought of the search he was about +to make,--a search which at such a moment seemed almost sacrilege, but +necessity left him no choice. + +The furniture of the room consisted of a writing-desk, a bureau, and a +big chest similar to those seen in the houses of well-to-do peasants, +and which was divided into two compartments, one above the other. + +Louis examined the desk and bureau, but found no money in either of +them. The keys of the chest were in their respective locks. He opened +both compartments, but saw only a few articles of clothing. A long +drawer separated the two compartments. In this drawer there was nothing +except a few unimportant papers; but the idea that there might be some +secret compartment occurred to Louis, so he took the drawer out of the +chest, and proceeded to examine it. A careful search resulted in the +discovery of a small brass knob in the left side of the drawer. He +pressed this knob, and immediately saw the board which apparently formed +the bottom of the drawer move slowly out, disclosing to view another +opening below, about four inches deep, and extending the entire length +of the drawer. This space was partitioned off into a number of small +compartments, and each of these compartments was filled with piles of +gold pieces of different denominations and nationalities. It was evident +that each coin must have been carefully polished, for they all sparkled +as brilliantly as if they had just come out of the mint. + +Louis, in spite of his profound grief, stood a moment as if dazzled at +the sight of this treasure, the value of which he knew must be very +considerable. On recovering from his surprise a little, he noticed a +paper in the first compartment, and, recognising his father's +handwriting, he read these words: + +"This collection of gold pieces was begun on the 7th of September, 1803. +Its market value is 287,634 francs, 10 centimes. See Clause IV. of my +will, entrusted to the keeping of Master Marainville, No. 28 Rue St. +Anne, with whom is likewise deposited all my title-deeds, mortgages, +stocks, and bonds. See also the sealed envelope under the piles of +Spanish double pistoles, in fifth compartment." + +Louis removed several piles of the large, heavy coins designated, and +found an envelope sealed with black. + +Upon this envelope was written in bold characters: + + "_To My Dearly-beloved Son._" + +Just as Louis picked up the envelope some one knocked at the door, and +remembering that he had told the porter to return, he had barely time to +take out one of the coins and close the chest before that functionary +entered. + +The porter examined the coin which the young man handed to him with +quite as much surprise as curiosity, exclaiming, with a wondering air: + +"What a handsome gold piece! One would suppose it had just been coined. +I never saw one like it before." + +"Go and pay the cabman with it!" + +"But how much is a big gold piece like this worth, monsieur?" + +"More than I owe. Go and get it changed, and pay the coachman." + +"Did your father leave many of these big gold pieces, M. Richard?" +asked the porter, in a mysterious tone. "Who would have supposed that +old man--" + +"Go!" thundered Louis, exasperated at the heartlessness of the question, +"go and pay the coachman, and don't come back." + +The porter beat a hasty retreat, and Louis, to guard against further +intrusion, locked the door and returned to the chest. + +Before opening his father's letter the young man, almost in spite of +himself, gazed for a moment at the glittering treasure, but this time, +though he reproached himself for the thought at such a moment, he +remembered Mariette, and said to himself that one-fourth of the wealth +that was lying there before him would assure his wife's comfort and +independence for life. + +Then he tried to forget the cruel stratagem his father had resorted to, +and even comforted himself with the thought that he should have secured +the old man's consent to his marriage with Mariette eventually, and +that, though he might not have confessed to the wealth he possessed, he +would at least have provided comfortably for the young couple. + +The discovery of this treasure excited in Louis's breast none of that +avaricious or revengeful joy that the heirs of misers often feel when +they think of the cruel privations a parent's avarice has imposed upon +them. + +On the contrary, it was with devout respect that the young man broke the +seal of the letter which doubtless contained his aged father's last +wishes. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +A VOICE FROM THE GRAVE. + + +This communication, dated about two months before, read as follows: + + * * * * * + +"MY BELOVED SON:--When you read these lines I shall have ceased to live. + +"You have always believed me to be poor; on the contrary, I leave you a +large fortune accumulated by avarice. + +"I have been a miser. I do not deny it. On the contrary, I glory in the +fact. + +"And these are my reasons: + +"Up to the time of your birth,--which deprived me of your mother,--I +had, without being extravagant, been indifferent about increasing either +my own patrimony or the dowry my wife had brought me; but as soon as I +had a son, that desire to make ample provision for him which is the +sacred duty of every parent gradually aroused a spirit of economy, then +of parsimony, and finally of avarice, in my breast. + +"Besides, the privations I imposed upon myself did not affect you in +your infancy. Born sturdy and robust, the wholesome simplicity of your +bringing up was rather beneficial than otherwise, tending as it did to +the development of an excellent constitution. + +"When you were old enough to begin your education, I sent you to one of +the best schools open to the poor, at first, I must admit, purely from +motives of economy, but afterward, because I considered such a training +the best preparation for an honest, industrious life. The success of +this plan even exceeded my expectations. Reared with the children of the +poor, you acquired none of those luxurious, extravagant tastes, and felt +none of the bitter envy and jealousy, that so often exert a fatal +influence upon a young man's future. You were thus spared much of the +chagrin which is no less bitter because the victim of it is a child. + +"It is generally supposed that because children of entirely different +conditions in life wear the same uniform, eat at the same table, and +pursue the same studies, a feeling of equality exists between them. + +"This is a great mistake. + +"Social inequality is as keenly felt among children as in the social +world. + +"The son of a wealthy tradesman or a great nobleman generally displays +the same pride and arrogance at ten years of age as at twenty-five. + +"As for you, reared with children of the people, you heard them all talk +of the hard toil of their parents, and the necessity of labour was thus +impressed upon your mind almost from infancy. + +"Other schoolmates told of the privations and poverty which the members +of their households were obliged to endure, and in this way you became +accustomed to our poverty. + +"At the age of fifteen, I made you compete for a scholarship in the +admirable institution in which you completed your studies, and your +early education already began to bear excellent fruits, for, though many +of your schoolmates were wealthy or of noble lineage, contact with them +never impaired your sterling qualities, or made you envious or +discontented. + +"At the age of seventeen you entered the office of a notary, an intimate +friend of mine, who alone knows the secret of my great wealth, and who +has charge of my investments. Up to this time, this friend's discretion +has equalled his devotion, and, thanks to him, you have acquired a fair +knowledge of law, and also of business methods, which will be of immense +service to you in the management of the very handsome property I have +amassed. + +"My conscience does not reproach me in the least, consequently, though +sometimes I admit I fear you may address this reproach to my memory: + +"'While you were amassing all this wealth, father, how could you bear to +see me subjected to such cruel privations?' + +"But the recollection of the many times you have remarked to me that, +though we were poor, you were perfectly contented, and that you craved +wealth only for my sake, always drove this fear from my heart. + +"In fact, your invariable good humour, the evenness of your disposition, +your natural gaiety, and your devoted affection for me have always +convinced me that you were contented with your lot; besides, I shared +it. What I earned as a scrivener, together with your earnings, have +enabled us to live without touching any of the income from my property, +which has consequently been accumulating in prudent hands for the last +twenty years, so at this present writing the fortune I leave to you +amounts to over two millions and a half. + +"I do not know how many more years I have to live, but if I live ten +years longer I shall have reached the allotted age of man. You will be +thirty-five, and I shall have amassed a fortune of four or five +millions, as property doubles itself in ten years. + +"So, in all probability, you will have reached middle age when you come +into possession of this large property, and the sober, frugal, and +laborious habits acquired in infancy will have become second nature with +you; so will you not be in the best possible condition to inherit the +wealth I have amassed for you, and to use it wisely and well? + +"If I had acted differently, what benefit would have accrued to either +of us? + +"If I had been lavish in my expenditures, I should have reduced you to +poverty. + +"If I had contented myself with spending my income only, then, instead +of devoting ourselves to some useful employment, we should probably have +led idle, aimless lives; instead of living frugally, we should have +indulged in luxuries and more or less vain display; in short, we should +have led such a life as nearly all wealthy people of the middle class +lead. + +"And what should we have gained by it? + +"Should we have been better or more useful citizens? I doubt it, and, at +my death, I should have left you a small property, not sufficient for +the realisation of any extensive or generous enterprise. + +"One word more, my dear child, to answer in advance any reproach that +you may in future address to my memory. + +"Rest assured if I kept my wealth a secret from you, it was not from any +desire to deceive you, nor from any distrust on my part. + +"These were my reasons: + +"Ignorant of my wealth, you were resigned to poverty; aware of our +wealth, you might have accepted the humble existence I imposed upon you +without murmuring, but in your secret heart you might have accused me of +cruelty and selfishness. + +"Nor was this all. Forgive, my son, this foolish fear,--this +apprehension so insulting to your affectionate heart,--but during my +lifetime I was loath that you should know that you would profit by my +death. + +"Another, and possibly the most potent reason of all, led me to conceal +my wealth from you. I love you so much that it would have been +impossible for me to see you subjected to the slightest privation had +you known it depended only upon me to give you an easier, broader, and +more luxurious life. + +"In spite of the apparent contradiction between this feeling and my +avaricious conduct toward you, I hope that you will understand me. + +"And now that in thought I place myself face to face with death, which +may strike me down to-morrow, to-day, this very hour, I solemnly declare +that I bless you from the inmost depths of my soul, my beloved son. You +have never given me one moment's pain or sorrow, but only joy and +happiness. + +"God for ever bless you, my good and loving son. If you are as happy as +you deserve to be, the dearest wish of my heart will be gratified. + +"Your father, + +A. RICHARD. + +"_Paris, February 25, 18--._" + + * * * * * + +Deeply touched by this strange letter, Louis fell into a deep, sad +reverie, and the day was nearing a close when the young man heard some +one knock at the door of his garret, and the well-known voice of +Florestan de Saint-Herem greeted his ears. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +THE MISER EXTOLLED. + + +Saint-Herem threw himself in his friend's arms, exclaiming: + +"Louis, my poor friend, I know all. The porter just told me of your +father's death. What a sudden and cruel blow!" + +"Read this, Florestan, and you will understand how bitter my regret must +be!" said Louis, brokenly, handing Saint-Herem the dead man's letter. + +"Now do you think any one can blame my father for his avarice?" Louis +asked, when his friend had finished the letter. "His one thought seems +to have been to enrich me, and to prepare me to make a good use of the +large property he would bequeath to me. It was for my sake that he +hoarded his wealth, and imposed the hardest privations upon himself!" + +"No sacrifice is too great for a miser," replied Florestan. "Misers are +capable of the grandest and most heroic acts. This may seem a paradox to +you, but it is true, nevertheless. The prejudice against misers is +unjust in the extreme. Misers! Why, we ought to erect altars to them!" +added Saint-Herem, with growing enthusiasm. "Is it not wonderful the +ingenuity they display in devising all sorts of ways to save? Is it not +marvellous to see them accumulating, by persistent efforts, a fortune +from the ends of matches and the collecting of lost pins. And people +deny the existence of alchemists, and of discoverers of the +philosopher's stone! Why, the miser has found the philosopher's stone, +for does he not make gold out of what would be worthless to others?" + +"You are right in that respect, Florestan." + +"In that respect and all other respects, for, Louis, observe my simile +closely. It is wonderfully just and worthy of my best rhetorical +efforts. There is a dry and sterile tract of land. Some one digs a well +there. What is the result? The smallest springs, the almost +imperceptible oozings from the earth, the tiniest threads of water, +accumulate drop by drop in this well. Gradually the water deepens, the +reservoir becomes full, then comes a beneficent hand that diffuses the +contents all around, and flowers and verdure spring up as if by +enchantment on this once barren soil. Say, Louis, is not my comparison a +just one? Is not the wealth amassed by the miser almost always spent in +luxuries of every kind? for, as the proverb says: 'An avaricious father, +a spendthrift son.' And let us consider the miser from a religious point +of view." + +"From a religious point of view?" + +"Yes; for it is seen from that standpoint that he is especially worthy +of praise." + +"That is a very difficult assertion to prove, it seems to me." + +"On the contrary, it is extremely easy. Self-abnegation is one of the +greatest of virtues, is it not?" + +"Undoubtedly." + +"Well, my dear Louis, I defy you to mention any monastic order whose +members renounce all earthly pleasures as absolutely as the majority of +misers do. Capuchins renounce champagne, race-horses, dancing girls, +hunting, cards, and the opera. I should think so. Most of them have good +reasons for it. But how different with the miser! There, in his coffers, +under lock and key, are the means of gratifying every wish and indulging +in every luxury and pleasure, and yet he possesses the moral courage +and strength of will to resist all these temptations. In his +disinterestedness, too, the miser is sublime." + +"Disinterestedness, Florestan?" + +"Yes, I repeat that his disinterestedness is sublime. He knows perfectly +well that he is execrated during life, and that his heirs will dance +upon his grave when he is dead. He knows all that, and yet, mention a +single case where a miser has tried to take his treasure with him, +though it would be an easy matter, as it wouldn't take five minutes to +burn two millions in bank-notes. But no, these kind-hearted misers, full +of compassion, practise forgiveness of injuries, and leave their vast +wealth to their heirs in almost every case." + +"But, my friend, it sounds very strangely to hear a person who spends +money as lavishly as you do lauding avarice to the skies." + +"All the more reason that I should." + +"And why?" + +"Who can appreciate the excellence of the armourer's work as well as the +warrior? The excellence of a horse as well as the rider? the excellence +of a musical instrument as well as the person who plays upon it? Pope +Paganini has canonised Stradivarius, the maker of those wonderful +violins the great artist plays so divinely; and I, who could spend +millions so admirably, shall certainly feel like canonising my +uncle--that heroic martyr to avarice--if Fate so wills that the means of +prodigality which he had been accumulating penny by penny ever falls +into my hands." + +"My God!" + +"What is the matter, Louis?" + +"Then you do not know--" + +"What?" + +"I told you of my poor father's desire for a marriage between me and +your cousin." + +"Yes, what of it?" + +"Your uncle, ignorant of my refusal, and anxious to hasten this union +which he desired as ardently as my father, apparently, left Dreux +yesterday, in company with his daughter, and this morning--" + +"Both arrived in Paris, I suppose. Why this hesitation, my dear Louis?" + +"Your uncle and cousin did not come straight through to Paris. They +stopped at Versailles, Florestan, at Versailles, where my poor father +went to--" + +But Louis could not finish the sentence. His emotion overcame him +completely. + +"Courage, my friend," said Saint-Herem, deeply affected, "I understand +your feelings." + +"Florestan," said the young man, drying his tears, after a long silence, +"my father went to Versailles to meet your uncle and cousin." + +"Well?" + +"It was agreed that they were to accompany my father back to Paris. +There is little doubt that they did so, and as it is almost certain that +they were all in the same railway carriage--" + +"They, too! Oh, that would be too horrible!" exclaimed Saint-Herem, +covering his face with his hands. + +The exclamation of horror and the tone of profound pity in Saint-Herem's +voice were so sincere and so spontaneous that Louis was deeply touched +by this proof of noble-heartedness on the part of his friend, who had +manifested only a feeling of generous commiseration, without one +particle of the satisfaction or selfish joy that might have been +considered almost excusable under the circumstances. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +PLANS FOR THE FUTURE. + + +Louis and Saint-Herem remained silent for several minutes. The former +was the first to speak. + +"I cannot tell you how deeply your sensibility touches me, my dear +Florestan," he said, at last "It is so thoroughly in accord with my own +feelings at this sad moment." + +"Why, what else could you expect, my dear friend? I had no affection for +my uncle, as you know, but one must be heartless, indeed, not to feel +deeply grieved and horrified at the mere possibility that my relatives +may have shared your poor father's cruel fate. I retract nothing I have +said in regard to avarice and its far-reaching consequences, though it +would have given my thoughts a much more serious turn had I foreseen +that the question was to affect me personally; but I can at least say, +with truth, that I am not one of those persons who receive an +inheritance with unalloyed delight. Now tell me, Louis,--and forgive the +necessity of a question that is sure to revive your grief,--in your +sorrowful search for your father did you see nothing that would lead you +to hope that my uncle and his daughter might have escaped such a +horrible death?" + +"All I can say, Florestan, is that I remember perfectly having seen +neither your uncle nor cousin among the killed and injured. As for the +unfortunate persons who shared my father's fate, it was impossible to +identify any of them, as they were burned almost to ashes." + +"Then your supposition is probably correct, my poor Louis, as my uncle +and his daughter are almost certain to have been in the same carriage as +your father, and even in the same compartment. In that case, there can +be little doubt that they met with the same fate. I shall write to Dreux +at once, and I shall also have a careful search for their remains +instituted without delay. If you hear anything more, inform me as soon +as possible. But now I think of it, how about Mariette? The sad +announcement you have just made to me almost made me forget the object +of my visit." + +"It was a cruel misunderstanding that caused all the trouble, as I +suspected, Florestan. I found her more loving and devoted than ever." + +"Her love will be a great consolation to you in your deep sorrow. +Courage, my poor Louis, courage! All that has occurred should only serve +to strengthen the bonds of friendship between us." + +"Ah, Florestan, but for this friendship and Mariette's affection, I do +not know how I could endure this crushing blow. Farewell, my friend. +Keep me advised of the progress of your search for your uncle, I beg of +you." + +The two friends separated. Left alone, Louis reflected some time in +regard to the course he should pursue. Finally he placed in his satchel +the hidden gold he had just discovered, then, taking his father's +letter, he repaired to the house of his employer, who was also the +business agent and friend of his deceased parent, as he had just learned +from the letter found with the gold. + +The notary, deeply affected by the harrowing details of his late +patron's terrible fate, tried to console Louis, and also offered to +attend to the necessary legal formalities. + +This arrangement made, Louis said: + +"There is another question I should like to ask. As soon as these +formalities have been complied with, do I come into possession of my +father's property?" + +"Certainly, my dear Louis." + +"Then I will tell you what I intend to do. I have brought you gold coin +to the amount of more than two hundred thousand francs. I found it in a +chest in the room I occupied with my father. Out of this amount, I wish +you to take enough to purchase an annuity of twelve thousand francs for +the godmother of a young girl that I am about to marry." + +"But does this young girl's financial condition--" + +"My dear patron," interrupted Louis, respectfully but firmly, "the young +girl I speak of is a working girl, and supports herself and her +godmother by her daily toil. I have loved her a long time, and no human +power can prevent me from marrying her." + +"So be it," replied the notary, understanding the uselessness of any +further protest. "I will settle the desired amount upon the person +designated." + +"I also desire to take from this sum of money about fifteen thousand +francs to set up housekeeping in a suitable manner." + +"Only fifteen thousand francs!" exclaimed the notary, surprised at the +modesty of this request. "Will that be enough?" + +"My affianced wife is, like myself, accustomed to a frugal and laborious +life, so the income from fifteen thousand francs, together with the +proceeds of our labour, will more than suffice." + +"The proceeds of your labour! What! do you intend--" + +"To remain in your office if you do not consider me unworthy of your +confidence." + +"Remain a notary's clerk when you have an income of more than two +hundred thousand francs a year?" + +"I cannot and will not take possession of this immense fortune for a +long time to come. Even when the death of my father has been legally +established, I shall still feel a vague hope of again seeing the parent +I so deeply mourn." + +"Alas! I fear there is little hope of that, my poor Louis." + +"Still, I shall cherish the hope as long as possible; and so long as I +do, I shall not consider myself at liberty to dispose of my father's +property,--at least only to the extent I have indicated to you. Will you +not, therefore, continue to take charge of the estate exactly as you +have done in the past?" + +"I cannot but admire the course you have decided upon, my dear Louis," +replied the notary, with unfeigned emotion. "Your conduct now conforms +in every respect with that you have always maintained. You could not do +greater honour to your father's memory than by acting thus. It shall be +as you wish. I will remain the custodian of your fortune, and the +annuity you spoke of shall be purchased this very day." + +"There is a detail in relation to that matter, about which I should like +to speak, trivial and almost absurd as it may appear to you." + +"What do you mean?" + +"The poor woman upon whom I desire to settle this annuity has seen so +much trouble during her long life that her character has become +embittered, and she feels no confidence in any one. Any promise would +seem utterly valueless to her, if the promise was not based upon +something tangible; so to convince the poor creature, I want to take her +fifteen thousand francs in gold, which will represent very nearly the +amount that will have to be expended for the annuity. It is the only way +to thoroughly convince the poor creature of my good intentions." + +"Take any amount you please, of course, my dear Louis. The matter shall +be arranged to-morrow." + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +MADAME LACOMBE'S UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER. + + +On leaving the notary's office, Louis hastened to Mariette's home. He +found the young girl sewing by the bedside of her godmother, who seemed +to be sound asleep. + +Her lover's extreme pallor, as well as the sad expression of his face, +struck the young girl at once, and running toward him, she exclaimed, +anxiously: + +"Oh, Louis, something terrible must have happened, I am sure." + +"Yes, Mariette. Have you heard of the frightful accident that occurred +on the Versailles railroad yesterday?" + +"Yes, it was horrible. People say there were nobody knows how many +victims." + +"I can hardly doubt that my father was one of the number." + +Quick as thought, Mariette threw herself, sobbing, on Louis's breast, +and for a long time the two stood clasped in a silent embrace. Louis was +the first to speak. + +"Mariette, you know how devotedly I loved my father, so you can judge of +my despair," he said, sadly. + +"It is a terrible blow to you, I know, Louis." + +"The only consolation I have is your love, Mariette, and I am about to +ask a fresh proof of this love." + +"You have but to speak, Louis." + +"I want you to marry me at once." + +"Can you doubt my consent? Is this the proof of love that you asked?" +inquired the young girl. + +Then, after a moment's reflection, she added: + +"But can we marry before your period of mourning, that only begins +to-day, expires?" + +"I entreat you, Mariette, not to be deterred by that scruple, decent as +it appears." + +"I--I will do whatever you wish." + +"Listen, Mariette, my heart will be torn with regrets for a long, long +time. True mourning is of the soul, and, with me, it will long exceed +the period fixed by custom. I know that I honour my father's memory in +every fibre of my being, and it is for this very reason that I do not +feel it necessary to conform to any purely conventional custom. Believe +me, a marriage contracted at so sad a time as this is of a much more +solemn and sacred nature than if we married under different +circumstances." + +"You are right, perhaps, Louis; nevertheless, custom--" + +"Because you will be my wife, Mariette,--because you will mourn for my +father with me,--because you will share my grief, will he be less deeply +regretted? Besides, Mariette, crushed with grief, as I am, I could not +live on alone, separated from you,--all I have left in the world now. It +would kill me." + +"I am only a poor seamstress who knows little or nothing of the laws of +society, so I can only tell you how I feel about this matter, Louis. +Though a moment ago the idea of marrying you at once seemed almost a +breach of propriety, the reasons you give have made me change my mind. +Possibly I am wrong; possibly it is the desire to please you that +influences me, but now I should not feel the slightest remorse if I +married you at once, and yet it seems to me that I am as susceptible as +any one I know." + +"Yes, and more ungrateful than any one I know," exclaimed Madame +Lacombe, tartly, raising herself up in bed. + +Then, seeing the surprise depicted on the features of her goddaughter +and Louis, she added, in sneering tones: + +"Yes, you thought the old woman asleep, and so took advantage of the +opportunity to decide all about the wedding, but I heard everything you +said, everything--" + +"There was nothing said that we were unwilling for you to hear, madame," +replied Louis, gravely. "Mariette and I have no desire to retract a +single word we have uttered." + +"I am certain of that, for you two think only of yourselves. You seem to +have no other idea in your head except this detestable marriage. As for +me, one might suppose I was already in my coffin. I tell you once for +all that--" + +"Permit me to interrupt you, madame," said Louis, "and to prove to you +that I have not forgotten my promise." + +As he spoke, he took a small box which he had deposited upon the table +at his entrance, and placed it on Madame Lacombe's bed, saying, as he +handed her a key: + +"Will you be kind enough to open this box, madame? The contents belong +to you." + +Madame Lacombe took the key with a suspicious air, opened the box, +looked in, and exclaimed, like one both dazzled and stupefied: + +"Good God! Good God!" + +Recovering from her bewilderment at last, the sick woman emptied the +contents of the box out upon the bed; but it seemed as if she could not +believe her eyes when she saw the big pile of glittering gold coins +before her. + +"Oh, what a pile of gold! What a pile of gold!" she exclaimed, +ecstatically. "And it is real gold--not a counterfeit piece among it. +Great Heavens! What big, handsome coins they are! They must be one +hundred sou pieces at least. What an immense amount of money this must +be! Enough to make two poor women like Mariette and me comfortable for +life," she added, with a sigh. + +"You have about fifteen thousand francs there, madame," replied Louis. +"They are yours." + +"Mine?" cried the sick woman, "mine?" + +Then, shaking her head with an incredulous air, she said, sharply, "Why +do you want to mock an old woman? How can this gold belong to me?" + +"Because this gold is to purchase you an annuity of twelve hundred +francs, so that, after Mariette's marriage, you can live alone or remain +with your goddaughter as you prefer, for to-morrow our marriage contract +will be signed, and, at the same time, you will receive papers assuring +you a yearly income of twelve hundred francs in exchange for this gold. +I brought the money here to convince you of the sincerity of my +promises. Now, madame, as you overheard our conversation, you know my +reasons for entreating Mariette to hasten our marriage. You are +comfortably provided for now. If there is any other obstacle to my union +with Mariette, tell us, I beseech you, madame. Anything that either she +or I can do to satisfy you, we will do. Our happiness will not be +complete if you, too, are not content." + +The words were uttered in a kind, almost affectionate tone, but Mother +Lacombe's only reply was a heavy sigh, as she turned her back upon the +speaker. + +Louis and Mariette gazed at each other in silent astonishment for a +moment; then the girl, kneeling by the invalid's bedside, asked, +tenderly: + +"What is the matter, godmother?" + +Receiving no reply, Mariette leaned over the old woman, and, seeing +tears trickling through her wasted fingers, exclaimed: + +"Good Heavens, Louis, my godmother is weeping. This is the first time in +ten years!" + +"What is the matter, madame? Tell us, in Heaven's name." + +"I appear like a beggar. I seem to be thinking only of money, and I am +ashamed of it," responded the poor creature, sobbing bitterly. "Yes, you +think I care only for money; you think I am selling Mariette to you +exactly as I would have sold her to that villain, if I had been a bad +woman." + +"Do not say that, godmother," exclaimed Mariette, embracing the invalid +tenderly. "Can you suppose for one moment that Louis and I had any +intention of humiliating you by bringing you this money? Louis has done +what you asked, that is all." + +"I know that, but it was the fear of dying in the street, and of seeing +you after marriage far more miserable than you are now, that made me ask +for this money. I knew very well that I had no right to any money, but +think what it must be to be afraid of being turned into the street when +one is old and infirm. I asked for entirely too much, and I did very +wrong. What do I really need? Only a mattress in some corner, and a +morsel to eat now and then, and, above all, that Mariette will not +desert me. I am so used to seeing her around. If she left me I should +feel as lonely as if I were in the grave. Besides, there is nobody else +in the world who would be so kind and so patient with a cross old sick +woman like me. All I ask is to stay with Mariette. To have all this gold +thrown in my face, as it were, humiliates me. One may be a mere worm, +and yet have a little pride left. When that scoundrel came and offered +me gold if I would sell Mariette to him, it made me mad, that is all; +but this time it is very different, it makes me weep,--a thing I haven't +done before for ten years, as you said yourself, child. This cuts me to +the heart." + +"Come, come, my dear Madame Lacombe, you need not give yourself the +slightest uneasiness with regard to the future," said Louis, deeply +touched. "Mariette will not leave you; we will all live, not +luxuriously, but very comfortably together." + +"Are you in earnest? Will you let me live with you, really and truly?" + +At this fresh proof of the unfortunate woman's unconquerable distrust, +Louis and Mariette again exchanged compassionate glances, and taking her +godmother's hand, the girl said, tenderly: + +"Yes, godmother, yes; we will keep you with us, and care for you as if +you were our own mother. You shall see if we do not make you very, very +happy." + +"It will be no fault of ours if we do not, you may be sure of that," +added Louis, earnestly. + +The tone and expression of the two young people would have convinced the +most skeptical, but it was so hard for this unfortunate woman to believe +that such happiness could ever be hers, that, though she tried to +conceal her doubts for fear of wounding Mariette and her lover, it was +with an involuntary sigh that she replied: + +"I believe you, children. Yes, I believe that M. Louis has money, and I +believe you both mean well toward me, but after awhile I am afraid +you'll find me very much in the way. Newly married people like to be +alone, and--" + +"What, godmother, you still doubt us, after all we have said?" + +"Forgive me, children, I don't mean to," sobbed the poor woman; then, +with a heart-broken smile, she added: "Perhaps it is all the better for +me that I do doubt, for if, after fifty years of trouble and poverty, I +should really come to believe that there was such a thing as happiness +for me, I might go mad." + +Then, in accents of inexpressible bitterness, she added: + +"It wouldn't surprise me if I did. It would be just my luck." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +A CAPRICIOUS BEAUTY. + + +Five years have elapsed since the events we have just related, and on +the evening of the 12th of May, 18--the anniversary of the terrible +catastrophe on the Versailles railroad, the following scene was taking +place. + +It was half-past nine in the evening, and a young woman about +twenty-five years of age, a decided brunette, with a perfect figure, and +a remarkably spirituelle and high-bred face, was just completing a +superb evening toilet with the assistance of two maids, one of whom had +just clasped a necklace of diamonds as big as hazelnuts around the neck +of her beautiful mistress, while another adjusted a magnificent diadem +of the same costly gems upon the lady's beautiful black hair. The low +corsage, too, of pale green satin, trimmed with superb lace and bows of +pale pink satin ribbon, also glittered with precious stones. + +The selection of diamonds as ornaments seemed to have been the result of +careful reflection, for on a table close by were several cases +containing complete and no less costly garnitures. Two of them, one +composed of enormous rubies, the other of magnificent pearls of +extraordinary size and lustre, would have excited the admiration of any +jeweller. + +One of the attendants, who was much older than her companion, +seemed--thanks, probably, to her long service--to be on quite familiar +terms with her mistress, who, like herself was a Russian, and the other +maid, a young Frenchwoman, not understanding the Russian language, +consequently heard without understanding the following conversation +between the Comtesse Zomaloff and her trusted maid, Mlle. Katinka: + +"Does madame like the way in which I have adjusted her diadem?" + +"Very well," replied the countess. + +And with a final glance in the glass, she added, as she rose: + +"Where is my bouquet?" + +"Here, madame." + +"What, that horrid withered thing!" cried Madame Zomaloff. + +"It is the one M. le duc sent for madame la comtesse." + +"I recognise his taste," said Madame Zomaloff, shrugging her shoulders. +Then she added, with a mocking air, "It is one he picked up at a +bargain, I'll be bound. Some lover who quarrelled with his sweetheart +yesterday morning failed to send last evening for the bouquet he had +ordered. It takes M. de Riancourt to discover such bargains." + +"Ah, madame cannot suppose M. le duc is as stingy as all that. He is so +rich." + +"All the more reason that he should be." + +Some one rapped at the door of the chamber adjoining the dressing-room, +and the French maid who went to answer the summons returned in a moment +to say: + +"M. le Duc de Riancourt has come, and is awaiting madame's pleasure." + +"Let him wait," replied Madame Zomaloff. "The princess is in the +drawing-room, I suppose." + +"Yes, madame la comtesse." + +"Very well. Here, Katinka, fasten this bracelet," continued the young +woman, holding out her beautiful arm. "What time is it?" + +But as Katinka was about to reply, Madame Zomaloff added, with a mocking +smile: + +"After all, what is the use of asking that question? The duke has just +arrived, consequently it must be exactly half after nine." + +The clock on the mantel interrupted the countess by striking the +half-hour designated, and the lady laughed heartily as she exclaimed: + +"What did I tell you, Katinka? M. de Riancourt is as punctual as the +clock itself." + +"That only proves his ardour and his love." + +"I should prefer a less well-regulated emotion, I think. Persons who +adore you at a stated time always seem to me to have a watch in place of +a heart. Hand me a smelling-bottle,--no, not that one. Yes, this one +will do. I am almost sorry that I am dressed, so I cannot keep the poor +duke waiting longer to punish him for his tiresome punctuality." + +"Why, madame, how unjust you are to him! Why do you marry him if you +feel this way toward him?" + +"Why do I marry M. de Riancourt?" the countess replied, as she took one +more look in the mirror. "You have more curiosity than I have, Katinka. +Does any woman ever know why she marries a second time?" + +"The reason seems apparent to every one. The duke, though he has no gold +mines in the Crimea, and no silver mines in the Ural Mountains--" + +"Spare me this tiresome enumeration of my worldly possessions, Katinka." + +"Well, madame, though M. le duc cannot boast of such immense possessions +as you have, he is one of the wealthiest and most powerful noblemen in +France. He is young and good-looking; he has not led a life of +dissipation like so many other young men; on the contrary, he is very +devout, and--" + +"Oh, yes, he is a paragon of virtue, of course. Bring me a heavy wrap; +the nights are still cool." + +"Has madame any orders to give for the twentieth?" + +"Orders?" + +"Is it possible that madame forgets her marriage is to take place one +week from to-morrow?" + +"What! as soon as that?" + +"Certainly, madame. You decided on the twentieth of May, and this is the +twelfth." + +"If I said the twentieth, it will have to be the twentieth. But how +strange it is. One is leading a delightful life; one is young and free, +and one hates restraint, and yet one cannot give oneself another master +too soon." + +"A master? A man as kind and gentle as M. le duc? Why, you can make +whatever you please of him, madame!" + +"I shall never make a charming man of him, and yet I shall marry him. +Ah, aunt, aunt, you are responsible for all this. There is one good +thing about it, though. One will at least escape the bother of having to +ask oneself what one had better do." + +The countess proceeded in a leisurely fashion to the drawing-room, where +she found her aunt and the Duc de Riancourt awaiting her. + +The Princesse Wileska, Madame Zomaloff's aunt, was a tall, +distinguished-looking woman, with gray hair which she wore slightly +powdered. The Duc de Riancourt was a small man, about thirty years of +age, with a thin, rather crooked neck, long, straight hair parted in the +middle, a somewhat sanctimonious air, and eyes set rather obliquely, +while his slow, precise movements indicated a remarkable amount of +self-control. + +When Madame Zomaloff entered the room, he advanced to meet her, bowed +profoundly, and raised nearly to his lips the pretty hand the countess +carelessly offered him, then, straightening himself up, he gazed at her +a moment as if dazzled, exclaiming: + +"Ah, madame la comtesse, I never saw you arrayed in all your diamonds +before! I do not believe there are any other diamonds like them in the +world. How beautiful they are! Good Heavens! how beautiful they are!" + +"Really, my dear duke, you quite overpower me by your admiration--for my +diamonds; and as my necklace and diadem arouse such tender emotion in +your breast and inspire you with such graceful compliments, I will tell +you, in strict confidence, the name of my jeweller. It is Ezekiel +Rabotautencraff, of Frankfort." + +While M. de Riancourt was trying to find some suitable response to +Madame Zomaloff's raillery, the aunt of that young lady gave the duke a +reproachful look, remarking, with a forced smile: + +"See how this mischievous Fedora delights in teasing you. It is a very +common way of concealing the affection one feels for people, I believe." + +"I humbly admit, my dear princess, that, dazzled by these magnificent +jewels, I failed to render due homage to their wearer," said M. de +Riancourt, in the hope of repairing his blunder. "But--but may not a +person be so dazzled by the sun as to be unable to see even the most +beautiful of flowers?" + +"I am so impressed by this comparison of yours that I am almost tempted +to believe that the same glaring sunshine you speak of must have +withered these poor blossoms," retorted the mischievous young woman with +a gay laugh, holding up for the duke's inspection the rather faded +bouquet he had sent her. + +That gentleman blushed up to his very ears; the princess frowned with an +impatient air, while the countess, perfectly indifferent to these signs +of disapproval, coolly remarked, as she walked toward the door: + +"Give your arm to my aunt, M. de Riancourt. I promised my friend, the +wife of the Russian ambassador, that I would be at her house very early, +as she wishes to present me to one of her relatives, and you know we +have first to inspect that wonderful mansion--that enchanted palace +everybody is talking about." + +After waiting a few seconds in the vestibule, the countess and her aunt +saw a clumsy landau, drawn by two emaciated horses, lumber up to the +door, and the young widow, turning to the duke in evident surprise, +said: + +"Why, this is not your carriage! What has become of that dark blue +berlin drawn by two handsome gray horses that you placed at our disposal +yesterday morning?" + +"Under the circumstances I feel no hesitation about confessing a little +detail of domestic economy to you, my dear countess," replied the duke, +with touching _naïveté_. "To save my grays, for which I was obliged to +pay a good round sum, I assure you, I always hire a carriage in the +evening. It is very much more economical than to risk one's own turnout +at night." + +"And you are perfectly right, my dear duke," the princess hastened to +say, fearing another shaft of ridicule from her niece. M. de Riancourt's +footman was in attendance. He opened the door of the antiquated vehicle. +The princess, assisted by the duke, quickly entered it, but as that +gentleman offered his hand to the young widow for the same purpose, the +petulant beauty paused with the tip of her white satin slipper lightly +poised on the carriage step, and said, with an air of the deepest +apprehension: + +"Do examine every nook and corner of the carriage carefully, aunt, I +beseech you, before I get in." + +"But why, my dear?" inquired the princess, naïvely. "What is the +necessity of this precaution?" + +"I am afraid some red-headed girl or some stout shopkeeper may have been +left in a corner, as it is in vehicles of this description that worthy +shopkeepers drive about all day with their families when they treat +themselves to an outing." + +Laughing heartily, the young widow sprang into the carriage. As she +seated herself, the princess said to her, in a low tone, but with a +deeply pained air: + +"Really, Fedora, I do not understand you. You are strangely sarcastic +toward M. de Riancourt. What can be your object?" + +"I want to cure him of his shameful stinginess. How could I better +manifest my interest in him?" + +Just then the duke took the seat opposite them. He seemed to endure with +Christian meekness the ridicule of this young woman who possessed such +magnificent diamonds, as well as all sorts of gold and silver mines; but +the furtive glance he bestowed on her now and then, and a certain +contraction of his thin lips, indicated that a sullen rage was rankling +in his heart. + +The footman having asked for orders, M. de Riancourt replied: + +"To the Hôtel Saint-Ramon." + +"Pardon me, M. le duc," answered the footman, "but I don't know where +the Hôtel Saint-Ramon is." + +"At the end of the Cours la Reine," responded M. de Riancourt. + +"Does M. le duc mean that large house on which they have been working +several years?" + +"Yes." + +The footman closed the door, and repeated the instructions to the +coachman who applied the whip vigorously to his bony steeds, and the +landau started in the direction of the Cours la Reine. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +THE HOTEL SAINT-RAMON. + + +M. de Riancourt's clumsy equipage moved so slowly that when it reached +the entrance to the Cours la Reine a pedestrian, who was proceeding in +the same direction, kept pace with it without the slightest difficulty. + +This pedestrian, who was very poorly dressed, did not seem to be very +active, for he leaned heavily on his cane. His long beard, his hair, and +his bushy eyebrows were as white as snow, while the swarthy hue of his +wrinkled face gave him the appearance of an aged mulatto. When M. de +Riancourt's carriage had advanced about half way up the Cours la Reine, +its progress was still further impeded by a long line of vehicles, which +were evidently also on the way to the Hôtel Saint-Ramon; so the old man +passed the landau, and walked on until he came to an avenue glittering +with gaily coloured lamps, and filled from end to end with a long +procession of carriages. + +Though the old man seemed deeply absorbed in thought, his attention was +naturally attracted to the large crowd that had assembled near the +handsome gateway that served as an entrance to this brilliantly lighted +avenue, so he paused, and, addressing one of the bystanders, inquired: + +"Can you tell me what all these people are looking at?" + +"They are looking at the guests who are going to the opening of the +famous Saint-Ramon mansion." + +"Saint-Ramon?" murmured the old man, with evident surprise. "How +strange!" + +Then he added aloud: + +"What is this Hôtel Saint-Ramon, monsieur?" + +"The eighth wonder of the world, people say. It has taken five years to +build it, and the owner gives a house-warming to-night." + +"To whom does this house belong, monsieur?" + +"To a young man worth several millions." + +"And what is his name?" + +"Saint-Harem, or Saint-Herem, I believe." + +"I thought as much," the old man said to himself. "But, in that case, +why do they call it the Saint-Ramon mansion?" Then, turning to the same +bystander again, he asked aloud: "Will you be kind enough to tell me +what time it is?" + +"Half-past ten, exactly." + +"Thank you, monsieur," responded the old man, getting a little nearer to +the gate. "Half-past ten," he said to himself. "I need not be at +Chaillot until midnight, so I have plenty of time to solve this +mystery." + +After a moment's hesitation, the old man passed through the gateway, and +proceeded up a walk shaded with magnificent elms, to a brilliantly +lighted half-circle in front of the house itself, which was a veritable +palace,--a superb example of the palmiest days of Renaissance +architecture. + +Crossing the half-circle, the old man found himself at the foot of the +imposing perron leading to the peristyle. Through the glass doors that +enclosed the entire front of this peristyle, he saw a long row of tall, +powdered footmen clad in gorgeous liveries, but all the while the +carriages that drew up at the foot of the perron were depositing men, +women, and young girls, whose plain attire contrasted strangely with the +splendour of this fairy palace. + +The old man, to whom allusion has already been made, urged on, +apparently, by an almost irresistible curiosity, followed several of +these newcomers up under the peristyle, where two tall Swiss, halberds +in hand, opened the broad portals of the large glass double door to all, +making their halberds ring noisily on the marble floor as each guest +entered. Still mingling with a party of invited guests, the old man +passed through a double row of footmen in bright blue livery, profusely +trimmed with silver, into a large reception-room, where numerous valets, +clad in bright blue jackets, black satin knee breeches, and white silk +stockings, were in attendance, all manifesting the utmost deference to +these guests whose unpretending appearance seemed so out of harmony with +the princely luxury of the abode. The guests passed from this room into +a large music-room, fitted up for concerts, and from that into an +immense circular hall surmounted by a dome. This hall served as a +nucleus for three other large apartments,--or rather four in all, +including the music-room,--one intended for a ballroom, another for a +banquet-hall and the other for a cardroom. + +It is impossible to describe the splendour, elegance, and sumptuous +furnishings of these large, brilliantly lighted apartments, whose lavish +adornments in the shape of paintings, statuary, and flowers were +multiplied again and again in the enormous mirrors that lined the walls. +The most illustrious artists of the time had assisted in this work of +ornamentation. Masterpieces by Ingres and Delacroix hung side by side +with those of Scheffer and Paul Delaroche; while the future fame of +Couture and Gérôme had evidently been divined by the wealthy and +discerning builder of this palace. Among the most magnificent works of +art, we must not forget to mention an immense sideboard in the +banquet-hall, loaded with superb silver, worthy of the master hand of +Benvenuto Cellini, and consisting of candelabra, pitchers, epergnes, +and fruit-dishes, each and every one entitled to an honoured place in a +museum, by reason of its rare beauty of form and exquisite +ornamentation. + +One word more in relation to a peculiar feature of the spacious rotunda. +Directly over a gigantic white marble mantel, a monument to the genius +of David of Angers, the French Michael Angelo, with allegorical figures +in _alto-relievo_, representing the Arts and Sciences at the base, was a +portrait that might with reason have been attributed to Velasquez. It +represented a pale, austere-looking man with strongly marked features, +hollow cheeks, and sunken eyes. A brown robe similar to those worn by +monks imparted to this person the impressive character of those +portraits of saints or martyrs so frequently encountered in the Spanish +school of art,--a resemblance that was heightened by a sort of halo +which shone out brightly against the dark background of the picture, and +seemed to cast a reflected radiance upon the austere and thoughtful +countenance. On the frame below, in German text, were the words: + + SAINT-RAMON. + +The aged stranger, who had continued to advance with the crowd, at last +found himself opposite this fireplace, but, on seeing the portrait, he +paused as if overwhelmed with astonishment. His emotion was so great +that tears rose to his eyes, and he murmured, almost unconsciously: + +"My poor friend, it is indeed he! But why has the word 'saint' been +added to his name? Why has this aureole been placed around his head? And +this strange entertainment, how is it that a person as poorly clad as I +am, and a stranger to the master of the house, besides, should be +allowed to enter here unhindered?" + +Just then a servant, carrying a large waiter loaded with ices, cake, and +similar dainties, paused in front of the old man, and offered him +refreshments. This offer was declined, however, by the stranger, who was +striving, though in vain, to determine the social status of those around +him. The men, who were for the most part plainly but neatly dressed, +some in coats and others in new blouses, while they seemed delighted to +participate in the fête, appeared perfectly at ease, or, in other words, +perfectly at home, and not in the least astonished at the wonders of +this palatial abode; while the women and the young girls, many of whom, +by the way, were extremely pretty, were evidently much more deeply +impressed by the splendour around them. The young girls, particularly, +who were nearly all attired in inexpensive, though perfectly fresh, +white dresses, exchanged many admiring comments in low tones. + +The venerable stranger, more and more anxious to solve this mystery, at +last approached a group composed of several men and women who had paused +in front of the fireplace to gaze at the portrait of Saint-Ramon. + +"You see that picture, Juliette," he heard a sturdy, pleasant-faced +young man say to his wife. "It is only right to call that worthy man +Saint-Ramon. There is many a saint in paradise who is not to be compared +with him, judging from the good he has done." + +"How is that, Michel?" + +"Why, thanks to this worthy saint, I, like most of my fellow workmen +here, have had lucrative employment for the last five years, and we all +owe this good fortune to the original of this portrait, M. Saint-Ramon. +Thanks to him, I have not been out of work for a single day, and my +wages have not only been liberal enough to support us comfortably, but +also to enable us to lay aside a snug little sum for a rainy day." + +"But it was not this worthy man whose portrait we see here that ordered +and paid for all this work. It was M. de Saint-Herem, who is always so +pleasant and kind, and who said so many nice things to us just now when +we came in." + +"Of course, my dear Juliette, it was M. de Saint-Herem who employed us, +but, as he always said to us when he came to see how we were getting on: +'Ah, boys, if it were not for the wealth I inherited from another +person, I could not give you employment or pay you as such industrious +and capable workmen ought to be paid, so always hold in grateful +remembrance the memory of the person who left me all this money. He +accumulated it, penny by penny, by depriving himself of every comfort, +while I have the pleasure of spending his wealth. In fact, it is my +bounden duty to spend it. What is the good of money, if it is not to be +spent? So hold in grateful remembrance, I say, the memory of yonder good +old miser. Bless his avarice, for it gives me the pleasure of +accomplishing wonderful things, and you, liberal wages, richly earned.'" + +"Still, while we are, of course, under great obligations to this worthy +miser, we ought to be equally grateful to M. de Saint-Herem, it seems to +me. So many wealthy people spend little or nothing; or, if they do +employ us, haggle about the price of our work, or keep us waiting a long +time for our money." + +The venerable stranger listened to this conversation with quite as much +interest as astonishment. He also lent an attentive ear to other +conversations that were going on around him, and everywhere he heard a +chorus of praises and benedictions lavished upon Saint-Ramon, while M. +de Saint-Herem's nobility of soul and liberality were lauded to the +skies. + +"Is all this a dream?" the old man said to himself. "Who would ever +believe that these eulogiums and protestations of respect were addressed +to the memory of a miser,--of a person belonging to a class of people +that is almost universally despised and vilified? And it is the +spendthrift heir of this miser who thus eulogises him! But what strange +whim led him to invite all his workmen to his entertainment?" + +The astonishment of the old man increased as he began to note a strange +contrast that was becoming apparent between the guests, for quite a +number of correctly dressed and extremely distinguished-looking +men--many with decorations in their buttonholes--were now moving about +the spacious rooms with exquisitely dressed ladies on their arms. + +Florestan de Saint-Herem, handsomer, gayer, and more brilliant than +ever, seemed to be entirely in his element in this atmosphere of luxury +and splendour. He did the honours of his palace delightfully, receiving +every guest with wonderful grace and perfect courtesy. He had stationed +himself near the door of the large circular hall into which the +reception-room opened, and no woman or young girl entered to whom he did +not address a few of those cordial and affable words which, when they +are sincere, never fail to charm even the most timid, and make them +perfectly at ease. + +Florestan was thus engaged when he saw the Comtesse Zomaloff, +accompanied by the Princesse Wileska and the Duc de Riancourt, enter the +hall. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +A NOVEL ENTERTAINMENT. + + +Saint-Herem had never seen the Comtesse Zomaloff and her aunt before, +but he had known M. de Riancourt a long time, so on seeing him enter, +accompanied by two ladies, Florestan stepped quickly forward to meet +him. + +"My dear Saint-Herem," said the duke, "permit me to introduce to you +Madame la Princesse Wileska and Madame la Comtesse Zomaloff. These +ladies hope they have not been indiscreet in accompanying me here this +evening to see your new house and its wonders." + +"I am delighted to have the honour of receiving the ladies, and shall be +only too glad to show them what you are pleased to call the wonders of +my house." + +"And M. de Riancourt is right, for, on entering here, I must confess +that it is difficult to decide what one should admire most, everything +is so beautiful," remarked the countess. + +"I also feel it my duty to tell you, my dear Saint-Herem, that Madame +Zomaloff's visit is not altogether one of curiosity," remarked the duke, +"for I have told the countess of your intentions in regard to the house, +and as I shall be so fortunate as to have the honour of bestowing my +name on the countess a week from now, you understand, of course, that I +can come to no decision in this matter without consulting her." + +"Really, madame, as M. de Riancourt thus gives himself all the airs of a +married man in advance, don't you think it only fair that he should +submit to the consequences of his revelation?" exclaimed Florestan, +gaily, turning to Madame Zomaloff. "So, as a husband never gives his arm +to his wife, will you not do me the honour to accept mine?" + +In this way Florestan escaped the necessity of offering his arm to the +princess, who seemed likely to prove a much less agreeable companion +than her young and pretty niece, who graciously accepted her host's +proffered arm, while M. de Riancourt, as in duty bound, offered his arm +to the princess. + +"I have travelled a great deal, monsieur," said Madame Zomaloff, "but I +have never seen anything to compare, not with the magnificence, for any +millionaire could compass that,--but with the exquisite taste which has +presided over every detail in the construction of this mansion. It is +really a superb museum. You will pardon me, I trust, but I really cannot +refrain from expressing the admiration the superb decoration of this +ceiling excites." + +"The artist's reward should follow admiration for his work, do you not +think so, madame?" inquired Florestan, smiling. "So it depends upon you +to make the artist who painted that ceiling both proud and happy." + +And as he spoke Saint-Herem pointed out to Madame Zomaloff one of the +most illustrious masters of the modern school of art. + +"I thank you a thousand times, monsieur, for this piece of good +fortune!" exclaimed the young woman, advancing with Florestan toward the +artist. + +"My friend," Saint-Herem said to him, "Madame la Comtesse Zomaloff +wishes to express to you her intense admiration for your work." + +"Not only my admiration, but my gratitude as well," added the lady, +graciously. "The profound pleasure the sight of such a _chef-d'oeuvre_ +excites certainly places the beholder under a deep obligation to the +creator of it." + +"However pleasing and flattering such praise may be to me, I can take +only a part of it to myself," replied the illustrious painter, with +great modesty and good taste. "But leaving my own works out of the +question entirely, so I may be able to express myself more freely, let +me advise you to notice particularly the decorations of the ceiling of +the music-room. They are the work of M. Ingres, our Raphael, and will +furnish pilgrims of art in days to come with as many objects of +adoration as the finest frescoes of Rome, Pisa, or Florence, yet this +_chef-d'oeuvre_ would not be in existence but for my friend +Saint-Herem. Really, madame, in this extravagant but essentially +materialistic age, is it not a delightful phenomenon to meet a Medici, +as in the palmy days of the Italian republics?" + +"That is true, monsieur," replied the countess, quickly, "and history +has been only just in--" + +"Pardon me for interrupting you, madame la comtesse," said Saint-Herem, +smiling, "but I am no less modest than my famous friend here, so for +fear that your enthusiasm may lead you astray, I must point out the real +Medici to you. There he is," added Florestan, pointing to the portrait +of Saint-Ramon, as he spoke. + +"What an austere face!" exclaimed the countess, scrutinising the +portrait with mingled surprise and curiosity; then seeing the name +inscribed upon the frame, she asked, turning to Florestan in evident +astonishment, "Saint-Ramon? What saint is that?" + +"A saint of my own making, madame. He was my uncle, and, though I am not +a pope, I have ventured to canonise this admirable man as a reward for +his long martyrdom and for the miracles he has wrought since his death." + +"His long martyrdom! The miracles he wrought after his death!" Madame +Zomaloff repeated, wonderingly. "You are jesting, monsieur, are you +not?" + +"Far from it, madame. My uncle imposed the severest privations upon +himself during his life, for he was a confirmed miser. That was his +martyrdom. I inherited his wealth; so the artistic achievements you so +much admire really owe their origin indirectly to him. These are the +miracles to which I alluded." + +Madame Zomaloff, more and more impressed by Saint-Herem's originality, +was silent for a moment, but M. de Riancourt, who had been standing a +little distance off, now approached Florestan, and said: + +"There is a question I have been wanting to ask you ever since our +arrival, my dear Saint-Herem. Who are these people? I have recognised +three or four great painters and a celebrated architect among them, but +who are the others? The princess and I have been trying in vain to solve +the mystery." + +"As M. Riancourt has ventured to ask this rather indiscreet question, I +must confess that I share his curiosity, monsieur," added Madame +Zomaloff. + +"You have doubtless noticed, madame, that most of the persons I have +taken such pleasure in welcoming this evening do not belong to the +fashionable world." + +"That is true." + +"Still, you were much pleased just now, were you not, madame, to meet +the great artist whose work you so greatly admired?" + +"Yes, monsieur; I told you how much pleasure the opportunity to meet him +afforded me." + +"You must consequently approve, I think, of my having extended an +invitation to him as well as to a number of his colleagues." + +"It seems to me that such an invitation was almost obligatory upon you, +monsieur." + +"Ah, well, madame, I feel that it was likewise obligatory upon me to +extend the same invitation to all who had assisted in any way in the +construction of this house, from the famous artists to the humblest +mechanic, so they are all here with their families enjoying the +beauties they have created, as they, in my opinion, at least, have an +undoubted right to do." + +"What!" exclaimed M. de Riancourt, "do you mean to say that you have the +carvers, and gilders, and locksmiths, and carpenters, and paper-hangers, +and even the masons, here? Why, this passes my comprehension." + +"Do you know anything about the habits of bees, my dear duke?" + +"Not much, I must admit." + +"You might consider their habits exceedingly reprehensible, my dear +duke, inasmuch as the insolent creatures insist upon occupying the cells +they themselves have constructed; and, what is worse, they even assert +their claim to the delicious honey they have accumulated with so much +skill and labour for their winter's need." + +"And what conclusion do you draw from all this?" + +"That we drones should give the poor and industrious human bees the +innocent satisfaction of enjoying, at least for a day, the gilded cells +they have constructed for us,--for us who subsist upon the honey +gathered by others." + +Madame Zomaloff had dropped Florestan's arm a few moments before. She +now took it again, and walking on a few steps, so as to leave her aunt +and the duke a little way behind her, she said to Saint-Herem, with deep +earnestness: + +"Your idea is charming, monsieur, and I do not wonder at the expression +of contentment I notice on the faces of your guests. Yes, the more I +think of it, the more just and generous the idea seems to me. After all, +as you say, this superb mansion represents the combined labour of +artisans of every degree, high and low; hence, in your eyes, this house +must be much more than a marvel of good taste and luxury, as the +associations connected with its construction will always be unspeakably +precious to you. That being the case--" + +"Go on, madame." + +"I cannot understand how--" + +"You hesitate, madame. Speak, I beg of you." + +"M. de Riancourt has informed you of our intended marriage, monsieur," +said Madame Zomaloff, with some embarrassment, after a moment's silence. +"A couple of days ago, while talking with him about the difficulty of +securing as large and handsomely appointed house as I desired, M. de +Riancourt happened to remember that some one had told him that you might +be willing to dispose of the house you had just completed." + +"Yes, madame, M. de Riancourt wrote, asking to be allowed to go through +the house, and I advised him to wait until this evening, as I intended +to give an entertainment, and he would consequently be much better able +to judge of the arrangement and appearance of the reception-rooms, but I +did not expect to have the honour of receiving you, madame." + +"I have ventured to ask you several questions already, monsieur," +remarked the young woman, with marked hesitation, "and I am going to +hazard one more. How, monsieur, can you have the courage or the +ingratitude to think of abandoning this home which you have created with +so much interest and love, this home with which so many kind and +generous memories are already associated?" + +"Good Heavens! madame," replied Saint-Herem, with the most cheerful air +imaginable, "I am going to sell the house because I am ruined, utterly +ruined! This is my last day as a man of wealth, and you must admit, +madame, that, thanks to your presence here, the day could not have a +happier or more brilliant ending." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +A CHANGE OF OWNERS. + + +Florestan de Saint-herem had uttered the words, "I am ruined, utterly +ruined," with such unruffled good-humour and cheerfulness that Madame +Zomaloff stared at him in amazement, unable to believe her ears; so +after a moment, she exclaimed: + +"What, monsieur, you are--" + +"Ruined, madame, utterly ruined. Five years ago my sainted uncle left me +a fortune of nearly or quite five millions. I have spent that and nearly +eighteen hundred thousand francs more, but the sale of this house and +its contents will pay what I owe and leave me about one hundred thousand +francs, upon which I can live in comfort in some quiet retreat. I shall +turn shepherd, perhaps. That existence would be such a charming contrast +to my past life, when impossibilities and marvellous dreams were changed +into realities for me and my friends by the vast wealth of which I had +so unexpectedly become the possessor, and when all that was beautiful, +elegant, sumptuous, and rare was blended in my dazzling career. Would +you believe it, madame, I was famed for my liberality through all +Europe? Europe? Why! did not a Chandernagor lapidary send me a sabre, +the handle of which was encrusted with precious stones, with the +following note: 'This scimitar belonged to Tippoo-Sahib; it ought now to +belong to M. de Saint-Herem. The price is twenty-five thousand francs, +payable at the house of the Rothschilds in Paris.' Yes, madame, the +rarest and most costly objects of art were sent to me from every part of +the world. The finest English horses were in my stables; the most costly +wines filled my cellar; the finest cooks quarrelled for the honour of +serving me, and the famous Doctor Gasterini--you know him, madame, do +you not?" + +"Who has not heard of the greatest gourmand in the known world?" + +"Ah, well, madame, that famous man declared he dined quite as well at my +table as at his own--and he did not speak in equally flattering terms of +M. de Talleyrand's cuisine, I assure you. Believe me, madame, I have the +consoling consciousness of having spent my fortune generously, nobly, +and discriminately. I have no cause to reproach myself for a single +foolish outlay or unworthy act. It is with a mind filled with delightful +memories and a heart full of serenity that I see my wealth take flight." + +Saint-Herem's tone was so earnest, the sincerity of his sentiments and +his words were so legibly imprinted upon his frank and handsome face, +that Madame Zomaloff, convinced of the truth of what he said, replied: + +"Really, monsieur, such a philosophical way of viewing the subject +amazes me. To think of renouncing a life like that you have been leading +without one word of bitterness!" + +"Bitterness! when I have known so many joys. That would be ungrateful, +indeed!" + +"And you can leave this enchanted palace without one sigh of regret, and +that, too, just as you were about to enjoy it?" + +"I did not know that the hour of my ruin was so close at hand until my +rascally steward showed me the state of my bank account hardly a week +ago, so you see I have lost no time. Besides, in leaving this palace +which I have taken so much pleasure in creating, I am like a poet who +has written the last verse of his poem, like the artist who has just +given the last touch to his picture, after which they have the +imperishable glory of having achieved a masterpiece to console them. In +my case, madame,--excuse my artistic vanity,--this temple of luxury, +art, and pleasure will be a noble monument; so how ungrateful I should +be to complain of my lot! And you, madame, will reign here as the +divinity of this temple, for you will purchase the house, I am sure. It +would suit you so well. Do not let the opportunity to secure it pass. M. +de Riancourt may or may not have told you, but he knows that Lord Wilmot +has made me a handsome offer for it. I should be so sorry to be obliged +to sell to him, for he is so ugly, and so is his wife and his five +daughters as well. Think what presiding spirits they would be for this +splendid temple, which seems somehow to have been built expressly for +you. I have one favour to ask, though, madame. That large painting of my +uncle is a fine work of art, and though the name and face of Saint-Ramon +appear several times in the medallions that adorn the facade, it would +be a pleasure to me to think that this worthy uncle of mine would gaze +down for ages to come upon the pleasures which he denied himself all his +life!" + +The conversation between the countess and Saint-Herem was here +interrupted by M. de Riancourt. The party had been making a tour of the +reception apartments as they talked, and the duke now said to Florestan: + +"The house is superb, and everything is in perfect taste, but eighteen +hundred thousand francs is entirely too much to ask for it, even +including furniture and silver." + +[Illustration: _"'My star has not deserted me.'"_ + +Original etching by Adrian Marcel.] + +"I have no personal interest in the matter, I assure you, my dear duke," +replied Florestan, smiling. "The eighteen hundred thousand francs will +all go to my creditors, so I must needs be unpleasantly tenacious +in regard to price; besides, Lord Wilmot offers me that amount, and +is urging me to accept it." + +"But you will certainly make concessions to me that you would not make +to Lord Wilmot, my dear fellow. Come, Saint-Herem, don't be obdurate. +Make a reasonable reduction--" + +"M. de Saint-Herem," hastily interposed the countess, "the duke must +permit me to interfere with his negotiations, for I will take the house +at the price you have mentioned. I give you my word, and I ask yours in +return." + +"Thank Heaven, madame, my star has not deserted me," said Florestan, +cordially offering his hand to Madame Zomaloff. "The matter is settled." + +"But, madame!" exclaimed M. de Riancourt, greatly surprised and not a +little annoyed at this display of impulsiveness on the part of his +future wife,--for he had hoped to secure a reduction in price from +Saint-Herem,--"really, this is a very important matter, and you ought +not to commit yourself in this way without consulting me." + +"You have my word, M. de Saint-Herem," said Madame Zomaloff, again +interrupting the duke. "This purchase of mine is a purely personal +matter. If convenient to you, my agent will confer with yours +to-morrow." + +"Very well, madame," replied Saint-Herem. Then, turning to M. de +Riancourt, he added, gaily, "You are not offended, I hope, monsieur. It +is all your own fault, though. You should have played the grand +seigneur, not haggled like a shopkeeper." + +Just at that moment the orchestra, which had not been playing for nearly +a quarter of an hour, gave the signal for the dancing to begin. + +"Pardon me for leaving you, countess," remarked Saint-Herem, again +turning to Madame Zomaloff, "but I have invited a young girl to dance +this set with me,--a very pretty girl, the daughter of one of the head +carpenters who built my house, or, rather, your house, madame. It is +pleasant to take this thought, at least, away with me on leaving you." + +And bowing respectfully to Madame Zomaloff, their host went in search of +the charming young girl he had engaged as a partner, and the ball began. + +"My dear Fedora," said the princess, who had watched her niece's long +conversation with Saint-Herem with no little annoyance, "it is getting +late, and we promised our friend that we would be at her house early." + +"You must permit me to say that I think you have acted much too hastily +in this matter," said the duke to his fiancée. "Saint-Herem has got to +sell this house to pay his debts, and, with a little perseverance, we +could have induced him to take at least fifty thousand francs less, +particularly if _you_ had insisted upon it. It is always so hard to +refuse a pretty woman anything," added M. de Riancourt, with his most +insinuating smile. + +"What are you thinking of, my dear Fedora?" asked the princess, touching +the young woman lightly on the arm, for her niece, who was standing with +one elbow resting on a gilded console loaded with flowers, seemed to +have relapsed into a profound reverie, and evidently had not heard a +single word that her aunt and the duke had said to her. "Why don't you +answer? What is the matter with you?" + +"I hardly know. I feel very strangely," replied the countess, dreamily. + +"You need air, probably, my dear countess," said M. de Riancourt. "I am +not at all surprised. Though the apartments are very large, this +plebeian crowd renders the atmosphere suffocating, and--" + +"Are you ill, Fedora?" asked the princess, with increasing uneasiness. + +"Not in the least. On the contrary, the emotion I experience is full of +sweetness and charm, so, my dear aunt, I scarcely know how to express--" + +"Possibly it is the powerful odour of these flowers that affects you so +peculiarly," suggested M. de Riancourt. + +"No, it is not that. I hesitate to tell you and my aunt; you will think +it so strange and absurd." + +"Explain, Fedora, I beg of you." + +"I will, but you will be greatly surprised," responded the young widow +with a half-confidential, half-coquettish air. Then, turning to M. de +Riancourt, she said, in an undertone: + +"It seems to me--" + +"Well, my dear countess?" + +"That--" + +"Go on. I beg of you." + +"That I am dying to marry M. de Saint-Herem." + +"Madame!" exclaimed the astonished duke, turning crimson with anger. +"Madame!" + +"What is the matter, my dear duke?" asked the princess quickly. + +"Madame la comtesse," said the duke, forcing a smile, "your jest is--is +rather unseemly, to say the least, and--" + +"Give me your arm, my dear duke," said Madame Zomaloff, with the most +natural air imaginable, "for it is late. We ought to have been at the +embassy some time ago. It is all your fault, too. How is it that you, +who are punctuality personified, did not strike the hour of eleven long +ago." + +"Ah, madame, I am in no mood for laughing," exclaimed the duke, in his +most sentimental tones. "How your cruel jest pained me just now! It +almost broke my heart." + +"I had no idea your heart was so vulnerable, my poor friend." + +"Ah, madame, you are very unjust, when I would gladly give my life for +you." + +"Would you, really? Ah, well, I shall ask no such heroic sacrifice as +that on your part, my dear duke." + +A few minutes afterward, Madame Zomaloff, her aunt, and the duke left +the Hôtel Saint-Ramon. + +Almost at the same instant the stranger who looked so much like an aged +mulatto left the palatial dwelling, bewildered by what he had just seen +and heard. The clock in a neighbouring church was striking the hour as +he descended the steps. + +"Half-past eleven!" the old man murmured. "I have plenty of time to +reach Chaillot before midnight. Ah, what other strange things am I about +to hear?" + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +THE RETURN. + + +The old man climbed the hill leading to the Rue de Chaillot, and soon +reached the church of that poor and densely populated faubourg. + +Contrary to custom at that hour, the church was lighted. Through the +open door the brilliantly illuminated nave and altar could be plainly +seen. Though the edifice was still empty, some solemn ceremony was +evidently about to take place, for though midnight was close at hand, +there were lights in many of the neighbouring houses, and several groups +had assembled on the pavement in front of the church. Approaching one of +these groups, the old man listened attentively, and heard the following +conversation: + +"They will be here soon, now." + +"Yes, for it is almost midnight." + +"It is a strange hour to be married, isn't it?" + +"Yes, but when one gets a dowry, one needn't be too particular about the +hour." + +"Who is to be married at this hour, gentlemen?" inquired the old man. + +"It is very evident that you don't live in this neighbourhood, my +friend." + +"No. I am a stranger here." + +"If you were not, you would know that it was the night for those six +marriages that have taken place here on the night of the twelfth of May, +for the last four years. On the night of the twelfth of May, every +year, six poor young girls are married in this church, and each girl +receives a dowry of ten thousand francs." + +"From whom?" + +"From a worthy man who died five years ago. He left a handsome fund for +this purpose, and his name is consequently wonderfully popular in +Chaillot." + +"And what is the name of the worthy man who dowered these young girls so +generously?" inquired the stranger, with a slight tremor in his voice. + +"They call him Father Richard, monsieur. He has a son, a very fine young +man, who carries out his father's last wishes religiously. And a nobler +man than M. Louis never lived. Everybody knows that he and his wife and +child live on three or four thousand francs a year, and yet they must +have inherited a big fortune from Father Richard, to be able to give six +young girls a dowry of ten thousand francs apiece every year, to say +nothing of the expenses of the school and of Father Richard's Home." + +"Pardon a stranger's curiosity, monsieur, but you speak of a school." + +"Yes, Father Richard's School. Madame Mariette has charge of it." + +"Madame Mariette, who is she?" + +"M. Louis Richard's wife. The school was founded for twenty-five little +boys and as many little girls, who remain there until they are twelve +years old, and are then apprenticed to carefully chosen persons. The +children are well clothed and fed, and each child receives ten sous a +day besides, to encourage them to save their money." + +"And you say it is M. Louis Richard's wife who has charge of this +school?" + +"Yes, monsieur, and she says she takes so much interest in it because +before her marriage she was a poor working girl who could neither read +nor write, and that she herself suffered so cruelly from a lack of +education, that she is glad to be able to prevent others from suffering +what she suffered." + +"But the home--You also spoke of a home, I believe." + +"That was founded for working women who are ill, or no longer able to +work. Madame Lacombe has charge of that." + +"And who is Madame Lacombe?" + +"Madame Mariette's godmother, a good woman who has lost one arm. She is +kindness and patience personified to the poor women under her charge, +and it is not at all to be wondered at, for she too knows what it is to +be poor and infirm; for, as she tells everybody, before her goddaughter +married M. Louis they often went hungry for days at a time. But here +comes the bridal party. Step in here beside me so you can see them +better." + +Louis Richard, with Madame Lacombe on his arm, walked at the head of the +little procession; then came Mariette, holding a handsome little +four-year-old boy by the hand. + +No one would have recognised Madame Lacombe. Her once pallid and +wrinkled face was plump and rosy, and characterised by an expression of +perfect content. She wore a lace bonnet, and a handsome shawl partially +concealed her silk gown. + +Louis Richard's countenance wore a look of quiet happiness. It was +evident that he realised the great responsibility that devolved upon +him. Mariette, who was prettier than ever, had that air of gentle +dignity that suits young mothers so well. In spite of her marriage, she +still clung to the simple garb of her girlhood. Faithful to the +coquettish little cap of the grisette, she had never worn a bonnet, and +she was quite irresistible in her freshness, grace, and beauty, under +her snowy cap with its bows of sky-blue ribbon. + +After Louis, his wife and child, and Mother Lacombe, came, dressed in +white and crowned with orange blossoms, the six young girls who were to +receive dowries that year, attended by the parents or the witnesses of +their betrothed husbands, then the six bridegrooms escorting the +relatives or witnesses of their affianced wives, all evidently belonging +to the labouring class. Following them came the twenty-four couples that +had been married during the four preceding years, then the children of +Father Richard's School, and, finally, such inmates of the home as were +able to attend the ceremony. + +It took nearly a quarter of an hour for the procession to pass into the +church, and the aged stranger watched it sadly and thoughtfully while +such comments as the following were exchanged around him: + +"It is all due to Father Richard that these good, industrious girls can +become happy wives." + +"Yes, and how happy the married couples look!" + +"And they owe it all to Father Richard, too." + +"And to M. Louis, who carries out his father's wishes so faithfully." + +"Yes; but if it were not for the large fortune Father Richard left him, +M. Louis would not have been able to do any of these things." + +"And the schoolchildren. Did you notice how plump and rosy and contented +they looked,--the boys in their comfortable woollen jackets, and the +girls in their warm merino dresses." + +"Think of it, there were nearly one hundred and fifty persons in the +procession, and every one of them has shared Father Richard's benefits!" + +"That is true; and when one remembers that this work has been going on +for four years, it makes between six and seven hundred people who have +been taught or supported or married through Father Richard's bounty." + +"To say nothing of the fact that, if M. Louis lives thirty years longer, +there will be five or six thousand persons who will owe their happy, +respectable lives to Father Richard--for poverty causes the ruin of so +many poor creatures!" + +"Five or six thousand persons, you say; why, there will be many more +than that." + +"How do you make that out?" + +"Why, there will be children in each of these households. These children +will share the advantages that have been bestowed upon their parents. +They will consequently be well brought up and receive a fair education. +Later in life they will receive their share of the small fortune their +thrifty and industrious parents are almost certain to accumulate, for it +is an easy matter to save when one has something to start with." + +"True; and calculating in this way, the number of persons benefited is +increased at least three-fold; while if one thinks of the second and +third generations, the good this worthy man has accomplished becomes +incalculable." + +"And yet it is so easy to do good, and there are so many persons who +have more money than they know what to do with. But what is the matter +with you, my friend?" exclaimed the speaker. "What the devil are you +crying about?" he added, seeing that the stranger beside him was sobbing +violently. + +"What I have heard you say about Father Richard, and the sight of all +these happy people, touches me so deeply--" + +"Oh, if that is the cause of your tears, they do you honour, my friend. +But as all this seems to interest you so much, let us go into the church +and witness the ceremony. You can go to the home, too, afterward, if you +choose; it is open to everybody to-night." + +The crowd in the church was so great that the old man was unable to +secure a place that commanded a view of the altar, but after a moment's +reflection he seemed to become perfectly reconciled to the fact, and +stationed himself by the holy-water font near the door. + +The ceremonies ended, a solemn silence pervaded the edifice, finally +broken by the grave voice of the officiating priest, who addressed the +newly wedded couples as follows: + +"And now that your unions have been consecrated by God, my young +friends, persevere in the honest, industrious, and God-fearing life that +has secured you this good fortune, and never forget that you owe this +just reward of courage in adversity and of dignity in poverty to a man +imbued with the tenderest affection for his brother man; for, faithful +to the spirit of a true Christian, he did not consider himself the +master, but simply as the custodian and almoner of the wealth with which +Heaven had blessed him. Does not Christ tell his followers to love one +another, and bid those who are endowed with this world's goods to give +to those who have none? The Saviour rewarded this good man by giving him +a son worthy of him, and his obedience to the laws of Christian +fraternity makes him deserve to have his name ever cherished and +honoured among men. You, in your just gratitude for benefits conferred, +owe him this remembrance, and Father Richard's name should be for ever +blessed by you, your children, and your children's children." + +An approving murmur from the crowd greeted these words, and drowned the +sobs of the aged stranger, who had dropped upon his knees, apparently +completely overcome with emotion. + +The noise the newly married couples made in leaving the altar aroused +the old man, who hastily rose just in time to see Louis Richard +advancing toward him with Madame Lacombe on his arm. The old man +trembled in every limb, but as Louis was about to pass he hastily caught +up a dipper of holy water and offered it to Mariette's husband. + +"Thank you, my good father," said Louis, kindly. Then noting the shabby +clothing and white hair of the donor, and seeing a request for alms in +the act, the young man slipped a shining gold piece in the extended +hand, saying, almost affectionately: + +"Keep it and pray for Father Richard." + +The old man seized the coin greedily, and, raising it to his lips, +kissed it again and again, while the tears streamed down his wrinkled +cheeks. + +Louis Richard did not notice this strange incident, however, for he had +left the church, and, followed by the bridal party and a large number of +the spectators, was on his way to the home, whither the aged stranger, +leaning heavily on his cane, also followed him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +THE AWAKENING. + + +The home stood upon a high knoll in a location as pleasant as it was +salubrious, and large shady grounds surrounded the spacious building. + +The night was clear and still; spring perfumes filled the air, and when +the old man reached the spot he found the people ranged in a half-circle +around the steps of the building, no room inside being large enough to +hold the crowd. + +Soon Louis Richard, according to his custom each year, came out upon the +perron, and said: + +"My friends, five years ago to-night I lost the best and kindest of +fathers. He died a frightful death in that terrible catastrophe on the +Versailles railway. My father, being the possessor of a handsome +fortune, might have lived in luxury and idleness. On the contrary, he +preferred to lead a frugal and industrious life, so while he denied +himself all comforts, and earned his bread by his daily toil, his wealth +slowly but surely increased day by day; but when the day of his +premature death came, I had to mourn one of the warmest friends of +humanity, for nearly all his wealth was devoted to the accomplishment of +three great and noble works: the amelioration of the condition,-- + +"First, Of poor children deprived of the advantages of an elementary +education. + +"Secondly, Of poor but honest and industrious young girls who are too +often exposed to terrible temptation by reason of ill health, inadequate +wages, and poverty. + +"And lastly, Of aged or infirm women who, after a long life of toil, are +incapacitated for further labour. + +"True, the result accomplished each year is painfully small when one +thinks of the ills of humanity, but he who does all the good he can, +even if he only shares his crust with his starving brother, does his +duty as nobly as the person who gives millions. + +"It is the duty of every right-minded man to make every possible effort +to improve the condition of his fellow men; but in this work I am acting +only as my father's agent, and the accomplishment of this glorious duty +would fill my life with unbounded happiness if I were not obliged to +mourn the loss of the most beloved of parents." + +Louis Richard had scarcely uttered these last words when quite a +commotion became apparent in the crowd, for the aged stranger's strength +seemed suddenly to fail him, and he would have fallen to the ground had +it not been for the friendly support of those near him. + +On hearing the cause of the hubbub, Louis Richard hastened to the old +man's aid, and had him taken into the home in order that he might +receive immediate attention, after which he requested the bridal parties +to adjourn to the immense tent, where supper was to be served, and where +Madame Lacombe and Mariette would do the honours in his absence. + +The old man had been carried in an unconscious condition to Louis's +office, a room on the ground floor. His profound respect for his +father's memory had prevented him from parting with the furniture of the +room he and his father had shared so long. The writing-desk, the old +bureau, the antique chest, as well as the cheap painted bedstead, all +had been kept, and it was on this same bed the unconscious man was laid. + +As soon as he entered the room Louis despatched the servant to a +neighbouring drug store for some spirits, so he was left alone with the +patient, whose features were almost entirely concealed by his long white +hair and beard. + +Louis took the old man's hand to feel his pulse, but as he did so the +patient made a slight movement and uttered a few incoherent words. + +The voice sounded strangely familiar to Louis, and he endeavoured to get +a better look at the stranger's features, but the dim light that +pervaded the room and the patient's long hair and beard rendered the +attempt futile. + +A moment more and Louis Richard's guest languidly raised his head and +gazed around him. His eyes having fallen on the rather peculiarly shaped +gray bedstead, he made a movement of surprise, but when he saw the +old-fashioned chest, he exclaimed, excitedly: + +"Where am I? My God, is this a dream?" + +Again the voice struck Louis as being so familiar that he, too, gave a +slight start, but almost immediately shaking his head and smiling +bitterly, he muttered under his breath: + +"Alas! regret often gives rise to strange illusions." Then addressing +the old man in affectionate tones, he asked: + +"How do you feel now, my good father?" + +On hearing these words, the old man, seizing Louis's hand, covered it +with tears and kisses before the latter could prevent it. + +"Come, come, my good father," said Mariette's husband, surprised and +touched, "I have done nothing to deserve such gratitude on your part. I +may be more fortunate some day, however. But tell me how you feel now. +Was it weakness or overfatigue that caused your fainting fit?" + +The old man made no reply, but pressed Louis's hand convulsively to his +panting breast. The younger man, conscious of a strange and increasing +emotion, felt the tears spring to his eyes. + +"Listen to me, my good father," he began. + +"Oh, say that once more--just once more," murmured the old man, +hoarsely. + +"Ah, well, my good father--" + +But Louis did not finish the sentence, for his guest, unable to restrain +himself any longer, raised himself up in bed, at the same time +exclaiming, in a voice vibrating with tenderness: + +"Louis!" + +That name, uttered with all the passion of a despairing soul, was a +revelation. + +The younger man turned as pale as death, started back, and stood as if +petrified, with fixed, staring eyes. + +The shock was too great, and several seconds elapsed before the thought, +"My father is not dead," could penetrate his brain. + +Does not the sudden transition from intense darkness into bright +sunlight blind us for a time? + +But when the blissful truth dawned upon Louis's mind, he threw himself +on his knees by the old man's bedside, and, putting back his long white +locks with a feverish hand, studied his father's features with eager, +radiant eyes, until, convinced beyond a doubt, he could only murmur in a +sort of ecstasy: "My father, oh, God, my father!" + + * * * * * + +The scene that ensued between father and son beggars description; but +when the first transports of happiness had given place to a momentary +calm, Father Richard said to his son: + +"I will tell you my story in a few words, my dear Louis. I have been +asleep for five years, and woke only forty-eight hours ago." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I was with poor Ramon and his daughter in one of the worst wrecked +carriages. In some providential way my life was saved, though my right +leg was broken, and fright deprived me of reason." + +"You, father?" + +"Yes, I became insane with terror. I lost my reason completely. Removed +from the scene of the catastrophe, my fractured limb was set in the home +of a worthy physician, and after I recovered from that injury I was +taken to an insane asylum near Versailles. My lunacy was of a harmless +type. I talked only of my lost wealth. For nearly four years there was +no change in my condition, but at the end of that time a slight +improvement became apparent. This continued until my recovery became +complete, though I was not allowed to leave the hospital until two days +ago. It would be impossible to describe my feelings on my entire +restoration to reason, when I woke as I told you from my long five +years' sleep. My first thought, I blush to confess, was one of avarice. +What had become of my property? What use had you made of it? When I was +released from the hospital yesterday, the first thing I did was to +hasten to my notary, your former employer, and my friend. You can +imagine his astonishment. He told me that at first it was your intention +to leave the property untouched, that is, except for a small stipend for +your maintenance and that of your wife, until you attained the age of +thirty-six; but after a serious illness, thinking that death might +overtake you before you had accomplished what you considered a sacred +duty, you changed your mind, and came to consult him in regard to +certain plans, to which he gave his unqualified approval. 'What were +these plans?' I asked. 'Have the courage to wait until to-morrow night,' +he replied; 'then, go to the church of Chaillot, and you will know all, +and thank God for having given you such a son.' I did wait, my dear +Louis. My long beard and my white hair changed me a great deal, but I +stained my skin to disguise myself more completely, and to enable me to +approach you without any danger of recognition. Oh, if you knew all I +have seen and heard, my dear, noble child! My name revered and blessed, +thanks to your nobility of soul and the subterfuge prompted by your +filial love! Ah, what a revulsion of feeling this wrought in me. But, +alas! the illusion was of short duration. I had no hand whatever in the +noble deeds attributed to me." + +"How can you say that, father? But for your self-denial and +perseverance, how could I ever have done any good? Did you not leave me +the means of accomplishing it, an all-powerful lever? My only merit +consisted in having made a good use of the immense power bequeathed to +me by you at the cost of so many privations on your part, and in +realising the duties wealth imposed upon me. The terrible poverty and +the lack of education from which my beloved wife had suffered so much, +and the perils to which this poverty and lack of education had exposed +her, her godmother's cruel suffering,--all had served to enlighten me as +to the needs of the poor, and all three of us longed to do everything in +our power to save others from the ills we had suffered. But after all, +it is your work, not mine. I have reaped; it was you who sowed." + +The door suddenly opened, and Florestan Saint-Herem rushed in, and threw +himself into his friend's arms with so much impetuosity that he did not +even see Father Richard. + +"Embrace me, Louis, rejoice with me!" he exclaimed. "You are my best +friend, and you shall be the first to hear the news. I knew I should +find you here, so I did not lose a minute in coming to tell you that +Saint-Ramon has proved a saint indeed, for he has just worked the most +wonderful of miracles." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Why, two hours ago I was utterly ruined, but now I am far richer than +I ever have been. Think of it, Louis, gold mines and silver mines, and +diamonds by the bushel,--fabulous wealth, in short, wealth amounting to +dozens of millions. Oh, Saint-Ramon, Saint-Ramon, blessed be thy name +for ever! I was right to canonise thee, for thou hast not proved +ungrateful, thank Heaven!" + +"For pity's sake, explain, Florestan." + +"An hour ago, just as the entertainment I was giving to those honest +workmen was drawing to a close, one of my servants came to inform me +that a lady wished to see me in private. Who should it be but the +Countess Zomaloff, a young and charming widow, who was to have married +the Duc de Riancourt a week from now. Earlier in the evening she had +come to look at my house, with a view to purchasing it. She had +purchased it, in fact. Astonished to see her again, I stood perfectly +silent for a moment. And what do you suppose she said to me, in the most +natural tone imaginable? + +"'A thousand pardons for disturbing you, M. de Saint-Herem. I can say +all I have to say in a couple of words. I am a widow. I am twenty-eight +years old. I have no idea why I promised Riancourt that I would marry +him, though very possibly I might have made this foolish marriage if I +had not met you. You have a generous heart and a noble soul. The +entertainment you gave this evening proves that. Your wit delights me, +your character charms me, your goodness of heart touches me, and your +personal appearance pleases me. So far as I, myself, am concerned, this +step I am now taking should give you some idea of what kind of a person +I am. + +"'This peculiar and unconventional procedure on my part, you will +understand, I think. If your impression of me is favourable, I shall be +both proud and happy to become Madame de Saint-Herem, and live in the +Hôtel Saint-Ramon with you. I have a colossal fortune. It is at your +disposal, for I trust my future to you, unreservedly, blindly. I shall +await your decision anxiously. Good-evening.' And with these words the +fairy disappeared, leaving me intoxicated with happiness at my good +fortune." + +"Florestan," said Louis, with a grave but affectionate air, "the +confidence this young woman has shown in coming to you so frankly and +confidingly throws a weighty responsibility upon you." + +"I understand that," responded Saint-Herem, with undoubted sincerity. "I +may have squandered the fortune that belonged to me, and ruined myself, +but to squander a fortune that does not belong to me, and ruin a woman +who trusts her future so unreservedly to me, would be infamous." + + * * * * * + +Madame Zomaloff married Florestan de Saint-Herem about one month after +these events. Louis Richard, his father, and Mariette attended the +wedding. + +Father Richard, in spite of his resurrection, made no attempt to change +the disposition Louis had made of his property up to the present time. +The old man merely asked to be made steward of the home, and in that +capacity he rendered very valuable assistance. + +Every year, the twelfth of May is doubly celebrated. + +Louis, his father, and Mariette, who are on the most intimate terms with +M. and Madame de Saint-Herem, always attend the magnificent +entertainment which is given at the Hôtel Saint-Ramon on the anniversary +of the owner's betrothal, but at midnight Florestan and his wife, who +adore each other, for this marriage became a love match, pure and +simple, come to partake of the bridal supper at Father Richard's Home. + +THE END. + + + + +THE SEVEN CARDINAL SINS + + + + + +ANGER. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE DUEL. + + +About the middle of the carnival season of 1801, a season enlivened by +the news of the treaty of peace signed at Lunéville, when Bonaparte was +First Consul of the French republic, the following scene took place in a +secluded spot overshadowed by the partially dismantled ramparts of the +city of Orléans. + +It was seven o'clock in the morning, day was just dawning, and the cold +was intense, as a tall man, enveloped in a big overcoat of a dark +colour, walked to and fro blowing his fingers and stamping his feet, +watching intently all the while a narrow footpath that wound around the +side of the bastion. In about ten minutes another man, wrapped in a +cloak, and heretofore concealed from sight by the projecting wall of the +bastion, appeared in the path and hastily advanced toward the man in the +long coat. + +"I feared I should be late," remarked the man in the cloak. + +"We have a quarter of an hour yet," replied the other. "Have you got the +swords?" + +"Here they are. I had a good deal of trouble in finding them; that was +what detained me. Have you seen Yvon this morning?" + +"No; he told me last night that I need not call for him. He feared that +our going out together so early would excite his wife's suspicions." + +"Well, while we are waiting for him, do enlighten me as to the cause of +this quarrel. He was in too much of a hurry last night to tell me +anything about the trouble." + +"Well, this is about the long and short of it. At the last meeting of +the court, a lawyer, named Laurent, made a rather transparent allusion +to the pretended partiality of our friend, one of the judges before whom +the case was tried." + +"Such an insinuation was unworthy of the slightest notice. Yvon +Cloarek's honesty is above suspicion." + +"Of course; but you know our friend's extreme irascibility of temper, +also, so, springing from his seat and interrupting the advocate in the +middle of his discourse, he exclaimed: 'Monsieur Laurent, you are an +infamous slanderer. I tell you this not as a magistrate, but as a man, +and I will repeat the accusation after the session is over!' You can +imagine the commotion this excited in the court-room. It was an odd +thing for a magistrate to do, I must admit. Well, after the court +adjourned, the other judges tried to appease Yvon, and so did the +numerous members of the bar, but you know how pig-headed our friend is. +Laurent, too, who is a stubborn sort of fellow, not only refused to +apologise himself, but demanded that our friend should. I thought Yvon +would choke with rage." + +"It seems to me that our friend is right in resenting such an +insinuation, but I fear that this duel will prove very detrimental to +his career as a magistrate." + +"I am afraid so, too, particularly as he has had several lively +altercations with the presiding judge of the court, and his violent +temper has already compelled him to change his place of residence +twice." + +"He is a noble fellow at heart, though." + +"Yes, but his obstinacy and his hot temper make him very hard to get +along with." + +"With such a temperament, his choice of a career was very unfortunate, +to say the least." + +"Yes, but his father, who was a magistrate himself, was anxious his son +should adopt the same profession. Yvon adored his father, so he +consented. Afterward, when he lost his father, it was too late for our +friend to change his profession, even if he had desired to do so; +besides, he possesses no fortune, and he has a wife and child, so he has +to make the best of the situation." + +"That is true, but I pity him, nevertheless. But tell me, Yvon is a good +swordsman, is he not?" + +"Capital, for he was passionately fond of all such sports in his youth; +but I am afraid his undoubted bravery and his hot temper will make him +too rash." + +"And his opponent?" + +"Is considered quite skilful in the use of the weapon. I have a cab a +little way off in case of an accident. Yvon lives almost on the edge of +the town, fortunately." + +"I can't bear to think of any such catastrophe. It would be the death of +his wife. You have no idea how much she loves him. She is an angel of +sweetness and goodness, and he, in turn, is perfectly devoted to her. +They adore each other, and if--But there come the others. I am sorry +Yvon did not get here before they did." + +"Doubtless the precautions he was obliged to take on his wife's account +detained him." + +"Probably, but it is very annoying." + +The three men who had just rounded the corner of the bastion proved to +be Yvon's adversary and his two seconds. They all greeted the first +comers with great courtesy, apologising for having kept them waiting, +whereupon M. Cloarek's friends were obliged to reply that that gentleman +had not yet arrived, but would doubtless be there in a minute or two. + +One of the lawyer's seconds then suggested that, to save time while +awaiting M. Cloarek's arrival, they might decide upon the ground, and +the choice had just been made when Yvon made his appearance. His panting +breath and the perspiration that bedewed his forehead showed how he must +have hurried to reach the place even at this late hour, and as he +cordially shook hands with his seconds he remarked to them, in a low +tone: + +"I had no end of trouble in getting off without exciting my wife's +suspicions." + +Then addressing his adversary in a tone he tried his best to make calm +and composed, he added: + +"I beg a thousand pardons, monsieur, for having kept you waiting. I +assure you the delay was wholly unintentional on my part." + +The advocate bowed and proceeded to remove his overcoat, and his example +was promptly followed by Cloarek, while the seconds measured the swords. +In fact, so great was Yvon's alacrity and ardour, that he was ready for +the fray before his opponent, and would have hastily rushed upon him if +his seconds had not seized him by the arm. + +When the signal was at last given, Cloarek attacked his opponent with +such impetuosity that, though the latter tried his best to parry his +adversary's rapid thrusts, his guard was beaten down, and in less than +two minutes he had received a wound in the forearm which compelled him +to drop his weapon. + +"Enough, gentlemen!" exclaimed the seconds, on seeing one of the +combatants disabled. + +But, unfortunately, the Breton had become so frantic with rage, that he +did not hear this "Enough, gentlemen," and was about to renew the +attack, when his opponent, who had conducted himself very creditably up +to that time, being wholly unable to offer any further resistance, made +a sudden spring backwards, and then started to run. The now thoroughly +enraged Breton was starting in pursuit of him, when his seconds rushed +upon him and disarmed him, though not without a fierce struggle and +considerable danger, while one of the advocate's seconds bound up his +slight wound with a handkerchief. Cloarek's second courteously offered +his cab to the wounded man, who accepted it, and the parties separated +amicably. + +"What were you thinking of, Yvon, to rush upon an unarmed enemy?" asked +one of the irascible magistrate's friends, as they wended their way back +to the city. + +"I could not believe it was over so soon," replied Yvon, with a sigh of +regret. + +"The fight couldn't last long at the rate you were going on." + +"If I could only have an hour's fighting, it seems to me I might be +peaceable for a long time," replied Yvon, so naïvely that his friends +could not help laughing. + +"Well, what of it?" stormed the choleric Breton, with a wrathful glance +at his companions. + +Then, ashamed of this ebullition of temper, he hung his head as one of +his seconds retorted, gaily: + +"You needn't try to pick a quarrel with us, my dear fellow. It wouldn't +be worth your while. We should only be able to furnish you with a couple +of minutes' amusement." + +"Yes, yes, be sensible, my dear fellow," good-naturedly remarked the +other second. "You ought to consider yourself very fortunate that this +affair ended as it did. You are not injured at all, and your adversary's +wound is very slight,--a very fortunate ending, you must admit. How we +should have felt if we had had to carry you home dead! Think of your +wife and your little daughter." + +"My wife and daughter!" exclaimed Cloarek, with a violent start. "Ah, +yes, you are right." + +And the tears rose to his eyes. + +"I am a fool, and worse than a fool," he exclaimed. "But it is not my +fault. A man who has too much blood is always quarrelling, as they used +to say down in Brittany." + +"Then you had better put your feet in mustard water and call in a doctor +to bleed you, my friend, but don't take a sword for a lancet, and, above +all, don't draw blood from others under the pretext that you have too +much yourself." + +"And above all, remember that you are a magistrate, a man of peace," +added the other. + +"That is all very fine," retorted Yvon, with a sigh, "but you don't know +what it is to have a judge's robe on your back and too much blood in +your veins." + +After he had thanked his seconds heartily for their kind offices, +Cloarek was about to separate from them when one of them remarked: "We +shall see each other again at the masquerade ball this evening, of +course. I understand that all you reverend judges are to allow +yourselves considerable license this evening, and disport yourselves +like ordinary mortals." + +"I did not intend to go, as my wife is not as well as usual; but she +insisted so much that I finally consented," replied Yvon. + +As he reëntered his house, longing to embrace his wife and child even +more tenderly than usual, he was accosted by a servant, who said: + +"There is a man in your office who wants to see you. His business is +urgent, he says." + +"Very well. My wife did not ask for me after I went out, did she?" + +"No, monsieur, she gave Dame Roberts orders that she was not to be +disturbed until she rang, as she wanted to sleep a little later than +usual this morning." + +"Then take care that she is not disturbed on my account," said Cloarek, +as he entered his office. + +The person who was waiting for him was a tall, stout man about forty +years of age, of herculean stature, with a coarse face, and clad in +countrified garments. Bowing awkwardly to Yvon, he asked: + +"Are you Judge Cloarek?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"I am a friend of Father Leblanc, at Gien. You remember him, don't you?" + +"Yes, and a very worthy man he is. How is his health?" + +"Very good, judge. It was he who said to me: 'If you're in trouble, go +to Judge Cloarek, he is always kind to us poor folks.'" + +"What can I do for you?" + +"I am the father of a young man who is soon to be tried before your +court." + +"To what case do you allude, monsieur?" + +"To the case of Joseph Rateau," said the big man, with a meaning wink, +"charged with forgery--only forgery." + +Cloarek, surprised and displeased at the careless manner in which the +father spoke of the weighty accusation that was hanging over his son, +answered, sternly: + +"Yes, monsieur, a prisoner, Joseph Rateau, who is accused of the crime +of forgery, is soon to be tried." + +"Yes, judge, and as there's no use beating about the bush, I may as well +say that my son did it, and then, like a fool, allowed himself to be +caught." + +"Take care what you say, monsieur. This is a very grave admission on +your part." + +"Oh, well, there is no use denying it, judge. It's as plain as the nose +on your face; but for that, do you suppose I would have come here--" + +"Not another word, monsieur; not another word!" exclaimed Yvon, +crimsoning with indignation and anger. + +"I quite agree with you, judge. What is the use of talking so much, +anyway? Actions speak louder than words." + +And putting his hand in one of the pockets of his long overcoat, he +drew out a roll of money and, holding it up between his thumb and +forefinger, he remarked, with a cunning smile and another knowing wink: + +"There are fifty louis in here, and if you secure my son's acquittal, +you shall have another fifty." + +The austerity and incorruptibility of the early days of the republic had +given place to a deplorable laxness of morals, so the petitioner, +believing his case won, triumphantly deposited his roll of gold on a +corner of a desk near the door. Cloarek, quite beside himself with rage +now, was about to give vent to his wrath and indignation when, his eyes +chancing to fall upon a portrait of his wife that was hanging on the +wall opposite him, he remembered that she might be disturbed and +frightened by the noise, as she occupied the room directly over his +office, so, with an almost superhuman effort, he managed to control +himself and, picking up his hat, said to the countryman: + +"Take your money. We will talk this matter over outside." + +"The countryman, fancying that the judge was influenced solely by +prudential motives, put the money back in his pocket, and, taking his +big stick unsuspectingly, followed Cloarek out of the house. + +"Where are you going, judge?" he asked, as he lumbered along, finding it +difficult to keep up with Cloarek, as the latter strode swiftly on. + +"This way," replied Yvon, in a smothered voice, as he turned the corner +of the next street. + +This street led to the market-place, which was generally crowded with +people at that hour of the day. When Cloarek reached this square, he +suddenly turned upon the countryman, and, seizing him by the cravat, +cried, in tones of thunder: + +"Look, good people, at this scoundrel. Look at him well, and then +witness his chastisement." + +The days of popular agitation were not entirely over, and appeals to +the populace as well as debates and harangues in public places were by +no means rare, so a crowd speedily gathered around the judge and the +countryman, who, in spite of his gigantic stature, had not succeeded in +freeing himself from the iron grasp of Cloarek, who, shaking him +violently, continued in even more vociferous tones: + +"I am judge of the court in this town, and this wretch has offered me +gold to acquit a criminal. That is the indignity he has offered me, and +this is going to be his punishment." + +And this strange magistrate, whose rage and indignation seemed to endow +him with superhuman strength, began to beat the stalwart countryman +unmercifully, but the latter, wrenching himself from his assailant's +grasp, sprang back a foot or two, and, lifting his heavy stick, would +probably have inflicted a mortal blow upon the enraged Breton if the +latter, by one of those adroit manoeuvres well known to his +compatriots, had not avoided the danger by stooping and rushing, with +lowered head, straight upon his adversary with such violence that the +terrible blow, delivered straight in the chest, broke two of his ribs, +and threw him backward upon the ground unconscious; then, taking +advantage of the excitement in the crowd, Cloarek, desirous of escaping +a public ovation if possible, hurried away, and, catching sight of an +empty cab, sprang into it and ordered the driver to take him to the +Palace of Justice, the hour for the court to open having arrived. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +ANOTHER EBULLITION OF TEMPER. + + +We will leave M. Cloarek to make his way to the court-house after +exploits which would have done honour to one of the gladiators of old, +and say a few words in regard to the masquerade ball, to which the +impetuous magistrate's seconds had referred on their way back to town +after the duel. + +This ball, a bold innovation for a provincial town, was to take place +that same evening at the house of M. Bonneval, a wealthy merchant, and +the father-in-law of the presiding judge of the court to which Yvon +Cloarek belonged, and all the members of the court having been invited +to this entertainment, and some disguise being obligatory, it had been +decided to wear either a black domino, or costumes of a sufficiently +grave character not to compromise the dignity of the body. + +Cloarek was one of the invited guests. The account of his duel of the +morning as well as the chastisement he had inflicted upon the +countryman, though noised about the town, had not reached Madame +Cloarek's ears at nightfall, so the magistrate's household was calm, and +occupied, like many others in the town, in preparations for the +evening's festivities, for in those days masquerade parties were rare in +the provinces. The dining-room of the modest home, strewn with fabrics +of divers colours as well as scraps of gold and silver embroidery and +braid, looked very much like a dressmaker's establishment. Three young +sewing-women chattering like magpies were working there under the +superintendence of an honest, pleasant-faced woman about thirty years of +age, whom they called Dame Roberts. This worthy woman, after having +served as a nurse for M. Cloarek's daughter, now acted as maid, or +rather confidential attendant to Madame Cloarek; for, in consequence of +her devotion and faithful service, relations of affectionate familiarity +had been established between her and her mistress. + +"One scallop more, and this embroidered ribbon will be sewed on the +hat," remarked one of the young sewing-women. + +"I have finished hemming the sash," remarked the second girl. + +"I have only two more silver buttons to sew on the waistcoat," added the +third. + +"That is well, girls," said Dame Roberts. "M. Cloarek's costume will be +one of the most effective there, I am sure." + +"It seems very odd to think of a judge in a masquerade costume, all the +same." + +"Nonsense! don't they disguise themselves every day when they put their +robes on?" + +"A judge's robe is not a disguise, but a badge of office, you ought to +understand," said Dame Roberts, severely. + +"Excuse me, Dame Roberts," replied the offender, blushing to the roots +of her hair, "I meant no harm, I am sure." + +"What a pity it is that Madame Cloarek is not going!" remarked one of +the other girls, in the hope of giving a more agreeable turn to the +conversation. + +"Ah, if I were in Madame Cloarek's place, I wouldn't miss such an +opportunity. A masquerade ball! why, it is a piece of good fortune that +may present itself but once in a lifetime. But here comes M. Segoffin. +Good day, M. Segoffin! And how does M. Segoffin find himself to-day?" + +The newcomer was a tall, thin man about forty years of age, with an +immensely long nose, slightly turned up at the end, which imparted a +very peculiar expression to his face. His complexion was so white and +his beardless face so impassible that he looked exactly like a clown, +and the resemblance was heightened by a pair of piercing black eyes, +which gave a mocking expression to his face, and by a small, round black +wig. A long gray overcoat, brown knee-breeches, blue and white striped +stockings, and low shoes with big silver buckles formed the every-day +costume of M. Segoffin, who carried a red umbrella under his arm and an +old cocked hat in his hand. + +After having remained twenty years in the service of M. Cloarek's +father, at that gentleman's death he transferred his allegiance to the +son whom he had known as a child, and whom he served with unwearying +devotion. + +On his entrance, as we have just remarked, he was greeted with mocking +laughs and exclamations of-- + +"Here comes M. Segoffin. Ah, good day, M. Segoffin!" But without losing +his habitual _sang-froid_ in the least, he laid his umbrella and hat +down on a chair, and, seizing the prettiest of his tormentors in his +long arms, kissed her loudly on both cheeks in spite of her shrieks and +spirited resistance. Well satisfied with this beginning, he was +preparing to repeat the offence when Madame Roberts, seizing him by one +of his coat-tails, exclaimed, indignantly: + +"Segoffin, Segoffin! such behaviour is outrageous!" + +"That which is done is done," said Segoffin, sententiously, passing his +long, bony hand across his lips with an air of retrospective enjoyment, +as the young sewing-woman quitted the room with her companions, all +laughing like mad and exclaiming: "Good night, M. Segoffin, good +night." + +Left alone with the delinquent, Dame Roberts exclaimed: + +"Would any one on earth but you coolly commit such enormities in the +respectable household of a magistrate?" + +"What on earth do you mean, I should like to know?" + +"Why, hugging and kissing that girl right under my very nose when you +are persecuting me with your declarations of love all the time." + +"I do believe you're jealous!" + +"Jealous! Get that idea out of your head as soon as possible. If I ever +do marry again,--which God forbid!--it certainly will not be you I +choose for a husband." + +"Are you sure of that?" + +"Perfectly sure." + +"That which is to be, will be, my dear." + +"But--" + +"Nonsense!" exclaimed her phlegmatic companion, interrupting her with +the most positive air imaginable. "You are dying to marry me, and you +will marry me, so it is not worth while to say any more about it." + +"You are right," exclaimed the woman, exasperated by her interlocutor's +overweening conceit. "I think, with you, that we had better drop the +subject. Monsieur's costume is finished. Take it up to his room, for he +will return from court very soon, I am sure." + +"From court," sighed Segoffin, shaking his head sadly. + +A sigh was such a rare thing for this impassive individual to indulge +in, that Dame Roberta's anxiety was aroused, and she asked, quickly: + +"Why are you sighing like a furnace, you who display no emotion at all, +ordinarily?" + +"I expected it," remarked Segoffin, shaking his head dubiously. + +"What has happened? Tell me at once, for Heaven's sake." + +"M. Cloarek has thrown the chief judge of the court out of the window," +responded Segoffin, with another sigh. + +"_Mon Dieu!_" + +"There is no undoing that which is done." + +"But what you say is absurd." + +"It was out of a window on the first floor, so he didn't have far to +fall," said Segoffin, thoughtfully, "and the presiding judge is sure to +have landed on his feet as usual. He's a sharp fellow." + +"Look here, Segoffin, I don't believe a single word you're telling me. +It is only one of those cock-and-bull stories you're so fond of +inventing, and it is really a shame for you to make merry at monsieur's +expense, when he has always been so kind to you." + +"Very well, you may think I am joking, if you want to," replied +Segoffin, coldly, "but you had better give me monsieur's costume. He +told me to take it up to his room, and he will be here before very long +now." + +"It is really true that there has been a scene between monsieur and the +chief judge, then?" exclaimed Suzanne. + +"Of course, as monsieur threw him out of the window." + +"Oh, _mon Dieu_! _mon Dieu!_ Monsieur will lose his place this time, +then." + +"Why?" + +"Why? Why, after such scandalous behaviour on the part of a magistrate +he is sure to lose his office, I tell you, and poor madame! What a shock +it will be to her in her condition. What a life she leads! obliged to be +always on the watch, adoring her husband, but in mortal terror all the +while as to what he may say or do. But tell me how you happened to hear +of this calamity." + +"Well, I went to the palace an hour ago to take monsieur a letter. I +found the whole place in a hubbub. The lawyers and all the rest of the +people in the building were racing to and fro, and asking: 'Have you +heard about it?' 'Is it possible?' It seems that after the court +adjourned, the presiding judge summoned M. Cloarek into his office. He +wanted to see him about his duel, some said." + +"His duel? What duel?" + +"The duel he fought this morning," answered Segoffin, phlegmatically. + +And taking advantage of his companion's speechless consternation, he +continued: + +"Others declared that the chief judge had sent for him to see about a +fracas monsieur had had with a countryman whom he nearly killed." + +"What countryman?" asked Suzanne, with increasing alarm. + +"The last one," answered Segoffin, naïvely. "Well, it seems, or at least +so they told me at the palace, that monsieur went into the presiding +judge's private office; they got to quarrelling, and one man finally +threw the other man out of the window, and I know monsieur so well," +added Segoffin, with a satisfied smile, "that I said to myself, 'If any +one was thrown out of the window it must have been the other man, not +monsieur,' and I was right. There is no undoing that which has been +done." + +"There is no undoing that which has been done? That tiresome old saying +is for ever in your mouth, it seems to me. Is it possible you cannot see +the consequences of all this?" + +"What is to be, will be." + +"Fine consolation that, is it not? This is the third time monsieur has +run a great risk of losing his place in consequence of giving way to his +temper, and this time he will be put out, sure." + +"Well, if he loses his place, he will lose it." + +"Indeed! But he needs the office on account of his wife and little +daughter, and as there will be still another mouth to feed before many +months have passed, what is to become of him and his family if he loses +his position?" + +"Your question is too much for me. I had better be getting up-stairs +with this toggery, I know that, though." + +"Have you lost your senses completely? Monsieur isn't really thinking of +going to this entertainment to-night, after what has occurred!" + +"He isn't? That shows how much you know about it." + +"But after what has occurred, he surely will not go to this ball, I +say." + +"You see if he doesn't." + +"What, go to a ball given by the presiding judge's father-in-law?" + +"He is all the more likely to on that very account." + +"But it is impossible, I tell you. Monsieur would not dare after all the +scandalous occurrences of this unfortunate day. The whole town will be +up in arms if he does." + +"He is ready for them." + +"He is ready for them?" + +"Most assuredly. He is not the man to draw back, no matter how many +persons league themselves together against him," responded Segoffin, +with a triumphant air. "I saw him after his row with the presiding +judge, and I said to him, 'Aren't you afraid you will be arrested, M. +Yvon?' 'No one has any business to meddle with what passed between me +and the chief justice so long as he doesn't complain, and he is not +likely to do that, for if the cause of our quarrel should be made public +he would be hopelessly disgraced.' Those were monsieur's very words, +Suzanne. 'Well, will you go to the ball just the same?' I asked. +'Certainly. I intend to be the first to go and the last to leave. +Otherwise people might think I regretted what I had done, or that I was +afraid. If my presence at this fête scandalises anybody, and they show +it in any way, I shall know what to say and do, never fear; so go back +home, and have my costume ready for me when I get there.'" + +"What a man of iron he is!" sighed Suzanne. "Always the same, and poor +madame suspects nothing." + +"I will take the costume up to monsieur's room and wait for him there, +for I am as certain that he will go to this entertainment as I am that +you will marry me some day, remember that." + +"If such a misfortune is ever to befall me, I shall try to keep it out +of my mind as much as possible," retorted Dame Roberts, curtly, as she +hastened off to her mistress. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE WARNING. + + +At first Suzanne felt strongly inclined to inform Madame Cloarek of the +momentous events which had occurred that day, but after reflecting on +the effect this news might have upon the young wife, she abandoned that +idea and resolved to confine herself to an effort to make her mistress +devise some pretext for preventing M. Cloarek from attending the +masquerade ball, realising that such an audacious act on his part might +have the most disastrous consequences. + +Suzanne's position was extremely trying, for it was necessary for her to +conceal the events of the day from her mistress, on the one hand, and +yet implore her to use her influence over her husband to prevent him +from going to this entertainment, on the other. + +She was consequently in a very perplexed frame of mind when she entered +the apartment of her mistress, who, without being really beautiful in +the general acceptation of the word, had a remarkably sweet and +attractive face, though the extreme pallor of her complexion and her +frail appearance generally indicated very delicate health. + +Jenny Cloarek, seated beside a swinging crib, the silken curtains of +which were closely drawn, was occupied with some embroidery, while with +her little foot she occasionally imparted a gentle oscillatory motion to +the little bed in which her five-year-old daughter was reposing. It was +night, and the soft light of a lamp illumined the peaceful picture. + +When Suzanne entered the room, Madame Cloarek held up a finger +warningly, and said to her, in a low tone: + +"Don't make a noise, Suzanne. My little Sabine is just going to sleep." + +And as the maid approached on tiptoe her mistress added: "Has my husband +returned yet?" + +"No, madame." + +"His going out so early this morning upset me for all day, for I was +asleep when he came back, and so long a time seldom elapses without my +seeing him. By the way, is his costume finished, and is it a success? +You know I promised my husband I would make no attempt to see it until I +could see it on him." + +"It is very handsome, madame." + +"And you think it will prove becoming?" + +"Extremely, madame." + +"I am almost sorry now that I made up my mind not to go to this +entertainment. I never attended a masquerade ball in my life, and I +should have enjoyed it immensely; but I shall enjoy Yvon's account of it +almost as much, provided he does not stay too late, for I feel rather +more tired and weak than usual to-day, it seems to me." + +"Madame does not feel as well as usual this evening?" + +"No; still I do not complain, for it is one of those sufferings that +promise me new joys," she added, with a smile of ineffable sweetness. + +As she spoke the young mother leaned forward and cautiously parted the +curtains of the crib, then after a moment of blissful contemplation she +added, as she again settled herself in her armchair: + +"The dear little thing is sleeping very sweetly, now. Ah, my good +Suzanne, with a husband and child like mine, what more could I ask for +in this world, unless it be a little better health so I may be able to +nurse my next child, for do you know, Suzanne, I used to be dreadfully +jealous of you for acting as part mother to my little Sabine? But now my +health is better, it seems to me I have nothing more to ask for. Even my +dear Yvon's impetuosity, which used to cause me so much uneasiness, +seems to have subsided of late. Poor fellow, how often I witnessed his +efforts to overcome, not a fault, but his very nature. Had it been a +fault, with his energy and determination of character, he would have +overcome it years and years ago; but at last, thank Heaven, his +disposition seems to have become much more even." + +"Undoubtedly, madame," replied Suzanne, "monsieur's temper is much more +even now." + +"And when I think how kind and gentle he has always been to me," +continued the young wife, tenderly, "and how I have never been the +object or the cause of any of the terrible ebullitions of temper which I +have witnessed with so much terror, and which have often proved so +disastrous in their consequences to him, I realise how devotedly he must +love me!" + +"He would indeed be a madman to fly in a passion with one as kind and +gentle as you, my poor dear lady." + +"Hush, flatterer," replied Jenny, smiling. "It is not my amiability of +disposition, but his love for me that prevents it, and though I am +almost ashamed to confess it, I cannot help feeling proud sometimes when +I think that I have never excited any feeling but the tenderest +consideration in such an impassioned and indomitable nature." + +"Monsieur is really one of the best-hearted men in the world, madame, +and, as you say, it must be his temperament that carries him away in +spite of himself, for unfortunately with characters like these the +merest trifle may lead to a terrible explosion." + +"What you say is so true, Suzanne, that my poor husband, in order not +to expose himself to dangers of that kind, spends nearly all his +evenings at home with me instead of seeking amusement as so many persons +do in public places where his quick temper might involve him in endless +difficulties." + +"I think, madame, with you, that for your own peace of mind, and +monsieur's as well, it is advisable to avoid all places where there is +any danger of one's anger being aroused, so, madame, if you will take my +advice--" + +"Well, Suzanne, why do you pause so suddenly? What is the matter?" + +"I--I--" + +"Go on, Suzanne." + +"Don't you fear that the masquerade ball this evening--" + +"Well?" + +"Is a rather dangerous place for monsieur to go?" + +"What an absurd idea!" + +"There will be a great many people there." + +"True; but they will be the best people in town, as the ball is given by +the father-in-law of the presiding judge." + +"Undoubtedly, madame, but I think I have heard that people chaff each +other a good deal at these masquerade balls, and if monsieur, being +quick-tempered, should take offence--" + +"You are right, Suzanne. I had not thought of that." + +"I don't like to worry you, madame, still--" + +"On the other hand, my husband is too much of a gentleman, and too used +to the ways of the world, to take offence at any of the liberties +permissible at such an entertainment; besides, his intimate relations +with the court over which M. Bonneval's son-in-law presides make it +almost obligatory upon him to attend this ball, for it having been +agreed that all the members of the court should go, Yvon's absence might +be considered a mark of disrespect to the presiding judge, to whom my +husband is really subordinate." + +"My poor lady! if she but knew how her husband evinces his subordination +to the presiding judge," thought Suzanne. + +"No, you need have no fear, Suzanne," continued the young wife, "the +presiding judge's very presence at this entertainment, the deference +Yvon must feel for him, will necessitate the maintenance of the utmost +decorum on his part; besides, my husband's absence would be sure to +excite remark." + +"Still, madame--" + +"Oh, I shall urge Yvon to be very prudent," added Jenny, smiling, "but I +see no reason why he should not avail himself of an opportunity for +enjoyment that our retired life will make doubly pleasant to him." + +So Suzanne, fearing the consequences of her mistress's blindness, said, +resolutely: + +"Madame, monsieur must not be allowed to attend this fête." + +"I do not understand you, Suzanne." + +"Heed what I say, madame, and for your own sake and the sake of your +child prevent monsieur from attending this entertainment," exclaimed +Suzanne, clasping her hands imploringly. + +"What is the matter, Suzanne? You alarm me." + +"You know how entirely I am devoted to you, madame?" + +"Yes; but explain." + +"You know perfectly well, too, that I would not run any risk of alarming +you if it were not absolutely necessary. Believe me, some terrible +misfortune is likely to happen if monsieur attends this fête." + +Dame Roberts could say no more, for just then the door opened, and Yvon +Cloarek entered his wife's room. Suzanne dared not remain any longer, so +she departed, but not until after she had given her mistress one more +imploring look. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +"THOSE WHOM THE GODS DESTROY THEY FIRST MAKE MAD." + + +Yvon Cloarek was only about thirty years of age, and the Breton costume +in which he had just arrayed himself set off his robust and symmetrical +figure to admirable advantage. + +This severe but elegant costume consisted of a rather long black jacket +elaborately embroidered with yellow on the collar and sleeves, and still +further ornamented with rows of tiny silver buttons set very close +together. The waistcoat, too, was black, and trimmed with embroidery and +buttons to match the jacket. A broad sash of orange silk encircled the +waist. Large trousers of white linen, almost as wide as the floating +skirt of the Greek Palikares, extended to the knee. Below, his shapely +limbs were encased in tight-fitting buckskin leggings. He wore a round, +nearly flat hat, encircled with an orange ribbon embroidered with +silver, the ends of which hung down upon his shoulders. Thanks to this +costume and to his thick golden hair, his eyes blue as the sea itself, +his strong features, and his admirable carriage, Cloarek was an +admirable type of the valiant race of Breton Bretons, of the sturdy sons +of Armorica, as the historians style them. + +When he entered his wife's room, Yvon's face was still a trifle clouded, +and though he made a powerful effort to conceal the feelings which the +exciting events of the day had aroused, his wife, whose apprehensions +had already been awakened by Dame Roberts's warning, was struck by the +expression of his face. He, entirely ignorant of these suspicions on her +part, having done everything possible to conceal the disquieting +occurrences of the day from her, approached very slowly and pausing a +few steps from his wife, asked, smilingly: + +"Well, how do you like my costume, Jenny? I hope I am faithful to the +traditions of my native province, and that I shall represent Brittany +creditably at the fête?" + +"There isn't the slightest doubt that the costume of your native +province is wonderfully becoming," replied the young mother, with some +embarrassment. + +"Really? Well, I am delighted," said Yvon, kissing his wife fondly; "you +know I set great store by your approval even in the most trifling +matters, my dear." + +"Yes," replied Madame Cloarek, with deep feeling, "yes, I know your +tender love for me, your deference to my slightest wish." + +"Great credit I deserve for that! It is so easy and pleasant to defer to +you, my Jenny,--to bow this hard, stiff Breton neck before you, and say: +'I abdicate to you. Command; I will obey.'" + +"Ah, my dear Yvon, if you only knew how happy it makes me to hear you +say that, to-day especially." + +These last words failed to attract Yvon's attention, however, and he +continued: + +"What are the little concessions I make, my dearest, in comparison with +the blissful happiness I owe to you? Think," he added, turning to the +crib, "this little angel that is the joy of my life, who gave her to +me?" And he was about to open the curtains, when his wife said to him, +warningly: + +"Take care, Yvon, she is asleep." + +"Let me just take one peep at her, only one. I have not seen her all +day." + +"The light of the lamp might arouse her, my dear, and the poor little +thing has just had such a trying time." + +"What! has she been ill?" inquired Cloarek, anxiously, leaving the +cradle. "Do you really feel uneasy about her?" + +"Not now, my dear, but you know how extremely nervous and excitable she +is. She resembles me only too much in this respect," added Jenny, with a +melancholy smile. + +"And I, far from regretting that the dear child is so impressionable, +rejoice at it, on the contrary, for I hope she will be endowed with the +same exquisite sensibility of feeling that you are." + +The young woman gently shook her head. + +"This is what happened. Our big Newfoundland dog came into the room, and +frightened the poor little thing so that I had great difficulty in +quieting her afterward." + +"I am thankful it was nothing serious. But how have you passed the day? +You were asleep this morning, and I would not wake you. You know how +much solicitude I always feel about your health, but it is even more +precious to me than ever now," he added, smiling tenderly upon her. + +Jenny slipped her little frail white hand into her husband's. + +"What courage your love gives me," she murmured, softly. "Thanks to +that, I can even bear suffering bravely." + +"Then you have not been feeling as well as usual to-day?" exclaimed +Yvon, anxiously. "Tell me, Jenny, why didn't you send for the doctor?" + +"I did not need to, for have I not a great and learned physician in whom +I have perfect confidence, and who I am sure will not refuse me any +attention I ask?" + +"Yes, I understand. I am that great and learned physician, I suppose." + +"And could I select a more careful and devoted one?" + +"No, certainly not; so go on and consult me, Jenny." + +"My dear Yvon, though I have not undergone any very severe suffering +to-day, I have experienced and I still experience a sort of vague +uneasiness, as well as an unusual depression of spirits. Oh, don't be +alarmed, it is nothing serious; besides, you can cure me completely if +you will, my beloved doctor." + +"How? Tell me at once." + +"But will you do it?" + +"Why, Jenny,--what a question!" + +"I repeat that my cure depends absolutely and entirely upon you." + +"So much the better, then, for, in that case, you are cured. Go on; +explain, my charming invalid." + +"Remain with me, then." + +"Have I any intention of leaving you?" + +"But the entertainment this evening?" ventured the young wife, +hesitatingly. + +"I dressed early, you see, so as to be able to remain with you until the +very last moment." + +"Don't leave me this evening, Yvon." + +"What?" + +"Give up this fête for my sake." + +"You cannot mean it, surely." + +"Stay at home with me." + +"But, Jenny, you yourself insisted that--" + +"That you should accept the invitation. That is true. This very morning +I was rejoicing that you were going to have this diversion,--you who +lead such an extremely quiet life." + +"Then why have you changed your mind so suddenly?" + +"How can I tell?" responded the young wife, much embarrassed. "It is +only an absurd and senseless whim on my part, doubtless. All I know is +that you would make me happy, oh, very happy, if you would do what I +ask, absurd and ridiculous as it may appear to you." + +"My poor darling," Yvon said, tenderly, after a moment's reflection, +"in your condition, and nervous as you are, I can easily understand why +you should, in spite of your good sense, be beset with all sorts of +contradictory notions, and that you should be averse in the evening to +what you most wished for in the morning. Do you suppose I should think +of such a thing as blaming you for that?" + +"You are the best and most kind-hearted man in the world, Yvon!" +exclaimed the young wife, her eyes filling with tears of joy, for she +felt sure now that her husband was going to accede to her wishes. "There +are not many men who would be so patient with the whims of a poor woman +who knows neither what she wants nor why she wants it." + +"But in my character of physician I do, you see," replied Yvon, kissing +his wife's brow tenderly. "Look," he added, glancing at the clock, "it +is now nine o'clock; ten minutes to go, ten to return, and a quarter of +an hour to remain at the ball,--it is a matter of three-quarters of an +hour at most. I will be back here by ten o'clock, I promise you." + +"What, Yvon, you persist in your determination to attend this +entertainment?" + +"Just to show myself there, that is all." + +"I beg you will not, Yvon." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Don't go." + +"What! not even for a few moments?" + +"Do not leave me this evening, I entreat you." + +"But, be reasonable, Jenny." + +"Make this slight sacrifice for my sake, I implore you." + +"But, Jenny, this is childish." + +"Call it childishness, idiocy, what you will, but don't leave me this +evening." + +"Jenny, love, it breaks my heart to see you so unreasonable, for I am +obliged to refuse you." + +"Yvon--" + +"It is absolutely necessary for me to show myself at this entertainment, +though I need remain only a few moments." + +"But, my dear Yvon--" + +A flush of impatience mounted to Cloarek's brow, nevertheless he +controlled himself, and said to his wife in the same affectionate though +slightly reproachful tone: + +"Such persistency on your part surprises me, Jenny. You know I am not in +the habit of having to be begged. On the contrary, I have always +endeavoured to anticipate your wishes, so spare me the annoyance of +being obliged to say 'no' to you for the first time in my life." + +"Great Heavens!" exclaimed the now thoroughly distressed woman, "to +think of your attaching so much importance to a mere pleasure--" + +"Pleasure!" exclaimed Yvon, bitterly, his eyes kindling. Then +restraining himself, he added: + +"If it were a question of pleasure, you would not have been obliged to +ask me but once, Jenny." + +"But if you are not going for pleasure, why do you go at all?" + +"I am going for appearance's sake," replied Yvon, promptly. + +"In that case, can't you let appearances go, just this once, for my +sake?" + +"I must attend this entertainment, Jenny," said Yvon, whose face had +become purple now; "I must and shall, so say no more about it." + +"And I say that you shall not," exclaimed the young woman, unable to +conceal her alarm any longer; "for there must be some grave reason that +you are concealing from me to make you persist in refusing, when you are +always so kind and affectionate to me." + +"Jenny!" exclaimed Cloarek, stamping his foot, angrily, for this +opposition was intensely exasperating to a person of his irascible +nature, "not another word! Do you hear me? Not another word!" + +"Listen to me, Yvon," said his wife, with dignity. "I shall resort to +subterfuge no longer. It is unworthy of us both. I am afraid, yes, +afraid for you to go to this fête, for I have been told that your +presence there might cause trouble." + +"Who told you that? who said that? Answer me!" cried Cloarek, in a more +and more angry tone, and so loudly that the child in the crib woke. "Why +should you feel afraid? You have heard something, then, I suppose." + +"There is something, then, Yvon," cried the poor woman, more and more +alarmed. "There is some terrible thing that you are keeping from me!" + +Yvon remained silent and motionless for a moment, for a violent struggle +was going on in his breast, but calmness and reason finally conquered, +and approaching his wife to kiss her before going out, he said: + +"I shall return almost immediately, Jenny. You will not have to wait for +me long." + +But the young woman hastily sprang up, and, before her husband could +make a movement to prevent it, she had run to the door, locked it, and +removed the key; then turning to Yvon, she said, with all the energy of +despair: + +"You shall not leave this room. We will see if you dare to come and take +this key from me." + +Utterly stupefied at first, then exasperated beyond expression by +Jenny's determined action, he gave way to his anger to such an extent +that his features became unrecognisable. The flush that had suffused his +face was succeeded by a livid pallor, his eyes became bloodshot, and, +advancing threateningly toward his wife, he exclaimed, in a terrible +voice: + +"The key! give me the key!" + +"No, I will save you in spite of yourself," replied Jenny, intrepidly. + +"Wretch!" cried Cloarek, now completely beside himself. + +The young woman had never been the object of her husband's anger before +in her life, so it is impossible to convey any idea of the horror she +experienced on seeing him ready to rush upon her. Terrified by his +ferocious, bloodthirsty look, in which there seemed to be not even the +slightest gleam of recognition, she remained for a moment trembling and +motionless, feeling as if she were about to swoon. Suddenly the little +girl, who had been awakened several minutes before by the loud talking, +parted the curtains of her crib and looked out. Not recognising her +father, and mistaking him for a stranger, as she had never before seen +him in such a costume, she uttered a shrill cry of terror, and +exclaimed: + +"Oh, mamma, the black man! the black man!" + +"The key! give me the key!" repeated Cloarek, in thunder tones, taking +another step toward his wife, who, slipping the key in her bosom, ran to +the crib and caught her child in her arms, while the little girl, more +and more terrified, hid her face on her mother's breast, sobbing: + +"Oh, that black man, that black man, he means to kill mamma!" + +"To take this key from me, you will have to tear my child from my arms," +said the frail but courageous woman. + +"You don't know that I am capable of anything when I am angry," +exclaimed the unfortunate man, aroused to such a pitch of fury as to be +blind and deaf to the most sacred sentiments. As he spoke, he rushed +toward his wife in such a frenzied, menacing manner that the unfortunate +woman, believing herself lost, strained her little daughter to her +breast, and, bowing her head, cried: + +"Spare, oh, spare my child!" + +This cry of agony and of maternal despair penetrated to the innermost +depths of Yvon's soul. He stopped short, then quicker than thought he +turned, and, with a strength that his fury rendered irresistible, dashed +himself against the door with such impetuosity that it gave way. + +On hearing the sound, Madame Cloarek raised her head in even greater +terror, for her child was in convulsions, caused by fright, and seemed +likely to die in her arms. + +"Help!" faltered Jenny, faintly. "Help, Yvon, our child is dying!" + +A despairing cry answered these panting words uttered by Jenny, who felt +that she, too, was dying, for in this delicate woman's critical +condition such a shock was almost certain to prove fatal. + +"Yvon, our child is dying!" + +Cloarek, who was still only a few yards off, heard these lamentable +words. The horror of the thought that his child was dying dispelled his +anger as if by magic, and, rushing wildly back into his wife's room, he +saw her still standing by the crib, but already as livid as a spectre. + +With a supreme effort Jenny extended her arms to place her child in her +husband's hands, faltering: + +"Take her, I am dying," and without another word fell heavily at the +feet of Cloarek, who, with his child strained to his breast, stood as if +dazed, hearing nothing, seeing nothing. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +DEADLY ENMITY. + + +Twelve years after the events we have just related, late in the month of +March, 1812, about two o'clock in the afternoon a traveller walked into +the inn known as the Imperial Eagle, the only tavern in the town of +Sorville, which was then the second station on the post-road between +Dieppe and Paris. + +This traveller, who was a man in the prime of life, wore a tarpaulin hat +and a thick blue reefer jacket, and looked like a petty officer or a +sailing master in the merchant service. His hair and whiskers were red, +his complexion light, his expression stern and impassible, and he spoke +French without the slightest accent though he was an Englishman. + +Walking straight up to the landlord, he said: "Can you tell me if a +dark-complexioned man dressed about as I am, but very dark-complexioned +and with a strong Italian accent, did not come here this morning? His +name is Pietri." + +"I have seen no one answering either to that name or description, +monsieur." + +"Are you sure?" + +"Perfectly sure." + +"Is there any other inn in the town?" + +"No, thank Heaven! monsieur, so parties travelling either by diligence +or post patronise me, as the post-station is only a few yards from my +door." + +"So there is a relay station near here." + +"On the other side of the street, almost directly opposite." + +"Can you give me a room and have a breakfast prepared for two persons? I +am expecting some one who will call and inquire for Master Dupont, for +that is my name." + +"Very well, monsieur." + +"As soon as this person comes, you will serve breakfast in my room." + +"Very well, and monsieur's baggage, shall I send for that?" + +"I have no baggage. Have many post-carriages passed to-day?" + +"Not a single one, monsieur." + +"Neither from Paris nor Dieppe?" + +"No, monsieur, neither from Paris nor Dieppe. But, by the way, as you +came from the last named place, you must have seen those wonderful men +everybody is talking about." + +"What wonderful men?" + +"Why, that famous corsair who is death to the English, the brave Captain +l'Endurci (a good name for a privateer, isn't it?). With his brig _The +Hell-hound_ (another appropriate name by the way), that goes through the +water like a fish, not a single English ship seems to escape him. He +gobbles them all up, his last haul being a number of vessels loaded with +wheat, that he captured after a terrible fight. A wonderful piece of +good luck, for wheat is so scarce now! They say the people of Dieppe +have gone wild over him! He must have been born under a lucky star, for +though it is said that he fights like a tiger, he has never been +wounded. Is that true? Do you know him? What kind of a looking man is +he? He must be terribly ferocious-looking, and people say he dresses +very strangely. You, being a sailor, have probably seen him." + +"Never," dryly replied the stranger, who did not appear to share the +innkeeper's admiration for the privateer. + +Then he added: + +"Show me to my room, and when the person who inquires for Master Dupont +comes, bring him to me at once. Do you understand?" + +"Perfectly, monsieur." + +"And as soon as the person comes you are to serve breakfast." + +"Very well, monsieur. I will show you to your room now." + +"Is it a front room?" + +"Yes, monsieur, with two large windows." + +"I want some of your best wine, remember." + +"Give yourself no uneasiness; you will be perfectly satisfied, I think," +replied the innkeeper. + +About a quarter of an hour afterward a second guest entered the inn. +This man also wore a heavy pea-jacket, and his swarthy skin, jet-black +hair, and hard, almost repulsive features gave him a decidedly sinister +appearance. After casting a quick glance around, the newcomer said, in +bad French, and with an Italian accent, for he was a native of the +island of Malta: + +"Is there a man named Dupont here?" + +"Yes, monsieur, and I will take you to his room at once if you will +follow me." + +Subsequently, when the host had placed breakfast on the table, he +received orders to retire and not return until he was summoned. + +As soon as the two strangers found themselves alone together, the +Maltese, striking the table a terrible blow with his clenched fist, +exclaimed in English: + +"That dog of a smuggler has backed out; all is lost!" + +"What are you saying?" + +"The truth, as surely as I would take delight in burying this knife in +the heart of the coward who betrayed us," and as he spoke he plunged his +knife into the table. + +"Damnation!" exclaimed the Englishman, startled out of his usual phlegm, +"and the captain is to pass through the town about nightfall." + +"Are you sure?" + +"This morning just as I was leaving Dieppe our friend told me that the +captain had ordered post-horses for four o'clock this afternoon, so he +will arrive here between five and six." + +"_Mille tonnerres!_ everything seemed to favour our plans, and but for +this miserable smuggler--" + +"Pietri, the case is not so desperate as you think, perhaps, after all. +At all events this violence will avail nothing, so let us talk the +matter over calmly." + +"Calmly, when rage fairly blinds me!" + +"A blind man can not see his road." + +"If you can be calm, you do not hate this man as I do." + +"I do not?" + +It is impossible to give the reader any adequate conception of the tone +in which the Englishman uttered these words. + +After a pause, he resumed, in a tone of concentrated hatred: + +"I must hate him worse than you hate him, Pietri, as I do not wish to +kill him." + +"A dead serpent bites no more." + +"Yes, but a dead serpent suffers no more, and I want to see this man +suffer a thousand worse tortures than death. He must atone for the evil +he has done my country; he must atone for the bloody victories which +have demoralised our cruisers; he must atone for the recent insult +offered to me. D--n him! Am I such an insignificant enemy that I can be +released simply upon parole after the combat that cost us so much +treasure and blood, but without one drop of his being shed, for he +really seems to be invulnerable as they say. As surely as there is a +hell my disgrace and England's shall be avenged." + +"And yet a moment ago Captain Russell was reproaching me for the foolish +violence of my words," retorted the Maltese, with a sardonic smile. + +"You are right," replied Russell, controlling himself. "Such an outburst +is foolish in the extreme. Besides, we must not despair. What passed +between you and the smuggler?" + +"Leaving Dieppe in a fishing-smack last night, I reached Hosey this +morning and made my way to the man's hut, which stands some distance +farther down the beach. 'Is your name Bezelek?' I asked. 'Yes.' 'I was +sent here by Master Keller.' 'What is the countersign?' +'_Passe-partout_.' 'Good! I have been expecting you. My boat is at your +service. It is high tide at ten o'clock to-night, and the wind, if it +doesn't change, will take you to England before morning.' 'Master Keller +told you what is to be done?' 'Yes, some one is to be transported to +England, willy-nilly, but safe and sound, understand. I am a smuggler, +but no murderer. So bring your passenger along to-night and I promise +you he shall be in England before sunrise.' 'Did Keller tell you that I +must have four or five of your most determined men at my disposal?' +'What for?' 'To assist me in capturing the man on the highway a few +miles from here.' 'Keller told me nothing of the kind, and you need not +expect me or my men to mix ourselves up in any such affair. Bring your +man here, and I will see that he is put aboard my boat. That is all. If +he resists, I can suppose he is drunk, and that it is for his good we +are putting him aboard, but to assist in the abduction of a man on the +public highway is a very different thing, and I have no notion of doing +anything of the kind.' That was what he said, and he stuck to it. I soon +discovered there wasn't the slightest chance of moving him, for neither +threats nor bribes had the slightest effect upon him." + +"This is too bad! too bad!" + +"So you see, Russell, we shall have to resort to other means, for even +if the postilion remains neutral, it would be impossible for us two to +do the job without assistance, especially as the captain has a devoted +and intrepid companion in the shape of his head gunner, who never leaves +him either on land or sea, so if we resort to force we shall only make +fools of ourselves, it seems to me." + +"That is true," muttered the Englishman, gloomily. + +"So as there is no chance of succeeding by violence we shall have to +resort to stratagem," continued the Maltese. + +"Explain." + +"On my way here I noticed that about two miles from the town, at a place +marked by a stone cross, there is a steep hill, followed by a no less +abrupt descent." + +"Well, what of it?" + +"We will lie in wait for the carriage about half-way up the hill. It +will be moving very slowly as the hill is so steep, and we will suddenly +rush out from our hiding-place, and, pretending that we are sailors on +our way back to our vessel, ask the captain for aid, you at one door and +I at the other. Both of us will have our pistols loaded and our knives +in our belts and--" + +"Never!" exclaimed Russell, "I am no assassin nor do I desire this man's +death. The murder would be a disgrace to England; besides, it would only +half avenge me. No, what I want is to enjoy this indomitable man's rage +and humiliation when, as our prisoner, he is exposed to the abuse and +derision and insults of the multitudes whom his name has so often +terrified. No caged tiger ever roared and chafed against confinement +more wildly and yet more impotently than he will. Imprisonment in the +hulks will be a thousand times more terrible than death to such a man. +But the obstinacy of this smuggler ruins all my plans. As they have +become impossibilities, what shall we do?" + +"Adopt mine," urged the Maltese. "Death may be less cruel than +vengeance, but it is much more certain; besides, vengeance is impossible +now, but we hold this man's life in our hands. Besides, what difference +does it really make about the means we employ so long as England is +delivered from one of her most dangerous enemies?" + +"Say no more." + +"But think of the vessels this man has captured and burned, and of the +bloody combats from which he has emerged safe and sound and victorious, +too, in spite of greatly inferior numbers!" + +"Be silent, I tell you." + +"Think of the terror his name inspires in English sailors--the best +seamen in the world; haven't you even heard them say in their +superstitious fear that the success of this invincible and invulnerable +man seems to indicate the swift decadence of England's maritime +supremacy, and that the sea is to have its Napoleon as well as the land? +Think what a disastrous effect such a superstition will have if the time +ever comes when England makes an attempt to overthrow Bonaparte and +crush France." + +"But a murder,--a cowardly assassination!" + +"An assassination? No, England and France are at war, and to take +advantage of an ambuscade to surprise and destroy an enemy is one of the +recognised laws of warfare." + +Russell made no reply, but sat with his head bowed upon his breast for +some time apparently absorbed in thought. + +The Maltese seemed to be equally absorbed in thought. As they sat there +in silence, the sound of carriage wheels was heard in the distance, +followed by the cracking of the postilion's whip and the ring of horses' +hoofs. + +"Five o'clock! It must be he!" exclaimed the Englishman as he glanced at +his watch. + +Both men darted to the window and saw a dusty cabriolet drawn by two +horses stop in front of the post-house on the other side of the street, +opposite the inn, and in another instant the Englishman turned livid +with rage and cast a look of implacable hatred on the unsuspecting +traveller. + +"It is he! It is really he!" + +"And he is alone," added the Maltese, quickly. + +"He is entering this very inn." + +"Everything favours us. He must have left his friend and companion in +Dieppe. He is alone; there are two of us!" + +"Can we still count upon the smuggler's boat and assistance to-night?" +suddenly inquired Russell. A new idea seemed to have struck him. A +slight flush suffused his pale, cold face, and a spark of diabolical joy +glittered in his eye, as he asked the question. + +"Yes; for desiring to reserve a means of flight in case of need, I told +him he might expect us." + +"Courage, then," exclaimed Russell, ringing the bell, violently. + +"What do you mean?" inquired the Maltese. "What do you intend to do?" + +"You shall know, presently. Hush! here comes somebody." + +It was the innkeeper that had answered the summons. + +"The breakfast was excellent, my friend," said Russell. "How much do I +owe you?" + +"Six francs, including the room." + +"Here it is, and a present for the waiter, besides." + +"You are very honest, monsieur. I hope to be honoured with your +patronage again." + +"You certainly will be. But tell me, I thought I heard post-horses just +now. Has there been another arrival?" + +"Yes, monsieur, another gentleman just came. I put him in the blue room +overlooking the garden." + +"He is one of your old patrons, probably, as a person who has been here +once is sure to come back." + +"Monsieur is very kind, I am sure, but it is the first time this +traveller has ever stopped here." + +"Is he travelling in style with a retinue of servants and all that, and +is he going to remain long?" + +"No, monsieur, only long enough to take a slight lunch. This is no rich +nobleman. He is travelling alone, and looks and acts like a well-to-do +tradesman. He hums tunes and drums upon the window-panes, and seems as +gay as a peacock. He must be a very pleasant man." + +"You seem to be a great physiognomist, mine host," responded the +Englishman, with a sarcastic smile. + +Then making a sign to his companion, he rose, remarking to the innkeeper +as he did so: + +"_Au revoir_, my friend. We are going to take a stroll around the town, +and then return to Dieppe." + +"If you would like to wait for the Paris diligence, it will pass through +the town about eight o'clock this evening." + +"Thanks, but though we are sailors, we are good walkers, and it is such +a fine evening I think we won't wait for it." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +A CUNNING SCHEME. + + +After leaving the inn, the two strangers took themselves off for a +quarter of an hour to decide upon their plans, then strolled like a +couple of inquisitive idlers toward the post-station in front of which +the traveller's carriage stood, nearly ready for departure, as the +postilion was already putting fresh horses to it. + +Captain Russell and his companion approached the vehicle, and, seating +themselves upon one of the benches in front of the post-house, pretended +to be examining the animals that were being harnessed, with a knowing +eye. + +"You have a horse there that seems to be as willing as he is handsome," +Russell remarked to the postilion, after a few minutes' scrutiny. + +"And he is as good as he looks, my friend," replied the postilion, +pleased by the well-deserved praise bestowed upon his steed, "so I call +him the Friar, and he is worthy of his name." + +"He's a fine animal, there's no doubt of that. What a broad chest he +has, and what powerful withers and flanks!" + +"And what a beautiful head he has!" chimed in Pietri. "It is as delicate +and intelligent as that of any Arabian steed." + +"It is evident that you are both good judges of horse flesh, gentlemen, +so you won't doubt my word when I tell you that I can get over a mile +or two of ground in the twinkling of an eye with the Friar and +Sans-Culotte, as I call his mate." + +"Yes, it must be a real pleasure to have a horse like that between one's +legs, my worthy fellow. Though I'm a sailor, I've ridden horseback a +good deal, but I never had the good fortune to bestride an animal like +that." + +"I can very readily believe that, monsieur; but this I know, you will +never bestride a finer one." + +"And it is too bad!" + +"I don't see what you are going to do about it." + +"Would you like to make forty francs, my friend?" inquired the +Englishman, after a brief silence. + +"Forty francs, I?" exclaimed the astonished postilion. + +"Yes." + +"But how the devil could I?" + +"In the easiest way imaginable." + +"Let me hear it." + +Just as the Englishman was about to make known his proposition, a waiter +from the inn crossed the street to tell the postilion that he need not +be in a hurry, for the traveller would not be ready for some time. + +"What is he doing? and why did he order his horses so long ahead, then?" + +"I don't know anything about that, but I do know he's a queer one. What +do you think he dined on? He drank milk instead of wine, and ate some +poached eggs and panada." + +"Panada? Well, he must be a queer one!" said Jean Pierre, scornfully. +Then turning to Russell, "Come, friend, what were you going to tell me a +few minutes ago about--" + +"Step into the stable-yard, my good fellow, I want to say a few words to +you." + +"I can't leave the Friar; he would be sure to cut up some caper. He's +always fussing with Sans-Culotte. Whoa, you rascal! See, he's beginning +his antics now. Whoa, there! if you break away, you brigand, I'll give +you a beating you'll remember." + +"Listen, then," said the Englishman, whispering a few words in the +postilion's ear. + +"What a funny idea!" exclaimed that young man, laughing. + +"Will you accept my offer?" + +"Really--" + +"If you will, here are twenty francs. You shall have the rest when you +get to the appointed place. After all, what risk do you run? There is no +harm in it." + +"None in the world, but it is such a funny idea. It isn't the first time +I've heard of the like, though. What do you think I saw in Dieppe the +other day? Those privateersmen--my! how they make their money fly!--did +the queerest things! I saw some of them offer twenty-five napoleons to +an old sacristan to dress himself up like a woman in a furbelowed dress +and a plumed hat and then drive about the town in a cab with them." + +"What else could you expect, my good fellow? Sailors are on shore too +seldom not to amuse themselves according to their fancy, provided it +doesn't injure anybody. You agree, don't you?" + +"Oh, well, it isn't worth while to have any scruples when one has to +deal with a passenger who eats panada and doesn't drink wine, I admit, +so--" + +"So here are twenty francs," added Russell, slipping a gold piece into +the postilion's hand. "You shall have as much more presently." + +"All right, but make haste, for the place is a good league from here. +Take the first road to the left." + +A moment afterward the two strangers had disappeared. + + * * * * * + +About a quarter of an hour afterward, while the postilion was doing his +best to restrain the gambols of the Friar and his mate, the proprietor +of the Imperial Eagle appeared in the doorway and cried: + +"Mount, my boy, mount! Here comes the gentleman!" + +"The devil!" muttered Jean Pierre, climbing slowly into the saddle. "My +milk-drinker is in a dreadful hurry all of a sudden. I sha'n't be able +to get my horses there fast enough, now, I suppose." + +As he spoke, he guided his horses up to the door of the inn, and the +traveller stepped into the vehicle. The landlord bowed respectfully to +his patron, and as he closed the carriage door called out to the +postilion: + +"Drive along, Jean Pierre, monsieur is in a hurry." + +"You shall just fly along, monsieur," replied Jean Pierre, cracking his +whip noisily. + +They traversed the town at a gallop and soon reached the highway, but +they had gone only a couple of hundred yards when the postilion checked +his horses abruptly, and, turning in his saddle, seemed to be waiting +for something. + +The traveller, surprised at this sudden stop, lowered one of the +windows, and asked: + +"Well, what's the matter?" + +"What's the matter?" + +"Yes." + +"I've no idea, I'm sure." + +"You don't know?" + +"I'm sure I don't." + +"But why did you stop?" + +"Because you called to me to stop." + +"I did?" + +"Yes, and so I stopped." + +"You are mistaken, I didn't call you." + +"Yes, you did, monsieur." + +"But I tell you I didn't. So go on, and try to make up for the time you +have lost." + +"You needn't worry about that. I'll drive like mad now. I don't mean +there shall be a piece of the carriage left when we get to the next +station." + +And he again started his horses off at a gallop. But at the end of two +hundred yards there was another sudden pause. + +"What's the matter now?" demanded the traveller. "Is anything the matter +with your harness?" he reiterated, seeing the postilion busying himself +with his saddle-girth, uttering the most frightful oaths all the while. + +There was no reply but another long string of furious imprecations, +however. + +"Is your horse disabled?" + +Another string of oaths was the only answer. + +"At least tell me what is the matter, my boy." + +"Oh, never mind, monsieur, I've fixed everything all right now." + +"Well, try to keep it all right, then." + +"We shall fly along the road like birds, now, never fear, bourgeois," +responded the youth, springing into the saddle and cracking his whip +furiously. + +The shades of night were falling, a few stars were already visible in +the western horizon, but in the distance one could still dimly discern, +by reason of the chalky character of the soil, a steep hill bordered by +tall elm-trees. + +The post-chaise flew swiftly along for about ten minutes, then the pace +slackened, a trot succeeded the gallop, a walk succeeded the trot, and +then the vehicle stopped short again. + +This time Jean Pierre jumped down and examined one of the Friar's feet +with great apparent solicitude. + +"_Mille tonnerres!_ one of my horses has gone lame!" he cried. + +"Gone lame?" repeated the traveller, with unruffled calmness, though +these numerous delays were certainly enough to try the patience of a +saint. "Gone lame, did you say?" + +"Yes, frightfully lame," answered Jean Pierre, still holding up the +horse's foot. + +"But how did he happen to go lame so suddenly, my boy?" + +"The devil take me if I know." + +"Shall we have to stay here?" + +"No, bourgeois, there's no danger of that. If I could only see what has +made the horse go lame, but it is getting so dark--" + +"Yes, and you must be sure not to forget to light the lanterns at our +next stopping-place." + +"Ah! I can feel what it is with my finger. There is a stone crowded in +between the shoe and the frog. If I can only loosen it everything will +be all right again." + +"Try then, my boy, for really this is getting very tiresome," replied +the still calm voice of the traveller. + +Inwardly chuckling over the success of his ruse, the postilion continued +to loudly curse the stone he was ostensibly endeavouring to remove, +until he thought the two strangers must have had plenty of time to reach +the appointed spot, after which he uttered a cry of triumph. "The +accursed stone is out at last!" he exclaimed. "Now we shall just fly +along again." + +And again the vehicle started off at a rapid trot. Though night had +really come now, thanks to the clearness of the air and the innumerable +stars, it was not very dark. On reaching the foot of the hill the +postilion stopped his panting horses, and, after springing to the +ground, approached the carriage door, and said: + +"This is such a steep hill, bourgeois, that I always walk up to make it +easier for my horses." + +"Very well, my boy," replied the occupant of the vehicle, tranquilly. + +The postilion walked along beside his horses for a few seconds, then +gradually slackened his pace, thus allowing them to get a short distance +ahead of him. Just then, Russell and Pietri emerged from behind a clump +of bushes on the roadside, and approached the postilion. The latter, as +he walked along, had removed his braided jacket, red waistcoat, and +top-boots. The Englishman, who had likewise divested himself of his +outer apparel, slipped on the jacket, plunged his feet into the high +boots, and seized the hat, after which the postilion, smiling at what he +considered an excellent joke, handed his whip to Russell, remarking: + +"It is too dark for the gentleman to see anything, so when you mount my +horse I'll get up on the rack behind, with your companion." + +"Yes, and when we reach the next station I will get down, and you can +put on your own clothes again, and I mine. And now here is the twenty +francs I promised you." + +And slipping a gold piece in Jean Pierre's hand, Russell quickened his +pace, and, overtaking the horses about twenty yards from the top of the +hill, began to walk along beside them. + +It was now too dark for the traveller to perceive the substitution that +had just been effected, but as the carriage reached the summit of the +hill the occupant leaned out and said to the supposed postilion: + +"Don't forget to put on the brake, my lad." + +"I am going to do that now," answered the pretended postilion, in a +disguised voice. + +Then slipping behind the vehicle, he said in a low tone to the Maltese +and to Jean Pierre: + +"Get up behind and hold on tight. I'm going to put on the brake." + +The two men obeyed, while Russell rattled the chain of the brake, as if +he were applying it to the wheel, but this was really only a pretence on +his part; then vaulting into the saddle, he dug his spurs into his +horse's flanks, and sent the carriage flying down the hill with +frightful rapidity. + +"Good God! we are lost, and the milk drinker in the bargain," exclaimed +Jean Pierre hearing the chain of the brake dragging along on the ground. +"Your friend failed to put the brake on, after all." + +The Maltese, instead of answering the postilion, struck him such a +violent blow on the head with the butt end of a pistol that Jean Pierre +let go his hold on the rack and fell to the ground, while the carriage +flew down the hill enveloped in a cloud of dust. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +HOME PLEASURES. + + +Several days have passed since the traveller fell into the trap Captain +Russell and his companion had set for him, and we must beg the reader to +accompany us to a pretty cottage in the little village of Lionville, +about four miles from Havre. + +A bracing and salubrious climate, a country which is at the same time +fertile and picturesque, fine trees, luxuriant turf, and a superb view +of the ocean, make Lionville a veritable paradise to persons who love +peace and quiet and opportunities for solitary meditation. + +At that time, as in many other towns and villages, great and small, the +absence of young men was particularly noticeable, the last wars of the +Empire having summoned to the defence of the flag nearly all who were +young and able-bodied, until a young man of twenty-five who had remained +a civilian, unless he was a hunchback, or crippled, was almost as rare a +phenomenon as the phoenix or a white crow. + +Lionville possessed one of these rarities in the shape of a handsome +young man not over twenty-four years of age, but we must make haste to +say that he did not seem in the least inclined to take advantage of his +position, for he led a very retired life, quite as much from preference +as from any other reason. + +This young man was one of the inmates of the pleasant, cheerful home to +which we have already alluded, and several days after the traveller had +been victimised by the pretended postilion a middle-aged woman, a young +girl, and this young man (the phoenix referred to) were assembled one +evening in a pretty, comfortably furnished drawing-room. A good fire was +blazing on the hearth, for the evenings were still cool, and a shaded +lamp diffused a soft light through the apartment, while the tea-kettle, +standing in front of the fire, bubbled softly. + +A close observer would perhaps have noticed that most of the ornaments +and articles of luxury were of English origin, in spite of the stern +prohibition against the importation of English goods which then +prevailed on the continent. The same might be said of the handsome +silver tea-service, no two pieces of which were alike, however, a ducal +coronet surmounting the massive hot-water urn and a knight's crest +adorning the teapot, while an unpretending initial was engraved upon the +sugar-bowl, though it was none the less brilliant on that account. + +The middle-aged woman had a frank, intelligent, cheerful face. She was +at least forty-two years old, but her hair was still black, her +complexion fresh, her teeth white, and her eyes bright; in short, this +worthy dame still attracted plenty of admiring glances when, arrayed in +a handsome bonnet of English lace, a gown of English tissue, and a +Paisley shawl of the finest texture, she accompanied her youthful charge +to the village church. + +The young girl in question was seventeen, tall, slender, extremely +delicate in appearance, and endowed or rather afflicted with an +extremely nervous and impressionable temperament. This extreme +sensibility or susceptibility was at least partially due to, or perhaps +we should say, had been greatly aggravated by a terrible event which +occurred many years before, and which had had the effect of rendering +her excessively timid. It would be difficult to find a more pleasing and +attractive face than hers, however, and when, yielding to the +uncontrollable fear which the most trivial incident sometimes excited, +she arched her slender neck, and listened pantingly, breathlessly, with +her graceful attitude and large wondering, frightened eyes, she reminded +one of a startled gazelle. By reason of this nervous and extremely +sensitive temperament, probably, the young girl had not the brilliant +colouring of sturdy health, but was usually very pale, though every +passing emotion brought a delicate rose tint to her cheek, and then her +charming face, framed in a wealth of bright chestnut hair, seemed +radiant with the glowing beauty of youth. True, with a more vivid +colouring and fuller contour, she might have been much more attractive +to many persons, but much of the charm of her expressive features and +delicate loveliness would have been lost. + +The last of the three persons assembled in the cosy parlour was the +phoenix to whom allusion has been made, that is to say, a handsome +young man who had not been summoned to the defence of the flag. + +This phoenix was twenty-five years old, of medium height, slender, but +admirably formed, with a frank expression and regular features, though a +tinge of slightly deprecating embarrassment was apparent both in his +face and manner, the result of the infirmity which had exempted him from +military service. In short, the young man's sight was very poor, so +poor, indeed, that he could scarcely see to move about; besides, by +reason of some organic peculiarity, he could derive no assistance from +glasses, and though his large brown eyes were clear and well-shaped, +there was something vague and uncertain in their gaze, and sometimes +when the poor myope, after having turned quickly, as if to look at you, +remembered, alas! with bitter sadness, that three yards from him every +person and object became unrecognisable, the expression of his face was +almost heartrending. + +Still, it must be admitted that the consequences of the young man's +infirmity were sometimes so amusing as to excite mirth rather than +compassion; and it is needless to say that the middle-aged lady was +keenly alive to all that was ludicrous in her youthful relative's +blunders--for the relationship existing between them was that of nephew +and aunt,--while the young girl, on the contrary, seemed to sympathise +deeply with the oftentimes painful position of the half-blind man. + +The young girl was embroidering, and her governess or housekeeper +knitting, while the young man, with the last issue of the _Journal of +the Empire_ held close to his eyes, was reading the latest news aloud, +and informing his readers of the Duc de Reggio's departure to take +command of the army. + +The housekeeper, hearing a brisk bubbling sound accompanied with several +little jets of steam from the kettle, said to her nephew: + +"The water is boiling, Onésime. Pour some into the urn, but pray be +careful." + +Onésime laid his paper on the table, rose, and started toward the hearth +with dire misgivings which were more than justified. He knew, alas! that +his path was full of snares and pitfalls, for there was an armchair +standing on his left to be avoided, then a small round table to the +right of him, and this Scylla and Charybdis avoided, he had to step over +a small footstool near the hearth before he could seize the boiling +kettle. Consequently, one can easily understand the extreme prudence +with which Onésime started on his mission. One outstretched hand warning +him of the close proximity of the armchair on his left, he avoided that +obstacle, but he was almost on the point of running against the table +before his other hand discovered danger of a second shipwreck, and he +was inwardly rejoicing at having reached the fireplace without mishap, +when he stumbled over the footstool. In his efforts to regain his +equilibrium he took a step or two backwards, and, coming in violent +contact with the table, overturned it with a loud crash. + +For several minutes the young girl had been absorbed in a profound +reverie. Rudely awakened from it by the noise made by the falling table, +ignorant of the cause of the commotion, and unable to overcome her fear, +she uttered a cry of terror and sank back in her chair, trembling like a +leaf. + +"Don't be frightened, my dear," cried the housekeeper. "It is another of +Onésime's escapades, that is all. Calm yourself, my child." + +The young girl, on discovering the cause of the commotion, deeply +regretted having increased her unfortunate friend's embarrassment, so, +striving to overcome the nervous trembling that had seized her, she +said: + +"Forgive me, my dear friend. How silly I am, but you know I never seem +to be able to conquer this absurd nervousness." + +"Poor child, it is no fault of yours! Are you not the one who suffers +most from it? Surely there is no necessity for apologising to us, +especially as but for my nephew's awkwardness--" + +"No, no, I am the culprit," interrupted the young girl. "To be so +childish at my age is disgraceful." + +The unfortunate young man, distressed beyond measure at his mishap, +stammered a few incoherent words of apology, then set the table on its +feet again, shoved the footstool aside, and, seizing the tea-kettle, +started to pour the water into the urn, when his aunt exclaimed: + +"Don't attempt that, for Heaven's sake! You are so awkward, you will be +sure to make a mess of it." + +Onésime, deeply mortified and anxious to atone for his former blunder, +persisted, nevertheless, and, lifting the cover of the urn, began to +pour the water from the kettle with his right hand, while his left +rested on the edge of the table. But unfortunately his eyes played him +false as usual, and he began pouring the contents of the tea-kettle +down one side of the urn, instead of into the opening, covering his left +hand with boiling water and burning it frightfully. + +He manifested a truly heroic stoicism, however. But for the slight start +caused by the sudden and intense suffering, he gave no sign, and, +conscious now of the mistake he had made, finally managed to fill the +urn, after which he said, gently: + +"The urn is filled, aunt. Shall I make the tea? Mademoiselle will take a +cup, perhaps." + +"What! you have actually filled the urn without any fresh catastrophe? +You really ought to have a leather medal, my dear," laughed his aunt. + +"Don't pay any attention to what she says, M. Onésime," interposed the +young girl. "Your aunt takes such delight in teasing you that I feel it +my duty to come to your assistance. And now will you be kind enough to +give me a cup of tea?" + +"No, no, don't you dare to think of such a thing!" exclaimed the +housekeeper, laughing. "You will be sure to break one of these pretty +pink and white cups monsieur brought us the last time he came home." + +But Onésime gave the lie to his aunt's gloomy prognostications, by +bringing the cup of tea to the young girl without spilling a drop, and +was rewarded by a gentle "Thank you, M. Onésime," accompanied with her +sweetest smile. But the sad, almost imploring expression in the young +man's eyes, as he turned toward her, touched her deeply. + +"Alas!" she said to herself, "he does not even see that I am smiling at +him. He always seems to be asking you to have patience with his +infirmity." + +This thought grieved her so much that the older woman noticed the fact, +and asked: + +"What is the matter, my child? You look sad." + +Hearing his aunt's words, Onésime turned anxiously to the young girl, as +if trying to read the expression of her face, while she, embarrassed by +the housekeeper's remark, answered: + +"You are mistaken, I am not in the least sad; but just now when you +spoke of my father it reminded me that he ought to have reached home +several days ago." + +"Surely you are not going to torment yourself about that, my child. Is +this the first time your father has failed to arrive at the appointed +time?" + +"It worries me, nevertheless." + +"Dear me! There isn't the slightest doubt that business has detained +him. Do you suppose that a man who acts as the business agent of a +number of big factories can tell the exact hour at which he will be able +to return home? An opportunity to make a large sale sometimes presents +itself just as he is about to start, and he is obliged to remain. Only a +couple of months ago, just before he went away, he said to me: 'I am +determined my daughter shall be rich. A couple more trips like the last, +and I will never leave the dear child again.'" + +"Heaven grant that time may soon come," sighed the girl. "I should be +tranquil and happy if my kind and loving father were always with me. You +are tormented by so many fears when one you love is absent from you." + +"Fears! fears about what, I should like to know! What risk can a quiet +merchant like monsieur run? A merchant who doesn't meddle with other +people's affairs, but travels about from town to town in a post-chaise, +to sell his goods. What risk does a man like that run? Besides, he +travels only in the daytime, and always has his clerk with him, and you +know he would go through fire and water for your father, though he +really does seem to be the most unfortunate of mortals." + +"That is true. Poor man! some accident seems to befall him every time he +travels with my father." + +"Yes, and why? Simply because he is the most meddlesome old creature +that ever lived, and the awkwardest. Still, that doesn't prevent him +from being a great protection to monsieur if any one should attempt to +molest him. So what have you to fear, my child?" + +"Nothing." + +"Think how you would feel if you had a father in the army as so many +girls have." + +"I could never stand such a terrible strain as that. Why, to be always +thinking that my father was exposed to danger, to death,--why, the mere +idea of such a thing is appalling." + +"Yes, my poor child, the mere idea of such a thing makes you as pale as +a ghost, and sets you to trembling like a leaf. It does not surprise me, +though, for I know how devoted you are to your father. But drive these +dreadful thoughts from your mind, and, by the way, suppose Onésime +finishes reading the paper to us." + +"Certainly, if M. Onésime is not too tired." + +"No, mademoiselle," replied the young man, making almost superhuman +efforts to conceal his suffering, which was becoming more and more +intolerable. + +And getting the paper as close to his eyes as possible, he was preparing +to resume the reading, when he remarked: + +"I think this is an article which is likely to interest mademoiselle." + +"What is it about?" + +"It describes the exploits of that famous Dieppe privateer, of whom +everybody is talking." + +"I fear the article will be too exciting for you to-day, my dear, you +seem to be so nervous," remarked the housekeeper. + +"Is it such a very blood-curdling story, M. Onésime?" inquired the girl, +smiling. + +"I think not, mademoiselle, judging from the title. The article is +headed: 'Remarkable Escape of the Brave Captain l'Endurci, Who Was +Abducted from French Soil by English Emissaries.'" + +"It must be very interesting. Pray read it, monsieur." + +So the young man at once began to read the following account of the +brave captain's escape. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE CAPTAIN'S NARRATIVE. + + +"All France is familiar with the name and heroic valour of Captain +l'Endurci, commander of the privateer _Hell-hound_, as well as the large +number of prizes which the gallant captain has recently captured from +the English. + +"Only a few days ago Captain l'Endurci returned to Dieppe, with a large +three-master belonging to the East India Company, and armed with thirty +guns, in tow, while the _Hell-hound_ can boast of only sixteen. This +three-master, which was convoying several merchant vessels loaded with +wheat, had, together with her convoy, been captured by the intrepid +captain, after a desperate fight of three hours, in which nearly or +quite one-half of the French crew had been killed or wounded. + +"The gallant captain's entrance into the port of Dieppe was a veritable +triumph. The entire population of the town assembled upon the piers, and +when the brig, black with powder and riddled with shot, sailed slowly in +with her prizes, shouts of the wildest enthusiasm rent the air, but the +brave captain's triumph became an ovation when the people learned that +the vessels which the three-master was convoying were laden with wheat. +At a time when grain is so appallingly scarce in France, such a capture +is a national benefaction, and when the people discovered that Captain +l'Endurci, being aware of the speedy arrival of these vessels, had spent +several days lying in wait for them, allowing richer and less dangerous +prizes to pass unmolested, all Dieppe went wild." + +"How grand!" exclaimed the housekeeper, enthusiastically. "Ah, I would +give ten years of my life to be the mother or sister of such a hero." + +"And I, my friend, deem myself a thousand times more fortunate in being +the daughter of an honest merchant, instead of having some bloodthirsty +hero for a father," remarked Sabine. + +"What a strange child you are! Wouldn't you feel proud to be able to +say: 'That famous man is my father?'" + +"Not by any means. If he were absent, I should be always trembling to +think of the danger he might be in; if he were with me, I should always +be imagining I saw blood on his hands." + +"Such ideas seem very strange to me, for I love heroes, myself," said +the older woman, gaily. "But go on, Onésime, I am anxious to hear how +this valiant captain could have been kidnapped on French soil." Then, +noticing that her nephew was unusually pale, and that big drops of +perspiration were standing on his brow, she asked: + +"What is the matter, Onésime? You seem to be suffering." + +"No, indeed, aunt," replied the young man, enraged at himself for not +being able to conceal the agony his burn was causing him. "Now listen to +the rest of the story. + +"Captain l'Endurci, after a three day's sojourn in Dieppe, started for +Paris, unfortunately leaving his head gunner, one of his oldest +comrades-in-arms, who was seriously wounded in the last engagement, in +Dieppe to attend to some business matters. + +"It was between the second and the third post-stations on his route that +this audacious attack was made upon the captain, evidently by English +emissaries who had been lying in wait for him. It seems that these +emissaries had taken advantage of the postilion's credulity to persuade +him to allow one of them to take his place and drive the vehicle for +awhile. This change of drivers was made while ascending a steep hill, +where the progress of the vehicle was necessarily slow, but the +Englishman was scarcely in the saddle before he started the horses off +at a frightful pace, while the postilion was hurled half-dead upon the +ground by the other Englishman, who was clinging to the back of the +post-chaise. + +"The captain astonished at the terrific speed with which the horses were +tearing down the steep descent, thought that the postilion had neglected +to put on the brake, and had lost all control of the horses; but soon +the rate of speed diminished perceptibly, though the vehicle continued +to fly swiftly along. + +"The night having become very dark, the captain could not see that the +carriage, instead of following the main road, was going in an entirely +different direction. Not having the slightest suspicion of this fact, +and ignorant of the change of postilions, the captain rode on in this +way about an hour and a half, and finally fell asleep. + +"The sudden stopping of the carriage woke him, and supposing that he had +reached the next relay station, and seeing two or three lanterns +flitting about, he was unsuspectingly alighting from the vehicle, when +several men suddenly rushed upon him, and, before he had time to offer +the slightest resistance, he was securely bound and gagged, and dragged +down to the beach on the outskirts of the little seaport town of Hosey, +about fifteen miles from Dieppe, and known as the headquarters of a +daring gang of smugglers. Here, the captain, who was unable to make the +slightest movement or utter a word, was hustled aboard a fishing-smack, +and a few minutes afterward, wind and tide both being favourable, the +little vessel set sail for England. + +[Illustration: _"Several men rushed upon him."_ + +Original etching by Adrian Marcel.] + +"But Captain l'Endurci is not the man to tamely submit to defeat, as +the following extract from that gentleman's letter to a friend in this +city conclusively proves. + +"He writes as follows: + +"'When I found myself a prisoner in the hold, my rage at the cowardly +trick which had been played upon me became ungovernable. I had been +thrown upon a few pieces of old sail in the hold, with my legs securely +bound together with a long piece of rope as big as my thumb, and with my +hands tied behind my back. I tried by stooping to reach with my teeth +the rope that bound my legs, but found it impossible. I knew by the +motion of the boat that a strong wind was blowing, and that we were +heading straight for the shores of England. + +"'I knew the fate that awaited me there. A few words that had passed +between my captors had enlightened me. Instead of killing me outright, +they wanted to see me lead a life of torture in the hulks. One of them +had even spoken of exposing me to the jeers and insults of the populace +for several days. + +"'The mere thought of such a thing nearly drove me mad, and in a +paroxysm of fury I sank back on the old sails, foaming with rage. This +ebullition over, anger as usual gave me new strength. My blood boiled in +my veins, then, mounting to my brain, gave birth to a thousand projects, +each one more audacious than the other, and I felt both my physical and +mental vigour increased a hundred-fold by this effervescent condition of +all my vital powers. + +"'I finally decided upon one of the plans that this paroxysm of rage had +suggested to me. In any other frame of mind, it would have seemed +utterly impracticable to me, and I believe it would have seemed so to +any man who was not half frenzied by a spirit of anger,--anger, that +dread and powerful divinity, as the Indian poet says.'" + +For some time the young girl who sat listening had seemed to be a prey +to a painful preoccupation; several times she had started impatiently +as if anxious to escape from some harrowing thought, and now suddenly +interrupting the reading in spite of herself, as it were, she exclaimed: + +"That man makes me shudder!" + +"And why?" demanded the housekeeper. "This brave sailor seems to me as +brave as a lion." + +"But what a man of iron!" exclaimed the girl, more and more excitedly. +"How violent he is! And to think that any person should dare to excuse +and even glorify anger when it is so horrible--so unspeakably horrible!" + +The housekeeper, without attaching much importance to the girl's +protest, however, replied: + +"Nonsense, my child! You say that anger is so terrible. That +depends,--for if anger suggested to the captain a way and means of +escape from these treacherous Englishmen, he is perfectly right to +glorify it, and I, in his place--But good Heavens!" she exclaimed, +seeing the girl turn alarmingly pale and close her eyes as if she were +about to swoon. "Good Heavens, what is the matter with you? Your lips +are quivering. You are crying. You do not answer me,--speak, what is the +matter?" + +But the words failed to reach the ears of the poor child. With her large +eyes distended with terror and bewilderment, she indicated with a +gesture some apparition which existed only in her disordered +imagination, and murmured, wildly: + +"The man in black! Oh, the man in black! There he is now! Don't you see +him?" + +"Calm yourself! Don't allow yourself to think any more about that, in +Heaven's name. Don't you know how hurtful such thoughts are to you?" + +"Oh, that man! He was equally terrible in his rage, when--It was years +and years ago, and I was little more than a baby, but I can see him yet, +in his strange, sombre costume of black and white like the livery of +the dead. It was night, and my father was absent from home when this +man gained an entrance into our house, I know not how. I had never seen +him before. He threatened my mother, who was holding me in her arms. 'At +least spare my child!' she sobbed. I remember it well. But he only +exclaimed, still advancing threateningly upon my mother, 'Don't you know +that I am capable of anything in my anger?' And then he rushed out of +the room. Oh, my mother, my mother dead, and I--" + +The girl could say no more, for she was relapsing into one of the +nervous spasms which this terrible recollection almost always +caused,--this recollection of a deplorable occurrence from which her +condition of morbid susceptibility seemed to have dated. + +This crisis soon abated, thanks to the judicious attentions of the +housekeeper, who was, alas! only too used to rendering them. When she +was herself again, the young girl, whose character was a singular +compound of weakness and firmness, thought with shame and regret of the +lack of self-control she had displayed while this account of the +corsair's escape was being read, an account which, strange to say, had +an inexplicable fascination for her, inspiring her at the same time with +horror and a sort of morbid curiosity; so, in spite of Onésime's +entreaties, she insisted that he should continue the reading so +unfortunately interrupted. + +The housekeeper, noting this insistence, and fearing that any opposition +might react very dangerously upon the girl's excitable nature just at +this time, also requested Onésime to continue the account of Captain +l'Endurci's escape. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +CONCLUSION OF THE CAPTAIN'S NARRATIVE. + + +The rest of the captain's letter read as follows: + +"'In order to carry out my plan, the first thing I had to do was to free +myself from my bonds. Being unable to reach them with my mouth so I +could gnaw them in two with my teeth, I devised another means. By +crawling about on my stomach and feeling around with my face--as I had +no use of my hands--I finally succeeded in discovering a large iron +hook, doubtless intended for holding the ballast in place. Approaching +this hook, I leaned my back against it and began to rub the ropes that +bound me across the iron and upon the sharp end of the hook. Two hours +afterward I had worn the ropes sufficiently thin to be able to sever +them by a powerful wrench, anger having endowed me with almost +supernatural strength. + +"'My hands free, the rest was only child's play. + +"'I had my tinder-box, my pipe, a package of tobacco, and a long +whaling-knife in my pocket. In the twinkling of an eye I had cut the +ropes that bound my legs and started on a tour of inspection through the +hold on my hands and knees, as it was too low to admit of my standing +upright. + +"'I could find nothing but some scraps of old sail and a few pieces of +rope. The only means of egress was a square hatchway. The boards of +which this was made had separated a little in one place, and I could see +the moonlight through the opening. Placing my hands upon my knees and +making my body into a bow, I tried to force open the hatchway with my +shoulders, but in vain. It was evidently secured--as it should have +been--with two strong iron bars. + +"'Taking some of the ends of rope, I cut them into small pieces, +untwisted the strands, and in this way soon collected a small pile of +tow. Afterward I cut some of the old canvas on which I had been lying +into narrow strips and laid them on the little pile of tow, which I had +placed directly under the hatchway; after which I emptied my little bag +of tobacco on it to make it more combustible, and set fire to it, +blowing it vigorously all the while. + +"'The tow took fire, communicated it to the pieces of old sail, and an +instant afterward the hold was filled with a dense smoke, part of which +filtered through the opening in the hatchway, while I yelled "Fire!" +with all my might. My cries and the strong smell of smoke that escaped +through the hatchway frightened the men on deck. I heard a great +commotion up there, the hatchway was raised almost immediately, and the +thick cloud of smoke that poured out through the opening was so blinding +that I was able to make my way through it, unseen, to the deck, with a +single bound, knife in hand. I found myself face to face with a tall, +swarthy man. I plunged my knife into his heart. He fell backward into +the sea. Leaping for the axe which is always kept near the bitt, so the +rigging can be quickly cut away if need be, I struck down another man; +then, with a back stroke, nearly cut off the arm of a man who was +rushing upon me, sabre in hand. All this occurred almost in the +twinkling of an eye. Taking advantage of the sort of stupor that had +seized the crew, and feeling much calmer after this explosion of +long-suppressed rage, I could see better where I was, or take my +bearings a little, as the saying is. + +"'It was a magnificent moonlight night; a strong breeze was blowing; an +old, white-haired sailor was at the helm; a cabin-boy and three +terrified sailors had taken refuge in the bow, separated from me by the +open hatchway. The man I had struck down with the axe did not move; the +one I had wounded was on his knees, holding his right arm in his left +hand. + +"'I still had three able-bodied men, a boy, and an old man to contend +with, but they, all seemed to be demoralised by my sudden attack. + +"'Just then I caught sight of a pair of pistols near the rudder, and +before either of the three sailors could make the slightest movement, I +jumped for these weapons. In another moment my two bullets had struck +down a man apiece. With me at the helm, and the old sailor and the boy +to assist me, the boat could be handled with little or no difficulty, +for the weather was superb, and we could not be more than fourteen or +fifteen miles from the shores of France. + +"'My situation thus promptly defined, I loaded my pistols again and +advanced toward the three men, who were gradually recovering from their +surprise. + +"'"Go down into the hold, all three of you," I thundered. "If you don't, +I'll shoot two of you, and hew down the other." + +"'There was only the length of the hatchway--about four feet--between me +and these men, so I could easily blow their brains out. They instantly +jumped into the hold, where the small quantity of combustible material I +had lighted was now nearly burned out. The wounded man, too, staggered +down as best he could; I replaced the hatchway, securing it with the +iron bars as before; then I walked to the stern of the boat. + +"'"Give me the helm," I said to the old sailor; "you and the boy are to +manage the sail, and manage it right, or I'll blow your brains out." + +"'As I took the rudder out of his hand, he recoiled a step and +exclaimed: + +"'"It is Captain l'Endurci, as I live!" + +"'"You know me, then?" + +"'"Know you, captain! I made two voyages with you on the _Hell-hound_." + +"'"And your name?" + +"'"Simon from Dunkirk." + +"'"I remember you now. So you intended to deliver me, your old captain, +into the hands of the English, did you?" + +"'"May I be shot if I suspected for a single instant that it was you, +captain." + +"'"So this smack belongs to you, I suppose." + +"'"No, captain, to Bezelek." + +"'"And where is he?" + +"'"At the bottom of the sea. He was the man that you killed first and +that fell overboard." + +"'"But how does it happen that you consented to have a hand in my +abduction?" + +"'"Well, captain, we've been doing a little smuggling." + +"'"That is very apparent." + +"'"And night before last two men came to us,--that is one of them lying +there now." + +"'He pointed to the dead man in the bow as he spoke. + +"'"Throw him into the sea," I said, curtly. + +"'"And the other man?" I inquired, as soon as this order had been +obeyed. + +"'"He is down in the hold. He is the man you wounded in the arm." + +"'"And how did these men induce you and Bezelek to become their +accomplices?" + +"'"They said: 'Bezelek, there are fifty guineas ready for you if you +will consent to take a man we will bring to you to England. We do not +intend to injure him in any way; but if he resists, you and your men +will be expected to lend a hand in gagging and binding him, and placing +him in the hold of your fishing-smack. You will be paid twenty-five +guineas in advance, and twenty-five more on your arrival at +Folkestone.' As there seemed to be no great harm in the proceeding, the +offer tempted Bezelek and he agreed to do what the men asked. But I +swear that I had no idea it was you. If I had, I would never have had +anything to do with the affair." + +"'Four hours after I escaped from the hold we were within sight of the +port of Mora, where I landed safe and sound.' + + * * * * * + +"Our readers will, we are sure, feel grateful to us," added the _Journal +of the Empire_, "for having given them this extract from the brave +privateer's letter. Thanks be to God, Captain l'Endurci, by his coolness +and courage, succeeded in escaping this most infamous conspiracy against +him. Let us hope that his name will long remain a terror to the enemies +of France." + +The article concluded, Onésime laid the paper on the table. + +"What a wonderful man this corsair must be!" exclaimed the housekeeper, +admiringly. "Alone, bound and gagged, he nevertheless found a way to +escape his imminent danger." + +"But what a quantity of blood he had to shed!" exclaimed the girl, +shuddering. "And not a single word of regret or of pity for his victims. +With what cruel indifference he speaks of the men he killed in cold +blood; for thus taken by surprise, the poor creatures could offer no +resistance." + +"That is true," murmured Onésime. + +But his aunt did not even hear him, for, turning to the girl, she +exclaimed, warmly: + +"It is very easy to talk, my child, but in such a position one certainly +has a right--" + +"Ah, yes, my dear, you are probably going to say that this man was the +victim of the vilest treachery,--that he had an undoubted right to +recover his liberty at any cost, and that his ferocious disregard of +the lives of others is what people call courage and heroism. All this is +very possible. I am a poor judge, perhaps. I only tell you how it +impresses me. This account of his exploits excites only horror and +aversion in me." + +"But a corsair is a corsair, my child. You certainly don't expect him to +be a saint. Each man according to his trade." + +"It is an executioner's business to behead people, aunt, but that makes +his trade none the less horrible," exclaimed Onésime. + +"Ah, I felt sure M. Onésime would feel as I do about it," said the girl, +quickly. + +"He? oh, yes, I don't doubt it! He is a regular sissy. When did you ever +hear of his doing any fighting?" + +"I admit that I am no hero, aunt," replied Onésime, smiling, "I don't +doubt in the least that if I were a prisoner, and obliged to kill +somebody to regain my liberty, I should remain a prisoner." + +"Yours is the truest, noblest kind of courage, after all," responded the +young girl, warmly, for her dislike of warriors in general was perhaps +due in a great measure to the fact that Onésime, both by reason of his +temperament and his infirmity, was never likely to be a man of that +kind. + +"Onésime courageous!" retorted the housekeeper. "You must be jesting!" +Then, turning to her nephew, she cried: "Don't you see that mademoiselle +is making fun of you, my poor boy? Oh, well, put my knitting on the +table for me, my brave hero, and hand me my work-box without dropping it +if you can." + +The young man was consequently obliged to hold out both his hands in +turn, one to present the work-box, the other to take the knitting, and +as the light from the lamp fell full on the table, the pitiless aunt +instantly discovered the terrible burn he had received. + +"Good Heavens! what is the matter with your hand?" she exclaimed. + +"Nothing of any consequence, aunt," he replied, hastily drawing back his +hand, while the young girl, whose attention had been attracted by the +housekeeper's exclamation, turned toward him anxiously. + +But the aunt sprang up, and, seizing her nephew's hand in spite of his +efforts to hide it, examined it carefully. + +"It is frightfully burned, frightfully!" she cried. "Why, you must be +suffering agony with it. It was just done. How did it happen? I know. It +was when you poured the boiling water in the urn, and, for fear we would +laugh at you, you endured the terrible pain without a word. You even had +the courage to go on reading all this time just as if nothing had +happened." + +"Ah, I told you that he was brave," exclaimed the young girl. "His is +the true courage, after all,--not the ferocious courage born of anger, +that seeks only to destroy, but the courage of noble hearts who, for +fear of alarming those whom they love, endure the most intense suffering +without so much as a sign." + +The girl's emotion repaid the young man a thousand-fold for his +suffering; he even had the happiness of seeing the touching expression +of her features, too, this time, as she would insist upon assisting the +housekeeper in dressing Onésime's hand. + +This work had just been completed, and Onésime was regretting that he +had only one burn, when the door of the little parlour was suddenly +thrown open, and a servant rushed in, exclaiming: + +"Dame Roberts, Dame Roberts, M. Segoffin has come!" + +"And my father,--my father has come too, has he not?" exclaimed the +girl, her face radiant with joy. + +"No, mademoiselle, M. Segoffin says monsieur was detained at the +post-office by some letters, but that he will be here almost +immediately." + +The girl hastened out of the room to prepare to meet her father. As the +door closed behind her, Dame Roberts turned to her nephew and said: + +"Go up to your room now, Onésime. I will see you before I go to bed and +tell you what M. Cloarek says in relation to you, for he must know why I +took you into his house in his absence, though I know his kindness of +heart well enough to feel sure that he will approve of what I have +done." + +So Onésime went up to his room oppressed by a vague uneasiness. He had +scarcely left the parlour, when M. Segoffin entered it. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +SEGOFFIN'S DISSIMULATION. + + +It would be far from complimentary to the reader's penetration to +suppose that he had not long since recognised in Onésime's defender +Mlle. Cloarek, who lost her mother at the age of five years, in +consequence of a nervous shock. We trust, too, that the reader's +penetration has served him equally well in the case of Suzanne Roberts, +Sabine's former nurse, and Madame Cloarek's confidential attendant and +housekeeper, and likewise in the case of Captain l'Endurci and his brave +head gunner. + +Twelve years have elapsed since we last saw Segoffin, and he is little +changed in appearance. He looks as much like a clown as ever, the only +modifications which time, or rather events, have made in his grotesquely +grave features being, first, a deep scar beginning at the left temple, +and extending to the bottom of the cheek (a wound caused, as he +affirmed, by an unfortunate fall upon a piece of broken glass). + +Second, the recent loss of an eye, an unfortunate loss indicated by a +large black patch, and caused, no doubt, by some similar mishap. + +In spite of these rather grave injuries to his personal charms, M. +Segoffin held his head as high as ever. A long white cravat, decorated +with bright red polka dots, encircled his throat; his long redingote and +knee-breeches were of the finest brown broadcloth, and his black +stockings were of silk. In his right hand, from which two fingers were +missing,--two fingers carelessly lost, as he declared, from having been +caught in a piece of machinery,--he carried a heavy cane, for he was +quite lame now, in consequence of another accident,--at least, so he +said. + +On seeing Segoffin, Dame Roberts, in spite of the taunts with which she +had pursued him for so many years, made no attempt to conceal her +pleasure. In the delight his return caused her, she did not notice, at +first, that Segoffin was all the while endeavouring to present only his +profile, or as nearly a three-quarter view of his face as possible, to +the object of his affections. The fact is, he wished to defer the +explanation of the recent loss of his eye until the latest possible +moment, but the lady, on going a little closer to him, noticed the +disfiguring patch, and exclaimed: + +"Good Heavens! what is the matter with your eye, Segoffin?" + +"Which eye?" + +"Why, your right eye." + +"My right eye?" + +"Yes. Why do you wear that big black patch over it?" + +"I know." + +"I should suppose that you did. As for me, I am afraid to guess what the +matter is." + +"Nonsense! guess away." + +"You have lost an eye." + +"There is no undoing that which is done." + +"I declare, since monsieur went into business and took you for his +clerk, there is many a soldier at the Invalides that isn't half as much +battered up as you are. How on earth did you lose your eye?" + +"The fact is, my sight has been failing for some time past, so I decided +to put on spectacles. I went to purchase a pair. It was at Lyons. Ah, +that rascally optician!" exclaimed Segoffin, shaking his fist in a sort +of retrospective rage. + +"Calm yourself, Segoffin, and go on with your story." + +"It was a splendid day, and the optician's shop stood in a blaze of +sunlight on the Quai du Rhone, my dear,--in a blaze of sunlight, +remember that." + +"What difference does that make?" + +"A vast amount of difference. I asked to try some spectacles. The +scoundrel handed me a pair. I put them on my nose. Just at that moment +loud screams were heard on the quay, and curiosity naturally caused me +to run to the door." + +"Of course." + +"I ran to the door, I say, with the spectacles still on my nose, and I +was looking all around, first to the right, then to the left, to see +where the cries came from, when, happening to look up, I had very much +the same feeling in my right eye as if the ball had been pierced by a +red-hot iron." + +"Good Heavens! what caused it?" + +"One of the glasses in the pair which the optician had given me was of +great magnifying power," replied Segoffin, "and when I looked up and the +noonday sun shone full on my glasses, it converted the lens I speak of +into a sort of burning-glass. My eye was burned out. You could +positively hear it sizzle." + +"Is it possible?" exclaimed Dame Roberts. "Did you really lose your eye +in that way?" + +"There is no undoing that which is done. But I will say this much, since +I have had but one eye that one has been doing the work of two in the +most remarkable manner. I have the eyes or rather the eye of fifteen, so +to me you look as handsome, as handsome as if you were fifteen, my +dear." + +"I have no such juvenile eyes, my poor Segoffin, so I see you exactly as +you are. I certainly regret the accident exceedingly, and I truly hope +this will be the last. Did monsieur have a satisfactory trip, and is he +well?" + +"Perfectly." + +"And his fits of despondency when he thinks of madame's death?" + +"He has them still. He shuts himself up alone for several hours, and +when he appears again one can see that he has been weeping." + +"And his disposition?" + +"I am a regular firebrand in comparison." + +"Then he evinces no more temper while travelling than he does here?" + +"Not a bit more." + +"And really when one remembers what monsieur was a dozen years ago, +Segoffin!" + +"There is as much difference as there is between day and night." + +"That reminds me that Mlle. Sabine had another of her nervous attacks +to-day, when something reminded her of her poor mother's death. How +fortunate it is that she did not recognise monsieur in his Breton +costume on that terrible night. The poor child still believes that it +was a stranger who killed her mother." + +"And she must never be allowed to suspect anything to the contrary." + +"The complete change in monsieur's character makes that a comparatively +easy matter." + +"All the effect of a business career. When monsieur lost his position +after poor madame's death, he said to himself: 'I have barely enough to +support my daughter for a few years. I was evidently not intended for a +judicial career. I have a taste for commerce, so I will try commerce.' +And a very wise decision it has proved on his part, for he has not only +accumulated a handsome fortune for his daughter, but transformed himself +into the most lamb-like of men, and you have commerce to thank for it +all; for you must see for yourself that if a merchant went about beating +his customers over the head and kicking them in the stomach, he wouldn't +make many sales." + +"You are and always will be the same exasperating creature, Segoffin!" +exclaimed the housekeeper, impatiently. "Years of travel and business +have made no change in you, mentally, understand; physically--it is +different--" + +"Hold, my ungrateful friend," said Segoffin, drawing a peculiarly shaped +box from his pocket, and gallantly offering it to Suzanne. "This is the +way in which I avenge myself for your abuse." + +"What is it, Segoffin?" + +"Some little tokens of friendly regard, for you know that in your secret +heart you are really very fond of me." + +But as the housekeeper opened the box, and unfolded a piece of paper in +which the present was wrapped, she recoiled almost in terror. + +"The paper is burnt at one end, and stained with blood at the other," +she exclaimed, in dismay. + +"Oh, yes," replied M. Cloarek's clerk, imperturbably, "it is a piece +of--no matter what, that I used to light my candle with, and when I was +wrapping the pin and the earrings up, I pricked my finger,--awkward as +usual, you see." + +The housekeeper took out a pair of enormous gold earrings, and a large +gold pin ornamented with an anchor surmounted by a crown. We will here +add, for the information of the reader, that in those days sailors in +the royal navy of England still wore earrings, and fastened their +woollen shirts with large gold or silver pins. + +The housekeeper, more grateful for the kindly feeling than for the +present itself, as she had no intention of dragging down her ears with +these rings, fastened the pin in her dress. + +"Really, you are too kind," she said. "These earrings and this pin, +especially, are in perfect taste, and as we live so near the sea the +selection of a pin surmounted with an anchor is extremely appropriate. +But here, M. Traveller," continued Suzanne, taking the red worsted +comforter she had been knitting from the table, "you see you are not the +only person who thinks of the absent." + +"What, Suzanne, this comforter--" + +"Is intended to keep you warm and comfortable in the winter." + +"Ah, Suzanne, Suzanne, I shall never forget--" + +But Segoffin's protestations of gratitude were, unfortunately, +interrupted by the entrance of M. Cloarek and his daughter, arm in arm. + +Yvon, who was now forty-two years of age, had changed very little in +appearance. His hair was beginning to turn gray, and his skin was much +sunburned; but he seemed to have gained in strength and vigour, his face +was radiant, and his eyes were full of joyful tears. + +"Come and let me take a good look at you, my child," he exclaimed, as he +led his daughter to the light, and gazed at her with anxious tenderness, +as if to satisfy himself that the health of this idolised child had +improved since they parted; then, again enfolding her tenderly in his +arms, he added: + +"Ah, my beloved child, I can embrace you with a thankful heart, for I +can see that you are much stronger than when I went away." + +Then, addressing Dame Roberts for the first time, he said, with a +friendly shake of the hand: + +"I thank you with all my heart for your care and attentions, Suzanne, +for I know how much you must have aided in Sabine's restoration to +health." + +And again turning to his daughter, Cloarek held out his arms. + +"One more embrace, my child, one more!" he cried. + +"Fathers and daughters as well as lovers like to be alone together after +a long absence, my dear," Segoffin whispered to the housekeeper. + +"You are right, Segoffin," replied Suzanne, starting toward the door. + +"Ah, Suzanne, what a fine opportunity this would be for a tender +interview if we wanted one," said M. Cloarek's clerk as he followed Dame +Roberts into the adjoining room. + +"Unfortunately love is blind, my poor Segoffin, and you are only half +blind yet." + +"That will not prevent you from becoming Madame Segoffin," responded our +friend, in tones of the most profound conviction. "That which is to be, +will be." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +SABINE'S CONFESSION. + + +When Yvon found himself alone with his daughter, he embraced her again +even more passionately than before, as if Dame Roberts's presence had +been rather a constraint upon the transports of paternal tenderness +hitherto; then making Sabine seat herself on an ottoman near him and +taking both her hands in his, he asked: + +"And now, how have you been feeling during the last three months, months +which have seemed well-nigh interminable to me?" + +"Remarkably well, father." + +"You look much stronger, I think. Besides--" + +"What, my dear father?" + +"It may be only a doting father's fancy, fathers have so many of them, +but--" + +"Let me hear what it is, father." + +"It seems to me that you are even prettier than when I went away." + +"That must be a doting father's fancy, especially as it implies that I +was pretty before you left." + +"And who ever doubted it, mademoiselle?" + +"I, myself, in the first place." + +"Then you never see yourself, or your mirror is a poor one. The more I +look at you, the more convinced I am that you look less childish, +somehow, and that you have quite a grown-up air." + +"How absurd, father! In what does this change consist?" + +"I can hardly explain, for your features have not changed, thank Heaven! +but there is an air of sweet and gentle dignity about you that I never +noticed before, and an expression of serene happiness on your features." + +"How could it be otherwise when you have returned, father? It is +something better than joy, it is happiness I feel on seeing you again, +and happiness inclines one to be rather quiet and serious, you know." + +"If you go on talking in this way my eyes will be so full of tears I +shall not be able to see you at all, so let us change the subject. You +have been well, you say; that is the main thing, of course, but have you +not been lonely and dull here, my poor child? The winter months are so +gloomy in the country." + +"I have not been lonely a single moment, father. Haven't I my books, and +my piano, and my embroidery, and my walks to occupy me?" + +"And Suzanne, I scarcely need ask if she has been kind to you?" + +"As you know her so well you must know that she has been kindness +itself." + +"And--" + +But Yvon stopped short. + +He was on the point of asking Sabine if her nervousness was abating, and +if the attacks to which she had been subject from childhood were +becoming less frequent, but he feared he might sadden his daughter, and +decided it would be better to question the housekeeper on the subject. + +So, to cover his sudden pause, he said: + +"So you really enjoy yourself here in the country, you say? You have but +to express a wish, you know, my dearest. The sea air has been +recommended for you, it is true, but the coasts of France are extensive +and there is abundant room for choice, and if you prefer any other +place--" + +"No, father, this place suits me perfectly. The surroundings are +delightful, and I feel so much at home here that it would be ungrateful +in me to leave the place unless you desire it." + +"You know very well that I only desire what you desire." + +"That sounds very fine, father." + +"What do you mean, my child?" + +"I mean that your actions do not always correspond with your words." + +"What actions?" + +"You say that you only desire what I desire. Yet how often I have begged +you to give up the journeys that keep you away from me so much of the +time." + +"That is different. It is really for your sake, my darling child. I have +my reasons." + +"Yes, I know, my poor, dear father. It is to enrich me that you devote +so much time to your business. But what is the use of so much money? But +you have told me nothing about yourself! What kind of a trip did you +have this time?" + +"A remarkably successful one." + +"The roads were better this time, then, and you did not take cold? I am +so glad, we had so many snow-storms last month. I used to say to Suzanne +again and again while we were sitting by the fire warm and comfortable, +'I am afraid my poor dear father is shivering with cold and making only +a couple of miles an hour on account of the snow.'" + +"Don't worry any more, my dear child. The trip is over now, and it was +not only less fatiguing than usual, but unusually profitable." + +"Is that really so? Then why was your return so long delayed, father?" + +"A complication of business interests, that is all." + +"If you knew how uneasy I always am during your absence! It is foolish, +I know, but I shall be spared all these fears hereafter, for you intend +to keep your promise, do you not?" + +"What promise?" + +"Not to travel, or, rather, not to leave me any more." + +"I promised you on condition that no unforeseen circumstance--" + +"No excuses, now. You will remain with me?" + +"Always." + +"Will you swear it?" + +"By a father's love." + +"Ah, I know what happiness is now," cried Sabine, throwing herself on +her father's neck, "and yet, I have no words to tell you how happy I am, +so, to reward you--" + +"Well," said Cloarek, smiling, but deeply moved by the touching +expression of his daughter's features, "so, to reward me--" + +"I am going to ask a favour of you, as you are always reproaching me for +never asking for anything." + +"You could not please me more, my dear child. Well, let me hear what it +is. What have you to ask of me?" + +"Your protection and aid." + +"For whom?" + +"For a person who is worthy of it, and of whom Suzanne, too, intends to +speak to you. But you see how jealous I am, I wish to be the first to +recommend my protégé." + +"The protégé of both of you, then?" + +"Yes, both of us." + +"Then you are tolerably certain of having your request granted. But what +does the person desire?" + +"Oh, he doesn't dare to ask or even desire anything. He is so timid. +That is the reason Suzanne and I both resolved to ask for him. His +position is so interesting and so trying!" + +"My poor, tender-hearted child, how deeply in earnest you are, and how +you are blushing! I am sure the person you have in mind must be both +very deserving and very unfortunate." + +"Yes, father, and when one sees a person every day, and thus learns to +know and appreciate him, one's interest naturally increases." + +"But of whom are you speaking, my child?" + +"Of M. Onésime." + +"And who is M. Onésime? Onésime, Onésime,--I have heard the name before, +it seems to me." + +"M. Onésime is Suzanne's nephew." + +"Ah, yes, I recollect now. She has often spoken of him. He is the son of +the sister she lost a couple of years ago." + +"Yes, my dear father, he is an orphan. He had a government clerkship at +Lille, but he was obliged to give that up, and as he could not secure +any other situation there, Suzanne sent for him to come here and stay +until he could find something to do." + +"What, he is here?" + +"Yes, father." + +"He is living here in this house?" + +"He has been living here for the last two months." + +"Why are you blushing again?" + +"But I am not blushing, father, I assure you." + +"Surely, my dear child, you cannot suppose that I would be displeased +because our friend Suzanne, to whom we owe so much, has entertained her +nephew here, especially as he must be a well-behaved boy, or Suzanne +would not have kept him with her." + +"You must see him, father, and then you can judge for yourself." + +"But how did he happen to lose his place?" + +"He was a copyist, but his sight is so bad that it interfered with his +work, and they dismissed him. You can imagine, my dear father, how +painful his present position is to him, for he has a good education, +and cannot bear to be idle. His defective vision will make it very +difficult for him to secure any position, I fear; so, father, I have +been counting, that is to say, Suzanne and I have been counting on you +to assist and advise M. Onésime. I am sure when you see him and know +him, you will do anything in the world for him, he is so kind and good, +and you will pity him and love him so much." + +It is impossible to describe the naïve and touching manner in which +Sabine uttered these last words, her changing colour and gently heaving +breast betraying the lively interest she felt in her protégé. + +Cloarek stood silent and thoughtful for a moment. He was beginning to +understand the change he had noticed in his daughter's manner and +expression. At last the young girl, surprised and somewhat alarmed by +Yvon's silence, asked: + +"Why do you not answer me, my dear father?" + +"Tell me, my child, since Suzanne's nephew has been living here, what +has he done? What kind of a life has he led?" + +"The same life we have led, father. When we go out to walk, he goes with +us; if we remain at home, he remains. We make him read to us a good +deal,--he reads so well and with so much expression. Sometimes we play +duets together, for he is an excellent musician. He is very well up, +too, in history, and it is very pleasant and instructive to hear him +talk on such subjects, and lastly, he is always trying to do us some +little service, though he doesn't always succeed, for his poor sight +makes him very awkward. But that is his only fault, my dear father," +added Sabine, with charming ingenuousness, "and though he surely cannot +be held accountable for it, Suzanne is pitiless toward it, for she is +always making fun of him." + +"You do not make fun of him, I am sure." + +"It would be cruel in me to do that, father, for he tries to be the +first to laugh at his mishaps, though they worry him terribly. It is so +sad to be almost blind. And this very evening--you can judge from that +how courageous he is--he scalded his hand nearly to the bone with +boiling water. You will see, father, what a dreadful burn it was. Well, +for all that, M. Onésime had self-control and courage enough not only to +make no ado about it, but also to go on with his reading as if nothing +had happened, so it was only by the merest chance that we discovered the +accident nearly an hour afterward." + +"Really, M. Onésime seems to be quite a hero." + +"A hero; no, father, for, as we were saying this evening, only persons +who kill and spill blood are called heroes, while M. Onésime--" + +"Spills boiling water." + +"Why, father!" + +"Why do you look at me so reproachfully?" + +"It seems strange that you, too, who are always so just--" + +"Why, what great injustice have I been guilty of, my child?" + +"You are making light of a very serious matter, father, for even Suzanne +turned pale with fright when she saw his burn, though she is always +ridiculing him in the most merciless manner. And why? Because he has +such a horror of everything that is cruel and bloodthirsty. Only this +evening we had quite a discussion with Suzanne, and M. Onésime was on my +side, and he is on my side only when I am right, so I feel sure in +advance that you will agree with us." + +"What was the subject of this discussion, my child?" + +"M. Onésime was reading, in that newspaper you see over there on the +table, an account of the escape of a famous privateer named Captain +l'Endurci. You have read it too, perhaps, father." + +"No," replied Cloarek, repressing an involuntary movement of surprise +and alarm; "no, my child. Well, what do you and M. Onésime think of the +corsair?" + +"His cruelty shocked us, dear father; for would you believe it? to +regain his liberty he killed two men and severely wounded a third. +Suzanne approved his conduct, claiming that he had behaved in a very +brave and heroic manner, but M. Onésime said, and this proves the +generosity of his heart--" + +"Well, what did M. Onésime say?" + +"That he would rather remain a prisoner all his life than owe his +freedom to the death of another person. Don't you think that M. Onésime +and I are right?" + +"I hardly know what to say, my child. A humdrum merchant like myself is +not a very good judge of such matters. Still, it seems to me that you +and M. Onésime are rather hard on the poor privateer." + +"But, father, read the frightful story, and you will see--" + +"But listen, this privateer had a family, perhaps, that he tenderly +loved, and that he was hoping soon to see again, and in his despair at +finding himself a prisoner--" + +"A family! Men who live in the midst of carnage have families that they +love tenderly? Is that possible, father?" + +"Why, do not even wolves love their young?" + +"I don't know anything about that; but if they do love them, they love +them after the manner of wolves, I suppose, bringing them a piece of +their bleeding prey when they are little, and leading them out to attack +and devour the poor lambs when they get older." + +A bitter expression flitted over Cloarek's face; then he answered, +smiling: + +"After all, you and M. Onésime may be right. If you would talk to me +about silks and merino I might hold my own, but I am not much of a judge +of privateers and privateering." + +"I was sure you would agree with us. How could a person who is as +generous, compassionate, and affectionate as you are think otherwise? +or, rather, I could not think differently from what you do, my dear +father, for if I have a horror of everything that is cruel and wicked, +if I love everything that is good and beautiful, is it not to you and +your example I owe it, as well as to the precepts of my poor mother whom +you loved so devotedly? for not a day passes that Suzanne does not +relate some instance of your deep affection for her." + +The conversation was here interrupted by the entrance of the +housekeeper, candle in hand, who, to Yvon's great surprise, announced: + +"I am very sorry, but it is ten o'clock, monsieur." + +"Well, what of it, Suzanne?" + +"It is the hour the doctor said mademoiselle must go to bed, you know." + +"Give me just a quarter of an hour more, Suzanne?" + +"Not a single minute, mademoiselle." + +"On the evening of my return, you might permit this slight dissipation, +it seems to me, Suzanne." + +"Heaven be thanked, mademoiselle will have plenty of opportunity to see +you now, but allowing her to sit up later than ten o'clock is not to be +thought of. She would be sure to be tired out, if not ill, to-morrow." + +"In that case, I have nothing to say except good night, my dear child," +said Cloarek, taking his daughter's face in his two hands, and kissing +her tenderly on the forehead. "Sleep well, my dearest, and may the +morning find you well and happy." + +"You need feel no anxiety on that score, my dear father. Now I know that +you are here beside me, and that you will be with me, not only to-morrow +but always, I shall go to sleep with that blissful thought on my mind, +and I shall sleep on and on and on like a dormouse--that is the word, +isn't it, Suzanne? So good night, my dear father, good night, good +night." + +Then she whispered: + +"I am sure Suzanne is going to speak to you about M. Onésime. How glad I +am I got ahead of her. Good night, dearest father, good night." + +"Good night, and pleasant dreams!" + +"It will be the best night I have passed for many a month. Good night, +my beloved father, good night." + +"Good night, my child." + +Then turning to the housekeeper, Cloarek added: + +"Come back presently, Suzanne, I want to talk with you." + +"Very well, monsieur; I have something I wish to speak to you about, +too." + +When he was left alone, Cloarek began to walk the room. As he passed the +table, the _Journal of the Empire_ attracted his attention. He picked it +up and glanced over the article to which his daughter had alluded. + +"How indiscreet in Verduron to make a strictly confidential letter +public, and without warning me!" he exclaimed, evidently much annoyed. +"I have always feared that man's stupidity and greed would cause me +trouble sooner or later. Fortunately, I have concealed my place of abode +from him. To think of this happening now, when my child's feelings and +mental condition make dissimulation more imperative than ever. Poor +child, such a discovery would kill her!" + +At that very instant the housekeeper reëntered the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +SUZANNE'S ENLIGHTENMENT. + + +"My dear Suzanne," said M. Cloarek, "first of all, I want to thank you +for the excellent care you have taken of my daughter." + +"Poor Mlle. Sabine, didn't I nurse her when she was a baby, and isn't +she almost like my own child to me?" + +"You have been a second mother to my child, I know. And it is on account +of the tender affection you have always manifested toward her that I +wish to talk with you on a very important matter." + +"What is it, monsieur?" + +"You sent for your nephew in my absence. He has been here nearly two +months, I understand." + +"Yes, and it is in regard to the poor fellow that I wish to talk with +you this evening, monsieur. I will explain--" + +"Sabine has told me all about it." + +"Great Heavens! you are not angry, I hope." + +"Not angry, Suzanne, but greatly worried and alarmed." + +"Alarmed! Alarmed about what?" + +"The effect of your nephew's presence in this house." + +"Had I foreseen that it would be disagreeable to you, I would not have +sent for the poor boy; but he was so unhappy, and I knew your kindness +of heart so well, that I thought I might take the liberty--" + +"You have rendered too valuable service to each and every member of my +family, Suzanne, for your relatives not to have a right to my interest +and assistance. What I reproach you for is a great imprudence." + +"Excuse me, monsieur, but I do not understand." + +"Your nephew is young?" + +"Twenty-five." + +"He is well educated?" + +"Too well for his position, monsieur. My poor sister and her husband +made great sacrifices for him. His sight being so poor, they gave him an +excellent education in the hope he might enter the clergy, but Onésime +felt that he had no calling that way, so there was nothing for him to do +but secure a clerkship." + +"I know the rest, but how about his personal appearance? What kind of a +looking young man is he?" + +"The poor fellow is neither handsome nor ugly, monsieur. He has a very +kind and gentle manner, but his extreme near-sightedness gives him a +rather scared look. He is really the best-hearted boy that ever lived. +Ask mademoiselle, and see what she will tell you." + +"Really, Suzanne, such blindness on your part amazes me." + +"Such blindness, monsieur?" + +"Is it possible, Suzanne, that you, who are a person of so much +experience and good sense, have not felt, I will not say the +impropriety, but the grave imprudence there is in having your nephew +under the same roof with my daughter, and allowing them to live in the +extremely intimate relations of such a secluded existence as you lead +here?" + +"I know that I am only a servant, monsieur, and that my nephew--" + +"That is not the question at all. Have not I and my daughter always +striven to prove that we regarded you as a friend, and not as a +servant?" + +"Then I do not understand the cause of your reproaches." + +"And that is very unfortunate, for if you had been more clear-sighted, +you would long since have discovered what has happened." + +"Good Heavens! what has happened, monsieur?" + +"Sabine loves your nephew." + +"Mademoiselle!" + +"She loves him, I tell you." + +"Mademoiselle loves Onésime! Monsieur cannot be in earnest. It is +impossible." + +"Impossible, and why?" + +"Because the poor boy is as timid as a girl; because he is not at all +good-looking; because he sees very badly, a defect that makes him commit +twenty blunders a day, at which mademoiselle is not unfrequently the +first to laugh. He does not resemble a hero of romance in the least. Oh, +no, monsieur, you need feel no anxiety on that score. Mademoiselle has +always been very kind and considerate to Onésime, because he is my +nephew, and she pitied him, but--" + +"Ah, blind woman that you are, not to have foreseen that, in a person of +Sabine's character, in a person of her extreme sensibility and angelic +kindness of heart, pity was almost certain to lead to a more tender +sentiment,--as it has!" + +"Can it be possible that mademoiselle would condescend to look at a poor +fellow like Onésime?" + +"It is precisely because he is poor and helpless and timid, and because +his infirmity places him in such an exceptional and painful position, +that Sabine was almost certain to love him, and you, who know her as +well as I do, should have foreseen this. I hope to Heaven that your +blindness may not prove disastrous in its consequences." + +"Ah, monsieur," responded the housekeeper, contritely, "your words +enlighten me, now, when it is too late. But no, I cannot believe what +you have just told me. Mlle. Sabine has not admitted that she loves +Onésime, has she?" + +"Oh, no; she has not admitted it, but I am satisfied of the fact. She is +so candid and so sincere that one can read her heart as one reads an +open book. She does love him, I tell you, and this destroys all the +plans I had formed. But what is the matter? Why are you sobbing so? +Suzanne, Suzanne, get up," cried Cloarek, seeing the housekeeper throw +herself at his feet. + +"I have such a dreadful fear." + +"Explain." + +"Good Heavens, monsieur, what if you should suppose that in asking my +nephew here I was actuated by a desire to interest mademoiselle in him, +and so bring about a marriage between them!" + +"Suzanne, you do me a gross injustice by supposing me capable of such a +suspicion." + +"Tell me, oh, tell me that you do not believe me capable of such a +thing." + +"I repeat that you have been thoughtless and imprudent. That is all, and +that is enough; but as for accusing you of any such shameful plotting, +that would be utterly absurd on my part. I understand, too, how certain +peculiarities in your nephew's character seemed a sufficient guarantee +against any such possibility, and that you never suspected that any such +danger could threaten my daughter." + +"Alas! that is the truth, monsieur. I didn't consider Onésime any more +dangerous than an infant." + +"I believe you, but the evil is done, nevertheless." + +"But it can be repaired. Onésime shall leave the house at daybreak, +to-morrow morning, and never set foot in it again." + +"And Sabine? His sudden departure would grieve her terribly, it might +even kill her, weak and nervous as she is,--for she is her poor dear +mother over again, in her sensitiveness and extreme susceptibility." + +"_Mon Dieu_, I see, I see! How culpable I have been!" sobbed the +governess. "What are we to do, monsieur? What are we to do?" + +"I have no idea myself." + +"Cloarek paced the room in silence several minutes, then he asked, +suddenly: + +"Where is your nephew?" + +"In the Blue Boom, monsieur. I told him to wait there until I could let +him know the result of my interview with you." + +"Send him to me." + +"Here, monsieur?" + +"Yes." + +"Oh, monsieur, have pity on him, have pity on him, I beseech you!" cried +Suzanne, clasping her hands imploringly. "I swear to you that it was not +his fault. The poor boy is innocent of any wrong-doing, even in thought. +He hasn't the slightest suspicion of all this, I am sure. Have pity on +him, I implore you!" + +"Send him to me, I say." + +"He shall leave the house this very night, monsieur, I swear it!" + +"And my daughter! You want her to die of grief, perhaps!" + +"One word, monsieur. It may be that mademoiselle's affection for Onésime +is only a youthful fancy that time and absence will soon cause her to +forget." + +"But what if she does not forget it? What if this love is really deep +and true, as it must be, if it has once really taken root in a heart +like Sabine's? No, no, it would be an insult to the poor child to +believe her capable of loving in that way. She is her mother over again, +I tell you." + +"Alas! monsieur, what you say nearly breaks my heart, and yet I am +forced to admit that you are right. I never realised, until this very +moment, all the possible consequences of this deplorable intimacy; for, +unfortunately, this is not the only thing that must be considered." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Monsieur--" + +"Speak, speak, I say." + +"What if,--and it would not be his fault, remember, monsieur,--what if +he should not share the affection he has inspired in mademoiselle--" + +"Damnation!" exclaimed Cloarek. + +Then after a moment's silence he said, sternly: + +"Send your nephew here." + +"Do not ask me to do that, monsieur!" pleaded Suzanne, in terror. + +"Obey me, do you hear?" + +"Not if you kill me, monsieur," replied Suzanne, resolutely; "no, he +shall not come. I will make him leave the house. I will not expose him +to--" + +"To what? To my violence, my anger, I suppose you mean. Don't you see +that my daughter's love for him renders him sacred in my eyes?" + +"But if he does not love her, monsieur?" + +"If he does not love her?" exclaimed Cloarek, becoming frightfully pale; +then, without adding a word, and before the housekeeper, overcome with +consternation, could make so much as a movement to prevent it, he rushed +out of the parlour and into the room where Onésime was waiting to hear +the result of his aunt's interview with the master of the house. + +To open the door of this room, and close and lock it behind him, to +prevent Suzanne from entering and Onésime from leaving it, was only the +work of an instant, and he thus found himself alone with Suzanne's +nephew. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +ONÉSIME'S CONQUEST. + + +On hearing the violent opening and closing of the door, Onésime sprang +up surprised and alarmed, for he was expecting to see only his aunt, and +the heavy tread of the person who had just entered so boisterously +indicated the presence of a stranger. + +Cloarek, who had recovered the composure which had momentarily deserted +him, scrutinised Onésime with anxious curiosity. At the first glance the +countenance of the young man seemed gentle and prepossessing, but soon, +forgetting the infirmity that prevented him from gaining more than a +vague idea of objects a few feet from him, and seeing him gaze at him +intently without giving any sign of recognition, he began to consider +Onésime's manner extremely insolent, even audacious. + +Suzanne's nephew, surprised at the prolonged silence, advanced a step or +two in the hope of recognising the intruder, and at last asked, +hesitatingly: + +"Who is it?" + +Cloarek, still forgetting the young man's infirmity, thought the +question impertinent, and replied: + +"Who is it! It is the master of the house, I would have you know." + +"M. Cloarek!" exclaimed Onésime, recoiling a little, for the speaker's +manner and tone indicated only too plainly that his, Onésime's, presence +in the house was unwelcome to Sabine's father, so after a moment he +said, in a trembling, almost timid voice: + +"In complying with the wishes of my aunt, I believed, monsieur, that her +request was made with your approval, or at least that you would not +disapprove her kindness to me. But for that, I should not have thought +of accepting her invitation." + +"I hope so, indeed." + +"I must therefore beg you to excuse an indiscretion of which I have been +the involuntary accomplice, monsieur. I will leave your house +to-morrow." + +"And where will you go? What will you do?" demanded Cloarek, abruptly. +"What will become of you afterward?" + +"Not understanding the feeling that prompts these questions, you cannot +be surprised that I hesitate to answer them," responded Onésime, with +gentle dignity. + +"My feeling may be kindly, and it may be the opposite,--that depends +upon circumstances. I shall know presently, however." + +"You seem to constitute yourself the sole arbiter of my destiny, +monsieur!" exclaimed Onésime, with respectful firmness. "By what right, +may I ask?" + +"On the contrary, you seem to have made yourself the arbiter of my +destiny," exclaimed Cloarek, impetuously. + +"I do not understand you, monsieur." + +"Do you dare to look me in the face and answer me in that way?" + +"Look you in the face, monsieur? I wish that I could, but alas! at this +distance I am utterly unable to distinguish your features." + +"True, monsieur," replied Cloarek, with much less brusqueness, "I had +forgotten your infirmity. But though you cannot see, you may rest +assured that I have an eye that nothing escapes. It is one advantage +that I have over you, and one that I shall profit by, I assure you." + +"I assure you that this advantage will be of very little service to you +so far as I am concerned. I have never had anything to conceal in my +life." + +This odd mixture of frankness and gentleness, of melancholy and dignity, +touched Cloarek; nevertheless he tried to resist its softening +influence. + +"I am blessed with a very small amount of penetration, monsieur," +continued Onésime, "but your questions and the tone in which they are +asked, as well as some of your remarks, lead me to suppose that you have +a grievance against me, though I am unfortunately ignorant of the +cause." + +"You love my daughter?" said Cloarek, gazing searchingly at the youth as +if resolved to read his inmost thoughts. + +Onetime turned red and pale by turns, and felt so much like falling that +he was obliged to reseat himself at a small table and bury his face in +his hands. + +In his attempt to cover his face the handkerchief that was bound around +his hand fell off, disclosing to view the terrible burn he had received, +and though Cloarek was accustomed to seeing all sorts of hurts, the +grave nature of this one made him shudder and say to himself: + +"Poor wretch, how he must suffer! A person must have a good deal of +courage to endure such torture uncomplainingly. Such courage, combined +with such amiability of character, as well as quiet dignity, at least +indicates nobility of heart." + +Seeing how completely overcome Onésime seemed to be, Yvon asked, in +rather more friendly tones: + +"How am I to interpret your silence? You do not answer me." + +"What can I say, monsieur?" + +"You confess it, then?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"And is my daughter ignorant of this love?" + +"Ignorant of it! Why, monsieur, I would rather die than reveal it to +her. I thought I had concealed my secret in the depths of my innermost +soul, so I have no idea how you can have discovered what I have almost +succeeded in hiding from myself." + +"Why did you not endeavour to overcome a feeling that could only make +you unhappy?" + +"Believing every one ignorant of it, I abandoned myself to it with +delight. Up to this time I have only known misfortune. This love is the +first happiness of my life, as it will be the only consolation of the +dreary destiny that awaits me." + +"You would be separated from my daughter sooner or later. Did that +thought never occur to you?" + +"No, monsieur, I did not stop to reflect. I think I loved merely for the +happiness of loving. I loved without hope, but also without fear and +without remorse." + +"So you were not even deterred by a fear that I would find out about +this love some day or other?" + +"I did not reflect at all, as I told you just now. I loved only for the +pleasure of loving. Ah, monsieur, when one is as I am, almost entirely +isolated from external objects and the diversion of mind they cause, it +is easy to yield oneself entirely to the solitary enjoyment of a single, +all-absorbing passion." + +"But if your sight is so bad, you can scarcely know how my daughter +looks." + +"During all the weeks I have been living in this house, I never saw +Mlle. Sabine distinctly until this evening." + +"And why this evening rather than any other evening?" + +"Because she insisted on aiding my aunt in dressing a severe burn on my +hand, and, while she was doing this, she came near enough for me to be +able to distinguish her features perfectly." + +"In that case, how did you come to love her?" + +"How did I come to love her? Why, what I love in her," exclaimed +Onésime, "is her noble and generous heart, the sweetness of her +disposition, the charms of her mind. What do I love in her? Why, her +sweet and soothing presence and her voice,--her voice, so gentle and +touching when she utters words of friendly interest or consolation." + +"Then the thought that you might become Sabine's husband some day has +never occurred to you?" + +"I love her too much for that, monsieur." + +"What do you mean?" + +"You forget, monsieur, that I am half blind, and that, by reason of this +infirmity, I am doomed to ridicule, to poverty, or a humiliating +idleness. I, who can never be anything but a burden to those who feel an +interest in me, the idea that I should have the audacity--No, no, I +repeat it, I even swear, that I have loved and still love Mlle. Sabine +as one loves the good and the beautiful, without any other hope than of +the heavenly felicity the love of the good and the beautiful inspires. +This, monsieur, is what I have felt and still feel. If my frankness is +convincing, deign to promise me, monsieur, that I shall at least take +your esteem with me when I leave this house." + +"You have won this esteem; you deserve it, Onésime," replied Cloarek, +earnestly; "and after this assurance on my part, you will permit me to +ask what you intend to do after leaving here." + +"I shall endeavour to find some employment similar to that I was engaged +in before; but, however modest and laborious my situation in life may +be, if it enables me to earn my living, it is all I ask." + +"But are you not afraid you will lose this situation for the same +reasons you did before?" + +"Alas! monsieur, if I allowed myself to think of all the trials and +disappointments that are, undoubtedly, in store for me, I should become +utterly disheartened," answered Onésime, sadly. + +"It was not to discourage you that I ventured this reminder. On the +contrary, I wish, and certainly hope to find the means of helping you to +escape from a position which must be unspeakably trying." + +"Ah, monsieur, how kind you are! How have I deserved--" + +The conversation was here interrupted by several hurried knocks at the +door, and Suzanne's voice was heard, crying: + +"Open the door, monsieur, for pity's sake!" + +Cloarek instantly complied with the request. + +"What is the matter?" he exclaimed, seeing Suzanne standing there, pale +and terrified. + +"Thérèse was just closing the windows in the dining-room, when she saw, +in the moonlight, two men peering over the garden wall." + +"Thérèse is a coward, afraid of her own shadow, I expect." + +"Oh, no, monsieur, Thérèse did see the two men distinctly. They were +evidently about to enter the garden, when the noise she made in opening +the window frightened them away." + +"These fears seem to me greatly exaggerated," replied Cloarek; "still, +take good care not to say anything about this to Sabine to-morrow. It +will only make the poor child terribly uneasy. It is a splendid +moonlight night, and I will go out into the garden and satisfy myself +that everything is all right." + +"Go out into the garden!" cried Suzanne, in great alarm. "Don't think of +such a thing. It would be very dangerous, I am sure." + +"That is all nonsense, my dear Suzanne," said Cloarek, turning toward +the door. "You are as great a coward as Thérèse." + +"First, let me go and wake Segoffin, monsieur," pleaded Suzanne. "I +tried before I came to you, but this time I will knock so loud that he +can't help hearing me." + +"And at the same time wake my daughter and frighten her nearly to death +by all this hubbub in the house." + +"You are right, monsieur, and yet you ought not to venture out entirely +alone." + +"What are you doing, Onésime?" asked Cloarek, seeing the younger man +making his way toward the door. "Where are you going?" + +"I am going with you, monsieur." + +"And what for?" + +"My aunt thinks there may be some danger, monsieur." + +"And of what assistance could you be?" asked Yvon, not curtly or +scornfully this time, for Onésime's devotion touched him. + +"It is true that I can be of very little assistance," sighed the +unfortunate youth, "but if there is any danger, I can at least share it, +and, though my sight is poor, perhaps, as a sort of compensation, I can +hear remarkably well, so I may be able to find out which way the men +went if they are still prowling around the house." + +This artless offer was made with such evident sincerity, that Cloarek, +exchanging a compassionate look with Suzanne, said, kindly: + +"I thank you for your offer, my young friend, and I would accept it very +gratefully if your hand did not require attention. The burn is evidently +a deep one, and must pain you very much, so you had better attend to it +without further delay, Suzanne," he added, turning to the housekeeper. + +Cloarek went out into the garden. The moon was shining brightly on the +sleeping waves. A profound stillness pervaded the scene, and no other +human being was visible. Climbing upon the wall, he gazed into the +depths below, for the garden wall on the side next the sea was built +upon the brow of a steep cliff. Cloarek tried to discover if the grass +and shrubbery on the side of the cliff had been broken or trampled, but +the investigation revealed no trace of any recent visitor. He listened +attentively, but heard only the murmur of the waves as they broke upon +the beach, and, concluding that there was no cause for alarm as such a +thing as a robbery had not been heard of since Sabine had lived there, +he was about to leave the terrace and reënter the house when he saw one +of those rockets that are used in the navy as signals at night suddenly +dart up from behind a clump of bushes half-way up the beach. + +The rocket swiftly described a curve, its stream of light gleaming +brightly against the dark blue heavens for an instant, then died out. +This occurrence seemed so remarkable to Cloarek, that he hastily +retraced his steps to see if there were any vessel in sight to respond +to this signal from the shore, but no vessel of any sort or kind was +visible,--only the broad expanse of ocean shimmering in the moonlight +met his gaze. + +After vainly endeavouring to explain this singular occurrence for some +time, but finally deciding that the rocket must have been fired by +smugglers as a signal, he returned to the house. + +This occurrence, which ought, perhaps, to have furnished the captain +with abundant food for thought, closely following as it did the bold +abduction of which he had been the victim, was speedily forgotten in the +grave reflections that his conversation with Onésime had awakened. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +ARGUMENTS FOR AND AGAINST. + + +When Cloarek rapped at the door of his daughter's room the next morning, +she promptly responded to the summons, smiling and happy. + +"Well, my child, did you rest well?" he inquired. + +"Splendidly, father. I had the most delightful dreams, for you bring me +happiness even in my sleep." + +"Tell me about these delightful dreams. I am always anxious to hear +about everything that makes you happy, whether it be an illusion or +reality," he responded, anxious to bring the conversation around +naturally to the subject of Onésime. "Come, I am listening. What +brilliant castles in Spain did you behold in your slumbers?" + +"Oh, I am not ambitious, father, even in my dreams." + +"Is that really so, my child?" + +"It is indeed, father. My desires are very modest. Luxury and display +have no charms for me. I dreamed last night that I was spending my life +with you,--with you and dear Suzanne, and with Segoffin, who is so +warmly attached to you." + +"And who else?" + +"Oh, yes, I forgot." + +"Thérèse, I suppose?" + +"No, not Thérèse." + +"Who was it, then?" + +"M. Onésime." + +"M. Onésime? I do not understand that. How did M. Onésime happen to be +living with us?" + +"We were married." + +The words were uttered in such a frank and ingenuous manner that Cloarek +could not doubt the perfect truthfulness of his daughter's account; and +rather in doubt as to whether he ought to congratulate himself on this +singular dream or not, he asked, a little anxiously: + +"So you and M. Onésime were married, you say?" + +"Yes, father." + +"And I had consented to the marriage?" + +"You must have done so, as we were married. I don't mean that we were +just married,--we seemed to have been married a long time. We were all +in the parlour. Three of us, you and Onésime and I, were sitting on the +big sofa. Suzanne was crocheting by the window, and Segoffin was on his +knees fixing the fire. You had been silent for several minutes, father, +when, suddenly taking M. Onésime's hand and mine,--you were sitting +between us,--you said: 'Do you know what I have been thinking?' 'No, +father,' M. Onésime and I answered (for naturally he, too, called you +father). 'Well,' you continued, 'I have been thinking that there is not +a happier man in the world than I am. To have two children who adore +each other, and two faithful old servants, or rather two tried friends, +and spend one's life in peace and plenty with them, surely this is +enough and more than enough to thank the good God for now and always, my +children.' And as you spoke, father, your eyes filled with tears." + +"Waking as well as dreaming, you are, and ever will be, the best and +most affectionate of daughters," said Cloarek, deeply touched. "But +there is one thing about your dream that surprises me very much." + +"And what is that?" + +"Your marriage with Onésime." + +"Really?" + +"Yes." + +"How strange. It seemed so perfectly natural to me that I wasn't at all +surprised at it." + +"But in the first place, though this is not the greatest objection, by +any means, M. Onésime has no fortune." + +"But how often you have told me that all these business trips, and all +these frequent absences that grieve me so much, have been made solely +for the purpose of amassing a handsome dowry for me." + +"That is true." + +"Then, in that case, M. Onésime does not need any fortune." + +"Nevertheless, though it is not absolutely indispensable that M. Onésime +should possess a fortune, it is certainly very desirable. There is +another objection." + +"Another?" + +"M. Onésime has no profession and consequently no assured social +position." + +"He is not to blame for that, poor fellow! Who could possibly consider +his enforced idleness a crime? Will, education, capability, none of +these are lacking. It is his terrible infirmity that proves such an +obstacle to everything he undertakes." + +"You are right, my child; this infirmity is an insuperable obstacle that +will unfortunately prevent him from achieving success in any career; +from creating any position for himself, and even from marrying, except +in dreams, understand." + +"I don't understand you at all, my dear father. I really don't." + +"What! my child, don't you understand that it would be folly in any +woman to marry a half-blind man who cannot see ten feet in front of him? +don't you understand that in such a case the rôles would be entirely +reversed, and that, instead of protecting his wife, as every man ought +to do, M. Onésime will have to be protected by the woman who would be +foolish enough to marry him?" + +"It seems to me only right that the person who is able to protect the +other should do so." + +"Certainly; but this duty devolves upon the man." + +"Yes, when he is able to fulfil this duty; when he is not, it devolves +upon the wife." + +"If she is foolish enough, I repeat, to accept such a life of +self-sacrifice and weighty responsibility." + +"Foolish?" + +"Idiotic, rather. Don't look at me so indignantly." + +"Listen to me, father." + +"I am listening." + +"You have reared me with the utmost kindness and devotion; you have +anticipated my every wish; you have surrounded me with every comfort; +and for my sake you have exposed yourself to all the fatigue and +discomfort of long business trips. Am I not right?" + +"It was not only a pleasure, but my duty to do these things for you, my +dear child." + +"A duty?" + +"The most sacred of all duties." + +"To protect me--to be my guide and my support, you mean, do you not?" + +"Precisely. It is the duty of every parent." + +"That is exactly what I was coming at," said Sabine, with amusing +_naïveté_. "It is a father's duty to protect his child, you say?" + +"Certainly." + +"But, father, suppose that you should meet with an accident during one +of your journeys; suppose, for instance, that you should lose your +sight, would I be foolish or idiotic if I did everything in my power to +repay you for all you have done for me, and to act, in my turn, the part +of guide, support, and protector? Our rôles would be reversed, as you +say. Still, what daughter would not be proud and happy to do for her +father what I would do for you? Ah, well, why should not a wife manifest +the same devotion toward her husband that a daughter manifests toward +her father? I am sure you will not be able to refute that argument, my +dear father." + +"But your comparison, though extremely touching, is by no means just. In +consequence of some misfortune, or some deplorable accident, a girl +might find herself obliged to become the support and protector of her +father. In such a case, it is very grand and noble in her to devote her +life and energies to him; but she has not deliberately chosen her +father, so she is performing a sacred duty, while the woman who is free +to choose would, I repeat,--don't glare at me so,--be a fool, yes, an +idiot, to select for a husband--" + +"An unfortunate man who needs to be surrounded with the tenderest +solicitude," cried Sabine, interrupting her father. "So you really +believe that a woman would be committing an act of folly if she made +such a choice. Say that again, father, if you want me to believe +it,--you, who have so generously devoted your life to your child, who +have been so lenient to her many weaknesses, who have made every +sacrifice for her,--tell me that it would be arrant folly to devote +one's life to an unfortunate creature to whom Fate has been most unkind; +tell me that it would be arrant folly to cling to him because an +infirmity kept everybody else aloof from him; tell me this, father, and +I will believe you." + +"No, my generous, noble-hearted child, I do not say that. I should be +lying if I did," exclaimed Cloarek, quite carried away by Sabine's +generous enthusiasm; "no, I cannot doubt the divine happiness that one +finds in devoting oneself to a person one loves; no, I cannot doubt the +attraction that courage and resignation under suffering exert over all +superior natures." + +"So you see that my dream is not as extraordinary as you thought, after +all," replied the girl, smiling. + +"You are a doughty antagonist, and I will admit that I am beaten, or +rather convinced, if you can answer one more objection as successfully." + +"And what is that?" + +"When a man loves, he loves body and soul; you must admit that. The +contemplation of the charming face of a beloved wife is as sweet to a +man as the realisation of her merits and virtues. Now, in a long +conversation that I had last evening with M. Onésime, at your +recommendation, remember, I asked him if he could see a person a few +feet off, distinctly. He replied that he could not, and remarked in this +connection that he had seen you plainly but once, and that was yesterday +when you were assisting Suzanne in binding up his hand. The most +inconceivable thing in your dream-marriage, after all, is a husband who +spends his life near his wife without ever seeing her except by +accident, as it were." + +"Ah, well, father, I, for my part, think such a state of affairs is not +without its advantages, after all." + +"Really, that is going a little too far, I think." + +"I will prove it to you if you wish." + +"I defy you to do it." + +"But, father, I have read somewhere that nothing could be more +sacrilegious than to leave always exposed to view the portraits of one's +loved ones; for the eye finally becomes so accustomed to these +lineaments that the effect is perceptibly impaired." + +"There may be some truth in this remark, but I do not perceive any +special advantage to be derived from it so far as you are concerned." + +"But if, on the contrary, these portraits are in a case that is opened +only when one desires to contemplate the beloved features, the +impression produced upon you is powerful in proportion to the rarity of +the treat." + +"Your reasoning is fairly good, to say the least; but how about the +other party, the person that can see? She will be obliged to close her +eyes, I suppose, and keep them closed, to prevent her husband's +features from losing their charm." + +"Are you really in earnest in making this objection?" + +"Certainly I am." + +"Then I will merely say in reply that, though I put myself in M. +Onésime's place for a moment, that is no reason why I should renounce my +own excellent eye-sight, for I am not in the least afraid that I should +ever tire of looking at my husband any more than I tire of looking at +you, my dear father, and I know I could gaze at your face a hundred +years without growing weary of reading on your noble features all your +devoted tenderness for me," added Sabine, kissing her father fondly. + +"My dear, dear child," murmured Cloarek, responding to his daughter's +fervent caress, "how can I hope to contend successfully with your heart +and reason. I must acknowledge myself beaten, I suppose, and confess +that your dream is not so unreasonable, perhaps, after all, and that a +woman might perhaps marry such a terribly near-sighted man if she really +loved him. Nevertheless, in spite of your romantic way of regarding poor +Onésime's infirmity, I should infinitely prefer--But, now I think of +it--" + +"Well, father?" + +"During my travels I have heard a good deal about a young and +wonderfully skilful surgeon,--a terrible gourmand, too, they say he is, +by the way. It is his only fault, I understand. This young surgeon +established himself in Paris a few years ago, and his fame has grown, +until he is now considered one of the greatest celebrities of the +scientific world. It is possible that he may be able to restore this +poor fellow's sight." + +"Do you really suppose there is any hope of that?" cried Sabine. + +"I cannot say, my child, but I know several wonderful cures that Doctor +Gasterini has effected, and I will write to him this very day. I am +going out for a little while, but I shall be back in an hour, and as I +shall want to see you as soon as I return, you had better wait for me +here." + +On leaving Sabine, Cloarek went up to Onésime's room, and, desiring that +their conversation should be of the most secret character and free from +any possibility of interruption, he asked that young man to accompany +him on a promenade he intended to take on the beach before dinner. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +AN UNWELCOME VISITOR. + + +Soon after M. Cloarek left the house in company with Onésime, Segoffin +might have been seen standing on the garden terrace with an old +spy-glass levelled on an object that seemed to be absorbing his +attention and exciting his surprise and curiosity to the highest pitch. + +The object was a vessel that he had just discovered in the offing and +that elicited the following comments as he watched its evolutions. + +"It seems preposterous! Am I dreaming, or is that really our brig? It +must be! That rigging, that mast, those lines, are certainly hers, and +yet it cannot be. That is not her hull. With her barbette guns she sat +as low in the water as a whaler. I don't see a single gun poking its +nose out of this craft, though. No, no, it is not, of course it is not. +This vessel is painted a dark gray, while the _Hell-hound_ was black +with scarlet stripes. And yet that big sail perched so rakishly over the +stem, that rigging fine as a spider's web, there never was a vessel +built except the _Hell-hound_ that could carry such a stretch of canvas +as that. But what an ass I am! She is putting about, so there's a sure +way of satisfying myself of the identity I wish to verify, as M. Yvon +used to say when he wore the robes of office and amused himself by +throwing chief justices out of the window,--that is to read the name on +her stern, as I shall be able to do in a minute or two, and--" + +But Segoffin's soliloquy was here interrupted by a familiar tap on the +shoulder, and, turning quickly, he found himself face to face with +Suzanne. + +"That which is done can not be undone, but the devil take you, my dear, +for disturbing me just at this time!" exclaimed M. Cloarek's head +gunner, raising his glass to his eye again. + +But unfortunately he was too late. The brig had completed the evolution, +and the name on her stern was no longer visible, so the verification of +her identity which Segoffin contemplated had become impossible. + +"So the devil may have me and welcome, may he?" responded Suzanne, +tartly. "You are very polite, I must say." + +"Frankness is a duty between old friends like ourselves," said Segoffin, +casting a regretful glance seaward. "I came here to amuse myself by +watching the passing ships, and you had to come and interrupt me." + +"You are right; frankness is a duty between us, Segoffin, so I may as +well tell you, here and now, that no stone-deaf person was ever harder +to wake than you." + +"How do you know? Unfortunately for me and for you, Suzanne, you have +never had a chance to see how I sleep," responded the head gunner, with +a roguish smile. + +"You are very much mistaken, for I rapped at your door last night." + +"Ah!" exclaimed Segoffin, winking his only remaining eye with a +triumphant air, "I have often told you that you would come to it sooner +or later, and you have." + +"Come to what?" inquired the housekeeper, without the slightest +suspicion of her companion's real meaning. + +"To stealing alone and on tiptoe to my room to--" + +"You are an abominably impertinent creature, M. Segoffin. I rapped at +your door to ask your aid and protection." + +"Against whom?" + +"But you are such a coward that you just lay there pretending to be +asleep and taking good care not to answer me." + +"Tell me seriously, Suzanne,--what occurred last night? Did you really +think you needed me?" + +"Hear that, will you! They might have set fire to the house and murdered +us, it wouldn't have made the slightest difference to you. M. Segoffin +was snug in bed and there he remained." + +"Set fire to the house and murdered you! What on earth do you mean?" + +"I mean that two men tried to break into this house last night." + +"They were two of your lovers, doubtless." + +"Segoffin!" + +"You had probably made a mistake in the date--" + +But the head gunner never finished the unseemly jest. His usually +impassive features suddenly assumed an expression of profound +astonishment, succeeded by one of fear and anxiety. The change, in fact, +was so sudden and so striking that Dame Roberts, forgetting her +companion's impertinent remarks, exclaimed: + +"Good Heavens, Segoffin, what is the matter with you? What are you +looking at in that way?" + +And following the direction of Segoffin's gaze, she saw a stranger, +preceded by Thérèse, advancing toward them. The newcomer was a short, +stout man with a very prominent abdomen. He wore a handsome blue coat, +brown cassimere knee-breeches, high top-boots, and a long white +waistcoat, across which dangled a double watch-chain lavishly decorated +with a number of charms. In one hand he held a light cane with which he +gaily switched the dust from his boots, and in the other he held his +hat, which he had gallantly removed at the first sight of Dame Roberts. +This newcomer was Floridor Verduron, the owner of the brig _Hell-hound_, +usually commanded by Captain l'Endurci. + +Up to this time Cloarek had concealed from Verduron his real name as +well as the motives which had led him to take up privateering. He had +also taken special pains to keep his place of abode a secret from the +owner of the privateer, a mutual friend having always served as an +intermediary between the captain and the owner. Consequently, the dismay +of the head gunner can be readily imagined when he reflected that, as +the captain's real name and address had been discovered by M. Verduron, +and that gentleman was wholly ignorant of the double part M. Cloarek was +playing, his very first words were likely to unwittingly reveal a secret +of the gravest importance. M. Verduron's presence also explained, at +least in part, the arrival of the brig Segoffin had seen a short time +before, and which he fancied he recognised under the sort of disguise he +could not yet understand. + +Meanwhile, M. Floridor Verduron was coming nearer and nearer. Suzanne +noted this fact, and remarked: + +"Who can this gentleman be? What a red face he has! I never saw him +before. Why don't you answer me, Segoffin? Good Heavens, how strangely +you look! And you are pale, very much paler than usual." + +"It is the redness of this man's face that makes me look pale by +contrast, I suppose," replied Segoffin, seeing himself confronted by a +danger he was powerless to avert. + +The servant, who was a few steps in advance of the visitor, now said to +Suzanne: + +"Dame Roberts, here is a gentleman who wishes to see the master on very +important business, he says." + +"You know very well that monsieur has gone out." + +"That is what I told the gentleman, but he said he would wait for his +return, as he must see monsieur." + +As Thérèse finished her explanation of the intrusion, M. Verduron, who +prided himself upon his good manners, and who had won fame in his +earlier days as a skilful dancer of the minuet, paused about five yards +from Dame Roberts and made her a very low bow, with his elbows +gracefully rounded, his heels touching each other, and his feet forming +the letter V. + +Dame Roberts, flattered by the homage rendered to her sex, responded +with a ceremonious curtsey, saying _sotto voce_ to Segoffin the while, +with a sarcastically reproachful air: + +"Notice how a polite gentleman ought to accost a lady." + +M. Floridor Verduron, advancing a couple of steps, made another profound +bow, to which Suzanne responded with equal deference, murmuring to +Segoffin as if to pique him or arouse his emulation: + +"These are certainly the manners of a grandee,--of an ambassador, in +fact." + +The head gunner, instead of replying, however, tried to get as much out +of sight as possible behind an ever-green. M. Verduron's third and last +salute (he considered three bows obligatory) was too much like the +others to deserve any especial mention, and he was about to address +Suzanne when he caught sight of the head gunner. + +"What! you here?" he exclaimed, with a friendly nod. "I didn't see you, +you old sea-wolf. And how is your eye getting along?" + +"I have no use of it, as you see, M. Verduron, but don't let's talk +about that, I beg of you. I have my reasons." + +"I should think so, my poor fellow, for it would be rather making light +of misfortune, wouldn't it, madame?" asked the visitor, turning to +Suzanne, who bowed her assent with great dignity, and then said: + +"The servant tells me you wish to see M. Cloarek on pressing business, +monsieur." + +"Yes, my dear madame, very pressing," replied the ship owner, gallantly. +"It is doubtless to monsieur's wife I have the honour of speaking, and +in that case, I--" + +"Pardon me, monsieur, I am only the housekeeper." + +"What! the cap--" + +But the first syllable of the word captain had not left the ship owner's +lips before the head gunner shouted at the top of his voice, at the same +time seizing Suzanne suddenly by the arm: + +"In Heaven's name, look! See there!" + +The housekeeper was so startled that she uttered a shrill cry and did +not even hear the dread syllable the visitor had uttered, but when she +had partially recovered from her alarm, she exclaimed, sharply: + +"Really, this is intolerable, Segoffin. You gave me such a scare I am +all of a tremble now." + +"But look over there," insisted the head gunner, pointing toward the +cliffs; "upon my word of honour, one can hardly believe one's eyes." + +"What is it? What do you see?" asked the ship owner, gazing intently in +the direction indicated. + +"It seems impossible, I admit. I wouldn't have believed it myself if +anybody had told me." + +"What is it? What are you talking about?" demanded Suzanne, her +curiosity now aroused, in spite of her ill-humour. + +"It is unaccountable," mused the head gunner, to all appearance lost in +a sort of admiring wonder. "It is enough to make one wonder whether one +is awake or only dreaming." + +"But what is it you see?" cried the ship owner, no less impatiently than +the housekeeper. "What are you talking about? Where must we look?" + +"You see that cliff there to the left, don't you?" + +"To the left?" asked the ship owner, ingenuously, "to the left of what?" + +"To the left of the other, of course." + +"What other?" demanded Suzanne, in her turn. + +"What other? Why, don't you see that big white cliff that looks like a +dome?" + +"Yes," answered the ship owner. + +"Well, what of it?" snapped Suzanne. + +"Look, high up." + +"High up, Segoffin?" + +"Yes, on the side." + +"On the side?" + +"Yes, don't you see that bluish light playing on it?" + +"Bluish light?" repeated the ship owner, squinting up his eyes and +arching his hand over them to form a sort of shade. + +"Yes, high up, near the top! The deuce take me if it isn't turning red +now! Look, will you! Isn't it amazing? But come, M. Verduron, come, +let's get a closer look at it," added Segoffin, seizing the ship owner +by the arm and trying to drag him away. + +"One moment," exclaimed M. Verduron, releasing himself from the head +gunner's grasp, "to take a closer look at anything one must first have +seen it at a distance, and the devil take me if I can see anything at +all. And you, madame?" + +"I don't, I am sure, monsieur." + +Segoffin would perhaps have attempted to prolong the illusion by +endowing the light with all the other colours of the rainbow, but the +approach of another and even greater danger extinguished his inventive +genius. + +He heard Sabine's voice only a few feet from him, exclaiming: + +"What are you all looking at, my dear Suzanne?" + +"Mlle. Sabine!" Segoffin mentally exclaimed. "All is lost! Poor child! +Such a revelation will kill her, I fear." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +SEGOFFIN'S RUSE. + + +On seeing Sabine, M. Floridor Verduron began his reverential evolutions +all over again, and the girl returned his bows blushingly, for she had +not expected to meet a stranger in the garden. + +Segoffin, terrified at the thought that Cloarek's secret might be +revealed at any moment, resolved to get the visitor away at any cost; +so, interrupting him in the midst of his genuflections, he said: + +"And now, M. Verduron, if you will come with me I will take you to +monsieur at once." + +"But my father has gone out, Segoffin," said Sabine. + +"Never mind, mademoiselle, I know where to find him." + +"But it would be much better for monsieur to wait for my father here, I +think," insisted the girl. "He said he would soon be back, and if you go +out in search of him you run a great risk of missing him, Segoffin, and +of giving this gentleman a long walk for nothing, perhaps." + +"No, no, mademoiselle, it is such a delightful day monsieur will enjoy a +little walk, and I know a very pleasant road your father is sure to +return by." + +"But he might not return that way, Segoffin," interposed Suzanne, +favourably disposed toward the visitor, by reason of his extreme +politeness, and consequently anxious to enjoy his society as long as +possible. + +"But I tell you that--" + +"My good friend," interrupted M. Verduron, "I must admit that I am too +gallant, or rather not sufficiently unselfish, to debar myself of the +pleasure of waiting here for the return of--" + +"Very well, very well," interposed Segoffin, quickly, "we won't say any +more about it. I thought mine would be the better plan; but it doesn't +matter in the least, in fact, now I think of it, there is something +particular that I want to speak to you about. I only ask two minutes of +your time--" + +"Two minutes, fair ladies!" exclaimed the visitor, laughing, "as if two +minutes spent out of such delightful society was not two centuries of +time." + +"Ah, monsieur, you are really too kind," exclaimed Suzanne, bridling +coquettishly in her delight at this new compliment. + +"You will have to make up your mind to it, Segoffin," said Sabine, who +was beginning to find M. Verduron very amusing. + +"But I really must speak to you in private, monsieur, and at once," +exclaimed the head gunner, greatly alarmed now. + +"Come, come, my worthy friend, don't speak in such thunder tones, you +will frighten these fair ladies," said M. Verduron, too anxious to +exercise his fascinations upon the ladies to comply with Segoffin's +request. "I will promise you a private audience after they have deprived +us of the light of their presence, but not until then." + +"But at least listen to what I have to say," insisted poor Segoffin, +desperate now, and trying to get near enough to the visitor to whisper a +few words in his ear. + +But that gentleman hastily drew back with a loud laugh. + +"No whispering in the presence of ladies, man! What do you take me for, +a savage, a cannibal? This indiscreet friend of mine seems to be +resolved to ruin me in your estimation, my dear ladies." + +"Oh, you have no idea how obstinate M. Segoffin is," remarked Suzanne. +"When he once gets anything into his head there is no moving him." + +The head gunner made no reply. Foiled in his efforts to get the visitor +away, he now came a little closer to the trio, with the expression of a +person who is prepared for the worst. + +"So it is to Mlle. Cloarek that I have the honour of speaking," said the +ship owner, gallantly, turning to Sabine. + +"Yes, monsieur, and you, I understand, are one of my father's friends." + +"He has no more devoted friend and admirer, I assure you, mademoiselle. +I should be very ungrateful if I were not; I am under such great +obligations to him." + +"My father has been fortunate enough to render you some service, then, +monsieur." + +"Some service, mademoiselle? He has made my fortune for me." + +"Your fortune, and how?" asked Sabine, much surprised. + +"Why, mademoiselle," interrupted Segoffin, hastily, "it is in this +gentleman's interest that your father has made so many--so many trips." + +"That is true, mademoiselle," replied the ship owner, "and every one, +almost without exception, has yielded rich returns." + +"Yes, he is a great manufacturer," whispered Segoffin, edging in between +Sabine and Suzanne. "We sell lots of goods for him during our trips." + +"Then you are at least partially accountable for the anxiety which my +father's frequent absences cause me, monsieur," remarked Sabine. + +"And you have no idea how unreasonable mademoiselle is, monsieur," +chimed in Suzanne. "She frets just as much as if her father were really +in some danger--" + +"Some danger! Ah, my dear lady, you may well say--" + +"Yes, it is astonishing how people deceive themselves," interrupted +Segoffin, with great volubility. "Everybody thinks that everybody else +has an easy time of it, and because a person makes a good deal of money, +other people think he has only to stop and rake it up." + +"Appearances are, indeed, very deceitful, my dear young lady," remarked +the ship owner, "and though your father makes so light of the danger he +incurs, I assure you that in the last fight--" + +"Fight?" exclaimed the young girl, in astonishment; "fight?" + +"What fight are you speaking of, monsieur?" asked Suzanne, in her turn, +no less amazed. + +"Why, a desperate fight, a fight to the death," whispered Segoffin, +"with a merchant who didn't find our goods to his taste, but M. Cloarek +and I finally succeeded so well in bringing him around to our way of +thinking that he ended by taking a hundred pieces from us--" + +"What on earth is the fellow talking about, my dear ladies?" cried M. +Verduron, who had tried several times to interrupt Segoffin, but in +vain. "Has my worthy friend gone stark, staring mad?" + +"Mad!" exclaimed Segoffin, in a voice of thunder. Then advancing toward +M. Verduron, he said, in threatening tones: + +"You call me a madman, do you, you old rascal!" + +For the fact is the head gunner, finding himself at the end of his +resources, and despairing of averting the evil moment much longer, had +resolved upon heroic measures; so, taking advantage of the amazement of +the ship owner, who was very naturally stupefied by this sudden change +of manner, Segoffin continued, in still more violent tones: + +"Yes, you are an insolent old rascal, and if you try any more of your +impudence on me, I'll shake you out of your boots." + +"Segoffin, what are you saying, in Heaven's name?" cried Sabine, all of +a tremble. + +"What! you have the audacity to speak to me in this way, and in the +presence of ladies, too!" exclaimed the ship owner. + +"Take mademoiselle away from here at once," Segoffin said to Suzanne, +_sotto voce_. "We are going to have a row, and it will be sure to throw +her into a spasm. Get her away, get her away at once, I say." + +Then, rushing upon the ship owner, and seizing him by the collar, he +shouted: + +"I've a great mind to hurl you down the cliff through that gap in the +wall, you old bergamot-scented fop." + +"Why, this poor man has gone stark, staring mad. Did any one ever see +the like of it? What has happened to him?" stammered the amazed visitor. + +"In God's name, take mademoiselle away!" thundered Segoffin, again +turning to the housekeeper. + +That lady, seeing Sabine turn pale and tremble like a leaf, had not +waited to hear this injunction repeated before trying to lead Sabine to +the house, but the young girl, in spite of her terror and the +housekeeper's entreaties, could not be induced to leave the spot, +deeming it cowardly to desert her father's friend under such +circumstances; so, releasing herself from Suzanne's grasp, she +approached the two men and cried, indignantly: + +"Segoffin, your conduct is outrageous. In my father's name I command you +to stop such scandalous behaviour at once." + +"Help, help, he is strangling me!" murmured M. Verduron, feebly. "Ah, +when the captain--" + +The word captain sealed the ship owner's fate. In the twinkling of an +eye Segoffin had seized M. Verduron around the waist, and had sprung +with him over the low parapet on to the grassy slope below, where, +still locked in each other's arms, they rolled unharmed to the bottom of +the cliff, while Sabine, unable to control the terror which this last +incident had excited, swooned in Suzanne's arms. + +"Help, Thérèse, help! Mademoiselle has fainted; help!" cried the +housekeeper. The servant came running in answer to the summons, and with +her assistance Sabine was carried to the house. + +This call was heard by Segoffin, who at once said to himself: "There is +no farther cause for fear; our secret is safe!" + +So he released his hold upon M. Floridor Verduron, who staggered to his +feet, panting and dishevelled, and so angry that he was unable to utter +a word, though his eyes spoke volumes. Segoffin, profiting by this +silence, said to the ship owner, with the most good-humoured air +imaginable, quite as if they were continuing a friendly conversation, in +fact: + +"Now, my dear M. Verduron, I will explain why I was obliged to force you +to follow me to this rather lonely retreat." + +"Wretch, how dare you insult me in this fashion?" yelled the ship owner, +exasperated beyond endurance by the head gunner's coolness. + +"It was all your fault, M. Verduron." + +"My fault? How outrageous!" + +"I asked you to give me a moment's conversation in private, but you +wouldn't do it, so I was obliged to resort to this little manoeuvre to +secure it." + +"Very well, very well, we will see what the captain says about all this. +To place me in such a position, and in the presence of ladies!" + +"I really ask your pardon for the liberty I took, M. Verduron," said +Segoffin, seriously enough this time, "but upon my honour I was +absolutely compelled to do it." + +"What! you dare--" + +"Listen to me. For several very important reasons M. Cloarek has +carefully concealed from his daughter the fact that he has been engaged +in privateering." + +"Is that really so?" exclaimed the ship owner, his wrath giving place to +profound astonishment. "Possibly that is the reason he took such pains +to conceal his real name and address from me, then." + +"Yes, and in order to explain his frequent absences he has given his +daughter to understand that he sells dry goods on a commission, so you +can understand my embarrassment when I saw you drop down upon us from +the clouds." + +"But why didn't you ask me to keep the secret?" + +"That was what I wanted to speak to you in private about. After you +refused, it was like treading on live coals to continue the +conversation, and when I saw you were certain to let the cat out of the +bag there was nothing for me to do but tumble you down the cliff to get +you away from Mlle. Sabine and the housekeeper. It was pretty rough +treatment, I admit, but I could see no other way out of the difficulty." + +"I forgive you, Segoffin," said M. Verduron, magnanimously. "I must even +admit that it was very clever of you to--" + +"Where are they? Where are they?" shouted M. Cloarek's voice high above +their heads. + +"They both fell over the cliff, monsieur," replied the voice of Thérèse. + +Almost immediately Yvon's head appeared above the parapet. + +On seeing the ship owner, he stood a moment as if stupefied, then +remembering that M. Verduron's presence imperilled the secret he was so +anxious to guard, he exclaimed: + +"Damnation! You here, monsieur! How dare you--" + +But with three bounds Segoffin had reached the brow of the cliff. + +"Don't be alarmed; Mlle. Sabine and Suzanne know nothing," he cried. + +"Thank God! I can breathe again!" murmured Cloarek, relieved of a +terrible apprehension. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +THE VOICE OF THE TEMPTER. + + +Cloarek, reassured in regard to the probable consequences of the ship +owner's visit, was anxious to ascertain the object of his coming, but it +was first necessary to devise some way of helping him up the cliff, so +Segoffin went in search of a rope. They threw one end of it to M. +Verduron, and he soon made the ascent, thanks to its aid. + +"Come in the house," said Cloarek, without making any attempt to conceal +his annoyance. "I want to know why you ventured to come and search me +out when I had taken such pains to conceal my identity." + +"Well, to make a long story short, I came to hold a council of war with +you." + +"A council of war? Are you mad?" + +"By no means, my brave captain, as you will profit by it to the extent +of at least four or five hundred thousand francs." + +"In other words, you want me to put to sea again, I suppose. But one +question, here and now: What right had you to make a confidential letter +that I wrote to you--what right, I say, had you to make such a letter +public?" + +"I thought it would give such pleasure to the many readers of the +_Journal_, all of whom are hungering for news of the bravest and most +renowned of privateers." + +"You are very complimentary, I am sure, but this indiscretion on your +part has annoyed me greatly." + +"In that case your modesty will certainly suffer very much from the +article in to-day's paper." + +"What article? Let me tell you once for all--" + +"Don't be alarmed, my dear captain. It merely described how the brave +Captain l'Endurci conducted an attack, how like a tiger he fought, etc. +It said nothing in relation to his private life." + +"This is unbearable," said Cloarek, impatiently, though he was in +reality greatly relieved. + +"I was certainly actuated by no evil motive, in any event; besides, as +Segoffin says, there is no undoing that which is done, or words to that +effect." + +"It is useless to discuss the matter further. You came here to ask me to +put to sea again. I shall do nothing of the kind. That is the end of +it." + +"But it is not the end of it by any means, my dear captain. Just give me +your attention for a moment. A three-master belonging to the East India +Company, with two million francs in bullion, will soon be along. Two +million francs, do you hear?" + +"If she had ten millions aboard it would make no difference to me. I +shall not put to sea again. I have said it, and I mean it." + +"It is true that you have said so, my dear captain, but you will change +your mind--for many reasons." + +"I never go back on my word, monsieur." + +"No more do I; but often, and in spite of ourselves, circumstances +force--" + +"Once again I tell you that I said no, and no it is." + +"You said no, I admit! You will say yes, too, my dear captain," +responded the ship owner, with an air of profound conviction. + +"Enough, M. Verduron, enough!" cried Cloarek, stamping his foot, +angrily. + +"Don't irritate M. Yvon," Segoffin remarked to the ship owner, _sotto +voce_. "I know him. You'll only bring down a terrific storm upon your +head." + +"All I ask, my dear captain," persisted M. Verduron, "is that you will +give me your attention for five minutes, that is all." + +"Go on, then." + +"You will see by this clipping from an English newspaper,--and the +sources of information seem to be perfectly trustworthy, by the +way,--you will see that the British cruiser _Vanguard_ which is +convoying the richly laden vessel is commanded by Captain Blake." + +"Captain Blake?" + +"The same," replied the ship owner. "He is, as you know, one of the most +daring officers in the British navy, and, unfortunately for us, he has +always come off victorious in his encounters with our vessels." + +"Oh, if I could only have been lucky enough to get a shot at him!" +muttered Segoffin. + +"You will, never fear, you old sea-wolf. As for you, my dear captain, +your silence means consent, I am sure. Think of the honour, as well as +the profit, to be derived from the operation: four or five hundred +thousand francs and the _Vanguard_ in tow of the _Hell-hound_, all in +forty-eight hours." + +Segoffin, who had been accustomed for years to make a profound study of +his employer's physiognomy, and who had been carefully noting the effect +of these proposals, said in a low tone to the ship owner, shaking his +head the while: + +"The bait is tempting, but he isn't going to swallow it this time." + +His prognostications proved correct; the flush of anger gradually faded +from Cloarek's face; his contracted features relaxed, and it was calmly, +half-smilingly, that he at last said to M. Verduron: + +"You are a clever tempter, but I have a talisman against you. It is the +promise I have made to my daughter not to leave her again. You have seen +her, and you must feel that I shall keep my word." + +"Mlle. Cloarek is a charming girl. There is not the slightest doubt of +that, my dear captain, but you would be very foolish to miss such a fine +opportunity as this." + +"It is impossible, I tell you." + +"Help me persuade him, Segoffin, and then you will get your wished-for +shot at Captain Blake, I promise you." + +"Segoffin knows that I never break my word, M. Verduron. I said no, and +no it is." + +"_Sacre bleu!_ it is amazing how atrociously selfish some people are!" +exclaimed the ship owner, highly incensed by Cloarek's refusal. + +"You must be jesting, M. Verduron," responded Cloarek, who could not +help smiling at this outbreak. "It is all very easy for you to talk +about stirring conflicts. I, for my part, should like to know which is +the most selfish, you who remain safe and comfortable in your office at +Dieppe, or the sailor who mans your ship, and exposes himself to all the +perils of deadly combats." + +"You talk as if I had to run no risk whatever," exclaimed Verduron. "You +forget to say anything about the bullets I receive." + +"Well, upon my word! I never knew before that you, too, were in the +habit of exposing yourself to a shower of bullets!" cried Segoffin. + +"Isn't my vessel under fire if I am not? And how about all the repairs, +and all the damages your humble servant has to pay for? And the wounds, +and the legs and arms, you have forgotten what they cost me, I suppose. +Didn't I have to pay for five legs and three arms lost in that last +fight of yours? Reckon them up at the rate of fifty crowns a limb, and +see what they come to." + +"But you must remember that you don't have to pay a sou when a man loses +his head," retorted Segoffin. + +"This is no subject for jesting, I want you to understand," snapped the +ship owner, who was evidently becoming more and more excited, "for am I +not doing everything on earth to secure you the best of crews? For don't +you think, yourself, captain, that the prospect of a small pension in +case of serious injuries encourages our sailors and makes regular devils +of them under fire? And yet when I am bleeding myself in this fashion, I +am repaid by the blackest ingratitude." + +"What you say is absurd," replied Cloarek, shrugging his shoulders. "I +have quadrupled your fortune." + +"And because Captain l'Endurci has made all the money he wants, he +doesn't care in the least whether other persons have or not," persisted +the ship owner. + +"There is not the slightest need of your working yourself into such a +passion, Verduron," replied Cloarek. "There are plenty of brave +sea-captains in Dieppe, thank Heaven! quite as capable of commanding the +_Hell-hound_ and contending successfully with Captain Blake as I am." + +"Then you refuse, captain?" + +"For the tenth time, yes." + +"Positively?" + +"Positively." + +"Very well, then, captain," responded the ship owner, resolutely. "What +I have been unable to obtain by persuasion and entreaties, I shall +obtain in some other way." + +"What does he mean?" asked Cloarek, turning to Segoffin. + +"I mean that it is not easy to resign oneself to the loss of at least +half a million, captain," responded Verduron, threateningly; "so, though +I had no idea that you would persist in your refusal, I was prudent +enough to take my precautions." + +"Your precautions?" + +"The _Hell-hound_ is now in Havre, where she arrived this morning." + +"Then it was the _Hell-hound_ I saw!" cried Segoffin. "I thought I +couldn't be mistaken." + +"The brig is at Havre?" exclaimed Cloarek. + +"Yes, M. Yvon, but disguised beyond any possibility of recognition. She +has been painted gray with a broad yellow band, and not a sign of a gun +is visible." + +"And now will you be kind enough to tell me what all this signifies?" +demanded Cloarek. + +"It means that I have changed the appearance of the brig as much as +possible, because all the British cruisers are on the lookout for her, +and now, thanks to this disguise, you will be able to reach Jersey with +little or no trouble." + +"You are persistent, I must say," said Cloarek, restraining himself only +by a powerful effort. + +"Yes, captain, and what is more, I've got you, and I mean to keep you. +The crew are wild with enthusiasm; the prospect of another voyage under +you has made them frantic with delight. They expect to see you this +evening, and I warn you that if you are not in Havre within an hour, +they will be here in two hours." + +"What! You will dare--" began Cloarek, in a voice choked with anger. + +"I? Why, I have nothing to do with it, captain. It is your sailors that +you will have to deal with, and you have had a chance to find out +whether they are milk-sops or not. If you persist in your refusal, you +will see one hundred and fifty of those dare-devils here with drums and +fifes, and resolved to have their brave captain, whether or no. I am +afraid those drums and fifes will destroy your _incognito_ effectually +this time." + +"Wretch!" roared Cloarek, realising how entirely feasible the ship +owner's plan was, and he would have precipitated himself upon his +tormentor if Segoffin had not suddenly interposed his own body between +the two men and said to Cloarek: + +"Remember that there are white hairs under his musk-scented powder, M. +Yvon." + +"Oh, knock me down! Kill me, if you like! that will not prevent the +crew from coming for you, nor you from going with them," snarled the +ship owner. + +"Don't talk so loud, gentlemen, I beg of you. I hear somebody coming +now." + +In another instant Suzanne appeared, pale and terrified. + +"Oh, monsieur,--come,--come quick!" she cried. + +"What is the matter?" + +"Mademoiselle--" + +"Is my daughter worse?" + +"Oh, monsieur, I am so frightened,--come, come!" + +Cloarek, forgetting everything else in his alarm, rushed off, leaving +Segoffin and the ship owner alone together. + +"M. Verduron, I tell you very plainly, you have had a narrow escape," +said the head gunner. "I have only one piece of advice to give you. Get +away from here as soon as possible." + +"You may be right," replied the visitor, hastily picking up his hat and +cane. + +"I am right." + +"Well, listen to me. You know I mean well, and I must admit now that I +am sorry I tried to carry things with such a high hand, for I had no +idea that the captain had a daughter, or that he was so anxious to +conceal the fact that he was a privateer; but no power on earth now, not +even that of the captain himself, can prevent those devilish sailors +from coming here in search of him if he does not go to them, so you had +better tell him, in any case, that the ship's officers and a part of the +crew are waiting for him at the tavern known as The Golden Anchor on the +quay." + +The ship owner hastened off and Segoffin darted into the house to +inquire if there was any improvement in Sabine's condition. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +"MY MOTHER'S MURDERER STILL LIVES." + + +Segoffin had been pacing the hall out of which Sabine's sitting-room +opened for about half an hour with ever-increasing anxiety before +Suzanne came out. + +"Well, how is mademoiselle?" he asked, anxiously. "Tell me, Suzanne, how +is she?" + +"A nice question to ask, truly, when your brutality toward that +estimable gentleman this morning threw mademoiselle into a frightful +nervous spasm." + +"I admit that I did very wrong, but she had got over that. M. Yvon told +me so when he came out into the garden. What happened afterward to upset +her so again?" + +"Alas! the one great sorrow of her life has been recalled to her +remembrance more vividly than ever!" + +"You refer to her poor mother's death, of course." + +"Yes, and she has just been talking to M. Yvon about it. You can judge +how painful the conversation must have been to him." + +"What do you mean?" cried Segoffin, in alarm. "Is it possible that Mlle. +Sabine knows that terrible secret?" + +"No, thank Heaven! she does not, and I sincerely hope she never will." + +"I do not understand you then, Suzanne." + +"This is what caused all the trouble," said the housekeeper, drawing a +paper from her pocket. + +"What is that?" + +"The morning paper. It contains further details in relation to that +famous privateer, Captain l'Endurci. Listen to what it says, and you +will then understand the situation." + +And opening the paper, Suzanne read the following extract from an +article headed, "Further Particulars in Relation to the Famous Corsair, +Captain l'Endurci:" + +"'The captain's personal appearance is well calculated to increase his +prestige, and each and every one of his men would willingly follow him +to the death. + +"'This intrepid corsair is about forty years of age. Though only of +medium height, he is remarkably agile and robust; his physiognomy is +both virile and expressive; his eagle eye, the imperious carriage of his +head, and his resolute bearing all show him to be a man born to command. +His real name and origin is shrouded in mystery, but many persons are of +the opinion that he is a native of Brittany, basing the supposition upon +the costume he always wears on shipboard. Others think the captain came +from some southern province, and that he adopted the Breton costume +merely from motives of convenience. + +"'However that may be, we are sure our readers will peruse with interest +a description of the costume this famous corsair always wears on +shipboard; in fact, it is even said that he attaches a superstitious +importance to the wearing of this garb, which consists of a long black +jacket and waistcoat trimmed with small silver buttons, a broad orange +sash into which his weapons are thrust, wide white linen trousers +similar to the _morphs_ worn by the fishermen of Holland and the pilots +of the island of Batz, high leggings, and a low, broad-brimmed felt +hat.'" + +After having read this extract the housekeeper remarked: "You see, +Segoffin, that this corsair wears a costume which is identical in every +respect with that worn by M. Cloarek on the night of madame's deplorable +death." + +"Yes; it makes me shudder to think of it," exclaimed Segoffin, +interrupting her, "and on reading it, I suppose Mlle. Cloarek fancied +she saw in this corsair the mysterious personage who was the cause of +her mother's death." + +"Alas! yes, Segoffin, and she said to monsieur, in a sort of frenzy: +'Father, my mother's murderer still lives. Will you not avenge her?' You +can imagine M. Cloarek's feelings. To undeceive his daughter he would +have to accuse himself." + +"Mademoiselle must have read the papers after M. Yvon's return, then, I +suppose." + +"Yes, monsieur came in about eleven o'clock. He looked radiant; my +nephew, who was with him, also seemed to be in the best of spirits. 'Is +my daughter in her room?' asked monsieur, gaily. 'I have some good news +for her.' Though I am no talebearer, there was nothing for me to do but +tell him about the altercation you and the worthy merchant had had in +the garden, and how much it had terrified mademoiselle." + +"Of course, but go on." + +"Monsieur ran up to his daughter's room and found that she had almost +entirely recovered from her attack. Soon afterward, Thérèse brought up +the paper as usual, and I, unfortunately, thinking it would divert +mademoiselle, gave it to her to read. When she came to the passage in +which the privateer's peculiar costume was described, she uttered a +terrible cry--But hush! here comes monsieur," exclaimed Suzanne, +hastily. + +Cloarek, with an expression of the gloomiest despair imprinted on his +features, and as pale as death, had just come out of his daughter's +room. + +"Go to her, Suzanne, she is asking for you," he said, hoarsely. "Come +with me, Segoffin." + +Segoffin silently followed his employer into his bedroom, where Cloarek, +throwing himself into an armchair, buried his face in his hands and +groaned aloud. + +On beholding this poignant grief, Segoffin felt his own eyes grow moist +as he stood silent and motionless beside his master. + +"I can not understand how the recollection of that terrible night +impressed itself so deeply on that unfortunate child's memory," +exclaimed Cloarek, at last. "I shudder still as I think with what an +expression of horror she exclaimed, 'Father, father, my mother's +murderer still lives.' And as I gazed at her in a sort of stupor without +replying, she added, with all the energy of intense hatred, 'Father, I +tell you that the man who killed my mother, the man who killed your +wife, still lives. Her murder cries for vengeance, and this man still +lives.' And for the first time I saw an expression of hatred on my +daughter's gentle face, and I was the object of that hatred. This +terrible scene has reopened the wound again and revived my remorse, and +yet you know how much I have suffered, and how bitterly I have expiated +that momentary madness." + +"But the worst thing, after all, is this scheme of Verduron's, M. Yvon," +responded Segoffin, after a moment's silence. + +"Yes, it is enough to drive one mad, for if I remain with my daughter +the crew is sure to come here." + +"That is absolutely certain. You know our men." + +"Yes, and Sabine will then learn that her father, Captain l'Endurci, and +her mother's murderer are all one and the same person, and this child, +upon whom I have concentrated all my affection for years,--this child +who is my only hope and joy and consolation in life,--will feel for me +henceforth only aversion and loathing." + +Then, after a few moments of gloomy reflection, he murmured, his eyes +wild, his lips contracted in a sardonic smile: + +"But nonsense! she is rich; she loves an honourable man, who loves her +in return. She will still have Suzanne and Segoffin. Instead of loathing +me, she shall mourn for me, and, so far as she is concerned, my death +shall be enshrouded in the same mystery as my life." + +As he spoke Cloarek stepped toward a table on which a pair of pistols +were lying; but Segoffin, who had not once taken his eyes off his +employer, sprang forward and, seizing the pistols before the captain +could reach them, removed the charge and coolly replaced the weapons. + +"Wretch!" exclaimed Cloarek, seizing Segoffin by the collar, and shaking +him violently, "you shall pay dearly for your audacity." + +"Time presses, M. Yvon, and you have more important business on hand +than shaking poor old Segoffin. Your time is too precious for that!" + +The head gunner's coolness restored Cloarek to himself, and sinking +despondently into a chair, he said, gloomily: + +"You are right, I am a fool. What shall I do? My brain seems to be on +fire." + +"Do you really want to know what I think you had better do?" + +"Yes." + +"I think you had better go to Havre immediately." + +"Leave Sabine in this condition? Increase her alarm by a hasty departure +and an incomprehensible absence after all my promises to her? Abandon +her when she needs my care and affection more than ever before,--at the +time she is about to marry, in short?" + +"Mlle. Sabine?" + +"Yes, the idea of this marriage was not at all pleasing to me at first, +but now I feel confident that my daughter's future will prove a happy +one; still, I ought to guide these children and surround them with the +tenderest paternal solicitude, and it is at a time like this that I must +put to sea again, and again risk my life now that it has become more +necessary than ever to Sabine. I have recovered my senses now, and +realise how mad I was to think of killing myself just now. Thanks to +you, my tried and faithful friend, I have been saved from that crime." + +"I wish I could save you from the visit of our ship's crew as well, M. +Yvon. You must not forget that danger. If you do not go to them, they +will surely come to you." + +"Then I will go to them," exclaimed Cloarek, as if a way out of the +difficulty had suddenly presented itself to his mind. "Yes, I will go to +Havre at once, and tell my men that I have abandoned the sea, and that +it will be useless for them to attempt to coerce me. You know how +determined I am, and how little likelihood there is that I shall yield +to overpersuasion. You shall accompany me. You have considerable +influence over them, and you must exert it in my behalf. It is the only +means of averting the danger that threatens me. It is now two o'clock, +by three we shall be in Havre, and back home again by five. My daughter +is lying down, and will not even suspect my absence. To avert suspicion, +we will take a carriage at the inn." + +Cloarek had already started toward the door, when the head gunner +checked him by saying: + +"You are making a great mistake in one respect, M. Yvon." + +"What do you mean?" + +"If you go to Havre you will not return here until after the cruise is +ended." + +"You are mad." + +"No, I am not mad." + +"You think my crew will carry me away by force, do you?" + +"It is very probable. Besides, when you are with the sailors again, you +will not have the strength to resist them." + +"I will not?" + +"No." + +"Not after the reasons I have just stated to you? I shall be back here +by five o'clock, I tell you, and before my daughter has even discovered +my absence. Your fears are absurd. Come, I say." + +"You insist?" + +"Yes, I do." + +"That which is to be, will be," said Segoffin, shaking his head +dubiously, but following his employer for all that. + +After inquiring how Sabine was feeling, and learning that she had fallen +asleep, Cloarek started for Havre in company with his head gunner. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +AFTER THE STORM. + + +Three days have elapsed since Yvon Cloarek left his home without +notifying his daughter of his intended departure, and this once pleasant +and tranquil abode shows traces of recent devastation almost everywhere. + +One of the out-buildings have been almost entirely destroyed by fire, +and pieces of blackened rubbish and half-burned rafters cover a part of +the garden. + +The door and several windows on the ground floor, which have been +shattered by an axe, have been replaced by boards; several large red +stains disfigure the walls, and several of the sashes in the second +story have been riddled with shot. + +It is midnight. + +By the light of a shaded lamp burning in one of the sleeping apartments, +one can dimly discern the form of Onésime, and the sheets of the bed on +which he is lying are stained with blood in several places. + +Suzanne's nephew seems to be asleep. His face is death-like in its +pallor, and a melancholy smile is playing upon his parted lips. + +An elderly woman in peasant garb is sitting by his bedside, watching him +with evident solicitude. + +The profound silence that pervades the room is broken by the cautious +opening and shutting of the door, and Dame Roberts steals on tiptoe up +to the bed, and, drawing one of the curtains a little aside, gazes in +upon her nephew with great anxiety. + +In three days Suzanne's features have become almost +unrecognisable,--sorrow, anxiety, and tears have wrought such ravages in +them. + +After gazing at Onésime in silence for several seconds, Suzanne stepped +back, and, beckoning the attendant to come closer, said to her, in a +whisper: + +"How has he been since I went out?" + +"He hasn't seemed to suffer quite as much, I think." + +"Has he complained at all?" + +"Very little. He has tried to question me several times, but I +remembered your orders and would tell him nothing." + +"He has recovered consciousness, then?" + +"Entirely, madame. It is very evident that he would be glad enough to +talk, if he could get any one to answer his questions." + +"Has he asked for me?" + +"Oh, yes, madame, he said to me several times: 'My aunt will be in soon, +won't she?' I told him that you came in almost every half-hour. He made +a slight movement of the head to indicate that he thanked me, and then +he fell asleep, but only to wake with a start a few minutes afterward." + +"He doesn't seem to suffer much from his wound now, does he?" + +"No, madame, only he has had considerable difficulty in breathing once +or twice." + +"Heaven grant that his wound may not prove fatal!" exclaimed Suzanne, +clasping her hands imploringly, and raising her tearful eyes heavenward. + +"The surgeon assured you to the contrary, you know, madame." + +"He told me that he had hopes of his recovery, that is all, alas!" + +"I think he is waking, madame," whispered the peasant woman, for Onésime +had just made a slight movement and uttered a deep sigh. + +Suzanne peeped in again, and, seeing that Onésime was not asleep, she +said to the peasant: + +"Go down and get your dinner. I will ring for you when I want you." + +The nurse left the room, and Suzanne seated herself in the chair the +woman had just vacated. + +On hearing his aunt's voice, Onésime looked greatly relieved; and when +he saw her seat herself near him, he exclaimed: + +"So you have come at last! How glad I am!" + +"I heard you sigh just now, my dear boy, so you must still be suffering +just as much or more, I fear." + +"No; I feel much better." + +"You are not saying that merely to reassure me, I hope." + +"Take hold of my hand. You know how hot it was awhile ago." + +"Yes, it is much cooler now, I see. And your wound, does it still +trouble you much?" + +"I have a little difficulty in breathing, that is all. The wound itself +doesn't amount to much." + +"Good Heavens! so a wound in the breast from a dagger is nothing, is +it?" + +"My dear aunt--" + +"What do you want?" + +"How is Mlle. Sabine?" + +"Everybody is well, very well, as I've told you before." + +"And M. Cloarek?" + +"There is no use in asking me so many questions. I sha'n't answer them. +By and by, when you are really better, it will be different." + +"Listen, aunt. You refuse to answer me for fear of agitating me too +much, but I swear to you that the uncertainty I am in concerning Mlle. +Sabine and M. Cloarek makes me miserable." + +"Everybody is getting on very well, I tell you." + +"No, aunt, no, that is impossible, after the terrible and still +inexplicable occurrence that--" + +"But, my dear nephew, I assure you--Come, come, don't be so impatient. +Can't you be a little more reasonable? Calm yourself, Onésime, I beg of +you!" + +"Is it my fault? Why will you persist in keeping me in such a state of +suspense?" + +"Don't I keep telling you that everybody is well?" + +"But I tell you that is impossible," exclaimed the young man, excitedly. +"What! do you mean to tell me that Mlle. Sabine, who starts and trembles +at the slightest sound, could see her home invaded by a furious band of +armed men, without sustaining a terrible, perhaps fatal, shock?" + +"But, Onésime, listen to me--" + +"Who knows but she may be dead, dead, and you are concealing it from me? +You think you are acting for the best, aunt, but you are mistaken. The +truth, no matter how terrible it may be, will do me much less harm than +this state of frightful uncertainty. Sleeping and waking, I am a prey to +the most terrible fears. I would a hundred times rather be dead than +live in this state of suspense." + +"Listen, then, but promise to be reasonable and have courage." + +"Courage? Ah, I knew that some terrible calamity had occurred." + +"Dear me! I knew it would be just this way whatever I said or did!" +cried poor Suzanne. "You see yourself that at the very first word I say +to you--" + +"Oh, my God! I had a presentiment of it. She is dead!" + +"No, no, she is living, she is living. I swear it! She has suffered +terribly,--she has been alarmingly ill, but her life is no longer in +danger." + +"It has been in danger, then?" + +"Yes, for two days, but I have just seen her and talked with her, and +there is no longer cause for the slightest anxiety." + +"God be thanked!" exclaimed Onésime, fervently. "And how much I thank +you, too, my dear aunt. Ah, if you knew how much good you have done me, +and how relieved I feel. Is M. Cloarek here?" + +"No." + +"Where is he?" + +"We do not know." + +"But that fatal night--" + +"He came home, and was slightly wounded in the fray, but no one has seen +him since." + +"And that strange attack upon the house, those frightful but +incomprehensible words which were uttered by Mlle. Sabine, and which I +seemed to hear as in a dream after I was hurt. These things puzzle me +so. Explain them, I beg of you." + +"In your present state of mind I can see that a refusal on my part might +prove dangerous." + +"Yes, very dangerous." + +"But I repeat that you must have courage, for--" + +"I will, aunt, I will." + +"You remember, do you not, that on the afternoon of that memorable day, +M. Cloarek, who had left for Havre without our knowing it, sent a +message to his daughter from that city telling her that she must not be +anxious about him, as some business matters might detain him until late +that night? You recollect that, do you not?" + +"Yes." + +"You remember, too, the fright we had the very evening of M. Cloarek's +arrival?" + +"Yes, about those two men Thérèse thought she saw." + +"The poor girl saw them only too plainly, as subsequent events have +proved, for two men, as we afterward learned, did effect an entrance +into the garden, not to break into the house, but to reconnoitre." + +"The two men belonged to this armed band, then, I suppose." + +"One of them was the leader of it." + +Just then the nurse reëntered the room and motioned to Suzanne that she +wished to speak to her. + +"What is it?" inquired Suzanne, in a low tone. + +"M. Segoffin has come." + +"And M. Cloarek?" + +"M. Segoffin is alone and wants to see Mlle. Sabine at once. Thérèse +went up to tell her, and she sent word for him to come right up to her +room." + +"Tell mademoiselle that I will come at once if she needs me." + +The nurse left the room again, and Suzanne returned to her nephew's +bedside to continue her conversation with him. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +THE MIDNIGHT ATTACK. + + +"IT was no bad news that they came to tell you just now, was it, aunt?" +inquired Onésime, as Suzanne reseated herself near him. + +"Oh, no; I will tell you what it was presently. Let me go on with my +story. You recollect Thérèse running in to tell us that the stable was +on fire, and that a band of armed men were attacking the house?" + +"Yes, yes; what a terrible night it was!" + +"I shall never forget the mingled terror and admiration I felt at the +courage you displayed. I can hear you saying now: 'Flight is impossible; +I cannot preserve you from danger, my infirmity, alas! prevents that, +but I can at least make a rampart of my body for your protection;' and, +arming yourself with an iron bar wrenched from one of the shutters, you +rushed to the door, and alone and unaided guarded the entrance to the +room with truly supernatural courage and strength." + +"Don't speak of that, my dear aunt. Really, I--" + +"What! not speak of it when the recollection of your bravery and +devotion is the only consolation I have when I see you lying here. No, +the most determined resistance I ever read of paled beside yours. +Entrenched in the doorway, the iron bar became a formidable weapon in +your hands, and though your defective vision prevented you from aiming +your blows very accurately, those who came within reach of your arm fell +at your feet, one by one." + +"How terrified Mlle. Sabine must have been! Timid as she is, she must +have died a thousand deaths during that brief struggle." + +"You are very much mistaken, my friend. The courage and strength of +character she displayed in that trying hour amazed me. I can see her now +standing there pale but resolute. Her first words were: 'Thank God, I +shall die alone, my father is absent.' Then, pointing to you, she said, +exultantly: 'Do you admit that he is brave now? He is confronting death +unflinchingly for our sakes, but we shall at least perish with him.' And +when, overpowered, by numbers, you were at last struck down, and four of +the men, the leader with his arm in a sling, burst into the room, she +showed even greater heroism. 'Onésime is dead!' she exclaimed. 'It is +our turn now! Farewell, Suzanne,' she added, clasping me in her arms, +and murmuring, softly, 'Farewell, dear father, farewell.'" + +"Loving and courageous to the last!" exclaimed Onésime, with tears both +in his voice and eyes. + +"I felt much less resigned. I had just seen you fall bleeding across the +threshold, and I threw myself at the feet of the leader, begging for +mercy. With a gesture he commanded the men to pause, and then, turning +to me, demanded, in a threatening voice: 'Where is Captain l'Endurci?'" + +"Captain l'Endurci?" repeated Onésime, in great surprise. "Why did they +come here to look for Captain l'Endurci? Besides, these men were +Englishmen. I remember now." + +"I will explain presently. When the leader of the party asked where +Captain l'Endurci was, I replied: 'This house belongs to M. Cloarek. He +is absent from home. This is his daughter. Have pity on her.' + +"'His daughter!' exclaimed the man, with a ferocious laugh. 'So this is +his daughter, is it? So much the better! And you,--are you his wife?' + +"'No, I am only the housekeeper.' + +"'So this is his daughter,' he repeated again, approaching poor +mademoiselle, whose courage seemed to increase with the danger, for, +with both hands crossed upon her breast, like a saint, she looked the +leader of the bandits straight in the eye. + +"'Where is your father?' he demanded. + +"'A long way from here, thank God!' replied the poor child, bravely. + +"'Your father arrived here yesterday. He can hardly have gone away again +so soon. He must be somewhere about the house. Where is he? Where is he, +I say?' + +"And as Sabine remained silent, he continued, with a sardonic smile: + +"'I have missed your father, it seems, but, by taking you, I shall get +him sooner or later. You shall write to him from England, telling him +where you are, and he will incur any risk to release you. I shall be +waiting for him, and so capture him sooner or later. Come with me.' + +"'Go with you? I would rather die,' exclaimed Sabine. + +"'No one has any intention of killing you, but you have got to come, so +you had better do so peaceably, and not compel us to resort to force.' + +"'Never!' cried the poor girl. + +"The scoundrel turned to his men, and said a few words to them, +whereupon they sprung upon Sabine. I tried to defend her, but they +dragged me away, and, in spite of her tears and cries, she was soon +securely bound. They had scarcely done this before the report of +fire-arms and loud shouts were heard outside. Two men came rushing in, +and said a few words to their leader, who quickly followed them out of +the room. All the men except those who were holding Sabine hurried out +after him. Then, and not until then, was I able to approach you. I +thought at first that you were dead, so, forgetting Sabine and +everything else, I was sobbing over you, when, suddenly--" Suzanne +paused for a moment overcome with emotion. + +"Go on! Oh, go on, I beg of you!" exclaimed Onésime. + +"Never shall I forget that scene. At the farther end of the room two of +the wretches were trying to drag Sabine along, in spite of her +despairing cries. The other two men, evidently frightened by the +increasing uproar outside, darted to the door, but just as they reached +it both were struck down in turn by a terrific blow from an axe. A +moment afterward Sabine's captors shared the same fate." + +"But who struck them down?" + +"Who?" exclaimed Suzanne, with a shudder, and lowering her voice. "A man +clad in a strange costume. He wore a long, black jacket and waistcoat, a +broad-brimmed hat, and full, white trousers. Axe in hand, he had just +burst into the room, followed by several sailors." + +"It seems to me that I have heard Mlle. Sabine speak of some other man +dressed in a similar manner who, she said, was her mother's murderer." + +"Alas! this recollection was only too vivid in her mind," said Suzanne, +sadly. + +"But who was the man that came to Mlle. Sabine's assistance, clad in +this way?" + +"This man was the famous privateer, Captain l'Endurci,--this man was M. +Cloarek!" + +"M. Cloarek! Impossible!" exclaimed Onésime, raising himself up in bed, +in spite of his weakness. + +"Yes, he had an axe in his hand. His garments were covered with blood; +his face, never, oh, never, have I beheld a face so terrible. When he +came in, Sabine, not distinguishing his features at first, uttered a cry +of horror, and exclaimed, 'The black man! The black man!' and when M. +Cloarek ran to his daughter, she recoiled in terror, crying, 'Father, +ah, father, then it was you who killed my mother!' and fell apparently +lifeless upon the floor." + +"Yes, yes, those words, 'Father, then it was you who killed my mother,' +I heard them vaguely, as life seemed to be deserting me. Oh, this is +frightful, frightful! What a horrible discovery! What misery it entails! +Such a tender father and loving daughter to have such a gulf between +them for ever! You were right, aunt, you were right! It does indeed +require courage to bear such a revelation. And Mlle. Sabine, how has she +been since that time?" + +"The unfortunate child lay between life and death for two whole days, as +I told you." + +"And M. Cloarek?" + +"Alas! we know nothing about him. On hearing his daughter reproach him +for her mother's death, he uttered a loud cry, and rushed out of the +room like one demented, and nothing has been seen of him since." + +"How unfortunate! Great Heavens, how unfortunate! But how did M. Cloarek +hear of this intended attack?" + +"It seems this party had made two or three similar descents at different +points along the coast; but this attack was unquestionably made in the +hope of capturing M. Cloarek, who, under the name of Captain l'Endurci, +had inflicted such injury upon the British navy." + +The nurse, reëntering the room at that moment, said to Suzanne: + +"Madame Roberts, M. Segoffin wishes to speak to you, as well as to M. +Onésime, if he feels able to see him." + +"Certainly," responded the young man, promptly. + +Segoffin entered the room almost immediately. Dame Roberts did not +receive him with ironical words and looks, as she had been wont to do, +however. On the contrary, she advanced to meet him with affectionate +eagerness. + +"Well, my dear Segoffin, is your news good or bad?" she exclaimed. + +"I hardly know, my dear Suzanne. It will all depend upon this," he +sighed, drawing a bulky envelope from his pocket as he spoke. + +"What is that?" + +"A letter from M. Cloarek." + +"He is alive, then, thank Heaven!" + +"Yes, and his only remaining hope is in this letter, and I am to give +the letter to you, M. Onésime." + +"To me?" + +"And I am to tell you what you are to do with it. But first let me ask +if you feel able to get up?" + +"Yes, oh, yes!" exclaimed the young man, making a quick movement. + +"And I say you are not. It would be exceedingly imprudent in you, +Onésime," cried his aunt. + +"Excuse me, Suzanne," interposed Segoffin. "I am as much opposed to +anything like imprudence as you can possibly be, but (I can confess it +now, you see) as I have had considerable experience in injuries of this +kind during the last twelve years, I am probably much better able to +judge than you are, so I am going to feel your nephew's pulse and note +his symptoms carefully, and if I find him able to go down to the parlour +where Mlle. Sabine is, I--No, no, not so fast!" added Segoffin, laying a +restraining hand on Onésime, who, upon hearing Sabine's name, had +evinced an evident intention of springing out of bed. "I have not made +my diagnosis yet. Do me the favour to keep quiet. If you don't, I will +take the letter away, and lock you up here in your room." + +Onésime sighed, but submitted with breathless impatience to Segoffin's +careful examination, made with the aid of a lamp held by Suzanne, an +examination which satisfied him that the young man could sit up an hour +or two without the slightest danger. + +"You are positive there is no danger, Segoffin?" asked Dame Roberts, +anxiously. + +"None whatever." + +"But why not postpone this conference for awhile?" + +"Because there is a person counting the hours, nay, the very minutes, +until he hears from us." + +"You mean M. Cloarek, do you not?" + +"I tell you there is some one not far from here to whom this decision +means life or death," said Segoffin, without answering the question. + +"Life or death!" cried Suzanne. + +"Or rather hope or despair," added Segoffin, gravely, "and that is why, +Suzanne, I ask your nephew to make the effort to go down-stairs. Now, if +you will go to mademoiselle, I will help M. Onésime dress." + +Ten minutes afterward Onésime, leaning on Segoffin's arm, entered the +little parlour where Sabine was awaiting him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +A LAST APPEAL. + + +THE poor girl was as pale as death, and so weak that she was obliged to +half recline in a large easy-chair. + +"Will you sit down, M. Onésime, and you too, my dear Suzanne and +Segoffin," she said, with gentle dignity. + +They all seated themselves in silence. + +"Before beginning this conversation," said Sabine, with a melancholy +smile, "I must tell you that I am greatly changed. The vague and often +senseless fears which have haunted me from infancy seem to have +vanished. The terrible reality seems to have dispelled these phantoms. I +tell you this, my friends, so you may understand that it is no longer +necessary to manifest so much caution and consideration in your +treatment of me, and that you can tell me the entire truth with safety, +no matter how terrible it may be. One word more: I adjure you, Suzanne, +and you too, Segoffin, in the name of your devotion to me and to--other +members of my family, to answer all my questions fully and truthfully. +Will you promise to do this?" + +"I promise," replied Suzanne. + +"I promise," said Segoffin. + +A brief silence followed. + +All present, and more especially Onésime, were struck by the firm and +resolute manner in which Sabine expressed herself, and felt that, +whatever her decision might be, it would unquestionably prove +unalterable. + +"You saw me born, Suzanne," continued the young girl, after a moment, +"and by your untiring care and faithful devotion you made yourself my +mother's valued friend. It is in the name of this friendship that I +adjure you to tell me if the memories of my infancy have deceived me, +and if it was not my father who, twelve years ago, dressed as I saw him +three days ago, caused--caused my mother's death." + +"Alas! mademoiselle--" + +"In the name of my sainted mother, I adjure you to tell me the truth, +Suzanne." + +"The truth is, mademoiselle," replied the housekeeper, in a trembling +voice, "the truth is, that, after a stormy scene between your parents, +madame died; but--" + +"Enough, my dear Suzanne," said Sabine, interrupting her. Then, passing +her hand across her burning brow, she relapsed into a gloomy silence +that no one dared to break. + +"Segoffin," she said, at last, "you were my grandfather's faithful +servant and trusted friend. You watched over my father in childhood; at +all times, and under all circumstances, you have been blindly devoted to +him. Is it true that my father, instead of being engaged in business as +he said, has been privateering under the name of Captain l'Endurci?" + +"Yes, mademoiselle, it is true," Segoffin answered, smothering a sigh. + +After another brief silence, Sabine said: + +"M. Onésime, I owe it to myself and I owe it to you to inform you of my +determination. In happier days there was some talk of a marriage between +us, but after what has occurred, after what you know and have just +heard, you will not be surprised, I think, to hear me say that this +world is no longer any place for me." + +"Good Heavens! what do you mean, mademoiselle?" cried Onésime, in +dismay. + +"I have decided to retire to a convent, where I intend to end my days." + +Onésime did not utter a word, but sat with his head bowed upon his +breast, while quick, heavy sobs shook his frame. + +"No, mademoiselle, no! That is impossible," sobbed Suzanne. "No, surely +you will not thus bury yourself alive." + +"My mind is made up," answered Sabine, firmly; "but if such a sojourn +does not seem too gloomy to you, my dear Suzanne, I should be glad to +have you accompany me." + +"I shall never leave you. You know that very well, mademoiselle, but you +will not do this, you will not--" + +"Suzanne, for two days I have been reflecting upon the course I ought to +pursue. There is nothing else for me to do, so my resolution is +irrevocable." + +"And your father, mademoiselle," interposed Segoffin, "before you +separate yourself from him for ever you will surely see him once more." + +"No." + +"Then, from this day on, you are dead to him and he is dead to you." + +It was evidently with a violent effort at self-control that Sabine at +last replied: + +"It will be better for me not to see my father again until we are +reunited with my mother." + +"Ah, mademoiselle, how can you be so cruel?" murmured Segoffin, +despairingly. "If you knew how wretched he is--" + +"No, I am not cruel," replied the girl; "at least I do not mean to be. I +can only repeat what I said to Suzanne just now. For two days I have +been reflecting on the course I ought to pursue, and my decision is +irrevocable." + +A gloomy silence greeted this announcement. Segoffin was the first to +speak. + +"You surely will not refuse to hear a letter from M. Cloarek read, +mademoiselle," he said, at last. "It is the only request he makes of +you, for he foresaw the aversion you would feel for him." + +"Aversion!" cried Sabine, like one in mortal agony. Then controlling +herself, she added: + +"There seems to have been a strange and cruel fatality about all this." + +"Yes," answered the old servant, sighing; "but as M. Cloarek is never to +see you again, will you not at least listen to the letter I brought to +M. Onésime?" + +"It is undoubtedly my duty to comply with my father's wishes, so I am +ready to listen, M. Onésime." + +The young man opened the envelope Segoffin handed him. The letter which +Cloarek had written to his daughter was accompanied with the following +brief note: + +"I implore you to read the enclosed letter to Sabine, my dear Onésime. +It is a last proof of esteem and affection I desire to give you. + +"May this truthful account written by a despairing parent, and read by a +beloved voice, reach his daughter's heart. Yours affectionately, + +"Y. CLOAREK." + +After telling Sabine the contents of this note the young man read the +following aloud: + +"'TO MY DAUGHTER:--Fate seems to decree that I am to be separated from +you for ever, my child, for now I know you can no longer bear the sight +of me. + +"'A strange and unforeseen event has revealed a terrible and jealously +guarded secret to you. + +"'Yes, that man in the strange costume, whom you have always remembered +as your mother's murderer, was I, your father. + +"'The privateer whose deeds inspired you with such horror was I. + +"'Your mother was _enceinte_. We had a quarrel,--the first in our whole +married life, I swear it! I gave way to my temper, and my anger became +so terrible that, in your mother's nervous condition, her fright killed +her. + +"'Mine was a double crime, for the terror that proved fatal to your +mother also had a lasting effect upon you, for the unfortunate +impression made upon you at that tender age had a most deplorable +influence, not only upon your health, but upon your whole life. + +"'You know my crime, now let me tell you how I have expiated it. + +"'When I saw you motherless, I asked myself what would become of you. + +"'The small fortune that your mother and I possessed had been almost +entirely lost in consequence of the political agitations of the day and +a ruinous lawsuit. I had lost my position as a magistrate in consequence +of the scandal which my ebullitions of temper caused. + +"'I sold the small amount of property I had left, and realised about six +thousand francs from the sale. Suzanne, who had gained your poor +mother's affectionate esteem by her virtues and her faithfulness, was +devoted to you. I said to her: + +"'"Here are five thousand francs; enough, with economy, to supply my +daughter's wants and yours for five years. I entrust my child to your +care. If you have seen or heard nothing from me at the expiration of +these five years, you will send a letter which I will leave with you to +the person to whom it is addressed." + +"'The person to whom this letter was written was a man of noble lineage +whose life I had saved during the revolution, and who had taken up his +abode in Germany; and I felt sure that this man, who was still wealthy, +would treat you as an adopted child; but I did not intend you to eat the +bitter bread of dependence if I could help it. + +"'These arrangements made, I kissed you while you were peacefully +sleeping, and departed with one thousand francs as my only dependence. +Segoffin, my tried and trusted friend, insisted upon sharing my +fortunes, so he accompanied me. + +"'I had devoted the days which immediately preceded my departure to +sorrowful meditations upon the future and the past, during which I had +questioned, studied, and judged myself with inexorable severity. + +"'My misfortunes and my crime toward your mother were due to the +impetuosity of my character. Anything that wounded my feelings, anything +contradictory to my convictions, anything in the way of opposition to my +wishes, made my blood boil and excited me almost to frenzy; and this +exuberance and impetuosity vented themselves in fury and violence. + +"'In short, my only capital was anger. + +"'While thus studying myself I recollected the wonderful mental and +physical power with which I seemed to be endowed when I yielded to these +transports of rage. + +"'Often when I had revolted against certain iniquitous facts or acts of +cruel oppression, the very intensity of my anger had given me almost +superhuman power to defend the weak and chastise the oppressor. For +instance, one day when I found three ruffians attacking a poor +defenceless woman, I nearly killed all three of them, though in my +normal condition I could not have coped successfully with any one of +them single-handed. + +"'But alas! my child, on continuing this inexorable study of myself, I +was also obliged to admit that I had not always had just cause for my +anger, by any means, for not unfrequently the slightest contradiction +infuriated me almost to madness. Your poor mother's death was a terrible +example of this idiosyncrasy on my part. + +"'After this long and careful examination of myself, I summed up the +result as follows: + +"'Anger is a passion of such intensity in me, that it increases my +mental and physical powers a hundred-fold. In other words, it is a +force. + +"'When this force is brought into action by generous motives, it leads +to acts of which I have every reason to be proud. + +"'When, on the contrary, it is brought into action by unworthy motives, +it causes me to commit culpable or even criminal acts, which I shall +never cease to regret. + +"'Anger has been the cause of my ruin and of my despair. It killed my +wife. Now, anger shall be my salvation and the salvation of my daughter. + +"'These words may seem incomprehensible to you, my child, but listen. + +"'In my position of magistrate, my proneness to anger and violence was +most prejudicial to me. It caused people to regard me with derision, +even with contempt, and destroyed every prospect of my advancement in my +judicial career. In other words, my mind, character, and temperament did +not harmonise with my functions. + +"'It was consequently advisable for me to adopt a profession in which +the vice, or rather, the radical force of my nature could be utilised to +the best advantage of myself and of others. + +"'I soon found such a profession. + +"'My grandfather had been a sea-faring man, like nearly all Bretons who +live on the coast; but my father's rather delicate health led him to +enter the judiciary. But I had been reared on the coast, and the sight +of the sea, and the daring, adventurous, and independent life of the +fishermen had made a deep impression upon my mind. + +"'A privateer! to be a privateer! When this idea presented itself to my +mind my heart bounded with hope. + +"'It seemed to amount to a revelation. + +"'It offered an outlet for the feverish ardour that was devouring me. + +"'My one object in life now was to save you from poverty, and ensure you +the comforts of life, both now and in years to come,--to secure +sufficient wealth to make it possible for you to marry the man of your +choice, some day. This, and to find a career in which my powers could be +best utilised. + +"'How could I do this more effectually than by becoming a privateer? + +"'The prize-money gained by privateers often amounts to large sums, so +it was quite possible that I might succeed in amassing a very +comfortable little fortune for you; besides, where could I hope to find +a life that would suit me better, or even as well as the daring, +exciting, adventurous life of a corsair? + +"'Contention and strife were like the breath of life to me. Resistance +exasperated me to frenzy; peril only incited me to greater efforts; the +presence of danger set my blood to boiling. Madness seized me, and my +capabilities seemed to increase in power in proportion to the number of +my enemies. + +"'Nor was this all, my child. As I have remarked before, cruelty, or +oppression, or treachery, enraged me well-nigh to madness, and against +whom should I fight if I became a corsair? Against a country I +abhorred,--against a country that, impelled by hatred, greed, or +ambition, as the case might be, had pursued France with the utmost +vindictiveness for years, hesitating at nothing,--now trying to ruin us +by flooding our country with counterfeit assignats, now torturing our +brave soldiers to madness, even to death, in her horrible prison +hulks,--in short, _England_! + +"'_England_! In spite of the despair that overwhelms me as I write, the +mere name of that country (which I hate with an even more mortal hatred +since the dastardly attempt of which you so narrowly escaped becoming +the victim) brings a hot flush of anger to my cheek; my wrath kindles +again, and-- + +"'But forgive me, forgive me, my poor child, forgive me for thus +grieving your tender and ingenuous heart, which is incapable of aught +like hatred. + +"'I did feel it necessary, however, to explain all the reasons that +actuated me in entering upon the only career that seemed open to me. + +"'My decision made, I kissed you farewell while you were sleeping, and +departed in company with Segoffin.'" + + * * * * * + +Onésime's reading was here interrupted by a despairing sob that Sabine +could no longer repress. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +CONCLUSION. + + +Sabine had been deeply touched by the opening paragraphs of her father's +letter. + +Cloarek's simple and straightforward confession, his deep remorse at the +ebullition of temper which had been the cause of his wife's death, his +resolve to expiate his faults, or, rather, to make them assist in +ensuring his daughter's future happiness, the paternal love which +dominated every word and deed, all combined to arouse a feeling of +tender commiseration for misfortunes which had been due, in a great +measure, at least, to peculiarities of temperament; and seeing the +strong impression that had been made on the young girl, the others saw a +ray of hope. + +Segoffin and the housekeeper exchanged inquiring glances, but seemed to +silently agree that it would be advisable to make no comment, but leave +Sabine to the influence of her own reflections. + +But after a few moments, Suzanne, leaning toward her nephew, whispered +in his ear: + +"All is not lost yet. Go on, go on, my dear Onésime." So Onésime +continued as follows: + + * * * * * + +"'Segoffin and I went to Dieppe, where we shipped as common sailors on a +privateer, for we realised that we must both serve an apprenticeship at +our new trade. We made several voyages in that capacity. In my leisure +moments I studied mathematics and the art of navigation assiduously, so +I should be able to command a vessel myself when the necessary practical +knowledge had been acquired. + +"'My apprenticeship lasted two years, during which we were engaged in a +number of bloody conflicts. At the end of that time I was offered the +position of mate aboard a well-known privateer. After eighteen months +spent in this way, I had become so well known that a ship owner offered +me the command of a vessel called the _Hell-hound_, that he was fitting +out. + +"'Strange to say, I was never wounded, though I took part in so many +desperate conflicts. I received my first wound on coming to your +assistance the other night. + +"'I dare not tell you the cause to which I attribute this singular +immunity from danger. I should be obliged to mention your mother's name, +and that would revive your grief, and possibly it is only a +superstitious fancy, after all. + +"'Fate has not been equally kind to Segoffin, unfortunately. He has +received several wounds, and, in boarding a vessel during our last +fight, he lost an eye by a blow from a pike. No words could do justice +to this worthy man's wonderful devotion. I no longer regard him as a +servant, but as a friend. + +"'One more brief explanation, my child. + +"'I knew your affection for me. I knew, too, that your nervous system +had received a severe shock at the time of your poor mother's death, so +I resolved to save you from constant anxiety by concealing my real +occupation from you. So it was agreed between Segoffin and me that we +should explain our frequent absences by pretending that we were +travelling around the country selling dry goods. I also arranged that +the letters you sent to the different towns agreed upon should be +forwarded to Dieppe. + +"'When I returned after a cruise, I got these letters, and dated my +replies from different towns, where I had previously arranged to have +them mailed. + +"'Such were some of the many precautions that I was obliged to take to +conceal the truth from you and allay any suspicions that might be +excited in your mind. + +"'Forgive these deceptions. They seemed to me necessary. That excuse +will, I am sure, avail me. + +"'Two years ago the doctors assured me that the sea air would be very +beneficial to you, so I purchased our present home and established you +in it. Our home being a long way from Dieppe, the port from which I +usually sail, my secret has been carefully guarded, up to this time, +thanks to my assumed name, Captain l'Endurci, and neither you nor +Suzanne have ever suspected that the famous corsair, whose bloody +exploits so excited your horror, was your father, Yvon Cloarek. + +"'And now, my darling child, you know all. I have not made this +confession with any hope of changing your resolution; I can see that my +presence will henceforth be extremely painful to you, but I could not +leave you for ever without removing the veil of mystery that has +enshrouded my conduct up to the present time. + +"'And now, farewell, and for ever, my beloved daughter. + +"'My only consolation is the thought that your future happiness is +well-nigh certain. You love, and you are loved in return by a generous +and noble-hearted man; Suzanne will be another mother to you, and I +leave you my good and faithful Segoffin. + +"'My notary has received full instructions in relation to your marriage +contract. I wish your marriage to take place on the first of next month, +so I may be with you in thought on that happy day. + +"'Once more farewell, my idolised daughter. The tears are falling so +fast, that I cannot see to write any more. + +"'Your father, who loves you as he has always loved you, + +YVON CLOAREK. + +"'Segoffin will tell you the cause of my hasty departure for Havre, and +how I happened to return in time to rescue you from the wretches who +were dragging you away." + + * * * * * + +When the reading of this letter was concluded, Sabine, who was very pale +and who seemed to be deeply moved, buried her face in her hands, and +sobbed softly. + +Segoffin exchanged another meaning look with Suzanne, and then, +reconquering his own emotion, said: + +"Now, mademoiselle, with your permission, I will tell you how M. Yvon +got here in time to save you." + +And Sabine making no reply, the head gunner continued: + +"That powdered gentleman, who was here the other day, Mlle. Sabine, was +the owner of our vessel. He came to try to persuade M. Yvon to make +another voyage. He had heard of a vessel laden with two millions in +gold, that would soon be along, and offered us a chance of a stirring +fight besides; but M. Yvon had promised you he would not leave you +again, so he refused, whereupon the ship owner told your father that the +ship's crew would certainly come for him, and take him away with them, +whether or no. In order to prevent any such proceeding as that, which +would have let the cat out of the bag, so far as you were concerned, we +hurried off to Havre. Most of the crew were at a tavern there. They +greeted M. Yvon with the wildest enthusiasm and delight, for he is as +tenderly loved by these rough corsairs as he is by the members of his +own family; for though he can be severe, if need be, he is also just and +humane. There is more than one English captain, mademoiselle, whom M. +Yvon has captured and then set free with all his personal belongings. +And do you know why? Because the first question your father always +asked a prisoner was, 'Have you a daughter?' + +"If he answered in the affirmative," continued Segoffin, "he was all +right, for, as M. Yvon often said to me, 'I love my little Sabine too +much to hold a man who has a daughter, a prisoner.' + +"So Mlle. Sabine, you have made many a father and daughter happy in +England, without even suspecting it. But excuse me, I had almost +forgotten what I started to tell you. Well, though the sailors were so +glad to see your father again, they got very angry when they found out +that he had no intention of going to sea again, and there was no such +thing as inducing them to listen to reason. I have seen M. Yvon in a +great peril many a time, but never did I see him show such courage as he +did the other day, when he refused what would have been the crowning +glory of his maritime career, and why? 'Because I have given my daughter +my word,' he said. But this was not all. His refusal so infuriated the +crew that some of them even went so far as to hint that if your father +refused, it was because he was afraid to fight the famous English +captain. He, M. Yvon, afraid! After that, Mlle. Sabine, he said to me, +in a low tone, and with a melancholy smile that I shall never forget: + +"'My affection for my daughter has been really put to the test for the +first time in my life, and now I know that there is not a father in the +world who loves his child more than I do.'" + +"Go on, go on, Segoffin," pleaded Sabine, evidently deeply moved. + +"When they ventured to accuse M. Yvon of cowardice, he coldly replied +that his mind was made up, and that it was useless for them to insist +further. A scene of the wildest excitement followed, and some of the men +shouted: 'Let us take the captain, whether or no. The first mate can +navigate the vessel, and when the captain sees the enemy, he'll change +his mind fast enough.' + +"They were all so excited that I don't know how the affair would have +ended, had not an officer of the fort, who knew that the captain of the +_Hell-hound_ was at the tavern, come rushing in to tell M. Yvon that a +fishing-smack had just come in and reported that a suspicious-looking +schooner had been sighted from the cliffs, and that appearances seemed +to indicate her intention of making a landing, as had been done at +several other points along the coast. There being no war-ship in the +harbour the officer came to implore the captain of the _Hell-hound_ to +go out and attack the schooner if she made any attempt to land. M. Yvon +could not refuse, as it was in defence of his country that he was +requested to give his services. We were soon aboard the brig; the wind +was favourable, we weighed anchor, and were soon flying along in search +of the schooner. Right here, Mlle. Sabine, I must tell you something +that M. Yvon dared not confess in his letter. He speaks, you know, of a +superstitious idea he had in connection with his never having been +wounded. You must understand, Mlle. Sabine, that your poor father's life +has been divided as it were into two parts,--one supremely happy, the +part spent at home or in talking with me about you; the other desolation +itself, the hours spent in thinking of your poor dear mother, whom he +loved even more tenderly than he loves you, as Suzanne has told you a +hundred times. The night she died, it so happened that he had dressed +himself in Breton costume to attend a fancy dress ball. Being very young +at the time, you did not recognise him. After this calamity, when we +shipped as common sailors on a privateer where every one dressed as he +pleased, M. Yvon said to me: 'As I am here to expiate a crime I shall +regret all my life, I intend always to wear the costume of my native +province at sea. It has become sacred to me, as I wore it on the fatal +night when I held my poor dying wife in my arms for the last time.' + +"M. Yvon has kept his word ever since, in spite of my entreaties, for it +having been reported in England that the famous corsair, Captain +l'Endurci, wore the Breton costume, it was at M. Yvon that every one +aimed. But though your father exposed himself so much more than any of +the rest of us, he was never wounded, and as there is a superstitious +streak in the composition of every human being, M. Yvon finally began to +think that there must be a protecting charm attached to our national +costume. The sailors, too, imagined that this costume brought the ship +good luck. At least, they would have felt much less confident of success +if M. Yvon had commanded them in any other garb, so that is why M. Yvon, +when he went aboard to go out and fight the schooner, put on the costume +of his native province exactly as he would have put on a uniform, not +supposing for an instant that there was any likelihood of his going to +his own home. + +"We had been sailing around about three-quarters of an hour, when all at +once we saw a bright light stream up on the coast above the cliffs. A +careful scrutiny convinced the captain that the house where we lived was +on fire; and almost at the same moment, the first mate, with the aid of +a night telescope, discovered the schooner riding at anchor, with all +her boats at the foot of the cliff where the English had doubtless +landed. The captain ordered the long-boat lowered, and sprang into it in +company with me and twenty picked men. We reached the scene of action in +a quarter of an hour. M. Yvon received his first wound while striking +down the leader of the bandits, a Captain Russell, who figured so +prominently in the abduction of M. Yvon a short time ago. Wounded by +your father and left a prisoner at Dieppe, he had nevertheless managed +to make his escape and concoct this new conspiracy. This, Mlle. Sabine, +is the whole truth with regard to M. Yvon. He has suffered, oh, how he +has suffered these three last days! and this is nothing to what he will +suffer up to the time of your marriage; but after that, when he knows +you are happy, I fear that he can endure it no longer. No human being +could and--" + +"My father, where is my father?" cried Sabine, trembling with grief, +anxiety, and long repressed tenderness. + +"Really, mademoiselle, I do not know that I ought--" + +"My father, is he here?" repeated the girl breathlessly. + +"He is not very far off, perhaps," replied Segoffin, nearly wild with +joy; "but if he returns, it must be never to leave you again." + +"Oh, can he ever forgive me for having doubted his love and his nobility +of soul for one moment? If he will, all the rest of my life shall be +devoted to him. My God! you are silent, you are all weeping--you are all +looking toward that room as if my father were there. Thank Heaven! my +father is there!" cried Sabine, her face radiant with inexpressible joy +as she ran toward the door leading into the next room. + +The door suddenly opened, and in another instant father and daughter +were locked in each other's arms. + + * * * * * + +One month afterward, a double marriage united Suzanne and Segoffin, +Sabine and Onésime. + +The famous Doctor Gasterini, equally celebrated as a gourmand and as a +physician, had restored Onésime's sight. + +On returning from the church, Segoffin remarked to Suzanne with a +triumphant air: + +"Ah, well, my dear, was I not right in telling you that, 'what is to be, +will be?' Haven't I always predicted that you would be Madame Segoffin +some day? Are you, or are you not?" + +"Oh, well, I suppose one must make the best of it," responded Madame +Segoffin, with a pretended sigh, though she really felt as proud of her +husband as if he had been one of the heroes of the _Grande Armée_ she +was so fond of raving about. "There's no help for it, I suppose, as +'that which is done cannot be undone.'" + + +THE END. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Avarice-Anger, by Eugène Sue + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AVARICE-ANGER *** + +***** This file should be named 34308-8.txt or 34308-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/3/0/34308/ + +Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Google Print project.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Avarice-Anger: + two of the seven cardinal sins + +Author: Eugène Sue + +Illustrator: Adrian Marcel + +Release Date: November 13, 2010 [EBook #34308] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AVARICE-ANGER *** + + + + +Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Google Print project.) + + + + + + +</pre> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h1>THE SEVEN CARDINAL SINS<br /> +AVARICE</h1> + +<p><a name="page_001" id="page_001"></a></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 394px;"> +<a name="front" id="front"></a> +<img src="images/ill_frontispiece.jpg" width="394" height="591" alt=""Axe in hand." + +Original etching by Adrian Marcel." title="" /><br /> +<span class="caption">"Axe in hand."<br /> +Original etching by Adrian Marcel.</span> +</div> + +<p><a name="page_002" id="page_002"></a></p> + +<p><a name="page_003" id="page_003"></a></p> + +<p><a name="page_004" id="page_004"></a></p> + +<p><br /><br /> +</p> + +<p class="c"><b>Illustrated Cabinet Edition</b></p> + +<hr /> + +<h1>Avarice—Anger<br /> +<small>Two of the Seven Cardinal Sins<br /> +By Eugene Sue</small></h1> + +<p class="c"><b>Illustrated with Etchings by<br /> +Adrian Marcel</b></p> + +<p class="c"><b>Dana Estes & Company<br /> +Publishers<br /> +Boston</b></p> + +<p class="c"><a name="page_005" id="page_005"></a><br /> +<i>Copyright, 1899</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">By Francis A. Niccolls & Co.</span></p> + +<p>Avarice—Anger<a name="page_006" id="page_006"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h3> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="3" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td><small>CHAPTER</small></td> <td> </td> <td><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><th colspan="3" align="center">AVARICE.</th></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_I-a">I.</a></td><td class="smcap">An Unfortunate Choice</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_013">13</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_II-a">II.</a></td><td class="smcap">A Touching Example of Unselfish Devotion</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_025">25</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_III-a">III.</a></td><td class="smcap">A Shameful Deception</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_036">36</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV-a">IV.</a></td><td class="smcap">The Voice of the Tempter </td><td align="right"><a href="#page_046">46</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_V-a">V.</a></td><td class="smcap">Father and Son</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_057">57</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI-a">VI.</a></td><td class="smcap">A Father's Ambition</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_065">65</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII-a">VII.</a></td><td class="smcap">The Forged Letter</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_072">72</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII-a">VIII.</a></td><td class="smcap">A Startling Discovery</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_078">78</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX-a">IX.</a></td><td class="smcap">Commandant de la Miraudière's Antecedents</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_086">86</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_X-a">X.</a></td><td class="smcap">The Mystery Explained</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_097">97</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI-a">XI.</a></td><td class="smcap">Hidden Treasure</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_106">106</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII-a">XII.</a></td><td class="smcap">A Voice from the Grave</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_113">113</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII-a">XIII.</a></td><td class="smcap">The Miser Extolled</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_118">118</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV-a">XIV.</a></td><td class="smcap">Plans for the Future</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_122">122</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV-a">XV.</a></td><td class="smcap">Madame Lacombe's Unconditional Surrender</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_126">126</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI-a">XVI.</a></td><td class="smcap">A Capricious Beauty</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_132">132</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII-a">XVII.</a></td><td class="smcap">The Hôtel Saint-Ramon</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_139">139</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII-a">XVIII.</a></td><td class="smcap">A Novel Entertainment</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_146">146</a><a name="page_007" id="page_007"></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX-a">XIX.</a></td><td class="smcap">A Change of Owners</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_152">152</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX-a">XX.</a></td><td class="smcap">The Return</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_159">159</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI-a">XXI.</a></td><td class="smcap">The Awakening</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_166">166</a></td></tr> + +<tr><th colspan="3" align="center">ANGER.</th></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_I-b">I.</a></td><td class="smcap">The Duel</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_177">177</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_II-b">II.</a></td><td class="smcap">Another Ebullition of Temper</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_186">186</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_III-b">III.</a></td><td class="smcap">The Warning</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_194">194</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV-b">IV.</a></td><td class="smcap">Those Whom the Gods Destroy They First Make Mad"</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_199">199</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_V-b">V.</a></td><td class="smcap">Deadly Enmity</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_208">208</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI-b">VI.</a></td><td class="smcap">A Cunning Scheme</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_217">217</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII-b">VII.</a></td><td class="smcap">Home Pleasures</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_225">225</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII-b">VIII.</a></td><td class="smcap">The Captain's Narrative</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_234">234</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX-b">IX.</a></td><td class="smcap">Conclusion of the Captain's Narrative</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_240">240</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_X-b">X.</a></td><td class="smcap">Segoffin's Dissimulation</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_248">248</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI-b">XI.</a></td><td class="smcap">Sabine's Confession</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_255">255</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII-b">XII.</a></td><td class="smcap">Suzanne's Enlightenment</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_265">265</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII-b">XIII.</a></td><td class="smcap">Onésime's Conquest</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_271">271</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV-b">XIV.</a></td><td class="smcap">Arguments For and Against</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_279">279</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV-b">XV.</a></td><td class="smcap">An Unwelcome Visitor</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_287">287</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI-b">XVI.</a></td><td class="smcap">Segoffin's Ruse</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_294">294</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII-b">XVII.</a></td><td class="smcap">The Voice of the Tempter</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_302">302</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII-b">XVIII.</a></td><td class="smcap">"My Mother's Murderer Still Lives!"</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_309">309</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX-b">XIX.</a></td><td class="smcap">After the Storm</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_316">316</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX-b">XX.</a></td><td class="smcap">The Midnight Attack</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_322">322</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI-b">XXI.</a></td><td class="smcap">A Last Appeal</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_329">329</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII-b">XXII.</a></td><td class="smcap">Conclusion</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_338">338</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<p><a name="page_008" id="page_008"></a></p> + +<p><a name="page_009" id="page_009"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS" id="LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS"></a>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.</h3> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align="left"> </td><td align="right"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" class="smcap">"Axe in hand"</td><td align="left"><i><a href="#front">Frontispiece</a></i></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" class="smcap">"'Go away and let me alone'"</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_053">53</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" class="smcap">"'My star has not deserted me'"</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_155">155</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" class="smcap">"Several men rushed upon him"</td><td align="right"><a href="#page_236">236</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<p>Avarice and Anger.</p> + +<p><a name="page_010" id="page_010"></a></p> + +<p><a name="page_011" id="page_011"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="THE_MILLIONAIRES" id="THE_MILLIONAIRES"></a>THE MILLIONAIRES</h2> + +<p><a name="page_012" id="page_012"></a></p> + +<p><a name="page_013" id="page_013"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="AVARICE" id="AVARICE"></a>AVARICE.</h2> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_I-a" id="CHAPTER_I-a"></a>CHAPTER I.<br /><br /> +<small>AN UNFORTUNATE CHOICE.</small></h3> + +<p>The narrow street known for many long years as the Charnier des +Innocents (the Charnel-house of the Innocents), near the market, has +always been noted for the large number of scriveners who have +established their booths in this densely populated part of Paris.</p> + +<p>One fine morning in the month of May, 18—, a young girl about eighteen +years of age, who was clad in working dress, and whose charming though +melancholy face wore that peculiar pallor which seems to be a sort of +sinister reflection of poverty, was walking thoughtfully down the +Charnier des Innocents. Several times she paused as if in doubt in front +of as many scriveners' booths, but either because the proprietors seemed +too young or too unprepossessing in appearance or too busy, she went +slowly on again.</p> + +<p>Seeing, in the doorway of the last booth, an old man with a face as good +and kind as it was venerable, the young girl did not hesitate to enter +the modest little establishment.</p> + +<p>The scrivener, struck in his turn by the young girl's remarkable beauty +and modest bearing, as well as her timid and melancholy air, greeted her +with almost paternal<a name="page_014" id="page_014"></a> affability as she entered his shop, after which he +closed the door; then drawing the curtain of the little window, the good +man motioned his client to a seat, while he took possession of his old +leather armchair.</p> + +<p>Mariette—for that was the young girl's name—lowered her big blue eyes, +blushed deeply, and maintained an embarrassed, almost painful, silence +for several seconds. Her bosom rose and fell tumultuously under the +small gray shawl that she wore over her faded calico gown, while the +hands she had clasped in her lap trembled violently.</p> + +<p>The old scrivener, anxious to reassure the poor girl, said to her, +almost affectionately, "Come, come, my child, compose yourself. Why +should you feel this embarrassment? You came to ask me to write some +request or petition for you, or, perhaps, a letter, did you not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, monsieur, it was—it was to ask you to write a letter for me that +I came."</p> + +<p>"Then you do not know how to write?"</p> + +<p>"No, monsieur," replied Mariette, blushing still more deeply, as if +ashamed of her ignorance, whereupon the scrivener, regretting that he +had thus humiliated his client, said, kindly:</p> + +<p>"You certainly cannot suppose me capable of blaming you for your +ignorance. On the contrary, it is a sincere compassion I feel for +persons who, for want of an education, are compelled to come to me, to +apply to a third party, who may betray their confidence, and, perhaps, +even ridicule them! And yet they are compelled to confide their dearest +and most secret thoughts to these strangers. It is very hard, is it +not?"</p> + +<p>"It is, indeed, monsieur," replied Mariette, touched by these words. "To +be obliged to apply to a stranger to—"</p> + +<p>The young girl did not finish the sentence, but blushed deeply, and her +eyes filled with tears.<a name="page_015" id="page_015"></a></p> + +<p>Gazing at his youthful client with even greater interest, the scrivener +said:</p> + +<p>"Do not be so troubled, my child. You have neither garrulousness nor +ridicule to fear from me. I have always regarded as something +indescribably touching and sacred the confidence which persons who have +been deprived of the advantages of an education are obliged to repose in +me."</p> + +<p>Then, with a kindly smile, he added: "But pray do not suppose for one +moment, mademoiselle, that I say this to glorify myself at the expense +of my <i>confreres</i>, and to get their clients away from them. No, I am +saying exactly what I think and feel; and at my age, one certainly may +be allowed to do that."</p> + +<p>Mariette, more and more surprised at the old man's words, said, +gratefully:</p> + +<p>"I thank you, monsieur; you relieve me very much by thus understanding +and excusing my embarrassment. It is very hard not to know how to read +and write," she added, sighing," but, alas! very often one cannot help +it."</p> + +<p>"I am sure, my poor child, that in your case, as in the case of many +other young girls who apply to me, it is not the good-will but the +opportunity that is lacking. Many of these young girls, from being +obliged to take care of their young brothers and sisters while their +parents are busy away from home, have had no chance to attend school. +Others were apprenticed at an early age—"</p> + +<p>"Like myself, monsieur," said Mariette, smiling. "I was apprenticed when +I was only nine years old, and up to that time I had been obliged to +remain at home and take care of a little brother, who died a short time +before my father and mother."</p> + +<p>"Poor child! your history is very similar to that of most young girls of +your station in life. But, since your term of apprenticeship expired, +have you made no effort to acquire a little education?"<a name="page_016" id="page_016"></a></p> + +<p>"Since that time I have had to work all day and far into the night to +earn enough to keep my godmother and myself alive, monsieur," said +Mariette, sadly.</p> + +<p>"Alas! yes, time is bread to the labourer, and only too often he has to +choose whether he shall die of hunger or live in ignorance."</p> + +<p>Then, becoming more and more interested, he added: "You spoke of your +godmother just now; so your father and mother are both dead, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, as I told you a little while ago," replied Mariette, sadly. "But +pardon me, monsieur, for taking up so much of your time instead of +telling you at once what I want you to write for me."</p> + +<p>"I am sure my time could not have been better spent, for I am an old +man, and I have had a good deal of experience, and I feel sure that you +are a good and worthy girl. But now about the letter. Do you prefer to +give me a rough idea of what you wish to write and let me put it in my +own words, or do you prefer to dictate the letter?"</p> + +<p>"I would rather dictate it, monsieur."</p> + +<p>"Then I am ready," said the old man, putting on his spectacles, and +seating himself at his desk with his eyes fixed upon the paper so as not +to increase his client's embarrassment by looking at her.</p> + +<p>So, after a moment's hesitation, Mariette, with downcast eyes, proceeded +to dictate, as follows:</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Louis."</p> + +<p>On hearing this name, the old scrivener made a slight movement of +surprise,—a fact that was not noticed by Mariette, who repeated, in a +less trembling voice this time, "Monsieur Louis."</p> + +<p>"I have written that," said the scrivener, still without looking at +Mariette, whereupon the latter continued, hesitating every now and then, +for, in spite of her confidence in the old man, it was no easy matter to +reveal her secret thoughts to him:<a name="page_017" id="page_017"></a></p> + +<p>"I am greatly troubled, for I have heard nothing from you, though you +promised to write me while you were away."</p> + +<p>"While you were away," repeated the scrivener, whose face had suddenly +become thoughtful, and who was saying to himself, with a vague anxiety: +"This is a singular coincidence. His name is Louis, and he is away."</p> + +<p>"I hope you are well, M. Louis," Mariette continued, "and that it is not +on account of any illness that you have not written to me, for then I +should have two causes of anxiety instead of one.</p> + +<p>"To-day is the sixth of May, M. Louis, the sixth of May, so I could not +let the day pass without writing to you. Perhaps the same thought will +occur to you, and that day after to-morrow I shall receive a letter from +you, as you will receive one from me. Then I shall know that it was not +on account of forgetfulness or sickness that you have delayed writing to +me so long. In that case, how happy I shall be! So I shall wait for day +after to-morrow with great impatience. Heaven grant that I may not be +disappointed, M. Louis."</p> + +<p>Mariette stifled a sigh as she uttered these last words, and a tear +rolled down her cheek.</p> + +<p>A long pause followed. The features of the scrivener who was bending +over his desk could not be seen by the young girl, but they were +assuming a more and more anxious expression; and two or three times he +tried to steal a furtive glance at his client, as if the interest he had +felt in her had given place to a sort of distrust caused by grave +apprehensions on his part.</p> + +<p>The young woman, keeping her eyes still fixed upon her lap, continued:</p> + +<p>"I have no news to tell you, M. Louis. My godmother is still very ill. +Her sufferings seem to increase, and that renders her much more +irritable. In order that I may be with her as much as possible, I sew at +home now most of the time, instead of going to Madame Jourdan's,<a name="page_018" id="page_018"></a> so the +days seem long and gloomy; for the work done in the shop with my +companions was almost a pleasure, and seemed to progress much more +rapidly. So I am obliged to work far into the night now, and do not get +much sleep, as my godmother suffers much more at night than in the +daytime, and requires a great deal of attention from me. Sometimes I do +not even wake when she calls me because I am so dead with sleep, and +then she scolds, which is very natural when she suffers so.</p> + +<p>"You can understand, of course, that my life at home is not very happy, +and that a friendly word from you would be a great comfort, and console +me for many things that are very unpleasant.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, M. Louis. I expected to have written to you through +Augustine, but she has gone back to her home now, and I have been +obliged to apply to another person, to whom I have dictated this letter. +Ah, M. Louis, never have I realised the misfortune of not knowing how to +read or write as much as I do at this present time.</p> + +<p>"Farewell, M. Louis, think of me, I beg of you, for I am always thinking +of you.</p> + +<p>"With sincere affection I once more bid you adieu."</p> + +<p>As the young girl remained silent for a minute or two after these words, +the old man turned to her and asked:</p> + +<p>"Is that all, my child?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, monsieur."</p> + +<p>"And what name is to be signed to this letter?"</p> + +<p>"The name of Mariette, monsieur."</p> + +<p>"Mariette only?"</p> + +<p>"Mariette Moreau, if you think best, monsieur. That is my family name."</p> + +<p>"Signed, Mariette Moreau," said the old man, writing the name as he +spoke.</p> + +<p>Then, having folded the letter, he asked, concealing the secret anxiety +with which he awaited the girl's reply:<a name="page_019" id="page_019"></a></p> + +<p>"To whom is this letter to be addressed, my child?"</p> + +<p>"To M. Louis Richard. General delivery, Dreux."</p> + +<p>"I thought as much," secretly groaned the old man, as he prepared to +write the address Mariette had just given him.</p> + +<p>If the young girl had not been so deeply preoccupied she could hardly +have failed to notice the change in the expression of the scrivener's +face,—a change which became still more noticeable when he discovered +for a certainty for whom this missive was intended. It was with a look +of positive anger now that he furtively watched Mariette, and he seemed +unable to make up his mind to write the address she had just given him, +for after having written upon the envelope the words, "To Monsieur," he +dropped his pen, and said to his client, forcing a smile in order to +conceal alike his resentment and his apprehensions:</p> + +<p>"Now, my child, though this is the first time we ever saw each other, it +seems to me you feel you can trust me a little already."</p> + +<p>"That is true, monsieur. Before I came here, I feared I should not have +the courage to dictate my letter to an entire stranger, but your manner +was so kind that I soon got over my embarrassment."</p> + +<p>"I certainly see no reason why you should feel the slightest +embarrassment. If I were your own father, I could not find a word of +fault with the letter you have just written to—to M. Louis, and if I +were not afraid of abusing the confidence you say that you have in me, I +should ask—but no, that would be too inquisitive."</p> + +<p>"You would ask me what, monsieur?"</p> + +<p>"Who this M. Louis Richard is?"</p> + +<p>"That is no secret, monsieur. M. Louis is the clerk of a notary whose +office is in the same building as the shop in which I work. It was in +this way that we became acquainted on the sixth of May, just one year +ago to-day."<a name="page_020" id="page_020"></a></p> + +<p>"Ah! I understand now why you laid such stress upon that date in your +letter."</p> + +<p>"Yes, monsieur."</p> + +<p>"And you love each other, I suppose,—don't blush so, child,—and expect +to marry some day, probably?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, monsieur."</p> + +<p>"And M. Louis's family consents to the marriage?"</p> + +<p>"M. Louis has no one but his father to consult, and we hope he will not +refuse his consent."</p> + +<p>"And the young man's father, what kind of a person is he?"</p> + +<p>"The best of fathers, M. Louis says, and bears his present poverty with +great courage and cheerfulness, though he used to be very well off. M. +Louis and his father are as poor now, though, as my godmother and I are. +That makes us hope that he will not oppose our marriage."</p> + +<p>"And your godmother, my child,—it seems to me she must be a great trial +to you."</p> + +<p>"When one suffers all the time, and has never had anything but +misfortunes all one's life, it is very natural that one should not be +very sweet tempered."</p> + +<p>"Your godmother is an invalid, then?"</p> + +<p>"She has lost one of her hands, monsieur, and she has a lung trouble +that has confined her to the bed for more than a year."</p> + +<p>"Lost her hand,—how?"</p> + +<p>"She used to work in a mattress factory, monsieur, and one day she ran a +long, crooked needle into her hand. The wound became inflamed from want +of care, for my godmother had not time to give it the attention it +should have had, and the doctors were obliged to cut her arm off. The +wound reopens now and then, and causes her a great deal of pain."</p> + +<p>"Poor woman!" murmured the scrivener, absently.</p> + +<p>"As for the lung trouble she has," continued Mariette, "many women who +follow that trade contract the disease,<a name="page_021" id="page_021"></a> the doctors say, from breathing +the unwholesome dust from the old mattresses they make over. My +godmother is bent almost double, and nearly every night she has such +terrible fits of coughing that I have to hold her for hours, sometimes."</p> + +<p>"And your godmother has nothing but your earnings to depend on?"</p> + +<p>"She cannot work now, monsieur, of course."</p> + +<p>"Such devotion on your part is very generous, I must say."</p> + +<p>"I am only doing my duty, monsieur. My godmother took care of me after +my parents died, and paid for a three years' apprenticeship for me. But +for her, I should not be in a position to earn my living, so it is only +right that she should profit now by the assistance she gave me years +ago."</p> + +<p>"But you must have to work very hard to support her and yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I have to work from fifteen to eighteen hours a day, monsieur."</p> + +<p>"And at night you have to nurse her instead of taking the rest you so +much need?"</p> + +<p>"Who else would nurse her, monsieur?"</p> + +<p>"But why doesn't she try to get into some hospital?"</p> + +<p>"They will not take her into a hospital because the lung trouble she has +is incurable. Besides, I could not desert her like that."</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, my child, I see that I was not mistaken. You are a good, +noble-hearted girl, there is no doubt of it," added the old man, holding +out his hand to Mariette.</p> + +<p>As he did, either through awkwardness, or intentionally, the scrivener +overturned the inkstand that stood on his desk in such a way that a good +part of the contents ran over the letter, which lacked only the address +to complete it.<a name="page_022" id="page_022"></a></p> + +<p>"Good heavens! How unfortunate, the letter is covered with ink, +monsieur!" exclaimed Mariette.</p> + +<p>"How awkward in me!" responded the old man, with a disgusted air. +"Still, it doesn't matter very much, after all. It was a short letter. I +write very rapidly, and it will not take me more than ten minutes to +copy it for you, my child. At the same time, I will read it aloud so you +can see if there is any change you would like to make in it."</p> + +<p>"I am truly sorry to give you so much trouble, monsieur."</p> + +<p>"It serves me right, as it was all my fault," responded the old man, +cheerfully.</p> + +<p>And he began to read the letter aloud as he wrote, exactly as if he were +recopying it, as he proceeded with the reading. Nevertheless, from the +scrivener's manner it seemed evident that a violent struggle was going +on in his breast, for sometimes he sighed and knit his brows, sometimes +he seemed confused and kept his eyes sedulously averted from the +ingenuous face of Mariette, who sat with one elbow resting upon the +table, and her head supported on her hand, watching with envious eyes +the rapid movements of the old man's pen, as it traced characters which +were undecipherable to her, but which would, as she fondly supposed, +convey her thoughts to the man she loved.</p> + +<p>The young girl expressing no desire to make the slightest change in her +artless missive, the scrivener handed it to her after having carefully +sealed it.</p> + +<p>"And now, monsieur, how much do I owe you?" timidly inquired the girl, +drawing a little purse containing two small silver corns and a few sous +from her pocket.</p> + +<p>"Fifty centimes," replied the old man after a moment's hesitation, +remembering, perhaps, that it was at the cost of a day's bread that the +poor girl was writing to her lover; "fifty centimes," repeated the +scrivener, "for you<a name="page_023" id="page_023"></a> understand, of course, my child, that I expect you +to pay for only one of the letters I have written. I alone am +responsible for my awkwardness."</p> + +<p>"You are certainly very honest, monsieur," said Mariette, touched by +what she considered a proof of generosity on the part of the scrivener. +Then, after having paid for her letter, she added:</p> + +<p>"You have been so kind to me, monsieur, that I shall venture to ask a +favour of you."</p> + +<p>"Speak, my child."</p> + +<p>"If I have any other letters to write, it would be almost impossible for +me to apply to any one but you, monsieur."</p> + +<p>"I shall be at your service."</p> + +<p>"But this is not all, monsieur. My godmother is as I am. She can neither +read nor write. I had a friend I could depend upon, but she is out of +town. In case I should receive a letter from M. Louis, would you be kind +enough to read it to me?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, my child. I will read your letters to you with pleasure. +Bring them all to me," replied the old man, with much inward +gratification. "It is I who should thank you for the confidence you +manifest in me. I hope I shall soon see you again, and that you leave +here much more easy in mind than when you came."</p> + +<p>"I certainly could not expect such kindness as you have shown me from +any one else."</p> + +<p>"Farewell, then, my child, and be sure that you consider me your reader +and secretary henceforth. It really seems as if we must have known each +other a dozen years."</p> + +<p>"That is true, monsieur. <i>Au revoir.</i>"</p> + +<p>"<i>Au revoir</i>, my child."</p> + +<p>Mariette had hardly left the booth when a postman appeared in the +doorway, and holding out a letter to the old scrivener, said, cordially:</p> + +<p>"Here, Father Richard, is a letter from Dreux."<a name="page_024" id="page_024"></a></p> + +<p>"A letter from Dreux!" exclaimed the old man, seizing it eagerly. "Thank +you, my friend." Then, examining the handwriting, he said to himself: +"It is from Ramon! What is he going to tell me? What does he think of my +son? Ah! what is going to become of all the fine plans Ramon and I +formed so long ago?"</p> + +<p>"There are six sous to pay on it, Father Richard," said the postman, +arousing the old scrivener from his reverie.</p> + +<p>"Six sous! the devil! isn't it prepaid?"</p> + +<p>"Look at the stamp, Father Richard."</p> + +<p>"True," said the scrivener, sighing heavily, as he reluctantly drew the +ten sous piece he had just received from his pocket and handed it to the +postman.</p> + +<p>While this was going on, Mariette was hastening homeward.<a name="page_025" id="page_025"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_II-a" id="CHAPTER_II-a"></a>CHAPTER II.<br /><br /> +<small>A TOUCHING EXAMPLE OF UNSELFISH DEVOTION.</small></h3> + +<p>Mariette soon reached the gloomy and sombre thoroughfare known as the +Rue des Prêtres St. Germain-l'Auxerrois, and entered one of the houses +opposite the grim walls of the church. After traversing a dark alley, +the girl began to climb a rickety stairway as dark as the alley itself, +for the only light came through a courtyard so narrow that it reminded +one of a well.</p> + +<p>The porter's room was on the first landing only a few steps from the +stairway, and Mariette, pausing there, said to the woman who occupied +it:</p> + +<p>"Madame Justin, did you have the goodness to go up and see if my +godmother wanted anything?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mlle. Mariette, I took her milk up to her, but she was in such a +bad humour that she treated me like a dog. Had it not been for obliging +you, I would have let the old crosspatch alone, I can tell you."</p> + +<p>"You must not be too hard on her, Madame Justin; she suffers so much."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you are always making excuses for her, I know. It shows how +good-hearted you are, but it doesn't prevent your godmother from being a +hateful old thing. Poor child, you certainly are having your purgatory +in advance. If there is no paradise for you hereafter you will certainly +be cheated out of your rightful dues. But wait a minute, I have a letter +for you."</p> + +<p>"A letter?" exclaimed Mariette, her heart throbbing<a name="page_026" id="page_026"></a> with relief and +hope, "a letter from some one out of the city?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, mademoiselle, it is postmarked Dreux, and there are six sous to +pay on it. Here it is, and see, on the corner of the envelope the writer +has put the words, 'Very urgent.'"</p> + +<p>Mariette seized the letter and slipped it into her bosom; then, drawing +out her little purse again, she took from it her last ten sous piece and +paid the woman, after which she hastened up to her room, pleased and at +the same time anxious and sad; pleased at having received a letter from +Louis, anxious concerning the significance of those words, "Very +urgent," written in a corner of the envelope, and sad because several +hours must elapse before she would know the contents of the letter, for +she dared not absent herself again after having left her godmother alone +so long.</p> + +<p>It was with a sort of dread that she finally opened the door of the room +on the fifth floor that she occupied with her godmother. The poor woman +was lying on the only bed the two women possessed. A thin mattress now +rolled up out of the way in a corner, but laid on the floor at night, +served as a bed for Mariette. A table, an old bureau, two chairs, a few +cooking utensils hanging on the wall near the fireplace, were the only +articles of furniture in the dimly lighted room, but everything was +scrupulously clean.</p> + +<p>Madame Lacombe—for that was the invalid's name—was a tall, frightfully +pale, and emaciated woman, about fifty years of age, with a peevish, +disagreeable face. Bent nearly double in the bed, one could see of her +only her mutilated arm swathed in bandages, and her irascible face, +surrounded by an old cap from which a wisp of gray hair crept out here +and there, while her bluish lips were continually distorted by a bitter +and sardonic smile.</p> + +<p>Madame Lacombe seemed to be suffering greatly. At<a name="page_027" id="page_027"></a> all events she was in +an execrable temper, and her hollow eyes gleamed ominously. Making an +effort to turn herself in bed, so as to get a look at her godchild, she +exclaimed, wrathfully:</p> + +<p>"Where on earth have you been all this time, you gadabout?"</p> + +<p>"I have been gone barely an hour, godmother."</p> + +<p>"And you hoped to find me dead when you got back, didn't you, now? Oh, +you needn't deny it. You've had enough of me, yes, too much. The day my +coffin lid is screwed down will be a happy day for you, and for me, too, +for it is too bad, too bad for any one to have to suffer as I do," added +the poor woman, pressing her hand upon her bosom, and groaning heavily.</p> + +<p>Mariette dried the tears her godmother's sarcastic words had excited, +and approaching the sufferer, said, gently:</p> + +<p>"You had such a bad night last night that I hoped you would be more +comfortable to-day and get a little sleep while I was out."</p> + +<p>"If I suffer or if I starve to death it makes no difference to you, +evidently, provided you can run the streets."</p> + +<p>"I went out this morning because I was absolutely obliged to, godmother, +but before I left I asked Madame Justin—"</p> + +<p>"I'd as lief see a death's-head as that creature, so when you want to +get rid of me you have only to send her to wait on me."</p> + +<p>"Shall I dress your arm, godmother?"</p> + +<p>"No, it is too late for that now. You stayed away on purpose. I know you +did."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry I was late, but won't you let me dress it now?"</p> + +<p>"I wish to heaven you would leave me in peace."</p> + +<p>"But your arm will get worse if you don't have it dressed."</p> + +<p>"And that is exactly what you want."<a name="page_028" id="page_028"></a></p> + +<p>"Oh, godmother, don't say that, I beg of you."</p> + +<p>"Don't come near me! I won't have it dressed, I say."</p> + +<p>"Very well, godmother," replied the girl, sighing. Then she added, "I +asked Madame Justin to bring up your milk. Here it is. Would you like me +to warm it a little?"</p> + +<p>"Milk? milk? I'm tired of milk! The very thought of it makes me sick at +my stomach. The doctor said I was to have good strong bouillon, with a +chop and a bit of chicken now and then. I had some Monday and +Wednesday—but this is Sunday."</p> + +<p>"It is not my fault, godmother. I know the doctor ordered it, but one +must have money to follow his directions, and it is almost impossible +for me to earn twenty sous a day now."</p> + +<p>"You don't mind spending money on clothes, I'm sure. When my comfort is +concerned it is a very different thing."</p> + +<p>"But I have had nothing but this calico dress all winter, godmother," +answered Mariette, with touching resignation. "I economise all I can, +and we owe two months' rent for all that."</p> + +<p>"That means I am a burden to you, I suppose. And yet I took you in out +of the street, and had you taught a trade, you ungrateful, hard-hearted +minx!"</p> + +<p>"No, godmother, I am not ungrateful. When you are not feeling as badly +as you are now you are more just to me," replied Mariette, restraining +her tears; "but don't insist upon going without eating any longer. It +will make you feel so badly."</p> + +<p>"I know it. I've got dreadful cramps in my stomach now."</p> + +<p>"Then take your milk, I beg of you, godmother."</p> + +<p>"I won't do anything of the kind! I hate milk, I tell you."</p> + +<p>"Shall I go out and get you a couple of fresh eggs?"<a name="page_029" id="page_029"></a></p> + +<p>"No, I want some chicken."</p> + +<p>"But, godmother, I can't—"</p> + +<p>"Can't what?"</p> + +<p>"Buy chicken on credit."</p> + +<p>"I only want a half or a quarter of one. You had twenty-four sous in +your purse this morning."</p> + +<p>"That is true, godmother."</p> + +<p>"Then go to the <i>rôtisseur</i> and buy me a quarter of a chicken."</p> + +<p>"But, godmother, I—"</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't that much money any longer, I have only a few sous left."</p> + +<p>"And those two ten sous pieces; what became of them?"</p> + +<p>"Godmother—"</p> + +<p>"Where are those two ten sous pieces, tell me?"</p> + +<p>"I—I don't know," repeated the poor girl, blushing. "They must have +slipped out of my purse. I—I—"</p> + +<p>"You lie. You are blushing as red as a beet."</p> + +<p>"I assure you—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, I see," sneered the sick woman, "while I am lying here on my +death-bed you have been stuffing yourself with dainties."</p> + +<p>"But, godmother—"</p> + +<p>"Get out of my sight, get out of my sight, I tell you! Let me lie here +and starve if you will, but don't let me ever lay eyes on you again! You +were very anxious for me to drink that milk! There was poison in it, I +expect, I am such a burden to you."</p> + +<p>At this accusation, which was as absurd as it was atrocious, Mariette +stood for a moment silent and motionless, not understanding at first the +full meaning of those horrible words; but when she did, she recoiled, +clasping her hands in positive terror; then, unable to restrain her +tears, and yielding to an irresistible impulse, she threw herself on the +sick woman's neck, twined her arms<a name="page_030" id="page_030"></a> around her, and covering her face +with tears and kisses, exclaimed, wildly:</p> + +<p>"Oh, godmother, godmother, how can you?"</p> + +<p>This despairing protest against a charge which could have originated +only in a disordered brain restored the invalid to her senses, and, +realising the injustice of which she had been guilty, she, too, burst +into tears; then taking one of Mariette's hands in one of hers, and +trying to press the young girl to her breast with the other, she said, +soothingly:</p> + +<p>"Come, come, child, don't cry so. What a silly creature you are! Can't +you see that I was only joking?"</p> + +<p>"True, godmother, I was very stupid to think you could be in earnest," +replied Mariette, passing the back of her hand over her eyes to dry her +tears, "but really I couldn't help it."</p> + +<p>"You ought to have more patience with your poor godmother, Mariette," +replied the sick woman, sadly. "When I suffer so it seems as if I can +hardly contain myself."</p> + +<p>"I know it, I know it, godmother! It is easy enough to be just and +amiable when one is happy, while you, poor dear, have never known what +happiness is."</p> + +<p>"That is true," said the sick woman, feeling a sort of cruel +satisfaction in justifying her irritability by an enumeration of her +grievances, "that is true. Many persons may have had a lot like mine, +but no one ever had a worse one. Beaten as an apprentice, beaten by my +husband until he drank himself to death, I have dragged my ball and +chain along for fifty years, without ever having known a single happy +day."</p> + +<p>"Poor godmother, I understand only too well how much you must have +suffered."</p> + +<p>"No, child, no, you cannot understand, though you have known plenty of +trouble in your short life; but you are pretty, and when you have on a +fresh white cap, with<a name="page_031" id="page_031"></a> a little bow of pink ribbon on your hair, and you +look at yourself in the glass, you have a few contented moments, I +know."</p> + +<p>"But listen, godmother, I—"</p> + +<p>"It is some comfort, I tell you. Come, child, be honest now, and admit +that you are pleased, and a little proud too, when people turn to look +at you, in spite of your cheap frock and your clumsy laced shoes."</p> + +<p>"Oh, so far as that is concerned, godmother, I always feel ashamed, +somehow, when I see people looking at me. When I used to go to the +workroom there was a man who came to see Madame Jourdan, and who was +always looking at me, but I just hated it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, but for all that it pleases you way down in your secret heart; +and when you get old you will have something pleasant to think of, while +I have not. I can't even remember that I was ever young, and, so far as +looks are concerned, I was always so ugly that I never could bear to +look in the glass, and I could get no husband except an old drunkard who +used to beat me within an inch of my life. I didn't even have a chance +to enjoy myself after his death, either, for I had a big bill at the +wine-shop to pay for him. Then, as if I had not trouble enough, I must +needs lose my health and become unable to work, so I should have died of +starvation, but for you."</p> + +<p>"Come, come, godmother, you're not quite just," said Mariette, anxious +to dispel Madame Lacombe's ill-humour. "To my certain knowledge, you +have had at least one happy day in your life."</p> + +<p>"Which day, pray?"</p> + +<p>"The day when, at my mother's death, you took me into your home out of +charity."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Well, did not the knowledge that you had done such a noble deed please +you? Wasn't that a happy day for you, godmother?"<a name="page_032" id="page_032"></a></p> + +<p>"You call that a happy day, do you? On the contrary it was one of the +very worst days I ever experienced."</p> + +<p>"Why, godmother?" exclaimed the girl, reproachfully.</p> + +<p>"It was, for my good-for-nothing husband having died, as soon as his +debts were paid I should have had nobody to think of but myself; but +after I took you, it was exactly the same as if I were a widow with a +child to support, and that is no very pleasant situation for a woman who +finds it all she can do to support herself. But you were so cute and +pretty with your curly head and big blue eyes, and you looked so pitiful +kneeling beside your mother's coffin, that I hadn't the heart to let you +go to the Foundling Asylum. What a night I spent asking myself what I +should do about you, and what would become of you if I should get out of +work. If I had been your own mother, Mariette, I couldn't have been more +worried, and here you are talking about that having been a happy day for +me. No; if I had been well off, it would have been very different! I +should have said to myself: 'There is no danger, the child will be +provided for.' But to take a child without any hope of bettering its +condition is a very serious thing."</p> + +<p>"Poor godmother!" said the young girl, deeply affected. Then smiling +through her tears in the hope of cheering the sick woman, she added:</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, we won't talk of days, then, but of moments, for I'm going to +convince you that you have at least been happy for that brief space of +time, as at this present moment, for instance."</p> + +<p>"This present moment?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm sure you must be pleased to see that I have stopped crying, +thanks to the kind things you have been saying to me."</p> + +<p>But the sick woman shook her head sadly.</p> + +<p>"When I get over a fit of ill-temper like that I had<a name="page_033" id="page_033"></a> just now, do you +know what I say to myself?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"What is it, godmother?"</p> + +<p>"I say to myself: 'Mariette is a good girl, I know, but I am always so +disagreeable and unjust to her that way down in the depths of her heart +she must hate me, and I deserve it.'"</p> + +<p>"Come, come, godmother, why will you persist in dwelling upon that +unpleasant subject, godmother?" said the girl, reproachfully.</p> + +<p>"You must admit that I am right, and I do not say this in any +faultfinding way, I assure you. It would be perfectly natural. You are +obliged almost to kill yourself working for me, you nurse me and wait on +me, and I repay you with abuse and hard words. My death will, indeed, be +a happy release for you, poor child. The sooner the undertaker comes for +me, the better."</p> + +<p>"You said, just now, that when you were talking of such terrible things +it was only in jest, and I take it so now," responded Mariette, again +trying to smile, though it made her heart bleed to see the invalid +relapsing into this gloomy mood again; but the latter, touched by the +grieved expression of the girl's features, said:</p> + +<p>"Well, as I am only jesting, don't put on such a solemn look. Come, get +out the chafing-dish and make me some milk soup. While the milk is +warming, you can dress my arm."</p> + +<p>Mariette seemed as pleased with these concessions on the part of her +godmother as if the latter had conferred some great favour upon her. +Hastening to the cupboard she took from a shelf the last bit of bread +left in the house, crumbled it in a saucepan of milk, lighted the lamp +under the chafing-dish, and then returned to the invalid, who now +yielded the mutilated arm to her ministrations, and in spite of the +repugnance which such a wound could not fail to inspire, Mariette +dressed it with as much dexterity as patience.<a name="page_034" id="page_034"></a></p> + +<p>The amiability and devotion of the young girl, as well as her tender +solicitude, touched the heart of Madame Lacombe, and when the unpleasant +task was concluded, she remarked:</p> + +<p>"Talk about Sisters of Charity, there is not one who deserves half as +much praise as you do, child."</p> + +<p>"Do not say that, godmother. Do not the good sisters devote their lives +to caring for strangers, while you are like a mother to me? I am only +doing my duty. I don't deserve half as much credit as they do."</p> + +<p>"Yes, my poor Mariette, I would talk about my affection for you. It is a +delightful thing. I positively made you weep awhile ago, and I shall be +sure to do the same thing again to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Mariette, to spare herself the pain of replying to her godmother's +bitter words, went for the soup, which the invalid seemed to eat with +considerable enjoyment after all, for it was not until she came to the +last spoonful that she exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"But now I think of it, child, what are you going to eat?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I have already breakfasted, godmother," replied the poor little +deceiver. "I bought a roll this morning, and ate it as I walked along. +But let me arrange your pillow for you. You may drop off to sleep, +perhaps, you had such a bad night."</p> + +<p>"But you were awake even more than I was."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! I am no sleepyhead, and being kept awake a little doesn't +hurt me. There, don't you feel more comfortable now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, very much. Thank you, my child."</p> + +<p>"Then I will take my work and sit over there by the window. It is so +dark to-day, and my work is particular."</p> + +<p>"What are you making?"</p> + +<p>"Such an exquisite chemise of the finest linen lawn, godmother. Madame +Jourdan told me I must be very careful with it. The lace alone I am to +put on it is<a name="page_035" id="page_035"></a> worth two hundred francs, which will make the cost of each +garment at least three hundred francs, and there are two dozen of them +to be made. They are for some kept woman, I believe," added Mariette, +naïvely.</p> + +<p>The sick woman gave a sarcastic laugh.</p> + +<p>"What are you laughing at, godmother?" inquired the girl, in surprise.</p> + +<p>"A droll idea that just occurred to me."</p> + +<p>"And what was it, godmother?" inquired Mariette, rather apprehensively, +for she knew the usual character of Madame Lacombe's pleasantries.</p> + +<p>"I was thinking how encouraging it was to virtue that an honest girl +like yourself, who has only two or three patched chemises to her back, +should be earning twenty sous a day by making three hundred franc +chemises for—Oh, well, work away, child, I'll try to dream of a rest +from my sufferings."</p> + +<p>And the sick woman turned her face to the wall and said no more.</p> + +<p>Fortunately, Mariette was too pure-hearted, and too preoccupied as well, +to feel the bitterness of her godmother's remark, and when the sick +woman turned her back upon her the girl drew the very urgent letter the +portress had given her from her bosom, and laid it in her lap where she +could gaze at it now and then as she went on with her sewing.<a name="page_036" id="page_036"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_III-a" id="CHAPTER_III-a"></a>CHAPTER III.<br /><br /> +<small>A SHAMEFUL DECEPTION.</small></h3> + +<p>Discovering, a little while afterward, that her godmother was asleep, +Mariette, who up to that time had kept the letter from Louis +Richard—the scrivener's only son—carefully concealed in her lap, broke +the seal and opened the missive. An act of vain curiosity on her part, +for, as we have said, the poor girl could not read. But it was a +touching sight to see her eagerly gaze at these, to her, +incomprehensible characters.</p> + +<p>She perceived with a strange mingling of anxiety and hope that the +letter was very short. But did this communication, which was marked +"Very urgent" on a corner of the envelope, contain good or bad news?</p> + +<p>Mariette, with her eyes riveted upon these hieroglyphics, lost herself +in all sorts of conjectures, rightly thinking that so short a letter +after so long a separation must contain something of importance,—either +an announcement of a speedy return, or bad news which the writer had not +time to explain in full.</p> + +<p>Under these circumstances, poor Mariette experienced one of the worst of +those trials to which persons who have been deprived of the advantages +of even a rudimentary education are exposed. To hold in one's hand lines +that may bring you either joy or sorrow, and yet be unable to learn the +secret! To be obliged to wait until you can ask a stranger to read these +lines and until you can hear from other lips the news upon which your +very life depends,—is this not hard?<a name="page_037" id="page_037"></a></p> + +<p>At last this state of suspense became so intolerable that, seeing her +godmother continued to sleep, she resolved, even at the risk of being +cruelly blamed on her return,—for Madame Lacombe's good-natured fits +were rare,—to hasten back to the scrivener; so she cautiously rose from +her chair so as not to wake the sick woman, and tiptoed to the door, but +just as she reached it a bitter thought suddenly checked her.</p> + +<p>She could not have the scrivener read her letter without asking him to +reply to it. At least it was more than probable that the contents of the +letter would necessitate an immediate reply, consequently she would be +obliged to pay the old man, and Mariette no longer possessed even +sufficient money to buy bread for the day, and the baker, to whom she +already owed twenty francs, would positively refuse, she knew, to trust +her further. Her week's earnings which had only amounted to five francs, +as her godmother had taken up so much of her time, had been nearly all +spent in paying a part of the rent and the washerwoman, leaving her, in +fact, only twenty-five sous, most of which had been used in defraying +the expenses of her correspondence with Louis, an extravagance for which +the poor child now reproached herself in view of her godmother's +pressing needs.</p> + +<p>One may perhaps smile at the harsh recriminations to which she had been +subjected on account of this trifling expenditure, but, alas! twenty +sous does not seem a trifling sum to the poor, an increase or decrease +of that amount in their daily or even weekly earnings often meaning life +or death, sickness or health, to the humble toiler for daily bread.</p> + +<p>To save further expense, Mariette thought for a moment of asking the +portress to read the letter for her, but the poor girl was so shy and +sensitive, and feared the rather coarse, though good-natured woman's +raillery so much, that she finally decided she would rather make almost +any sacrifice than apply to her. She had one quite<a name="page_038" id="page_038"></a> pretty dress which +she had bought at a second-hand clothes store and refitted for herself, +a dress which she kept for great occasions and which she had worn the +few times she had gone on little excursions with Louis. With a heavy +sigh, she placed the dress, together with a small silk fichu, in a +basket to take it to the pawnbroker; and with the basket in her hand, +and walking very cautiously so as not to wake her godmother, the girl +approached the door, but just as she again reached it Madame Lacombe +made a slight movement, and murmured, drowsily:</p> + +<p>"She's going out again, I do believe, and—"</p> + +<p>But she fell asleep again without finishing the sentence.</p> + +<p>Mariette stood for a moment silent and motionless, then opening the door +with great care she stole out, locking it behind her and removing the +key, which she left in the porter's room as she passed. She then +hastened to the Mont de Piété, where they loaned her fifty sous on her +dress and fichu, and, armed with this money, Mariette flew back to the +Charnier des Innocents to find the scrivener.</p> + +<p>Since Mariette's departure, and particularly since he had read the +letter received from Dreux that morning, the old man had been reflecting +with increasing anxiety on the effect this secret which he had +discovered by the merest chance would have upon certain projects of his +own. He was thus engaged when he saw the same young girl suddenly +reappear at the door of his shop, whereupon, without concealing his +surprise, though he did not betray the profound uneasiness his client's +speedy return caused him, the scrivener said:</p> + +<p>"What is it, my child? I did not expect you back so soon."</p> + +<p>"Here is a letter from M. Louis, sir," said the young girl, drawing the +precious missive from her bosom, "and I have come to ask you to read it +to me."<a name="page_039" id="page_039"></a></p> + +<p>Trembling with anxiety and curiosity, the girl waited as the scrivener +glanced over the brief letter, concealing with only a moderate degree of +success the genuine consternation its contents excited; then, uttering +an exclamation of sorrowful indignation, he, to Mariette's intense +bewilderment and dismay, tore the precious letter in several pieces.</p> + +<p>"Poor child! poor child!" he exclaimed, throwing the fragments under his +desk, after having crumpled them in his hands.</p> + +<p>"What are you doing, monsieur?" cried Mariette, pale as death.</p> + +<p>"Ah, my poor child!" repeated the old man, with an air of deep +compassion.</p> + +<p>"Good heavens! Has any misfortune befallen M. Louis?" murmured the girl, +clasping her hands imploringly.</p> + +<p>"No, my child, no; but you must forget him."</p> + +<p>"Forget him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; believe me, it would be much better for you to renounce all hope, +so far as he is concerned."</p> + +<p>"My God! What has happened to him?"</p> + +<p>"There are some things that are much harder to bear than ignorance, and +yet I was pitying you a little while ago because you could not read."</p> + +<p>"But what did he say in the letter, monsieur?"</p> + +<p>"Your marriage is no longer to be thought of."</p> + +<p>"Did M. Louis say that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, at the same time appealing to your generosity of heart."</p> + +<p>"M. Louis bids me renounce him, and says he renounces me?"</p> + +<p>"Alas! yes, my poor child. Come, come, summon up all your courage and +resignation."</p> + +<p>Mariette, who had turned as pale as death, was silent for a moment, +while big tears rolled down her cheeks; then, stooping suddenly, she +gathered up the crumpled<a name="page_040" id="page_040"></a> fragments of the letter and handed them to the +scrivener, saying, in a husky voice:</p> + +<p>"I at least have the courage to hear all. Put the pieces together and +read the letter to me, if you please, monsieur."</p> + +<p>"Do not insist, my child, I beg of you."</p> + +<p>"Read it, monsieur, in pity read it!"</p> + +<p>"But—"</p> + +<p>"I must know the contents of this letter, however much the knowledge may +pain me."</p> + +<p>"I have already told you the substance of it. Spare yourself further +pain."</p> + +<p>"Have pity on me, monsieur. If you do really feel the slightest interest +in me, read the letter to me,—in heaven's name, read it! Let me at +least know the extent of my misfortune; besides, there may be a line, or +at least a word, of consolation."</p> + +<p>"Well, my poor child, as you insist," said the old man, adjusting the +fragments of the letter, while Mariette watched him with despairing +eyes, "listen to the letter."</p> + +<p>And he read as follows:</p> + +<p><br /> +</p> + +<p>"'<span class="smcap">My dear Mariette</span>:—I write you a few lines in great haste. My soul is +full of despair, for we shall be obliged to renounce our hopes. My +father's comfort and peace of mind, in his declining years, must be +assured at any cost. You know how devotedly I love my father. I have +given my word, and you and I must never meet again.</p> + +<p>"'One last request. I appeal both to your delicacy and generosity of +heart. Make no attempt to induce me to change this resolution. I have +been obliged to choose between my father and you; perhaps if I should +see you again, I might not have the courage to do my duty as a son. My +father's future is, consequently, in your hands. I rely upon your +generosity. Farewell! Grief overpowers<a name="page_041" id="page_041"></a> me so completely that I can no +longer hold my pen.</p> + +<p>"'Once more, and for ever, farewell.</p> + +<p class="r">"'<span class="smcap">Louis.</span>'"</p> + +<p><br /> +</p> + +<p>While this note was being read, Mariette might have served as a model +for a statue of grief. Standing motionless beside the scrivener's desk, +with inertly hanging arms, and clasped hands, her downcast eyes swimming +with tears, and her lips agitated by a convulsive trembling, the poor +creature still seemed to be listening, long after the old man had +concluded his reading.</p> + +<p>He was the first to break the long silence that ensued.</p> + +<p>"I felt certain that this letter would pain you terribly, my dear +child," he said, compassionately.</p> + +<p>But Mariette made no reply.</p> + +<p>"Do not tremble so, my child," continued the scrivener. "Sit down; and +here, take a sip of water."</p> + +<p>But Mariette did not even hear him. With her tear-dimmed eyes still +fixed upon vacancy, she murmured, with a heart-broken expression on her +face:</p> + +<p>"So it is all over! There is nothing left for me in the world. It was +too blissful a dream. I am like my godmother, happiness is not for such +as me."</p> + +<p>"My child," pleaded the old man, touched, in spite of himself, by her +despair, "my child, don't give way so, I beg of you."</p> + +<p>The words seemed to recall the girl to herself. She wiped her eyes, +then, gathering up the pieces of the torn letter, she said, in a voice +she did her best to steady:</p> + +<p>"Thank you, monsieur."</p> + +<p>"What are you doing?" asked Father Richard, anxiously. "What is the use +of preserving these fragments of a letter which will awaken such sad +memories?"</p> + +<p>"The grave of a person one has loved also awakens sad memories," replied +Mariette, with a bitter smile, "and yet one does not desert that +grave."<a name="page_042" id="page_042"></a></p> + +<p>After she had collected all the scraps of paper in the envelope, +Mariette replaced it in her bosom, and, crossing her little shawl upon +her breast, turned to go, saying, sadly: "I thank you for your kindness, +monsieur;" then, as if bethinking herself, she added, timidly:</p> + +<p>"Though this letter requires no reply, monsieur, after all the trouble I +have given you, I feel that I ought to offer—"</p> + +<p>"My charge is ten sous, exactly the same as for a letter," replied the +old man, promptly, accepting and pocketing the remuneration with +unmistakable eagerness, in spite of the conflicting emotions which had +agitated him ever since the young girl's return. "And now <i>au revoir</i>, +my child," he said, in a tone of evident relief; "our next meeting, I +hope, will be under happier circumstances."</p> + +<p>"Heaven grant it, monsieur," replied Mariette, as she walked slowly +away, while Father Richard, evidently anxious to return home, closed the +shutters of his stall, thus concluding his day's work much earlier than +usual.</p> + +<p>Mariette, a prey to the most despairing thoughts, walked on and on +mechanically, wholly unconscious of the route she was following, until +she reached the Pont au Change. At the sight of the river she started +suddenly like one awaking from a dream, and murmured, "It was my evil +genius that brought me here."</p> + +<p>In another moment she was leaning over the parapet gazing down eagerly +into the swift flowing waters below. Gradually, as her eyes followed the +course of the current, a sort of vertigo seized her. Unconsciously, too, +she was slowly yielding to the fascination such a scene often exerts, +and, with her head supported on her hands, she leaned farther and +farther over the stream.</p> + +<p>"I could find forgetfulness there," the poor child said to herself. "The +river is a sure refuge from misery, from hunger, from sickness, or from +a miserable old age, an old age like that of my poor godmother.<a name="page_043" id="page_043"></a> My +godmother? Why, without me, what would become of her?"</p> + +<p>Just then Mariette felt some one seize her by the arm, at the same time +exclaiming, in a frightened tone:</p> + +<p>"Take care, my child, take care, or you will fall in the river."</p> + +<p>The girl turned her haggard eyes upon the speaker, and saw a stout woman +with a kind and honest face, who continued, almost affectionately:</p> + +<p>"You are very imprudent to lean so far over the parapet, my child. I +expected to see you fall over every minute."</p> + +<p>"I was not noticing, madame—"</p> + +<p>"But you ought to notice, child. Good Heavens! how pale you are! Do you +feel sick?"</p> + +<p>"No, only a little weak, madame. It is nothing. I shall soon be all +right again."</p> + +<p>"Lean on me. You are just recovering from a fit of illness, I judge."</p> + +<p>"Yes, madame," replied Mariette, passing her hand across her forehead. +"Will you tell me where I am, please?"</p> + +<p>"Between the Pont Neuf and the Pont au Change, my dear. You are a +stranger in Paris, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"No, madame, but I had an attack of dizziness just now. It is passing +off, and I see where I am now."</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't you like me to accompany you to your home, child?" asked the +stout woman, kindly. "You are trembling like a leaf. Here, take my arm."</p> + +<p>"I thank you, madame, but it is not necessary. I live only a short +distance from here."</p> + +<p>"Just as you say, child, but I'll do it with pleasure if you wish. No? +Very well, good luck to you, then."</p> + +<p>And the obliging woman continued on her way.</p> + +<p>Mariette, thus restored to consciousness, as it were, realised the +terrible misfortune that had befallen her all<a name="page_044" id="page_044"></a> the more keenly, and to +this consciousness was now added the fear of being cruelly reproached by +her godmother just at a time when she was so sorely in need of +consolation, or at least of the quiet and solitude that one craves after +such a terrible shock.</p> + +<p>Desiring to evade the bitter reproaches this long absence was almost +sure to bring down upon her devoted head, and remembering the desire her +godmother had expressed that morning, Mariette hoped to gain forgiveness +by gratifying the invalid's whim, so, with the forty sous left of the +amount she had obtained at the Mont de Piété still in her pocket, she +hastened to a <i>rôtisseur's</i>, and purchased a quarter of a chicken there, +thence to a bakery, where she bought a couple of crisp white rolls, +after which she turned her steps homeward.</p> + +<p>A handsome coupé was standing at the door of the house in which Mariette +lived, though she did not even notice this fact, but when she stopped at +the porter's room as usual, to ask for her key, Madame Justin exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Your key, Mlle. Mariette? Why, that gentleman called for it a moment +ago."</p> + +<p>"What gentleman?"</p> + +<p>"A decorated gentleman. Yes, I should say he was decorated. Why, the +ribbon in his buttonhole was at least two inches wide. I never saw a +person with such a big decoration."</p> + +<p>"But I am not acquainted with any decorated gentleman," replied the +young girl, much surprised. "He must have made a mistake."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, child. He asked me if the Widow Lacombe didn't live here with +her goddaughter, a seamstress, so you see there could be no mistake."</p> + +<p>"But didn't you tell the gentleman that my godmother was an invalid and +could not see any one?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, child, but he said he must have a talk with her<a name="page_045" id="page_045"></a> on a very +important matter, all the same, so I gave him the key, and let him go +up."</p> + +<p>"I will go and see who it is, Madame Justin," responded Mariette.</p> + +<p>Imagine her astonishment, when, on reaching the fifth floor, she saw the +stranger through the half-open door, and heard him address these words +to Madame Lacombe:</p> + +<p>"As your goddaughter has gone out, my good woman, I can state my +business with you very plainly."</p> + +<p>When these words reached her ears, Mariette, yielding to a very natural +feeling of curiosity, concluded to remain on the landing and listen to +the conversation, instead of entering the room.<a name="page_046" id="page_046"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IV-a" id="CHAPTER_IV-a"></a>CHAPTER IV.<br /><br /> +<small>THE VOICE OF THE TEMPTER.</small></h3> + +<p>The speaker was a man about forty-five years of age, with regular though +rather haggard features and a long moustache, made as black and lustrous +by some cosmetic as his artistically curled locks, which evidently owed +their raven hue to artificial means. The stranger's physiognomy +impressed one as being a peculiar combination of deceitfulness, cunning, +and impertinence. He had large feet and remarkably large hands; in +short, despite his very evident pretensions, it was easy to see that he +was one of those vulgar persons who cannot imitate, but only parody real +elegance. Dressed in execrable taste, with a broad red ribbon in the +buttonhole of his frock coat, he affected a military bearing. With his +hat still on his head, he had seated himself a short distance from the +bed, and as he talked with the invalid he gnawed the jewelled handle of +a small cane that he carried.</p> + +<p>Madame Lacombe was gazing at the stranger with mingled surprise and +distrust. She was conscious, too, of a strong aversion, caused, +doubtless, by his both insolent and patronising air.</p> + +<p>"As your goddaughter is out, my good woman, I can state my business with +you very plainly."</p> + +<p>These were the words that Mariette overheard on reaching the landing. +The conversation that ensued was, in substance, as follows:</p> + +<p>"You asked, monsieur, if I were the Widow Lacombe,<a name="page_047" id="page_047"></a> Mariette Moreau's +godmother," said the sick woman tartly. "I told you that I was. Now, +what do you want with me? Explain, if you please."</p> + +<p>"In the first place, my good woman—"</p> + +<p>"My name is Lacombe, Madame Lacombe."</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well, Madame Lacombe," said the stranger, with an air of mock +deference, "I will tell you first who I am; afterwards I will tell you +what I want. I am Commandant de la Miraudière." Then, touching his red +ribbon, he added, "An old soldier as you see—ten campaigns—five +wounds."</p> + +<p>"That is nothing to me."</p> + +<p>"I have many influential acquaintances in Paris, dukes, counts, and +marquises."</p> + +<p>"What do I care about that?"</p> + +<p>"I keep a carriage, and spend at least twenty thousand francs a year."</p> + +<p>"While my goddaughter and I starve on twenty sous a day, when she can +earn them," said the sick woman, bitterly. "That is the way of the +world, however."</p> + +<p>"But it is not fair, my good Mother Lacombe," responded Commandant de la +Miraudière, "it is not fair, and I have come here to put an end to such +injustice."</p> + +<p>"If you've come here to mock me, I wish you'd take yourself off," +retorted the sick woman, sullenly.</p> + +<p>"Mock you, Mother Lacombe, mock you! Just hear what I have come to offer +you. A comfortable room in a nice apartment, a servant to wait on you, +two good meals a day, coffee every morning, and fifty francs a month for +your snuff, if you take it, or for anything else you choose to fancy, if +you don't,—well, what do you say to all this, Mother Lacombe?"</p> + +<p>"I say—I say you're only making sport of me, that is, unless there is +something behind all this. When one offers such things to a poor old +cripple like me, it is not for the love of God, that is certain."<a name="page_048" id="page_048"></a></p> + +<p>"No, Mother Lacombe, but for the love of two beautiful eyes, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"Whose beautiful eyes?"</p> + +<p>"Your goddaughter's, Mother Lacombe," replied Commandant de la +Miraudière, cynically. "There is no use beating about the bush."</p> + +<p>The invalid made a movement indicative of surprise, then, casting a +searching look at the stranger, inquired:</p> + +<p>"You know Mariette, then?"</p> + +<p>"I have been to Madame Jourdan's several times to order linen, for I am +very particular about my linen," added the stranger, glancing down +complacently at his embroidered shirt-front. "I have consequently often +seen your goddaughter there; I think her charming, adorable, and—"</p> + +<p>"And you have come to buy her of me?"</p> + +<p>"Bravo, Mother Lacombe! You are a clever and sensible woman, I see. You +understand things in the twinkling of an eye. This is the proposition I +have come to make to you: A nice suite of rooms, newly furnished for +Mariette, with whom you are to live, five hundred francs a month to run +the establishment, a maid and a cook who will also wait on you, a +suitable outfit for Mariette, and a purse of fifty louis to start with, +to say nothing of the other presents she will get if she behaves +properly. So much for the substantials. As for the agreeable part, there +will be drives in the park, boxes at the theatre,—I know any number of +actors, and I am also on the best of terms with some very high-toned +ladies who give many balls and card-parties,—in short, your goddaughter +will have a delightful, an enchanted life, Mother Lacombe, the life of a +duchess. Well, how does all this strike you?"</p> + +<p>"Very favourably, of course," responded the sick woman, with a sardonic +smile. "Such cattle as we are, are only fit to be sold when we are +young, or to sell others when we are old."<a name="page_049" id="page_049"></a></p> + +<p>"Ah, well, Mother Lacombe, to quiet your scruples, if you have any, you +shall have sixty francs a month for your snuff, and I shall also make +you a present of a handsome shawl, so you can go around respectably with +Mariette, whom you are never to leave for a moment, understand, for I am +as jealous as a tiger, and have no intention of being made a fool of."</p> + +<p>"All this tallies exactly with what I said to Mariette only this +morning. 'You are an honest girl,' I said to her, 'and yet you can +scarcely earn twenty sous a day making three hundred franc chemises for +a kept woman.'"</p> + +<p>"Three hundred franc chemises ordered from Madame Jourdan's? Oh, yes, +Mother Lacombe, I know. They are for Amandine, who is kept by the +Marquis de Saint-Herem, an intimate friend of mine. It was I who induced +her to patronise Madame Jourdan,—a regular bonanza for her, though the +marquis is very poor pay, but he makes all his furnishers as well as all +his mistresses the fashion. This little Amandine was a clerk in a little +perfumery shop on the Rue Colbert six months ago, and Saint-Herem has +made her the rage. There is no woman in Paris half as much talked about +as Amandine. The same thing may happen to Mariette some day, Mother +Lacombe. She may be wearing three hundred franc chemises instead of +making them. Don't it make you proud to think of it?"</p> + +<p>"Unless Mariette has the same fate as another poor girl I knew."</p> + +<p>"What happened to her, Mother Lacombe?"</p> + +<p>"She was robbed."</p> + +<p>"Robbed?"</p> + +<p>"She, too, was promised mountains of gold. The man who promised it +placed her in furnished apartments, and at the end of three months left +her without a penny. Then she killed herself in despair."</p> + +<p>"Really, Mother Lacombe, what kind of a man do<a name="page_050" id="page_050"></a> you take me for?" +demanded the stranger, indignantly. "Do I look like a scoundrel, like a +Robert Macaire?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, I am sure."</p> + +<p>"I, an old soldier who have fought in twenty campaigns, and have ten +wounds! I, who am hand and glove with all the lions of Paris! I, who +keep my carriage and spend twenty thousand francs a year! Speak out, +what security do you want? If you say so, the apartment shall be +furnished within a week, the lease made out in your name, and the rent +paid one year in advance; besides, you shall have the twenty-five or +thirty louis I have about me to bind the bargain, if you like."</p> + +<p>And as he spoke, he drew a handful of gold from his pocket and threw it +on the little table by the sick woman's bed, adding: "You see I am not +like you. I am not afraid of being robbed, Mother Lacombe."</p> + +<p>On hearing the chink of coin, the invalid leaned forward, and cast a +greedy, covetous look upon the glittering pile. Never in her life had +she had a gold coin in her possession, and now she could not resist the +temptation to touch the gleaming metal, and let it slip slowly through +her fingers.</p> + +<p>"I can at least say that I have handled gold once in my life," the sick +woman murmured, hoarsely.</p> + +<p>"It is nothing to handle it, Mother Lacombe. Think of the pleasure of +spending it."</p> + +<p>"There is enough here to keep one in comfort five or six months," said +the old woman, carefully arranging the gold in little piles.</p> + +<p>"And remember that you and Mariette can have as much every month if you +like, Mother Lacombe, in good, shining gold, if you wish it."</p> + +<p>After a long silence, the sick woman raised her hollow eyes to the +stranger's face, and said:</p> + +<p><a name="page_051" id="page_051"></a>"You think Mariette pretty, monsieur. You are right, and there is not a +better-hearted, more deserving girl in the world. Well, be generous to +her. This money is a mere trifle to a man as rich as you are. Make us a +present of it."</p> + +<p>"Eh?" exclaimed the stranger, in profound astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur," said the consumptive, clasping her hands imploringly, "be +generous, be charitable. This sum of money is a mere trifle to you, as I +said before, but it would support us for months. We should be able to +pay all we owe. Mariette would not be obliged to work night and day. She +would have time to look around a little, and find employment that paid +her better. We should owe five or six months of peace and happiness to +your bounty. It costs us so little to live! Do this, kind sir, and we +will for ever bless you, and for once in my life I shall have known what +happiness is."</p> + +<p>The sick woman's tone was so sincere, her request so artless, that the +stranger, who could not conceive of any human creature being stupid +enough really to expect such a thing of a man of his stamp, felt even +more hurt than surprised, and said to himself:</p> + +<p>"Really, this is not very flattering to me. The old hag must take me for +a country greenhorn to make such a proposition as that."</p> + +<p>So bursting into a hearty laugh, he said, aloud:</p> + +<p>"You must take me for a philanthropist, or the winner of the Montyon +prize, Mother Lacombe. I am to make you a present of six hundred francs, +and accept your benediction and eternal gratitude in return, eh?"</p> + +<p>The sick woman had yielded to one of those wild and sudden hopes that +sometimes seize the most despondent persons; but irritated by the +contempt with which her proposal had been received, she now retorted, +with a sneer:</p> + +<p>"I hope you will forgive me for having so grossly insulted you, I am +sure, monsieur."<a name="page_052" id="page_052"></a></p> + +<p>"Oh, you needn't apologise, Mother Lacombe. I have taken no offence, as +you see. But we may as well settle this little matter without any +further delay. Am I to pocket those shining coins you seem to take so +much pleasure in handling, yes or no?"</p> + +<p>And he stretched out his hand as if to gather up the gold pieces.</p> + +<p>With an almost unconscious movement, the sick woman pushed his hand +away, exclaiming, sullenly:</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute, can't you? You needn't be afraid that anybody is going +to eat your gold."</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, that is exactly what I would like you to do, on +condition, of course—"</p> + +<p>"But I know Mariette, and she would never consent," replied the sick +woman, with her eyes still fixed longingly upon the shining coins.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!"</p> + +<p>"But she is an honest girl, I tell you. She might listen to a man she +loved, as so many girls do, but to you, never. She would absolutely +refuse. She has her ideas—oh, you needn't laugh."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know Mariette is a virtuous girl. Madame Jourdan, for whom your +goddaughter has worked for years, has assured me of that fact; but I +know, too, that you have a great deal of influence over her. She is +dreadfully afraid of you, Madame Jourdan says, so I am sure that you +can, if you choose, persuade or, if need be, compel Mariette to +accept—what? Simply an unlooked-for piece of good fortune, for you are +housed like beggars and almost starving, that is evident. Suppose you +refuse, what will be the result? The girl, with all her fine +disinterestedness, will be fooled sooner or later by some scamp in her +own station in life, and—"</p> + +<p>"That is possible, but she will not have sold herself."</p> + +<p>"That is all bosh, as you'll discover some day when her lover deserts +her, and she has to do what so many other girls do to save herself from +starving."<a name="page_053" id="page_053"></a></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 384px;"> +<img src="images/ill_053.jpg" width="384" height="589" alt=""'Go away and let me alone.'" + +Original etching by Adrian Marcel." title="" /><br /> +<span class="caption">"'Go away and let me alone.'"<br /> +Original etching by Adrian Marcel.</span> +</div> + +<p>"That is very possible," groaned the sick woman. "Hunger is an evil +counsellor, I know, when one has one's child as well as one's self to +think of. And with this gold, how many of these poor girls might be +saved! Ah! if Mariette is to end her days like them, after all, what is +the use of struggling?"</p> + +<p>For a minute or two the poor woman's contracted features showed that a +terrible conflict was raging in her breast. The gold seemed to exercise +an almost irresistible fascination over her; she seemed unable to remove +her eyes from it; but at last with a desperate effort she closed them, +as if to shut out the sight of the money, and throwing herself back on +her pillow, cried, angrily:</p> + +<p>"Go away, go away, and let me alone."</p> + +<p>"What! you refuse my offer, Mother Lacombe?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Positively?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Then I've got to pocket all this gold again, I suppose," said the +stranger, gathering up the coins, and making them jingle loudly as he +did so. "All these shining yellow boys must go back into my pocket."</p> + +<p>"May the devil take you and your gold!" exclaimed the now thoroughly +exasperated woman. "Keep your money, but clear out. I didn't take +Mariette in to ruin her, or advise her to ruin herself. Rather than eat +bread earned in such way, I would light a brazier of charcoal and end +both the girl's life and my own."</p> + +<p>Madame Lacombe had scarcely uttered these words before Mariette burst +into the room, pale and indignant, and throwing herself upon the sick +woman's neck, exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Ah, godmother. I knew very well that you loved me as if I were your own +child!"</p> + +<p>Then turning to Commandant de la Miraudière, whom she recognised as the +man who had stared at her so persistently at Madame Jourdan's, she said +contemptuously:<a name="page_054" id="page_054"></a></p> + +<p>"I beg that you will leave at once."</p> + +<p>"But, my dear little dove—"</p> + +<p>"I was there at the door, monsieur, and I heard all."</p> + +<p>"So much the better. You know what I am willing to do, and I assure +you—"</p> + +<p>"Once more, I must request you to leave at once."</p> + +<p>"Very well, very well, my little Lucrece, I will go, but I shall allow +you one week for reflection," said the stranger, preparing to leave the +room.</p> + +<p>But on the threshold he paused and added:</p> + +<p>"You will not forget my name, Commandant de la Miraudière, my dear. +Madame Jourdan knows my address."</p> + +<p>After which he disappeared.</p> + +<p>"Ah, godmother," exclaimed the girl, returning to the invalid, and +embracing her effusively, "how nobly you defended me!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," responded the sick woman, curtly, freeing herself almost roughly +from her goddaughter's embrace, "and yet with all these virtues, one +perishes of hunger."</p> + +<p>"But, godmother—"</p> + +<p>"Don't talk any more about it, for heaven's sake!" cried the invalid, +angrily. "It is all settled. What is the use of discussing it any +further? I have done my duty; you have done yours. I am an honest woman; +you are an honest girl. Great good it will do you, and me, too; you may +rest assured of that."</p> + +<p>"But, godmother, listen to me—"</p> + +<p>"We shall be found here some fine morning stiff and cold, you and I, +with a pan of charcoal between us. Ah, ha, ha!"</p> + +<p>And with a shrill, mirthless laugh, the poor creature, embittered by +years of misfortune, and chafing against the scruples that had kept her +honest in spite of herself, put an end to the conversation by abruptly +turning her back upon her goddaughter.</p> + +<p>It was nearly night now.<a name="page_055" id="page_055"></a></p> + +<p>Mariette went out into the hall where she had left the basket containing +the sick woman's supper. She placed the food on a small table near the +bed, and then went and seated herself silently by the narrow window, +where, drawing the fragments of her lover's letter from her pocket, she +gazed at them with despair in her soul.</p> + +<p><br /> +</p> + +<p>On leaving Mariette, the commandant said to himself:</p> + +<p>"I'm pretty sure that last shot told in spite of what they said. The +girl will change her mind and so will the old woman. The sight of my +gold seemed to dazzle the eyes of that old hag as much as if she had +been trying to gaze at the noonday sun. Their poverty will prove a much +more eloquent advocate for me than any words of mine. I do not despair, +by any means. Two months of good living will make Mariette one of the +prettiest girls in Paris, and she will do me great credit at very little +expense. But now I must turn my attention to business. A fine little +discovery it is that I have just made, and I think I shall be able to +turn it to very good account."</p> + +<p>Stepping into his carriage, he was driven to the Rue Grenelle St. +Honoré. Alighting in front of No. 17, a very unpretentious dwelling, he +said to the porter:</p> + +<p>"Does M. Richard live here?"</p> + +<p>"A father and son of that name both live here, monsieur."</p> + +<p>"I wish to see the son. Is M. Louis Richard in?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, monsieur. He has only just returned from a journey. He is with his +father now."</p> + +<p>"Ah, he is with his father? Well, I would like to see him alone."</p> + +<p>"As they both occupy the same room, there will be some difficulty about +that."</p> + +<p>The commandant reflected a moment, then, taking a visiting card bearing +his address from his pocket, he added these words in pencil: "requests +the honour of a<a name="page_056" id="page_056"></a> visit from M. Louis Richard to-morrow morning between +nine and ten, as he has a very important communication which will brook +no delay, to make to him."</p> + +<p>"Here are forty sous for you, my friend," said M. de la Miraudière to +the porter, "and I want you to give this card to M. Louis Richard."</p> + +<p>"That is a very easy way to earn forty sous."</p> + +<p>"But you are not to give the card to him until to-morrow morning as he +goes out, and his father is not to know anything about it. Do you +understand?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly, monsieur, and there will be no difficulty about it as M. +Louis goes out every morning at seven o'clock, while his father never +leaves before nine."</p> + +<p>"I can rely upon you, then?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, monsieur, you can regard the errand as done."</p> + +<p>Commandant de la Miraudière reëntered his carriage and drove away.</p> + +<p>Soon after his departure a postman brought a letter for Louis Richard. +It was the letter written that same morning in Mariette's presence by +the scrivener, who had addressed it to No. 17 Rue de Grenelle, Paris, +instead of to Dreux as the young girl had requested.</p> + +<p>We will now usher the reader into the room occupied by the scrivener, +Richard, and his son, who had just returned from Dreux.<a name="page_057" id="page_057"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_V-a" id="CHAPTER_V-a"></a>CHAPTER V.<br /><br /> +<small>FATHER AND SON.</small></h3> + +<p>The father and son occupied on the fifth floor of this old house a room +that was almost identical in every respect with the abode of Mariette +and her godmother. Both were characterised by the same bareness and lack +of comfort. A small bed for the father, a mattress for the son, a +rickety table, three or four chairs, a chest for their clothing—these +were the only articles of furniture in the room.</p> + +<p>Father Richard, on his way home, had purchased their evening repast, an +appetising slice of ham and a loaf of fresh bread. These he had placed +upon the table with a bottle of water, and a single candle, whose faint +light barely served to render darkness visible.</p> + +<p>Louis Richard, who was twenty-five years of age, had a frank, honest, +kindly, intelligent face, while his shabby, threadbare clothing, worn +white at the seams, only rendered his physical grace and vigour more +noticeable.</p> + +<p>The scrivener's features wore a joyful expression, slightly tempered, +however, by the anxiety he now felt in relation to certain long +cherished projects of his own.</p> + +<p>The young man, after having deposited his shabby valise on the floor, +tenderly embraced his father, to whom he was devoted; and the happiness +of being with him again and the certainty of seeing Mariette on the +morrow made his face radiant, and increased his accustomed good humour.<a name="page_058" id="page_058"></a></p> + +<p>"So you had a pleasant journey, my son," remarked the old man, seating +himself at the table.</p> + +<p>"Very."</p> + +<p>"Won't you have some supper? We can talk while we eat."</p> + +<p>"Won't I have some supper, father? I should think I would. I did not +dine at the inn like the other travellers, and for the best of reasons," +added Louis, gaily, slapping his empty pocket.</p> + +<p>"You have little cause to regret the fact, probably," replied the old +man, dividing the slice of ham into two very unequal portions, and +giving the larger to his son. "The dinners one gets at wayside inns are +generally very expensive and very poor."</p> + +<p>As he spoke, he handed Louis a thick slice of bread, and the father and +son began to eat with great apparent zest, washing down their food with +big draughts of cold water.</p> + +<p>"Tell me about your journey, my son," remarked the old man.</p> + +<p>"There is very little to tell, father. My employer gave me a number of +documents to be submitted to M. Ramon. He read and studied them very +carefully, I must say. At least he took plenty of time to do it,—five +whole days, after which he returned the documents with numberless +comments, annotations, and corrections."</p> + +<p>"Then you did not enjoy yourself particularly at Dreux, I judge."</p> + +<p>"I was bored to death, father."</p> + +<p>"What kind of a man is this M. Ramon, that a stay at his house should be +so wearisome?"</p> + +<p>"The worst kind of a person conceivable, my dear father. In other words, +an execrable old miser."</p> + +<p>"Hum! hum!" coughed the old man, as if he had swallowed the wrong way. +"So he is a miser, is he? He must be very rich, then."</p> + +<p>"I don't know about that. One may be stingy with a<a name="page_059" id="page_059"></a> small fortune as +well as with a big one, I suppose; but if this M. Ramon's wealth is to +be measured by his parsimony, he must be a multi-millionaire. He is a +regular old Harpagon."</p> + +<p>"If you had been reared in luxury and abundance, I could understand the +abuse you heap upon this old Harpagon, as you call him; but we have +always lived in such poverty that, however parsimonious M. Ramon may be, +you certainly cannot be able to see much difference between his life and +ours."</p> + +<p>"Ah, father, you don't know what you're talking about."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Well, M. Ramon keeps two servants; we have none. He occupies an entire +house; we both eat and sleep in this garret room. He has three or four +courses at dinner, we take a bite of anything that comes handy, but for +all that we live a hundred times better than that skinflint does."</p> + +<p>"But I don't understand, my son," said Father Richard, who for some +reason or other seemed to be greatly annoyed at the derogatory opinion +his son expressed. "There can be no comparison between that gentleman's +circumstances and ours."</p> + +<p>"My dear father, we make no attempt to conceal our poverty at all +events. We endure our privations cheerfully, and if I sometimes, in my +ambitious moments, dream of a rather more comfortable existence, you +know it is not on my own account, for I am very well satisfied with my +lot."</p> + +<p>"My dear boy, I know what a kind heart you have, I know, too, how much +you love me, and the only thing that consoles me for our poverty is the +knowledge that you do not repine at your lot."</p> + +<p>"Repine at my lot when you share it? Besides, what we lack is really +only the superfluous. We do not eat capons stuffed with truffles, it is +true, but we eat with a<a name="page_060" id="page_060"></a> good appetite,—witness the rapid disappearance +of this big loaf of bread; our clothes are threadbare, but warm; we +earn, both together, from seventeen to eighteen hundred francs a year. +Not a colossal amount, by any means, but we owe no man a penny. Ah, my +dear father, if Heaven never sends me any worse trouble than this, I +shall never complain."</p> + +<p>"You have no idea how much pleasure it gives me to see you accept your +lot in life so cheerfully. But tell me, are you really happy?"</p> + +<p>"Very happy."</p> + +<p>"Really and truly?"</p> + +<p>"Why should I wish to deceive you? Do I ever look glum and sour like a +man who is discontented with his lot?"</p> + +<p>"That is only because you have such an uncommonly good disposition, +perhaps."</p> + +<p>"That depends. If I were obliged to live with that abominable old +skinflint Ramon, I should soon become intolerable."</p> + +<p>"Why are you so hard upon that poor man?"</p> + +<p>"The recollection of the torture I endured under his roof, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Torture?"</p> + +<p>"What else do you call it, father, to live in a big, cold, dilapidated, +cheerless house,—a house so dreary, in fact, that the grave seems a +cheerful abode in comparison? And then to see those two thin, +solemn-faced, famished-looking servants wandering about in that grim +sepulchre! And the meals,—meals at which the master of the house seems +to count each morsel that you eat! And his daughter,—for the man has a +daughter who will perpetuate the breed, I suppose,—and his daughter, +who doles out scanty portions for the domestics, and then carefully +locks up the remains of the meagre meal!"</p> + +<p>"Louis, Louis, how is it that you, who are usually so<a name="page_061" id="page_061"></a> charitably +inclined, should be so strangely hostile to this poor man and his +daughter?"</p> + +<p>"His daughter! Can you call such a thing as that a daughter, a big, +raw-boned creature, with feet and hands like a man's, a face like a +nutcracker, and a nose,—great Heavens! what a nose,—a nose as long as +that, and of a brick-red colour? But justice compels me to say that this +incomparable creature has yellow hair and black teeth to make up for her +red nose."</p> + +<p>"The portrait is not flattered, evidently, but all women cannot be +pretty, and a kind heart is much better than a pretty face."</p> + +<p>"True, father, but how strange it is that there should be such +remarkable contrasts in some families."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Judge of my surprise on seeing in one of the apartments of that gloomy +house the portrait of a woman with such a charming, refined, +distinguished face that it seemed as if the picture must have been +placed there expressly to spite hateful Miss Red Nose. You shake your +head, father, but I am sure you ought not to censure me very severely. +At first I felt very sorry for the young lady when I saw her so +excessively ugly, and, above all, condemned to live with such an old +skinflint of a father; but afterwards, when I saw her nearly badger the +life out of those two poor servants, scolding them continually for the +merest trifle, and doling out the very smallest amount of food that +would suffice to keep them alive, my compassion changed to aversion and +positive loathing. But to return to the subject of the picture. The +portrait bore such a striking resemblance to one of my old schoolmates +that I asked old Harpagon who the lady was, and greatly to my surprise +he told me that it was a portrait of his sister, the late Madame de +Saint-Herem. 'Then this lady is, doubtless, the mother of the young +Marquis de Saint-Herem?' I asked, and if you could only have seen old +Ramon's face! One would<a name="page_062" id="page_062"></a> have supposed I had just evoked the very devil +himself. Miss Red Nose, too, made a gesture of pious horror (I forgot to +tell you, to complete the picture, that she is one of the worst of +bigots), whereupon her worthy parent answered that he had the misfortune +to be the uncle of an infernal scoundrel named Saint-Herem."</p> + +<p>"This M. de Saint-Herem must bear a very bad reputation, I judge."</p> + +<p>"What! Florestan? the bravest and most delightful fellow in the world."</p> + +<p>"But his uncle—"</p> + +<p>"Listen, father, and you shall judge for yourself. Saint-Herem and I +were very intimate at college, but I had lost sight of him for a long +time, when about six months ago, as I was walking along the boulevard, I +saw everybody turning to look at a beautiful mail phaeton drawn by two +magnificent horses, and with two tiny footmen perched up behind. And who +do you suppose was driving this exquisite turnout? My old college +friend, Saint-Herem, who looked handsomer than ever; in fact, it would +be impossible to conceive of a more distinguished-looking young man."</p> + +<p>"I should judge that he must be a terrible spendthrift, though."</p> + +<p>"Wait until you hear the end of my story, my dear father. The vehicle +stopped suddenly, the little grooms jumped down and ran to the horses' +heads. Saint-Herem sprang out of the phaeton, rushed up to me, and +positively embraced me in his delight at meeting me again after such a +long separation. I was dressed like the poor devil of a notary's clerk +that I am, and you must admit, my dear father, that most men of fashion +would have shrunk from even recognising such a plebeian-looking +creature, but Florestan did not even seem to notice my plain apparel. As +for me, I was both pleased and embarrassed by this manifestation of +friendly feeling on his part, for we seemed to attract a great deal<a name="page_063" id="page_063"></a> of +attention. Saint-Herem, too, must have noticed the fact, for he +exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"'Did you ever see such a set of gaping idiots? Where are you going?'</p> + +<p>"'To the office.'</p> + +<p>"'Then get in with me. We can talk as we drive along.'</p> + +<p>"'What! get into that stylish carriage with my clumsy shoes and big +umbrella? What will people think?' I replied. But Florestan only +shrugged his shoulders, and, seizing me by the arm, half led, half +dragged me to the carriage. On our way to the office he made me promise +that I would come and see him, and finally he set me down at the +notary's door with the warmest protestations of friendship and +good-will. Now what do you think of a man who would act like that, +father?"</p> + +<p>"Pooh!" responded the scrivener, with a by no means enthusiastic air, +"he yielded to a kindly impulse, that is all. I always distrust people +who are so inclined to make a display of their friendship; besides, you +are in no position to keep up such an acquaintance."</p> + +<p>"I know that; still, under the circumstances, I felt obliged to keep my +promise to take breakfast with Florestan on the following Sunday. The +kind-hearted fellow treated me as if I were a prince, and begged me to +come again, but I left for Dreux soon afterward, so I have not seen him +since."</p> + +<p>"It is very strange that you never said anything to me about your visit +to him."</p> + +<p>"Shall I tell you why I did not? I said to myself: 'My poor father loves +me so much he may fear that the sight of Florestan's splendour will +excite my envy, and make me dissatisfied with my own humble condition in +life, so I will conceal the fact that I once breakfasted with a +Sardanapalus or a Lucullus.'"</p> + +<p>"My dear, brave boy!" exclaimed the old man, with deep emotion, "I +understand; and the delicacy of your<a name="page_064" id="page_064"></a> conduct touches me deeply. It is +only one more proof of your kindness and generosity of heart, but I beg +that you will now listen to me attentively for a moment, for it is to +this very generosity of feeling, as well as to your affection for me, +that I am about to appeal. There is an extremely grave and important +matter about which I must speak to you."</p> + +<p>The scrivener's expression had become so serious and even solemn that +the young man gazed at him with surprise; but just then the porter +knocked at the door and said:</p> + +<p>"Here is a letter for you, M. Louis."</p> + +<p>"Very well," replied the young man, abstractedly, too much engaged in +wondering what the important matter to which his father had alluded +could be to pay much attention to the letter, which Father Richard +instantly recognised as the one which he had written to his son that +morning, and which he had addressed to the Rue de Grenelle instead of to +Dreux, as poor Mariette had requested.</p> + +<p>Knowing the contents of the missive, the old scrivener was on the point +of advising his son to read the letter immediately, but, after a +moment's reflection, he adopted the opposite course, and said:</p> + +<p>"My dear boy, you will have plenty of time to read your letter by and +by. Listen to me now, for I repeat there is a matter of great importance +both to you and to me, that I must consult you about."</p> + +<p>"I am at your service, my dear father," replied Louis, laying the letter +which he had been about to open on the table.<a name="page_065" id="page_065"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VI-a" id="CHAPTER_VI-a"></a>CHAPTER VI.<br /><br /> +<small>A FATHER'S AMBITION.</small></h3> + +<p>Father Richard remained silent for a moment, then, turning to his son, +said:</p> + +<p>"I have warned you that I am about to appeal to your generosity as well +as to your affection for me."</p> + +<p>"Then you have only to speak, father."</p> + +<p>"You told me just now that, if you sometimes dreamed of a less humble +existence than ours, it was not on your own account, but mine."</p> + +<p>"And that is perfectly true."</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, my son, it only depends upon yourself to see this desire +realised."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Listen to me. Reverses of fortune which closely followed your mother's +death, while you were but an infant, left me barely property enough to +defray the expenses of your education."</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear father, and the courage and resignation with which you +have endured this misfortune have only increased my love and respect for +you."</p> + +<p>"Our pecuniary condition seems likely to speedily become worse instead +of better, I regret to say. With old age fast coming on, and my failing +vision, I realise that the day is near at hand when it will be +impossible for me to earn even the pittance needed for my support."</p> + +<p>"But, father, you may be sure—"</p> + +<p>"Of your willing aid, I know that; but your own future is precarious in +the extreme. The most you can<a name="page_066" id="page_066"></a> hope for is to become chief clerk in a +notary's office, for it takes money to study a profession, and I am +poor."</p> + +<p>"Do not worry, father. I shall always be able to earn money enough for +us two."</p> + +<p>"But what if sickness should come, or some accident should befall either +of us, or you should be thrown out of employment for several months, +what would become of us then?"</p> + +<p>"My dear father, if we poor people stopped to think of the misfortunes +that might befall us, we should lose courage. Let us close our eyes to +the future, and think only of the present. That, thank Heaven! is not +alarming."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I admit that it is better not to think of the future when it is +alarming, but when it may be happy and prosperous, if we choose to make +it so, is it not well to open our eyes instead of closing them?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"So I repeat, that it depends entirely upon yourself to make our future +both happy and prosperous."</p> + +<p>"You may consider it done, then. Only tell me how I am to do it."</p> + +<p>"I shall surprise you very much, I am sure, when I tell you that this M. +Ramon with whom you have just spent several days, and whom you so +cruelly misjudge, is an old friend of mine, and that the visit you just +paid him was planned by him and me."</p> + +<p>"But the papers my employer—"</p> + +<p>"Your employer kindly consented to assist us by charging you with a +pretended mission to Ramon."</p> + +<p>"But why was it considered necessary to resort to this trick?"</p> + +<p>"Ramon wished to see you and study you; in other words, to become +thoroughly acquainted with you without your suspecting it, and I feel it +my duty to tell you that he is delighted with you. I received a long +letter<a name="page_067" id="page_067"></a> from him this very morning, in which he speaks of you in the +highest terms."</p> + +<p>"I regret that I am unable to return the compliment; but how can M. +Ramon's good or bad opinion affect me?"</p> + +<p>"It does affect you very seriously, though, my dear boy, for the +prosperous future of which I spoke is entirely dependent upon the +opinion Ramon has of you."</p> + +<p>"You speak in enigmas, father."</p> + +<p>"Ramon, without being what is called rich, possesses a comfortable +fortune, which, by reason of his wise economy, is increasing every day."</p> + +<p>"I can readily believe that, only what you call economy is contemptible +stinginess, father."</p> + +<p>"Don't let us haggle about terms, my son. Call it parsimony or economy, +or what you will, in consequence of it Ramon is sure to leave his +daughter a handsome fortune, though he will give her nothing during his +lifetime."</p> + +<p>"That does not surprise me in the least; but I really cannot imagine +what you are driving at, father?"</p> + +<p>"I rather hesitate to tell you, because, however erroneous first +impressions may be, they are very tenacious, and you have expressed +yourself so harshly in relation to Mlle. Ramon—"</p> + +<p>"Miss Red Nose? On the contrary, I assure you that I have been extremely +lenient."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you will get over your prejudice, I am sure. Believe me, Mlle. +Ramon is one of those persons who have to be known to be appreciated. +She is a young woman of remarkable strength of character as well as of +the most exemplary piety. What more can one ask in the mother of a +family?"</p> + +<p>"The mother of a family?" repeated Louis, who, though he was far from +suspecting the danger that menaced him, began to be conscious of a vague +uneasiness. "And what difference does it make to me whether<a name="page_068" id="page_068"></a> Mlle. Ramon +proves an admirable mother of a family or not?"</p> + +<p>"It is a matter of vital importance to you."</p> + +<p>"To me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And why?" demanded Louis, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Because it is the one desire of my life to see you Mlle. Ramon's +husband," answered the old man, firmly.</p> + +<p>"Mlle. Ramon's husband!" cried Louis, springing up with a movement of +positive horror; "I marry that woman?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my son. Marry Mlle. Ramon, and our future is assured. We will go +to Dreux to live. The house is large enough for us all. Ramon will give +his daughter no dowry, but we are to live with him, that is decided, and +he will procure you a lucrative situation. When your father-in-law dies, +you will come into a handsome fortune. Louis, my son, my beloved son," +added the old man, imploringly, seizing his son's hands, "consent to +this marriage, I beg of you. Consent to it, and you will make me the +happiest of men."</p> + +<p>"Ah, father, you do not know what you are asking," replied Louis.</p> + +<p>"You are going to say that you do not love Mlle. Ramon, perhaps; but +mutual respect and esteem are sufficient, and you can give both to Mlle. +Ramon, for she deserves them. As for her father, the parsimony that +shocked you so much at first, will seem less objectionable when you +recollect that, after all, you are the person who will profit by it, +eventually. Ramon is really a most estimable man. The one ambition of +his life is to leave his daughter and the husband of her choice a +handsome fortune; to attain this end, he keeps his expenses down as much +as possible. Is this any crime, I should like to know? Come, Louis, my +dear boy, answer me, give me a word of hope."</p> + +<p>"Father, much as it costs me to thwart your plans,<a name="page_069" id="page_069"></a> what you ask is +impossible," replied the young man, sadly.</p> + +<p>"Louis, can it be you that answers me in this way when I appeal to your +love for me?"</p> + +<p>"In the first place, you would derive no personal advantage from this +marriage. You are thinking only of my interest when you urge it upon +me."</p> + +<p>"What! is it nothing to be able to live with Ramon without being obliged +to spend a sou? For it is understood that we are to live there for +nothing, I tell you, as he gives his daughter no dowry."</p> + +<p>"So long as I have a drop of blood in my veins, I will accept charity +from no man, father. More than once already I have begged you to abandon +your profession of scrivener, and let me supply our modest wants without +any assistance from you. I can easily do it by working a little harder."</p> + +<p>"But if your health should fail, and old age should prevent me from +earning a livelihood, there would be nothing left for me but to go to +the almshouse."</p> + +<p>"I have faith in my courage. I shall not lose my health, and you will +want for nothing; but, if I had to marry Mlle. Ramon, I should certainly +die of grief and despair."</p> + +<p>"You are not in earnest, Louis?"</p> + +<p>"I certainly am, father. I feel, and I always shall feel, an +unconquerable aversion to Mlle. Ramon; besides, I love a young girl, and +she, and she alone, shall be my wife."</p> + +<p>"I fancied I had your confidence, and yet you have come to such an +important decision as this without my even suspecting it."</p> + +<p>"I have been silent on the subject, because I wished to give convincing +proofs of the permanent nature of this attachment before I confided my +intentions to you. I, and the young girl I love, accordingly agreed to +wait one year in order to see if our natures were really congenial,<a name="page_070" id="page_070"></a> and +if what we considered real love were only an ephemeral fancy. Our love +has withstood every test, thank God! The year expires to-day, and I +shall see the girl I love to-morrow, in order to decide upon the day +that she will broach the subject to her godmother who reared her. +Forgive me, father," added Louis, interrupting the old man as he was +about to speak; "I wish to say one word more. The girl I love is poor, +and works for her daily bread as I do, but she is the best and noblest +creature I know. Never will you find a more devoted daughter. Her +earnings and mine will suffice for our needs; she is accustomed to even +greater privations than we are. I will toil with redoubled ardour and +diligence, and, believe me, you shall have the rest you so much need. +Any disagreement between you and me is intensely painful to me. This is +the first time, I believe, that we have ever differed in opinion, so +spare me the sorrow of again refusing to comply with your request, I +beseech you. Do not insist further upon the subject of this marriage. I +can never resign myself to it, never! Nor will I ever have any other +woman for my wife than Mariette Moreau!"</p> + +<p>Louis uttered these last words in such a firm, though respectful tone +that the old man, not considering it advisable to insist further, +replied, with a disappointed air:</p> + +<p>"I cannot believe, Louis, that all the reasons I have urged in favour of +this marriage will remain valueless in your eyes. I have more faith in +your heart than you have in mine, and I feel sure that a little +reflection on your part will lead you to reconsider your decision."</p> + +<p>"You must not hope that, father."</p> + +<p>"I will so far comply with your wishes as to insist no further at this +time; I trust to reflection to bring you to a different frame of mind. I +give you twenty-four hours to come to a final decision. I will promise +not to say another word to you on the subject until that time<a name="page_071" id="page_071"></a> expires; +and I must request you, in turn, to make no further allusion to your +wishes. Day after to-morrow we will talk the matter over again."</p> + +<p>"So be it, father, but I assure you that at the expiration of—"</p> + +<p>"We have agreed not to discuss the matter further at this time," +interrupted the old man, beginning to walk the room in silence, with an +occasional furtive glance at Louis, who, with his head supported on his +hands, still remained seated at the table on which he had placed the +letter a short time before.<a name="page_072" id="page_072"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VII-a" id="CHAPTER_VII-a"></a>CHAPTER VII.<br /><br /> +<small>THE FORGED LETTER.</small></h3> + +<p>His eyes having at last chanced to fall upon this letter addressed to +him in a handwriting he did not recognise, Louis broke the seal +mechanically.</p> + +<p>A moment afterward, the old man, who was still silently pacing the +floor, saw his son suddenly turn pale and pass his hand across his +forehead as if to satisfy himself that he was not the victim of an +optical delusion, then re-read with increasing agitation a missive which +he seemed unable to credit.</p> + +<p>This letter, which Father Richard had written in a disguised hand that +morning, ostensibly from Mariette's dictation, far from expressing that +young girl's real sentiments, read as follows:</p> + +<p><br /> +</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">M. Louis</span>:—I take advantage of your absence to write you what I should +not dare to tell you,—what, in fact, I have put off confessing for more +than two months for fear of causing you pain. All idea of a marriage +between us must be abandoned, M. Louis, as well as all idea of ever +seeing each other again.</p> + +<p>"It is impossible for me to tell you the cause of this change in my +feelings, but I assure you that my mind is fully made up. The reason I +did not inform you yesterday, the sixth of May, M. Louis, the sixth of +May, is that I wished to think the matter over once more, and in your +absence, before telling you my decision.</p> + +<p>"Farewell, M. Louis. Do not try to see me again. It<a name="page_073" id="page_073"></a> would be useless +and would only cause me great pain. If, on the contrary, you make no +attempt to see me, or to induce me to reconsider my determination, my +happiness as well as that of my poor godmother is assured.</p> + +<p>"It is consequently for the sake of the happiness and peace of mind of +both of us, M. Louis, that I implore you not to insist upon another +meeting.</p> + +<p>"You are so kind-hearted that I am sure you would not like to cause me +unnecessary pain, for I solemnly swear that all is over between us. You +will not insist further, I hope, when I tell you that I no longer love +you except as a friend.</p> + +<p class="r"><span class="smcap">Mariette Moreau.</span></p> + +<p>"P.S. Instead of addressing this letter to Dreux, as you requested, I +send it to your Paris address, in order that you may find it there on +your return. Augustine, who has written for me heretofore, having gone +home on a visit, I have had recourse to another person.</p> + +<p>"I forgot to say that my godmother's health remains about the same."</p> + +<p><br /> +</p> + +<p>The perusal of this letter plunged Louis into a profound stupor. The +ingenuous style of composition, the numerous petty details, the +allusion, twice repeated, to the sixth of May, all proved that the +missive must have been dictated by Mariette, so, after vainly asking +himself what could be the cause of this sudden rupture, anger, grief, +and wounded pride, all struggled for the mastery in the young man's +heart, and he murmured:</p> + +<p>"She need not insist so strongly upon my making no attempt to see her +again! Why should I desire to do so?"</p> + +<p>But grief soon overcame anger in the young man's heart. He endeavoured +to recall all the particulars of his last interview with Mariette, but +no indication of the slightest alienation of affection presented itself +to his mind. On the contrary, never had she seemed more<a name="page_074" id="page_074"></a> loving and +devoted,—never had she seemed so eager to unite her lot with his. And +yet, unless appearances were deceiving him, Mariette, whom he had always +believed so pure and honest, was a monster of dissimulation.</p> + +<p>Louis could not believe that; so, impatient to solve the mystery, and +unable to endure this suspense any longer, he resolved to go to +Mariette's home at once, even at the risk of offending her godmother, +who, like Father Richard, had had no suspicion of the young people's +mutual love up to the present time.</p> + +<p>Not one of the different emotions which had in turn agitated the young +man had escaped the scrivener's watchful eye, as, thinking it quite time +to interfere, he said:</p> + +<p>"Louis, we must leave for Dreux early to-morrow morning, for, if we do +not, Ramon is sure to be here day after to-morrow, as has been agreed +upon."</p> + +<p>"Father!"</p> + +<p>"Such a proceeding on our part does not compromise us in the least, and +if you are determined to oppose the dearest wish of my heart, I only ask +that you will spend a few more days with Ramon and his daughter, as a +favour to me. After that, you will be perfectly free to act as you see +fit."</p> + +<p>Then seeing Louis pick up his hat, as if he intended to go out, Father +Richard exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"What are you doing? Where are you going?"</p> + +<p>"I have a slight headache, father, and I am going out for awhile."</p> + +<p>"Don't, I beg of you," exclaimed the old man, with growing alarm. "You +have looked and acted very strangely ever since you read that letter. +You frighten me."</p> + +<p>"You are mistaken, father. There is nothing the matter with me. I have a +slight headache, that is all. I shall be back soon."<a name="page_075" id="page_075"></a></p> + +<p>And Louis left the room abruptly.</p> + +<p>As he passed the porter's lodge, that functionary stopped him, and said, +with a mysterious air:</p> + +<p>"M. Louis, I want to see you alone for a moment. Step inside, if you +please."</p> + +<p>"What is it?" asked Louis, as he complied with the request.</p> + +<p>"Here is a card that a gentleman left for you. He came in a magnificent +carriage, and said that his business was very important."</p> + +<p>Louis took the card, and, approaching the lamp, read:</p> + +<p><br /> +</p> + +<p class="r">"<i>Commandant de la Miraudière, <br /> +17 Rue du Mont-Blanc.</i><br /> +</p> + +<p>"Requests the honour of a visit from M. Louis Richard to-morrow morning +between nine and ten, as he has a very important communication, which +will brook no delay, to make to him."</p> + +<p><br /> +</p> + +<p>"Commandant de la Miraudière? I never heard the name before," Louis said +to himself, as he examined the card, then, turning it over mechanically, +he saw, written in pencil on the other side:</p> + +<p>"Mariette Moreau, with Madame Lacombe, Rue des Prêtres St. Germain +l'Auxerrois."</p> + +<p>For M. de la Miraudière, having jotted down Mariette's address on one of +his visiting cards, had, without thinking, written upon the same card +the request for an interview which he had left for Louis.</p> + +<p>That young man, more and more perplexed, endeavoured in vain to discover +what possible connection there could be between Mariette and the +stranger who had left the card. After a moment's silence, he said to the +porter:</p> + +<p>"Did the gentleman leave any other message?"</p> + +<p>"He told me to give you the card when your father was not present."<a name="page_076" id="page_076"></a></p> + +<p>"That is strange," thought the young man.</p> + +<p>"What kind of a looking man was he—young or old?" he asked, aloud.</p> + +<p>"A very handsome man, M. Louis, a decorated gentleman, with a moustache +as black as ink, and very elegantly dressed."</p> + +<p>Louis went out with his brain in a whirl. This new revelation increased +his anxiety. The most absurd suspicions and fears immediately assailed +him, and he forthwith began to ask himself if this stranger were not a +rival.</p> + +<p>In her letter Mariette had implored Louis to make no attempt to see her +again. Such a step on his part, would, she said, endanger not only her +own happiness, but that of her godmother as well. Louis knew the trying +position in which the two women were placed, and a terrible suspicion +occurred to him. Perhaps Mariette, impelled as much by poverty as by her +godmother's persistent entreaties, had listened to the proposals of the +man whose card he, Louis, had just received. In that case, what could be +the man's object in requesting an interview? Louis racked his brain in +the hope of solving this mystery, but in vain.</p> + +<p>These suspicions once aroused, the supposition that he had been betrayed +for the sake of a rich rival seemed the only possible explanation of +Mariette's strange conduct. Under these circumstances he abandoned his +intention of going to Mariette's house for the present, or at least +until after his interview with the commandant, from whom he was resolved +to extort an explanation.</p> + +<p>He returned home about midnight, and his father, convinced by the gloomy +expression of his son's countenance that he could not have seen the girl +and discovered the deception that had been practised upon both of them, +again proposed that they should leave for Dreux the next morning, but +Louis replied that he desired more time for reflection before taking +this<a name="page_077" id="page_077"></a> important step, and threw himself despairingly on his pallet.</p> + +<p>Sleep was an impossibility, and at daybreak he stole out of the room to +escape his father's questions, and after having waited in mortal anxiety +on the boulevard for the hour appointed for his interview with +Commandant de la Miraudière, he hastened to that gentleman's house.<a name="page_078" id="page_078"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VIII-a" id="CHAPTER_VIII-a"></a>CHAPTER VIII.<br /><br /> +<small>A STARTLING DISCOVERY.</small></h3> + +<p>When Louis presented himself at the house of Commandant de la +Miraudière, that gentleman was sitting at his desk, enveloped in a +superb dressing-gown, smoking his cigar, and examining a big pile of +notes and bills.</p> + +<p>While he was thus engaged, his servant entered, and announced:</p> + +<p>"M. Richard."</p> + +<p>"Ask M. Richard to wait in the drawing-room a moment. When I ring, show +him in."</p> + +<p>As soon as the servant left the room, M. de la Miraudière opened a +secret drawer in his desk, and took out twenty-five one thousand franc +notes, and placed them beside a sheet of the stamped paper used for +legal documents of divers kinds, then rang the bell.</p> + +<p>Louis entered, with a gloomy and perturbed air. His heart throbbed +violently at the thought that he was, perhaps, in the presence of a +favoured rival, for this poor fellow, like sincere lovers in general, +greatly exaggerated the advantages which his competitor possessed, so M. +de la Miraudière, wrapped in a handsome dressing-gown, and occupying an +elegant suite of apartments, seemed a very formidable rival indeed.</p> + +<p>"Is it to M. Louis Richard that I have the honour of speaking?" inquired +M. de la Miraudière, with his most ingratiating smile.</p> + +<p>"Yes, monsieur."</p> + +<p>"The only son of M. Richard, the scrivener?"<a name="page_079" id="page_079"></a></p> + +<p>These last words were uttered with a rather sarcastic air. Louis noted +the fact, and responded, dryly:</p> + +<p>"Yes, monsieur, my father is a scrivener."</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, my dear sir, for having given you so much trouble, but it +was absolutely necessary that I should talk with you alone, and as that +seemed well-nigh impossible at your own home, I was obliged to ask you +to take the trouble to call here."</p> + +<p>"May I ask why you wished to see me, monsieur?"</p> + +<p>"Merely to offer you my services, my dear M. Richard," replied M. de la +Miraudière in an insinuating tone. "For it would give me great pleasure +to be able to call you my client."</p> + +<p>"Your client? Why, who are you, monsieur?"</p> + +<p>"An old soldier, now on the retired list,—twenty campaigns, ten +wounds,—now a man of affairs, merely to pass away the time. I have a +number of large capitalists as backers, and I often act as an +intermediary between them and young men of prospective wealth."</p> + +<p>"Then I do not know of any service you can render me."</p> + +<p>"You say that, when you are leading a life of drudgery as a notary's +clerk, when you are vegetating—positively vegetating—living in a +miserable attic with your father, and dressed, Heaven knows how!"</p> + +<p>"Monsieur!" exclaimed Louis, fairly purple with indignation.</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, my young friend, but these are, I regret to say, the real +facts of the case, shameful as they appear. Why, a young man like you +ought to be spending twenty-five or thirty thousand francs a year, ought +to have his horses and mistresses and enjoy life generally."</p> + +<p>"Monsieur, if this is intended as a joke, I warn you that I am in no +mood for it," said Louis, angrily.</p> + +<p>"As I have already told you, I am an old soldier who has proved his +valour on many a well-fought field, my young friend, so I can afford not +to take offence at your<a name="page_080" id="page_080"></a> manner, for which there is plenty of excuse, I +must admit, as what I am saying must seem rather extraordinary to you."</p> + +<p>"Very extraordinary, monsieur."</p> + +<p>"Here is something that may serve to convince you that I am speaking +seriously," added the man of affairs, spreading out the thousand franc +notes on his desk. "Here are twenty-five thousand francs that I should +be delighted to place at your disposal, together with twenty-five +hundred francs a month for the next five years."</p> + +<p>Louis, unable to believe his own ears, gazed at M. de la Miraudière in +speechless astonishment, but at last, partially recovering from his +stupor, he said:</p> + +<p>"You make this offer to me, monsieur?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and with very great pleasure."</p> + +<p>"To me, Louis Richard?"</p> + +<p>"To you, Louis Richard."</p> + +<p>"Richard is a very common name, monsieur. You probably mistake me for +some other person."</p> + +<p>"No, no, my young friend, I know what I am talking about, and I also +know who I am talking to. It is to Louis Désiré Richard, only son of M. +Alexandre Timoléon Bénédict Pamphile Richard, aged sixty-seven, born in +Brie Comte Robert, but now residing at No. 17, Rue de Grenelle St. +Honoré, a scrivener by profession. There is no mistake, you see, my +young friend."</p> + +<p>"Then as you know my family so well, you must also know that my poverty +prevents me from contracting any such a loan."</p> + +<p>"Your poverty!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, monsieur."</p> + +<p>"It is shameful, it is outrageous, to rear a young man under such a +misapprehension of the real state of affairs," exclaimed the commandant, +indignantly, "to compel him to spend the best years of his life in the +stock, as it were, and to compel him to wear shabby clothes and woollen +stockings and brogans. Fortunately, there is such<a name="page_081" id="page_081"></a> a thing as +Providence, and you now behold a humble instrument of Providence in the +shape of Commandant de la Miraudière."</p> + +<p>"I assure you that all this is extremely tiresome, monsieur. If you +cannot explain more clearly, we had better bring this interview to an +immediate conclusion."</p> + +<p>"Very well, then. You believe your father to be a very poor man, do you +not?"</p> + +<p>"I am not ashamed of the fact."</p> + +<p>"Oh, credulous youth that you are! Listen and bless me ever afterward."</p> + +<p>As he spoke, M. de la Miraudière drew a large leather-bound book +resembling a ledger toward him, and, after a moment's search, read aloud +as follows:</p> + +<p>"'Inventory of Personal Property of M. Alexandre Timoléon Bénédict +Pamphile Richard, from information secured by the Committee on Loans of +the Bank of France, May 1, 18——.</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="en"> +<tr><td align="left">"'1st.</td><td align="left">Three thousand nine hundred and twenty shares of the Bank of France, market value,</td><td align="right">924,300</td><td align="center">fr.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">"'2d.</td><td align="left">Notes of the Mont de Piété,</td><td align="right">875,250</td><td align="left"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">"'3d.</td><td align="left">On Deposit in the Bank of France,</td><td align="right">259,130</td><td align="left"> </td></tr> +<tr><td> </td><td align="right">"'Total, </td><td align="right" +style="border-top:1px solid black;">2,058,680</td><td align="center" +style="border-top:1px solid black;"> fr.'</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>"You see from these figures, my ingenuous young friend, that the known +personal property of your honoured parent amounted, on the first of this +month, to considerably over two million francs; but it is more than +likely that, after the fashion of most misers who take a vast amount of +pleasure in seeing and handling a part of their wealth, he has a large +amount of money hoarded away in some convenient hiding-place. Even if +this should not be the case, you see that the author of your being +possesses more than two million francs, and as he spends barely twelve +hundred francs out of an income of nearly one hundred thousand, you can +form some idea of the<a name="page_082" id="page_082"></a> amount of wealth you will enjoy some day, and you +can no longer wonder at the offer I have just made you."</p> + +<p>Louis was petrified with astonishment by this revelation. He could not +utter a word, but merely gazed at the speaker with inexpressible +amazement.</p> + +<p>"You seem to be knocked all in a heap, my young friend. You act as if +you were dazed."</p> + +<p>"I really do not know what to think of all this," stammered Louis.</p> + +<p>"Do as St. Thomas did, then. Touch these bank-notes and perhaps that +will convince you. The capitalists who are backing me are not inclined +to run any risk with their lucre, and they are willing to advance you +this money at seven per cent., with a like commission for my services in +addition. Interest and loan together will scarcely amount to one-half of +your father's yearly income, so you will still be piling up money, even +if you should live as a gentleman ought to live, and spend fifty +thousand francs a year. It will be impossible for you to get along on +less than that, but you can at least wait with patience for the hour of +your honoured parent's demise, you understand. And, by the way, I have +provided for every contingency, as you will see when I tell you about +the little scheme I have invented, for of course your good father will +be astonished at the change in your mode of living, so you are to invest +in a lottery ticket—the prize, a magnificent five hundred louis +diamond; price of tickets, ten francs each. The drawing takes place day +after to-morrow; you will win the prize and sell it again for eight or +nine thousand francs. This money you must allow a friend to invest for +you in a wonderfully successful enterprise, which will yield three +hundred per cent a year. Thanks to this stratagem, you can spend +twenty-five or thirty thousand francs a year under your father's very +nose. Tell me, now, young man, haven't you good cause to regard me in +the light of a guardian angel, or a beneficent Providence? But<a name="page_083" id="page_083"></a> what on +earth is the matter with you? What is the meaning of this clouded brow, +this solemn air, this gloomy silence, when I expected to see you +half-delirious with joy, and fairly turning somersaults in your delight +at being transformed from a clerk into a millionaire, in less than a +quarter of an hour. Speak, young man, speak! Can it be that joy and +astonishment have bereft him of reason?"</p> + +<p>It is a fact that a revelation which would undoubtedly have filled any +one else with the wildest joy had only aroused a feeling of painful +resentment in Louis Richard's breast. The deception his father had +practised upon him wounded him deeply, but bitterer still was the +thought that, but for Mariette's cruel desertion, he might have shared +this wealth with her some day, and changed the laborious, squalid life +the young girl had always led into one of ease and luxury.</p> + +<p>This reflection, reviving as it did such poignant regrets, dominated him +so completely that, forgetting everything else, he drew out the visiting +card the commandant had left for him, and demanded, abruptly:</p> + +<p>"Will you tell me how it happens that Mlle. Moreau's name and address +are written in pencil on the back of this card?"</p> + +<p>"What!" exclaimed the commandant, amazed at the question, especially at +such a moment. "You wish to know—"</p> + +<p>"How it happens that Mlle. Moreau's address is on this card. When I ask +a question, I expect to have it answered."</p> + +<p>"The devil! My young friend, you are trying to carry things with a high +hand, it strikes me."</p> + +<p>"You are at perfect liberty to take offence at my manner, if you +choose."</p> + +<p>"Really, monsieur!" exclaimed the usurer, straightening himself up and +twirling his black moustache quite ferociously. Then, with a sudden +change of manner, he<a name="page_084" id="page_084"></a> added: "Oh, nonsense! I have proved my valour +beyond all question. An old soldier, with any number of wounds, I can +afford to let many things pass; so I will merely say, my dear client, +that that young girl's name and address happen to be on the card because +I wrote them there so I would not forget them."</p> + +<p>"You know Mlle. Mariette, then?"</p> + +<p>"I do."</p> + +<p>"You are paying court to her, perhaps?"</p> + +<p>"Rather."</p> + +<p>"With hopes of success?"</p> + +<p>"Decidedly."</p> + +<p>"Very well, I forbid you ever to set foot in her house again."</p> + +<p>"Ah, ha! so I have a rival," the usurer said to himself. "How funny! I +understand the girl's refusal now. I must get ahead of my client, +though. He is young and unsophisticated,—that means he is jealous. He +will be sure to fall into the trap, then I can oust him, for I've set my +heart on the girl, and if I can't get her this young fellow sha'n't. I'm +resolved upon that!"</p> + +<p>After which, he added aloud:</p> + +<p>"My dear friend, when I am forbidden to do anything, I consider it my +bounden duty to do precisely what I am forbidden to do."</p> + +<p>"We will see about that, monsieur."</p> + +<p>"Listen, young man. I have fought fifty-seven duels, so I can easily +dispense with fighting the fifty-eighth with you. I prefer, +consequently, to try to induce you to listen to the voice of reason, if +possible. Permit me, therefore, to ask you one question: You have just +returned from a journey, I believe?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, monsieur."</p> + +<p>"You were absent several days, I think. May I ask if you have seen +Mariette since your return?"</p> + +<p>"No, monsieur, but—"</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, my young friend, the same thing has happened<a name="page_085" id="page_085"></a> to you that has +happened to many other lovers. Mariette was not aware that you were the +son of a millionaire; I presented myself in your absence, and offered +her what has never yet failed to turn the head of a half-starved +grisette. Her godmother, who was also dying of hunger, craved the +fleshpots of Egypt, naturally,—and, well, '<i>les absents ont toujours +tort</i>,' you know. Ha, ha, you understand!"</p> + +<p>"My God!" groaned Louis, his anger giving place to profound despair. "My +God! it is true, then."</p> + +<p>"If I had known that I was interfering with a prospective client, I +would have abstained, I assure you. Now it is too late. Besides, there +are as good fish in the sea—You know the proverb. Come, my young +friend, don't take it so much to heart. The girl was entirely too young +for you. She needs training. You will find plenty of charming women +already trained and thoroughly trained. I can particularly recommend a +certain Madame——"</p> + +<p>"Wretch!" exclaimed Louis, seizing the man of affairs by the collar, +"wretch!—"</p> + +<p>"Monsieur, you shall answer for this!" exclaimed the commandant, trying +to wrench himself from his rival's iron grasp.</p> + +<p>Just then the door opened suddenly, and, at the sound of a loud laugh, +both men turned simultaneously.</p> + +<p>"Saint-Herem!" exclaimed Louis, recognising his old schoolmate.</p> + +<p>"You here!" exclaimed Florestan de Saint-Herem, while the usurer, +adjusting the collar of his dressing-gown, muttered savagely under his +breath:</p> + +<p>"What the devil brought Saint-Herem here just at this most inopportune +moment, I should like to know!"<a name="page_086" id="page_086"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IX-a" id="CHAPTER_IX-a"></a>CHAPTER IX.<br /><br /> +<small>COMMANDANT DE LA MIRAUDIÈRE'S ANTECEDENTS.</small></h3> + +<p>M. de Saint-Herem was a handsome man, not over thirty years of age, with +a remarkably distinguished manner and bearing. His refined and rather +spirituelle face sometimes wore an expression of extreme +superciliousness, as when he addressed any remark to Commandant de la +Miraudière, for instance; but at the sight of his old schoolmate he +seemed to experience the liveliest joy. He even embraced him +affectionately, and Louis returned the embrace heartily, spite of the +conflicting emotions that agitated him.</p> + +<p>But this manifestation of surprise and pleasure over, the chief actors +in the scene relapsed into the same mood they had been in when +Saint-Herem so unexpectedly burst in upon them, and Louis, pale with +anger, continued to cast such wrathful glances at the usurer that M. de +Saint-Herem said to that gentleman, with a mocking air:</p> + +<p>"You must admit that I arrived very opportunely. But for my timely +appearance upon the scene of action, it seems to me my friend Louis +would soon have taken all the starch out of you."</p> + +<p>"To dare to lay his hand on me, an old soldier!" exclaimed the +commandant, advancing a step toward Louis. "This matter shall not be +allowed to end here, M. Richard."</p> + +<p>"That is for you to say, M. de la Miraudière."</p> + +<p>"M. de la Miraudière? Ha, ha, ha!" roared Florestan.<a name="page_087" id="page_087"></a> "What! my dear +Louis, you really take that fellow seriously? You believe in his title, +in his cross, in his campaigns, his wounds, his duels, and his +high-sounding name?"</p> + +<p>"Enough of this jesting," said the pretended commandant, colouring with +vexation. "Even friendly raillery has its limits, my dear fellow."</p> + +<p>"M. Jerome Porquin," began Florestan, then, turning to Louis, he added, +pointing to the usurer, "his real name is Porquin, and a very +appropriate name it is, it seems to me."</p> + +<p>Then once more addressing the pretended commandant, Florestan added, in +a tone that admitted of no reply:</p> + +<p>"This is the second time I have been obliged to forbid your calling me +your dear friend, M. Porquin. It is different with me, I have bought and +paid for the right to call you my dear, my enormously, entirely too dear +M. Porquin, for you have swindled me most outrageously—"</p> + +<p>"Really, monsieur, I will not allow—"</p> + +<p>"What is that? Since when has M. Porquin become so terribly sensitive?" +cried Saint-Herem, with an affectation of intense astonishment. "What +has happened? Oh, yes, I understand. It is your presence, my friend +Louis, that makes this much too dear M. Porquin squirm so when I expose +his falsehoods and his absurd pretensions. To settle this vexed question +once for all, I must tell you—and let us see if he will have the +effrontery to contradict me—who M. le Commandant de la Miraudière +really is. He has never served his country except in the sutler's +department. He went to Madrid in that capacity during the late war, and +as he proved to be too great an expense to the government, he was asked +to take himself off. He did so, and transformed himself into what he +calls a man of affairs, or, in other words, into a usurer, and an +intermediary in all<a name="page_088" id="page_088"></a> sorts of shady transactions. The decoration he +wears is that of the Golden Spur, a papal order, which one holy man +procured from another holy man as a reward for his assistance in a most +atrocious swindle. He has never fought a duel in his life, in the first +place because he is one of the biggest cowards that ever lived, and in +the second place because he bears such a bad reputation that he knows +perfectly well that no respectable man would condescend to fight with +him, and that if he becomes insolent the only thing to do is to give him +a sound thrashing."</p> + +<p>"When you want to make use of me you do not treat me in this fashion, +monsieur," said the usurer, sullenly.</p> + +<p>"When I need you, I pay you, M. Porquin, and as I know all your tricks, +my too dear M. Porquin, I feel it my duty to warn my friend, M. Richard, +against you. You are doubtless eager to devour him; in fact, it is more +than likely that you have already begun to weave your toils around him, +but—"</p> + +<p>"That is the way some persons reward faithful service!" exclaimed M. +Porquin, bitterly. "I reveal a secret of the highest importance to him, +and—"</p> + +<p>"I understand your motive now," responded Louis Richard, dryly, "so I +owe you no gratitude for the service you have rendered me,—that is, if +it be a service," he added, sadly.</p> + +<p>The usurer had no intention of losing his prey, however, and, deeming it +advisable to ignore the insults M. de Saint-Herem had heaped upon him, +he said to Saint-Herem, with as much assurance as if that gentleman had +not so roughly unmasked him:</p> + +<p>"Your friend, M. Richard is at perfect liberty to tell you the +conditions of the bargain I just proposed to him, and you can then judge +whether my demands are exorbitant or not. As my presence might be a +constraint, gentlemen, will you kindly step into the adjoining room? I +will await M. Richard's decision here; that<a name="page_089" id="page_089"></a> is, of course, if he +desires to ask your advice on the subject."</p> + +<p>"An admirable suggestion, truly, my too dear M. Porquin," responded +Florestan, promptly. And, taking Louis by the arm, he led him toward the +door, remarking to the usurer, as he did so:</p> + +<p>"On my return, I will tell you the object of my visit, or rather, I will +tell you now. I must have two hundred louis this evening. Here, examine +these securities."</p> + +<p>And M. de Saint-Herem, drawing some papers from his pocket, threw them +to the usurer, then entered the adjoining room, accompanied by his +friend.</p> + +<p>The revelation of M. Porquin's real character was another terrible blow +to Louis Richard. The knowledge that it was for the sake of such a +wretch as this that Mariette had been false to him caused him bitter +sorrow, and, unable to restrain his feelings, as soon as he found +himself alone with his friend, he seized both Saint-Herem's hands, and, +in a voice trembling with emotion, exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Oh, Florestan, how miserable I am!"</p> + +<p>"I suspected as much, my dear Louis, for it must be worse than death for +a sensible, industrious fellow like you to find yourself in the clutches +of a scoundrel like Porquin. What is the trouble? Your habits have +always been so frugal, how did you manage to get into debt? Tell me +about it. What seems an enormous sum to you may be but a trifle to me. I +just told that rascal in there that he was to let me have two hundred +louis this evening, and I am sure he will. You shall share them with me, +or you can have the whole amount if you want it. Two hundred louis will +certainly pay all the debts any notary's clerk can have contracted. I do +not say this to humiliate you, far from it. If you need more, we will +try to get it elsewhere, but for God's sake don't apply to Porquin. If +you do you are lost. I know the scoundrel so well."<a name="page_090" id="page_090"></a></p> + +<p>Saint-Herem's generous offer gave Louis such heart-felt pleasure that he +almost forgot his sorrows for the moment.</p> + +<p>"My dear, kind friend, if you knew how much this proof of your +friendship consoles me," he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"So much the better. You accept my offer, then."</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"I do not need your kind services. This usurer, whom I had never heard +of before, sent for me yesterday to offer to loan me, each year, more +money than I have spent in my whole life."</p> + +<p>"What! He makes you such an offer as that, this usurer who never loans +so much as a sou without the very best security. Men of his stamp set a +very small valuation on honesty, industry, and integrity, and I know +that these are your sole patrimony, my dear Louis."</p> + +<p>"You are mistaken, Florestan. My father is worth over two millions."</p> + +<p>"Your father!" exclaimed Saint-Herem, in profound astonishment. "Your +father?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. In some mysterious way this usurer has managed to discover a +secret, of which even I had not the slightest suspicion, I assure you, +so he sent for me—"</p> + +<p>"To offer you his services, of course. He and others of his ilk are +always on the lookout for hidden fortunes, and when they find them they +offer to the prospective heirs such advances as will enable them to +squander their wealth before they inherit it. So you are rich, my dear +Louis! You need not feel any doubts on the subject. If Porquin has made +you such an offer, he knows it for a certainty."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think so, too," said Louis, almost sadly.</p> + +<p>"Why do you speak so mournfully, Louis? One would suppose that you had +just made some terrible discovery. What is the matter with you? What is +the meaning of those tears I saw in your eyes a little while<a name="page_091" id="page_091"></a> ago? And +of that exclamation, 'I am very miserable!' You miserable, and why?"</p> + +<p>"Do not ridicule me, my friend. The truth is, I love, and I have been +deceived."</p> + +<p>"You have a rival, then, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and, to crown my misfortunes, this rival—"</p> + +<p>"Go on."</p> + +<p>"Is this rascally usurer."</p> + +<p>"Porquin, that old scoundrel! The girl prefers him to you? Impossible! +But what leads you to suppose—"</p> + +<p>"Several suspicious circumstances; besides, he says so."</p> + +<p>"Fine authority that! He lies, I am certain of it."</p> + +<p>"But, Florestan, he is rich, and the girl I loved, or rather whom I +still love in spite of myself, is terribly poor."</p> + +<p>"The devil!"</p> + +<p>"Besides, she has an invalid connection to take care of. This +scoundrel's offers must have dazzled the poor child, or want may have +induced her to listen to the voice of the tempter, as so many others do. +What does the discovery of this wealth profit me now? I care nothing for +it if I cannot share it with Mariette."</p> + +<p>"Listen, Louis, I know you, and I feel confident that you must have +placed your affections wisely."</p> + +<p>"Yes; and for more than a year Mariette has given every proof of her +faithful attachment to me, but yesterday, without the slightest warning, +came a letter breaking our engagement."</p> + +<p>"A good girl who has loved a man as poor as you were faithfully for a +year would not have been so quickly won over by the promises of an old +villain like Porquin. He lied to you; I haven't a doubt of it."</p> + +<p>Then calling out at the top of his voice, to the great surprise of +Louis, he exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Commandant de la Miraudière, come here a minute!"<a name="page_092" id="page_092"></a></p> + +<p>"What are you going to do, Florestan?" asked Louis, as the usurer +appeared in the doorway.</p> + +<p>"Keep still and let me manage this affair," replied his friend. Then, +turning to the usurer, he continued:</p> + +<p>"M. de la Miraudière, I feel sure that you must be labouring under a +misapprehension in relation to a very nice young girl who—according to +your account—has fallen a victim to your charms. Will you do me the +favour to tell me the truth so I may know what action to take in the +matter?"</p> + +<p>Concluding that it would be politic to sacrifice a caprice that he had +little chance of gratifying to the advantage of having Louis Richard for +a client, Porquin replied:</p> + +<p>"I must confess that I deeply deplore a stupid jest that seems to have +annoyed M. Richard so much."</p> + +<p>"I told you so," remarked Florestan, turning to his friend. "And now M. +le commandant must do me the favour to explain how the idea of this +stupid jest, or rather what I should call an atrocious calumny, happened +to occur to him."</p> + +<p>"The explanation is very simple, monsieur. I saw Mlle. Mariette several +times in the establishment where she is employed. Her beauty struck me. +I asked for her address, secured it, and, finding her godmother at home +when I called, I proposed to her that—"</p> + +<p>"Enough, monsieur, enough!" cried Louis, indignantly.</p> + +<p>"Permit me to add, however, that the aforesaid godmother declined my +offer, and that the young lady, herself, chancing to come about that +time, coolly ordered me out of the house. I am making a frank +confession, you see, M. de Saint-Herem. I do it, I admit, in the hope +that it will gain me M. Richard's confidence, and that he will decide to +accept my services. As for you, M. de Saint-Herem," continued the +usurer, in his most ingratiating manner, "I have examined the securities +you submitted<a name="page_093" id="page_093"></a> to me, and I will bring you the money you want this +evening. And, by the way, when you hear the offer I have made to M. +Richard, I feel confident that you will consider my terms very +reasonable."</p> + +<p>"I do not want your money, monsieur," said Louis, "and I consider it an +insult for you to think me capable of trading upon my father's death, as +it were—"</p> + +<p>"But, my dear client, permit me to say—"</p> + +<p>"Come, Florestan, let us go," Louis said to his friend, without paying +the slightest attention to the usurer's protest.</p> + +<p>"You see, my too dear M. Porquin," said Saint-Herem, as he turned to +depart, "you see there are still a few honest men and women left in the +world. It is useless to hope that this discovery will serve either as an +example or a lesson for you, however. You are too set in your ways ever +to reform; but it is some comfort to know of your double defeat."</p> + +<p>"Ah, my dear Florestan," remarked Louis, as they left the house, "thanks +to you, I am much less miserable. The fact that Mariette treated this +villain with the scorn he deserved is some comfort, even though she has +decided to break her engagement with me."</p> + +<p>"Did she tell you so?"</p> + +<p>"No, she wrote me to that effect, or rather she got some other person to +do it for her."</p> + +<p>"What, she got some other person to write such a thing as that for her!"</p> + +<p>"You will sneer, perhaps, but the poor girl I love can neither read nor +write."</p> + +<p>"How fortunate you are! You will at least escape such epistles as I have +been receiving from a pretty little perfumer I took away from a rich but +miserly old banker. I have been amusing myself by showing her a little +of the world,—it is so pleasant to see people happy,—but I have not +been able to improve her grammar, and such spelling! It is of the +antediluvian type. Mother Eve<a name="page_094" id="page_094"></a> must have written in much the same +fashion. But if your Mariette can neither read nor write, how do you +know but her secretary may have distorted the facts?"</p> + +<p>"With what object?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, I am sure. But why don't you have an explanation with +her? You will know exactly how you stand, then."</p> + +<p>"But she implored me, both for the sake of her peace of mind and her +future, to make no attempt to see her again."</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, see her again, and at once, for the sake of her +future, now you are a prospective millionaire."</p> + +<p>"You are right, Florestan, I will see her, and at once; and if this +cruel mystery can be satisfactorily explained, if I find her as loving +and devoted as in the past, I shall be the happiest man in the world. +Poor child, her life up to this time has been one of toil and privation. +She shall know rest and comfort now, for I cannot doubt that my father +will consent. My God!"</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?"</p> + +<p>"All this has made me entirely forget something that will surprise you +very much. My father insists that I shall marry your cousin."</p> + +<p>"What cousin?"</p> + +<p>"Mlle. Ramon. A short time ago I went to Dreux; in fact, I have just +returned from there. I had not the slightest suspicion of my father's +plans, when I first saw the young lady, but, even if I had not been in +love with Mariette, your uncle's daughter impressed me so unfavourably +that nothing in the world—"</p> + +<p>"So my uncle is not ruined, as he pretended he was several years ago," +said Florestan, interrupting his friend. "No, evidently not, for if your +father wishes you to marry my cousin, it is because he thinks such an +alliance would be to your advantage. Doubtless my uncle's pretended +failure was only a subterfuge."<a name="page_095" id="page_095"></a></p> + +<p>"My father resorted to the same expedient, I think, though he has always +given me to understand that extreme poverty was the cause of the +parsimonious manner in which we lived."</p> + +<p>"Ah, Uncle Ramon, I knew that you were sulky, ill-tempered, and +detestable generally, but I did not believe you capable of such +cleverness of conception. From this day on I shall admire and revere +you. I am not your heir, it is true, but it is always delightful to know +that one has a millionaire uncle. It is such a comforting thought in +one's financial difficulties; one can indulge in all sorts of delightful +hypotheses, in which apoplexy and even cholera present themselves to the +mind in the guise of guardian angels."</p> + +<p>"Without going quite as far as that, and without wishing for any one's +death," said Louis, smiling, "I must admit that I would much rather see +your uncle's fortune pass into your hands than into those of his odious +daughter. You would at least enjoy the possession of it, and, with all +that wealth, I feel sure that you would—"</p> + +<p>"Contract debts without number," Saint-Herem interrupted, majestically.</p> + +<p>"What, Florestan, with a fortune like that—"</p> + +<p>"I should contract debts without number, I tell you. Yes, of course I +should."</p> + +<p>"What, with a fortune of two or three million francs?"</p> + +<p>"With ten, even twenty millions, I should still contract debts. My +theory is that of the government,—the larger a country's debt, the +better that country's credit is. But I will expound my financial +theories some other time. Don't lose a moment now in hastening to +Mariette, and be sure and tell me what success you meet with. Here it is +nearly noon, and I promised the little perfumer—who amuses me +immensely—that she should try a new saddle-horse to-day, the +handsomest<a name="page_096" id="page_096"></a> hack in Paris,—it cost me a nice price, by the way,—and +she wrote me this morning to remind me that I had promised to take her +to the Bois. So hasten to your Mariette. I feel confident that your love +affair will end happily after all. But write to me, or else come and see +me as soon as possible, for I shall be so anxious to hear the result of +your interview."</p> + +<p>"You shall hear from me, my dear Florestan, whatever happens."</p> + +<p>"Farewell then, my dear Louis, it is agreed that I shall see or hear +from you before to-morrow."</p> + +<p>As he spoke, M. de Saint-Herem stepped into the handsomely appointed +brougham which was waiting for him at the usurer's door, and Louis +Richard wended his way on foot to Mariette's home.<a name="page_097" id="page_097"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_X-a" id="CHAPTER_X-a"></a>CHAPTER X.<br /><br /> +<small>THE MYSTERY EXPLAINED.</small></h3> + +<p>When Louis Richard entered the room occupied by Mariette and her +godmother, he paused a moment on the threshold, overwhelmed with grief +and despair at the affecting scene that presented itself to his gaze.</p> + +<p>Mariette was lying to all appearance lifeless on a mattress on the +floor. Her features, which were overspread with a death-like pallor, +contracted convulsively from time to time. Her eyes were closed, and +there were still traces of tears on her marble cheeks, while in one of +the clenched hands crossed upon her breast was the envelope containing +the fragments of the letter she had received from Louis.</p> + +<p>Madame Lacombe's usually grim and sardonic face showed that she was a +prey to the most poignant grief and distress. Kneeling beside the +mattress on which her goddaughter was lying, she was supporting +Mariette's head upon her mutilated arm, and holding a glass of water to +the girl's inanimate lips with the other.</p> + +<p>Hearing a sound, Madame Lacombe turned hastily, and her features resumed +their usually hard and irascible expression, as she saw Louis standing +motionless in the doorway.</p> + +<p>"What do you want?" she demanded, brusquely. "Why do you come in without +knocking? I don't know you. Who are you?"</p> + +<p>"My God! in what a terrible condition I find her!" exclaimed Louis.<a name="page_098" id="page_098"></a></p> + +<p>And without paying any attention to Madame Lacombe's question, he sprang +forward, and, throwing himself on his knees beside the pallet, +exclaimed, imploringly:</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, Mariette? Answer me, I beseech you."</p> + +<p>Madame Lacombe, who had been as much surprised as annoyed at the young +man's intrusion, now scrutinised his features closely, and, after a +moment's reflection, said, sullenly:</p> + +<p>"You are Louis Richard, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, madame, but in Heaven's name what has happened to Mariette?"</p> + +<p>"You have killed her, that is all!"</p> + +<p>"I? Great God! But, madame, something must be done. Let me run for a +doctor. Her hands are like ice. Mariette, Mariette! Oh, my God! my God! +she does not hear me."</p> + +<p>"She has been in this state ever since last night, and it was your +letter that caused it."</p> + +<p>"My letter! What letter?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you intend to deny it now, I suppose. You needn't, for last night +the poor child couldn't bear it any longer, and told me all."</p> + +<p>"Great Heavens! What did she tell you?"</p> + +<p>"That you never wanted to lay eyes on her again, and that you had +deserted her for another. That is always the way with you men!"</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, I wrote to Mariette that—"</p> + +<p>"You lie!" exclaimed the old woman, more and more incensed. "She told me +what was in the letter. She has it here in her hand. I haven't been able +to get it away from her. Hadn't she enough to bear without your treating +her in this way? Get out of this house, you scoundrel! Mariette was a +fool, and so was I, to refuse the offer made us, and I told her so at +the time. 'See how we shall be rewarded for our honesty,' I said to<a name="page_099" id="page_099"></a> +her. And my words have come true. She is dying, and I shall be turned +out into the street, for we are behind in our rent, and the little +furniture we have will be taken from us. Fortunately, I have a quarter +of a bushel of charcoal left," she added, with a grim smile, "and +charcoal is the friend and deliverer of the poor."</p> + +<p>"This is horrible!" cried Louis, unable to restrain his tears; "but I +swear to you that we are all the victims of a most deplorable mistake. +Mariette, Mariette, arouse yourself! It is I—I, Louis!"</p> + +<p>"You are determined to kill her, I see!" exclaimed Madame Lacombe, +making a desperate effort to push the young man away. "If she recovers +consciousness, the sight of you will finish her!"</p> + +<p>"Thank God!" exclaimed Louis, resisting Madame Lacombe's efforts, and +again bending over Mariette; "she is moving a little. See! her hands are +relaxing; her eyelids are quivering. Mariette, darling, can't you hear +me? It is Louis who speaks to you."</p> + +<p>The girl was, in fact, gradually recovering consciousness, and her +tear-stained eyes, after having slowly opened and wandered aimlessly +around for a moment, fixed themselves upon Louis. Soon, an expression of +joyful surprise irradiated her features, and she murmured, faintly:</p> + +<p>"Louis, is it really you? Ah, I never expected—"</p> + +<p>Then, the sad reality gradually forcing itself upon her mind, she +averted her face, and, letting her head again fall upon Madame Lacombe's +bosom, she said, with a deep sigh:</p> + +<p>"Ah, godmother, it is for the last time! All is over between us!"</p> + +<p>"Didn't I tell you how it would be?" exclaimed Madame Lacombe. "Go, I +tell you, go! Oh, the misery of being so weak and infirm that one cannot +turn a scoundrel out of one's house!"</p> + +<p>"Mariette," cried Louis, imploringly, "Mariette, in<a name="page_100" id="page_100"></a> pity, listen to me. +I do not come to bid you farewell; on the contrary, I come to tell you +that I love you better than ever!"</p> + +<p>"Good God!" exclaimed the young girl, starting up as if she had received +an electric shock; "what does he say?"</p> + +<p>"I say that we are both the victims of a terrible mistake, Mariette. I +have never for one moment ceased to love you, no, never! and all the +time I have been away I have had but one thought and desire,—to see you +again and make all the necessary arrangements for our speedy marriage, +as I told you in my letter."</p> + +<p>"Your letter!" exclaimed Mariette, in heart-broken tones, "he has +forgotten. Here, Louis, here is your letter."</p> + +<p>And, as she spoke, she handed the young man the crumpled, tear-blurred +fragments of the letter.</p> + +<p>"He will deny his own writing, see if he don't," muttered Madame +Lacombe, as Louis hastily put the torn pieces together. "And you will be +fool enough to believe him."</p> + +<p>"This is what I wrote, Mariette," said Louis, after he had put the +letter together:</p> + +<p><br /> +</p> + +<p>"'<span class="smcap">My Dearest Mariette</span>:—I shall be with you again the day after you +receive this letter. The short absence, from which I have suffered so +much, has convinced me that it is impossible for me to live separated +from you. Thank God! the day of our union is near at hand. To-morrow +will be the sixth of May, and as soon as I return I shall tell my father +of our intentions, and I do not doubt his consent.</p> + +<p>"'Farewell, then, until day after to-morrow, my beloved Mariette. I love +you madly, or rather wisely, for what greater wisdom could a man show +than in having sought and found happiness in a love like yours.</p> + +<p class="r">"'Yours devotedly, <span class="smcap">Louis</span>.</p> + +<p>"'I write only these few lines because I shall reach Paris almost as +soon as my letter, and because it is always painful to me to think that +another must read what I write to you. But for that, how many things I +would say to you.</p> + +<p class="r">Yours for ever. <br /> +"'L.'"</p> + +<p><br /> +</p> + +<p>Mariette had listened to the letter with such profound astonishment that +she had been unable to utter a word.</p> + +<p>"That, Mariette, is what I wrote," remarked Louis. "What was there in my +letter to make you so wretched?"</p> + +<p>"Is that really what was in the letter, M. Louis?" asked Madame Lacombe.</p> + +<p>"See for yourself, madame," said Louis, handing her the scraps of paper.</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose I know how to read?" was the surly response. "How was it +that the letter was read so differently to Mariette, then?"</p> + +<p>"Who read my letter to you, Mariette?" asked Louis.</p> + +<p>"A scrivener."</p> + +<p>"A scrivener!" repeated Louis, assailed by a sudden suspicion. "Explain, +Mariette, I beg of you."</p> + +<p>"The explanation is very simple, M. Louis. I asked a scrivener on the +Charnier des Innocents to write a letter to you. He wrote it, and just +as he was about to put your address on it he overturned his inkstand on +the letter, and was obliged to write it all over again. On my return +home, I found your letter waiting for me; but having no one to read it +to me in Augustine's absence, I went back to the scrivener, a very kind +and respectable old man, and asked him to read what you had written to +me. He read it, or at least pretended to read it, for, according to him, +you said that we must never meet again, that your future and that of +your father demanded it, and for that reason you entreated me—"<a name="page_102" id="page_102"></a></p> + +<p>But the poor girl's emotion overcame her, and she burst into tears.</p> + +<p>Louis understood now that chance had led Mariette to his father for +assistance, that the pretended accident had been merely a stratagem that +enabled the scrivener to write a second letter of an entirely different +import from the first, and to address it, not to Dreux, but to Paris, so +Louis would find it on his arrival in that city. He understood, too, his +father's object in thus deceiving Mariette in regard to the real +contents of the second letter, when she again applied to him. The +discovery of this breach of confidence on the part of his father—the +reason of which was only too apparent—overwhelmed Louis with sorrow and +shame. He dared not confess to his sweetheart the relation that existed +between him and the scrivener, but, wishing to give the two women some +plausible explanation of the deception that had been practised upon +them, he said:</p> + +<p>"In spite of this scrivener's apparent kindness of heart, he must have +taken a malicious pleasure in playing a joke upon you, my poor Mariette, +for he read you the exact opposite of what I had written."</p> + +<p>"How shameful!" cried the girl. "How could he have had the heart to +deceive me so? He had such a benevolent air, and spoke so feelingly of +the sympathy he always felt for those unfortunate persons who, like +myself, could neither read nor write."</p> + +<p>"But you can see for yourself that he did deceive you shamefully? Still, +what does it matter, now?" added Louis, anxious to put an end to such a +painful topic. "We understand each other's feelings now, Mariette, +and—"</p> + +<p>"One moment," interposed Madame Lacombe; "you may feel satisfied and +reassured, Mariette, but I do not."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, godmother?"</p> + +<p>"I mean that I strongly disapprove of this marriage."</p> + +<p>"But listen, madame," pleaded Louis.<a name="page_103" id="page_103"></a></p> + +<p>"As you are the son of a public scrivener, you haven't a sou to your +name. Mariette hasn't, either, and two people in such circumstances as +that have no right to marry. My goddaughter has me to take care of. She +would be sure, too, to have a lot of children, and a nice fix we should +all be in!"</p> + +<p>"But, godmother—"</p> + +<p>"Don't talk to me. I know what you intend to do. The first thing you'll +try for is to get rid of the old woman. There won't be bread enough for +us all, and I shall be turned out into the street to be arrested as a +public vagabond. I shall be sent to the workhouse, so you won't be +troubled with me any more. Oh, yes, I understand your scheme."</p> + +<p>"Oh, godmother, how can you imagine such a thing as that?"</p> + +<p>"Dismiss all such fears from your mind, I beg of you, madame," Louis +made haste to say, "This very day I made a most unexpected discovery. My +father, for reasons which I must respect, has concealed from me the fact +that we are rich, very rich."</p> + +<p>Mariette manifested much more astonishment than delight on hearing this +startling announcement, but turning to Madame Lacombe after a moment, +she said:</p> + +<p>"You see you need be troubled by no more of these terrible misgivings in +regard to my future, godmother."</p> + +<p>"Ha, ha!" laughed Madame Lacombe, sardonically; "so she really believes +it—"</p> + +<p>"But, godmother—"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, child, can't you see that he has invented this story so I +will consent to your marriage?"</p> + +<p>"But I swear, madame—"</p> + +<p>"I tell you it is all a lie," exclaimed Madame Lacombe; "for if you were +as rich as you say, you wouldn't want Mariette any longer. Would the son +of a rich man be fool enough to marry a poor working girl who can +neither read nor write?"<a name="page_104" id="page_104"></a></p> + +<p>Though she did not exactly share her godmother's doubts, Mariette gazed +at Louis a little sadly and uneasily, as she thought of the great change +in his fortunes.</p> + +<p>The young man must have understood the meaning of the look, for he said:</p> + +<p>"You are very much mistaken, Madame Lacombe; the son of a rich man keeps +the promise he made as a poor man when the happiness of his life depends +upon that promise."</p> + +<p>"Bah! that is all talk!" interrupted the invalid, in surly tones; "but +rich or poor, you won't get Mariette without I am sure of a living. I +don't ask much,—six hundred francs a year will do,—but the money must +be deposited in the hands of a reliable notary before the marriage +contract is signed."</p> + +<p>"Oh, godmother, have you no more confidence in Louis than that?"</p> + +<p>"A nice fix you'll find yourself in if you place confidence in any man," +exclaimed the poor creature. "Oh, I know all about it. Before marriage +they'll promise anything you ask; afterward, they'll take the old woman +by the arm, and drag her off to the poorhouse without saying so much as +by your leave. I'm not afraid that Mariette would turn me into the +street. I've been a sad burden to her, and she has had quite enough of +me, I know, but she is a kind-hearted little thing; besides, she's +afraid of me; but once married, she will side with her husband, and out +I shall have to go. No, there sha'n't be any marriage unless I'm sure of +six hundred francs a year."</p> + +<p>While Madame Lacombe was indulging in these recriminations, Mariette and +Louis exchanged sadly significant glances.</p> + +<p>"You hear her, Louis," the girl seemed to say. "Was I not right when I +told you that she had been hopelessly embittered by her many +misfortunes?"</p> + +<p>"Poor Mariette," the young man seemed to say in<a name="page_105" id="page_105"></a> reply, "how much you +must have suffered! And how hard it is to see such tender and saint-like +devotion as yours rewarded in such a way!"</p> + +<p>"Madame," replied Louis, when the sick woman had ended her tirade, "you +may rest assured that you shall be well provided for. Mariette and I +will never forget that you took her in when she had no other home, and +whether you prefer to live with us, or to live alone, you shall be made +comfortable for life."</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you, Louis, thank you for sharing my feeling for my poor +godmother, my second mother," exclaimed Mariette, gratefully.</p> + +<p>And the girl bent over Madame Lacombe to embrace her, but the invalid, +pushing her away, said, angrily:</p> + +<p>"Can't you see that he is only amusing himself at our expense? Marry +you? Pension me for life? Was such a thing ever heard of? He wants to +get around me, that is all, and if he is rich, as he says he is, he will +only fool you, and some fine day you'll hear of his marriage with +another girl, so I forbid him ever to set foot in this house again."</p> + +<p>"But you will at least allow me to present myself here in company with +my father to make a formal request for Mariette's hand in marriage?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, when you come for that purpose it will be when two Sundays +come together," answered the old woman, sneeringly.</p> + +<p>"It will be to-morrow, Madame Lacombe."</p> + +<p>Then, turning to the young girl, he added:</p> + +<p>"Farewell, Mariette. I shall come to-morrow, accompanied by my father."</p> + +<p>On hastening to his father's office a few moments afterward, Louis found +it closed, and ascertained upon inquiry that M. Richard had not been +there at all that day. Amazed at this strange change in the old man's +regular habits, Louis hastened to the lodgings they shared in the Rue de +Grenelle.<a name="page_106" id="page_106"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XI-a" id="CHAPTER_XI-a"></a>CHAPTER XI.<br /><br /> +<small>HIDDEN TREASURE.</small></h3> + +<p>As Louis was passing the porter's lodge, that functionary remarked to +him:</p> + +<p>"Your father went out a couple of hours ago, M. Louis. He left this note +for you, which I was to take to the office where you are employed, if +you did not return before two o'clock in the afternoon."</p> + +<p>The young man took the note. It read as follows:</p> + +<p><br /> +</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">My Dear Son</span>:—I am in receipt of a few lines from my friend, Ramon, who +apprises me of his intention of leaving Dreux in company with his +daughter almost simultaneously with his letter. He will, consequently, +reach Paris to-day. As he has never been on a railway in his life, and +is anxious to try that mode of travel, he will stop at Versailles, and +he wishes us to meet him there. We can visit the palace, and afterward +come on to Paris together by one of the late trains.</p> + +<p>"I am to meet Ramon at the Hôtel du Reservoir. If we should leave there +to visit the palace before you arrive, you can easily find us. It is +understood that this meeting with Mlle. Ramon is not to compromise you +in the least. I merely desire that you should take advantage of this +opportunity to see the injustice of your prejudice against that young +lady. Besides, whatever your plans may be, you must realise that it +would be very discourteous<a name="page_107" id="page_107"></a> to Ramon, one of my most particular friends, +to fail to keep the appointment he has made with us. So come, my dear +Louis, if only for appearance's sake.</p> + +<p>"From your father who loves you, and who has but one desire in the +world,—your happiness.</p> + +<p class="r">"<span class="smcap">A. Richard.</span>"</p> + +<p><br /> +</p> + +<p>But Louis, in spite of the deference he usually showed to his father's +wishes, did not go to Versailles, feeling the utter uselessness of +another meeting with Mlle. Ramon, as he was now even more than ever +determined to marry Mariette.</p> + +<p>The discovery of his father's wealth made no change in the industrious +habits of Louis, who hastened to the office to perform his usual duties, +and apologise for his absence during the morning. A desire to atone for +that, as well as the preparation of several important documents, kept +him at the office much later than usual. As he was preparing to leave, +one of his fellow clerks rushed in excitedly, exclaiming:</p> + +<p>"Ah, my friend, such a terrible calamity has occurred!"</p> + +<p>"What has happened?"</p> + +<p>"There has been a frightful accident on the Versailles railroad."</p> + +<p>"Good God!" exclaimed Louis, turning pale.</p> + +<p>"The Paris train was derailed, several cars were telescoped, they took +fire, nearly all the passengers were either crushed or burned to death, +and—"</p> + +<p>Louis could wait to hear no more. Forgetting his hat entirely, he rushed +out of the office, and, running to a neighbouring cab-stand, he sprang +into one of the vehicles, saying to the coachman:</p> + +<p>"Twenty francs <i>pourboire</i> if you take me to the Versailles railway +station at the top of your speed,—and from there, but I don't know +yet,—only start, in Heaven's name start at once!"<a name="page_108" id="page_108"></a></p> + +<p>"On the right or left bank of the river, monsieur?" asked the coachman, +gathering up the lines.</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"There are two roads, monsieur, one on the right, the other on the left +bank of the river."</p> + +<p>"I want to go to the road where that terrible accident just occurred."</p> + +<p>"This is the first I have heard of it, monsieur."</p> + +<p>Louis drove back to the office to inquire of the fellow clerk who had +brought the news, but, finding no one there, he ran out and was about to +enter the cab again when the driver said:</p> + +<p>"I have just learned that the accident was on the left line, monsieur."</p> + +<p>Louis accordingly ordered him to drive to that station. Here the sad +news was confirmed. He also learned at what point on the line the +accident had occurred. The main road and then a cross road enabled him +to reach Bas Mendon about nightfall, and, guided by the blaze of the +burning cars, he soon found the scene of the catastrophe.</p> + +<p>The press of the time gave such graphic accounts of this frightful +calamity that is not necessary to enter into further particulars; we +will merely say that all night Louis searched in vain for his father +among the charred, disfigured, and terribly mutilated bodies. About four +o'clock in the morning the young man, overcome with grief and fatigue, +returned to Paris, with a faint hope that his father might have been one +of the few who had escaped injury, and that he might have returned home +during the night.</p> + +<p>The carriage had scarcely reached the house before Louis sprang out and +ran to the porter's lodge.</p> + +<p>"Has my father returned?" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"No, M. Louis."</p> + +<p>"Ah! there can be no further doubt, then," murmured Louis. "Dead! +dead!"<a name="page_109" id="page_109"></a></p> + +<p>His knees gave way under him, and he was obliged to sit down. After +resting a few moments in the room of the porter, who offered him the +usual condolences, Louis went slowly up to his room.</p> + +<p>On seeing the bare, poorly furnished room so long shared with a father +who had loved him so devotedly, and who had just met with such a +frightful death, Louis's grief became uncontrollable, and he threw +himself down on the bed, and, burying his face in his hands, wept long +and bitterly.</p> + +<p>About half an hour afterward he heard some one knock at the door, and +the porter entered.</p> + +<p>"What do you want?" asked Louis.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to disturb you at such a time, monsieur, but the coachman—"</p> + +<p>"What coachman?" asked Louis, who in his grief had forgotten all about +the carriage.</p> + +<p>"Why, the coachman you kept all night. He says you promised him twenty +francs drink money, which, with his charge for yesterday afternoon and +last night, makes forty-nine francs in all that you owe him, and he +wants his money."</p> + +<p>"Pay him and let him go!" responded the young man, with sorrowful +impatience.</p> + +<p>"But forty-nine francs is a large sum of money, and I haven't that much, +M. Louis."</p> + +<p>"Good Heavens! what is to be done?" exclaimed Louis, suddenly aroused by +this demand of the material interests of life. "I have no money, +either."</p> + +<p>And he spoke the truth, for he had never had at his disposal one-fourth +of the amount that he owed the coachman.</p> + +<p>"Then why did you keep the carriage so long, and above all, why did you +promise the driver such a large <i>pourboire</i>? You must be mad! What are +you going to do? Hadn't you better see if there is any money in your +father's desk?"<a name="page_110" id="page_110"></a></p> + +<p>These last words reminded Louis of a fact which, in his grief, he had +entirely forgotten. His father was rich, and thinking that there might +be some money concealed somewhere in the room, but not wishing to +institute a search for it in the porter's presence, he said:</p> + +<p>"I may need the cab again this morning, so tell the man to wait. If I am +not down in half an hour, you can come back again, and I will give you +the money."</p> + +<p>The porter went out, and the young man, thus left alone, experienced a +feeling almost akin to remorse, as he thought of the search he was about +to make,—a search which at such a moment seemed almost sacrilege, but +necessity left him no choice.</p> + +<p>The furniture of the room consisted of a writing-desk, a bureau, and a +big chest similar to those seen in the houses of well-to-do peasants, +and which was divided into two compartments, one above the other.</p> + +<p>Louis examined the desk and bureau, but found no money in either of +them. The keys of the chest were in their respective locks. He opened +both compartments, but saw only a few articles of clothing. A long +drawer separated the two compartments. In this drawer there was nothing +except a few unimportant papers; but the idea that there might be some +secret compartment occurred to Louis, so he took the drawer out of the +chest, and proceeded to examine it. A careful search resulted in the +discovery of a small brass knob in the left side of the drawer. He +pressed this knob, and immediately saw the board which apparently formed +the bottom of the drawer move slowly out, disclosing to view another +opening below, about four inches deep, and extending the entire length +of the drawer. This space was partitioned off into a number of small +compartments, and each of these compartments was filled with piles of +gold pieces of different denominations and nationalities. It was evident +that each coin must have been carefully<a name="page_111" id="page_111"></a> polished, for they all sparkled +as brilliantly as if they had just come out of the mint.</p> + +<p>Louis, in spite of his profound grief, stood a moment as if dazzled at +the sight of this treasure, the value of which he knew must be very +considerable. On recovering from his surprise a little, he noticed a +paper in the first compartment, and, recognising his father's +handwriting, he read these words:</p> + +<p>"This collection of gold pieces was begun on the 7th of September, 1803. +Its market value is 287,634 francs, 10 centimes. See Clause IV. of my +will, entrusted to the keeping of Master Marainville, No. 28 Rue St. +Anne, with whom is likewise deposited all my title-deeds, mortgages, +stocks, and bonds. See also the sealed envelope under the piles of +Spanish double pistoles, in fifth compartment."</p> + +<p>Louis removed several piles of the large, heavy coins designated, and +found an envelope sealed with black.</p> + +<p>Upon this envelope was written in bold characters:</p> + +<p class="c">"<i>To My Dearly-beloved Son.</i>"</p> + +<p>Just as Louis picked up the envelope some one knocked at the door, and +remembering that he had told the porter to return, he had barely time to +take out one of the coins and close the chest before that functionary +entered.</p> + +<p>The porter examined the coin which the young man handed to him with +quite as much surprise as curiosity, exclaiming, with a wondering air:</p> + +<p>"What a handsome gold piece! One would suppose it had just been coined. +I never saw one like it before."</p> + +<p>"Go and pay the cabman with it!"</p> + +<p>"But how much is a big gold piece like this worth, monsieur?"</p> + +<p>"More than I owe. Go and get it changed, and pay the coachman."</p> + +<p>"Did your father leave many of these big gold pieces,<a name="page_112" id="page_112"></a> M. Richard?" +asked the porter, in a mysterious tone. "Who would have supposed that +old man—"</p> + +<p>"Go!" thundered Louis, exasperated at the heartlessness of the question, +"go and pay the coachman, and don't come back."</p> + +<p>The porter beat a hasty retreat, and Louis, to guard against further +intrusion, locked the door and returned to the chest.</p> + +<p>Before opening his father's letter the young man, almost in spite of +himself, gazed for a moment at the glittering treasure, but this time, +though he reproached himself for the thought at such a moment, he +remembered Mariette, and said to himself that one-fourth of the wealth +that was lying there before him would assure his wife's comfort and +independence for life.</p> + +<p>Then he tried to forget the cruel stratagem his father had resorted to, +and even comforted himself with the thought that he should have secured +the old man's consent to his marriage with Mariette eventually, and +that, though he might not have confessed to the wealth he possessed, he +would at least have provided comfortably for the young couple.</p> + +<p>The discovery of this treasure excited in Louis's breast none of that +avaricious or revengeful joy that the heirs of misers often feel when +they think of the cruel privations a parent's avarice has imposed upon +them.</p> + +<p>On the contrary, it was with devout respect that the young man broke the +seal of the letter which doubtless contained his aged father's last +wishes.<a name="page_113" id="page_113"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XII-a" id="CHAPTER_XII-a"></a>CHAPTER XII.<br /><br /> +<small>A VOICE FROM THE GRAVE.</small></h3> + +<p>This communication, dated about two months before, read as follows:</p> + +<p><br /> +</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">My Beloved Son</span>:—When you read these lines I shall have ceased to live.</p> + +<p>"You have always believed me to be poor; on the contrary, I leave you a +large fortune accumulated by avarice.</p> + +<p>"I have been a miser. I do not deny it. On the contrary, I glory in the +fact.</p> + +<p>"And these are my reasons:</p> + +<p>"Up to the time of your birth,—which deprived me of your mother,—I +had, without being extravagant, been indifferent about increasing either +my own patrimony or the dowry my wife had brought me; but as soon as I +had a son, that desire to make ample provision for him which is the +sacred duty of every parent gradually aroused a spirit of economy, then +of parsimony, and finally of avarice, in my breast.</p> + +<p>"Besides, the privations I imposed upon myself did not affect you in +your infancy. Born sturdy and robust, the wholesome simplicity of your +bringing up was rather beneficial than otherwise, tending as it did to +the development of an excellent constitution.</p> + +<p>"When you were old enough to begin your education, I sent you to one of +the best schools open to the poor, at first, I must admit, purely from +motives of economy, but afterward, because I considered such a training +the<a name="page_114" id="page_114"></a> best preparation for an honest, industrious life. The success of +this plan even exceeded my expectations. Reared with the children of the +poor, you acquired none of those luxurious, extravagant tastes, and felt +none of the bitter envy and jealousy, that so often exert a fatal +influence upon a young man's future. You were thus spared much of the +chagrin which is no less bitter because the victim of it is a child.</p> + +<p>"It is generally supposed that because children of entirely different +conditions in life wear the same uniform, eat at the same table, and +pursue the same studies, a feeling of equality exists between them.</p> + +<p>"This is a great mistake.</p> + +<p>"Social inequality is as keenly felt among children as in the social +world.</p> + +<p>"The son of a wealthy tradesman or a great nobleman generally displays +the same pride and arrogance at ten years of age as at twenty-five.</p> + +<p>"As for you, reared with children of the people, you heard them all talk +of the hard toil of their parents, and the necessity of labour was thus +impressed upon your mind almost from infancy.</p> + +<p>"Other schoolmates told of the privations and poverty which the members +of their households were obliged to endure, and in this way you became +accustomed to our poverty.</p> + +<p>"At the age of fifteen, I made you compete for a scholarship in the +admirable institution in which you completed your studies, and your +early education already began to bear excellent fruits, for, though many +of your schoolmates were wealthy or of noble lineage, contact with them +never impaired your sterling qualities, or made you envious or +discontented.</p> + +<p>"At the age of seventeen you entered the office of a notary, an intimate +friend of mine, who alone knows the secret of my great wealth, and who +has charge of my investments. Up to this time, this friend's discretion<a name="page_115" id="page_115"></a> +has equalled his devotion, and, thanks to him, you have acquired a fair +knowledge of law, and also of business methods, which will be of immense +service to you in the management of the very handsome property I have +amassed.</p> + +<p>"My conscience does not reproach me in the least, consequently, though +sometimes I admit I fear you may address this reproach to my memory:</p> + +<p>"'While you were amassing all this wealth, father, how could you bear to +see me subjected to such cruel privations?'</p> + +<p>"But the recollection of the many times you have remarked to me that, +though we were poor, you were perfectly contented, and that you craved +wealth only for my sake, always drove this fear from my heart.</p> + +<p>"In fact, your invariable good humour, the evenness of your disposition, +your natural gaiety, and your devoted affection for me have always +convinced me that you were contented with your lot; besides, I shared +it. What I earned as a scrivener, together with your earnings, have +enabled us to live without touching any of the income from my property, +which has consequently been accumulating in prudent hands for the last +twenty years, so at this present writing the fortune I leave to you +amounts to over two millions and a half.</p> + +<p>"I do not know how many more years I have to live, but if I live ten +years longer I shall have reached the allotted age of man. You will be +thirty-five, and I shall have amassed a fortune of four or five +millions, as property doubles itself in ten years.</p> + +<p>"So, in all probability, you will have reached middle age when you come +into possession of this large property, and the sober, frugal, and +laborious habits acquired in infancy will have become second nature with +you; so will you not be in the best possible condition to inherit the +wealth I have amassed for you, and to use it wisely and well?<a name="page_116" id="page_116"></a></p> + +<p>"If I had acted differently, what benefit would have accrued to either +of us?</p> + +<p>"If I had been lavish in my expenditures, I should have reduced you to +poverty.</p> + +<p>"If I had contented myself with spending my income only, then, instead +of devoting ourselves to some useful employment, we should probably have +led idle, aimless lives; instead of living frugally, we should have +indulged in luxuries and more or less vain display; in short, we should +have led such a life as nearly all wealthy people of the middle class +lead.</p> + +<p>"And what should we have gained by it?</p> + +<p>"Should we have been better or more useful citizens? I doubt it, and, at +my death, I should have left you a small property, not sufficient for +the realisation of any extensive or generous enterprise.</p> + +<p>"One word more, my dear child, to answer in advance any reproach that +you may in future address to my memory.</p> + +<p>"Rest assured if I kept my wealth a secret from you, it was not from any +desire to deceive you, nor from any distrust on my part.</p> + +<p>"These were my reasons:</p> + +<p>"Ignorant of my wealth, you were resigned to poverty; aware of our +wealth, you might have accepted the humble existence I imposed upon you +without murmuring, but in your secret heart you might have accused me of +cruelty and selfishness.</p> + +<p>"Nor was this all. Forgive, my son, this foolish fear,—this +apprehension so insulting to your affectionate heart,—but during my +lifetime I was loath that you should know that you would profit by my +death.</p> + +<p>"Another, and possibly the most potent reason of all, led me to conceal +my wealth from you. I love you so much that it would have been +impossible for me to see you subjected to the slightest privation had +you known<a name="page_117" id="page_117"></a> it depended only upon me to give you an easier, broader, and +more luxurious life.</p> + +<p>"In spite of the apparent contradiction between this feeling and my +avaricious conduct toward you, I hope that you will understand me.</p> + +<p>"And now that in thought I place myself face to face with death, which +may strike me down to-morrow, to-day, this very hour, I solemnly declare +that I bless you from the inmost depths of my soul, my beloved son. You +have never given me one moment's pain or sorrow, but only joy and +happiness.</p> + +<p>"God for ever bless you, my good and loving son. If you are as happy as +you deserve to be, the dearest wish of my heart will be gratified.</p> + +<p class="r">"Your father, <span class="smcap">A. Richard</span>.</p> + +<p>"<i>Paris, February 25, 18—.</i>"</p> + +<p><br /> +</p> + +<p>Deeply touched by this strange letter, Louis fell into a deep, sad +reverie, and the day was nearing a close when the young man heard some +one knock at the door of his garret, and the well-known voice of +Florestan de Saint-Herem greeted his ears.<a name="page_118" id="page_118"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIII-a" id="CHAPTER_XIII-a"></a>CHAPTER XIII.<br /><br /> +<small>THE MISER EXTOLLED.</small></h3> + +<p>Saint-Herem threw himself in his friend's arms, exclaiming:</p> + +<p>"Louis, my poor friend, I know all. The porter just told me of your +father's death. What a sudden and cruel blow!"</p> + +<p>"Read this, Florestan, and you will understand how bitter my regret must +be!" said Louis, brokenly, handing Saint-Herem the dead man's letter.</p> + +<p>"Now do you think any one can blame my father for his avarice?" Louis +asked, when his friend had finished the letter. "His one thought seems +to have been to enrich me, and to prepare me to make a good use of the +large property he would bequeath to me. It was for my sake that he +hoarded his wealth, and imposed the hardest privations upon himself!"</p> + +<p>"No sacrifice is too great for a miser," replied Florestan. "Misers are +capable of the grandest and most heroic acts. This may seem a paradox to +you, but it is true, nevertheless. The prejudice against misers is +unjust in the extreme. Misers! Why, we ought to erect altars to them!" +added Saint-Herem, with growing enthusiasm. "Is it not wonderful the +ingenuity they display in devising all sorts of ways to save? Is it not +marvellous to see them accumulating, by persistent efforts, a fortune +from the ends of matches and the collecting of lost pins. And people +deny the existence of alchemists, and of discoverers of the +philosopher's stone!<a name="page_119" id="page_119"></a> Why, the miser has found the philosopher's stone, +for does he not make gold out of what would be worthless to others?"</p> + +<p>"You are right in that respect, Florestan."</p> + +<p>"In that respect and all other respects, for, Louis, observe my simile +closely. It is wonderfully just and worthy of my best rhetorical +efforts. There is a dry and sterile tract of land. Some one digs a well +there. What is the result? The smallest springs, the almost +imperceptible oozings from the earth, the tiniest threads of water, +accumulate drop by drop in this well. Gradually the water deepens, the +reservoir becomes full, then comes a beneficent hand that diffuses the +contents all around, and flowers and verdure spring up as if by +enchantment on this once barren soil. Say, Louis, is not my comparison a +just one? Is not the wealth amassed by the miser almost always spent in +luxuries of every kind? for, as the proverb says: 'An avaricious father, +a spendthrift son.' And let us consider the miser from a religious point +of view."</p> + +<p>"From a religious point of view?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; for it is seen from that standpoint that he is especially worthy +of praise."</p> + +<p>"That is a very difficult assertion to prove, it seems to me."</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, it is extremely easy. Self-abnegation is one of the +greatest of virtues, is it not?"</p> + +<p>"Undoubtedly."</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear Louis, I defy you to mention any monastic order whose +members renounce all earthly pleasures as absolutely as the majority of +misers do. Capuchins renounce champagne, race-horses, dancing girls, +hunting, cards, and the opera. I should think so. Most of them have good +reasons for it. But how different with the miser! There, in his coffers, +under lock and key, are the means of gratifying every wish and indulging +in every luxury and pleasure, and yet he possesses<a name="page_120" id="page_120"></a> the moral courage +and strength of will to resist all these temptations. In his +disinterestedness, too, the miser is sublime."</p> + +<p>"Disinterestedness, Florestan?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I repeat that his disinterestedness is sublime. He knows perfectly +well that he is execrated during life, and that his heirs will dance +upon his grave when he is dead. He knows all that, and yet, mention a +single case where a miser has tried to take his treasure with him, +though it would be an easy matter, as it wouldn't take five minutes to +burn two millions in bank-notes. But no, these kind-hearted misers, full +of compassion, practise forgiveness of injuries, and leave their vast +wealth to their heirs in almost every case."</p> + +<p>"But, my friend, it sounds very strangely to hear a person who spends +money as lavishly as you do lauding avarice to the skies."</p> + +<p>"All the more reason that I should."</p> + +<p>"And why?"</p> + +<p>"Who can appreciate the excellence of the armourer's work as well as the +warrior? The excellence of a horse as well as the rider? the excellence +of a musical instrument as well as the person who plays upon it? Pope +Paganini has canonised Stradivarius, the maker of those wonderful +violins the great artist plays so divinely; and I, who could spend +millions so admirably, shall certainly feel like canonising my +uncle—that heroic martyr to avarice—if Fate so wills that the means of +prodigality which he had been accumulating penny by penny ever falls +into my hands."</p> + +<p>"My God!"</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, Louis?"</p> + +<p>"Then you do not know—"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"I told you of my poor father's desire for a marriage between me and +your cousin."</p> + +<p>"Yes, what of it?"<a name="page_121" id="page_121"></a></p> + +<p>"Your uncle, ignorant of my refusal, and anxious to hasten this union +which he desired as ardently as my father, apparently, left Dreux +yesterday, in company with his daughter, and this morning—"</p> + +<p>"Both arrived in Paris, I suppose. Why this hesitation, my dear Louis?"</p> + +<p>"Your uncle and cousin did not come straight through to Paris. They +stopped at Versailles, Florestan, at Versailles, where my poor father +went to—"</p> + +<p>But Louis could not finish the sentence. His emotion overcame him +completely.</p> + +<p>"Courage, my friend," said Saint-Herem, deeply affected, "I understand +your feelings."</p> + +<p>"Florestan," said the young man, drying his tears, after a long silence, +"my father went to Versailles to meet your uncle and cousin."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"It was agreed that they were to accompany my father back to Paris. +There is little doubt that they did so, and as it is almost certain that +they were all in the same railway carriage—"</p> + +<p>"They, too! Oh, that would be too horrible!" exclaimed Saint-Herem, +covering his face with his hands.</p> + +<p>The exclamation of horror and the tone of profound pity in Saint-Herem's +voice were so sincere and so spontaneous that Louis was deeply touched +by this proof of noble-heartedness on the part of his friend, who had +manifested only a feeling of generous commiseration, without one +particle of the satisfaction or selfish joy that might have been +considered almost excusable under the circumstances.<a name="page_122" id="page_122"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIV-a" id="CHAPTER_XIV-a"></a>CHAPTER XIV.<br /><br /> +<small>PLANS FOR THE FUTURE.</small></h3> + +<p>Louis and Saint-Herem remained silent for several minutes. The former +was the first to speak.</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell you how deeply your sensibility touches me, my dear +Florestan," he said, at last "It is so thoroughly in accord with my own +feelings at this sad moment."</p> + +<p>"Why, what else could you expect, my dear friend? I had no affection for +my uncle, as you know, but one must be heartless, indeed, not to feel +deeply grieved and horrified at the mere possibility that my relatives +may have shared your poor father's cruel fate. I retract nothing I have +said in regard to avarice and its far-reaching consequences, though it +would have given my thoughts a much more serious turn had I foreseen +that the question was to affect me personally; but I can at least say, +with truth, that I am not one of those persons who receive an +inheritance with unalloyed delight. Now tell me, Louis,—and forgive the +necessity of a question that is sure to revive your grief,—in your +sorrowful search for your father did you see nothing that would lead you +to hope that my uncle and his daughter might have escaped such a +horrible death?"</p> + +<p>"All I can say, Florestan, is that I remember perfectly having seen +neither your uncle nor cousin among the killed and injured. As for the +unfortunate persons who shared my father's fate, it was impossible to +identify any of them, as they were burned almost to ashes."<a name="page_123" id="page_123"></a></p> + +<p>"Then your supposition is probably correct, my poor Louis, as my uncle +and his daughter are almost certain to have been in the same carriage as +your father, and even in the same compartment. In that case, there can +be little doubt that they met with the same fate. I shall write to Dreux +at once, and I shall also have a careful search for their remains +instituted without delay. If you hear anything more, inform me as soon +as possible. But now I think of it, how about Mariette? The sad +announcement you have just made to me almost made me forget the object +of my visit."</p> + +<p>"It was a cruel misunderstanding that caused all the trouble, as I +suspected, Florestan. I found her more loving and devoted than ever."</p> + +<p>"Her love will be a great consolation to you in your deep sorrow. +Courage, my poor Louis, courage! All that has occurred should only serve +to strengthen the bonds of friendship between us."</p> + +<p>"Ah, Florestan, but for this friendship and Mariette's affection, I do +not know how I could endure this crushing blow. Farewell, my friend. +Keep me advised of the progress of your search for your uncle, I beg of +you."</p> + +<p>The two friends separated. Left alone, Louis reflected some time in +regard to the course he should pursue. Finally he placed in his satchel +the hidden gold he had just discovered, then, taking his father's +letter, he repaired to the house of his employer, who was also the +business agent and friend of his deceased parent, as he had just learned +from the letter found with the gold.</p> + +<p>The notary, deeply affected by the harrowing details of his late +patron's terrible fate, tried to console Louis, and also offered to +attend to the necessary legal formalities.</p> + +<p>This arrangement made, Louis said:</p> + +<p>"There is another question I should like to ask. As<a name="page_124" id="page_124"></a> soon as these +formalities have been complied with, do I come into possession of my +father's property?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, my dear Louis."</p> + +<p>"Then I will tell you what I intend to do. I have brought you gold coin +to the amount of more than two hundred thousand francs. I found it in a +chest in the room I occupied with my father. Out of this amount, I wish +you to take enough to purchase an annuity of twelve thousand francs for +the godmother of a young girl that I am about to marry."</p> + +<p>"But does this young girl's financial condition—"</p> + +<p>"My dear patron," interrupted Louis, respectfully but firmly, "the young +girl I speak of is a working girl, and supports herself and her +godmother by her daily toil. I have loved her a long time, and no human +power can prevent me from marrying her."</p> + +<p>"So be it," replied the notary, understanding the uselessness of any +further protest. "I will settle the desired amount upon the person +designated."</p> + +<p>"I also desire to take from this sum of money about fifteen thousand +francs to set up housekeeping in a suitable manner."</p> + +<p>"Only fifteen thousand francs!" exclaimed the notary, surprised at the +modesty of this request. "Will that be enough?"</p> + +<p>"My affianced wife is, like myself, accustomed to a frugal and laborious +life, so the income from fifteen thousand francs, together with the +proceeds of our labour, will more than suffice."</p> + +<p>"The proceeds of your labour! What! do you intend—"</p> + +<p>"To remain in your office if you do not consider me unworthy of your +confidence."</p> + +<p>"Remain a notary's clerk when you have an income of more than two +hundred thousand francs a year?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot and will not take possession of this immense fortune for a +long time to come. Even when<a name="page_125" id="page_125"></a> the death of my father has been legally +established, I shall still feel a vague hope of again seeing the parent +I so deeply mourn."</p> + +<p>"Alas! I fear there is little hope of that, my poor Louis."</p> + +<p>"Still, I shall cherish the hope as long as possible; and so long as I +do, I shall not consider myself at liberty to dispose of my father's +property,—at least only to the extent I have indicated to you. Will you +not, therefore, continue to take charge of the estate exactly as you +have done in the past?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot but admire the course you have decided upon, my dear Louis," +replied the notary, with unfeigned emotion. "Your conduct now conforms +in every respect with that you have always maintained. You could not do +greater honour to your father's memory than by acting thus. It shall be +as you wish. I will remain the custodian of your fortune, and the +annuity you spoke of shall be purchased this very day."</p> + +<p>"There is a detail in relation to that matter, about which I should like +to speak, trivial and almost absurd as it may appear to you."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"The poor woman upon whom I desire to settle this annuity has seen so +much trouble during her long life that her character has become +embittered, and she feels no confidence in any one. Any promise would +seem utterly valueless to her, if the promise was not based upon +something tangible; so to convince the poor creature, I want to take her +fifteen thousand francs in gold, which will represent very nearly the +amount that will have to be expended for the annuity. It is the only way +to thoroughly convince the poor creature of my good intentions."</p> + +<p>"Take any amount you please, of course, my dear Louis. The matter shall +be arranged to-morrow."<a name="page_126" id="page_126"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XV-a" id="CHAPTER_XV-a"></a>CHAPTER XV.<br /><br /> +<small>MADAME LACOMBE'S UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER.</small></h3> + +<p>On leaving the notary's office, Louis hastened to Mariette's home. He +found the young girl sewing by the bedside of her godmother, who seemed +to be sound asleep.</p> + +<p>Her lover's extreme pallor, as well as the sad expression of his face, +struck the young girl at once, and running toward him, she exclaimed, +anxiously:</p> + +<p>"Oh, Louis, something terrible must have happened, I am sure."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mariette. Have you heard of the frightful accident that occurred +on the Versailles railroad yesterday?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it was horrible. People say there were nobody knows how many +victims."</p> + +<p>"I can hardly doubt that my father was one of the number."</p> + +<p>Quick as thought, Mariette threw herself, sobbing, on Louis's breast, +and for a long time the two stood clasped in a silent embrace. Louis was +the first to speak.</p> + +<p>"Mariette, you know how devotedly I loved my father, so you can judge of +my despair," he said, sadly.</p> + +<p>"It is a terrible blow to you, I know, Louis."</p> + +<p>"The only consolation I have is your love, Mariette, and I am about to +ask a fresh proof of this love."</p> + +<p>"You have but to speak, Louis."</p> + +<p>"I want you to marry me at once."</p> + +<p>"Can you doubt my consent? Is this the proof of love that you asked?" +inquired the young girl.<a name="page_127" id="page_127"></a></p> + +<p>Then, after a moment's reflection, she added:</p> + +<p>"But can we marry before your period of mourning, that only begins +to-day, expires?"</p> + +<p>"I entreat you, Mariette, not to be deterred by that scruple, decent as +it appears."</p> + +<p>"I—I will do whatever you wish."</p> + +<p>"Listen, Mariette, my heart will be torn with regrets for a long, long +time. True mourning is of the soul, and, with me, it will long exceed +the period fixed by custom. I know that I honour my father's memory in +every fibre of my being, and it is for this very reason that I do not +feel it necessary to conform to any purely conventional custom. Believe +me, a marriage contracted at so sad a time as this is of a much more +solemn and sacred nature than if we married under different +circumstances."</p> + +<p>"You are right, perhaps, Louis; nevertheless, custom—"</p> + +<p>"Because you will be my wife, Mariette,—because you will mourn for my +father with me,—because you will share my grief, will he be less deeply +regretted? Besides, Mariette, crushed with grief, as I am, I could not +live on alone, separated from you,—all I have left in the world now. It +would kill me."</p> + +<p>"I am only a poor seamstress who knows little or nothing of the laws of +society, so I can only tell you how I feel about this matter, Louis. +Though a moment ago the idea of marrying you at once seemed almost a +breach of propriety, the reasons you give have made me change my mind. +Possibly I am wrong; possibly it is the desire to please you that +influences me, but now I should not feel the slightest remorse if I +married you at once, and yet it seems to me that I am as susceptible as +any one I know."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and more ungrateful than any one I know," exclaimed Madame +Lacombe, tartly, raising herself up in bed.<a name="page_128" id="page_128"></a></p> + +<p>Then, seeing the surprise depicted on the features of her goddaughter +and Louis, she added, in sneering tones:</p> + +<p>"Yes, you thought the old woman asleep, and so took advantage of the +opportunity to decide all about the wedding, but I heard everything you +said, everything—"</p> + +<p>"There was nothing said that we were unwilling for you to hear, madame," +replied Louis, gravely. "Mariette and I have no desire to retract a +single word we have uttered."</p> + +<p>"I am certain of that, for you two think only of yourselves. You seem to +have no other idea in your head except this detestable marriage. As for +me, one might suppose I was already in my coffin. I tell you once for +all that—"</p> + +<p>"Permit me to interrupt you, madame," said Louis, "and to prove to you +that I have not forgotten my promise."</p> + +<p>As he spoke, he took a small box which he had deposited upon the table +at his entrance, and placed it on Madame Lacombe's bed, saying, as he +handed her a key:</p> + +<p>"Will you be kind enough to open this box, madame? The contents belong +to you."</p> + +<p>Madame Lacombe took the key with a suspicious air, opened the box, +looked in, and exclaimed, like one both dazzled and stupefied:</p> + +<p>"Good God! Good God!"</p> + +<p>Recovering from her bewilderment at last, the sick woman emptied the +contents of the box out upon the bed; but it seemed as if she could not +believe her eyes when she saw the big pile of glittering gold coins +before her.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what a pile of gold! What a pile of gold!" she exclaimed, +ecstatically. "And it is real gold—not a counterfeit piece among it. +Great Heavens! What big, handsome coins they are! They must be one +hundred<a name="page_129" id="page_129"></a> sou pieces at least. What an immense amount of money this must +be! Enough to make two poor women like Mariette and me comfortable for +life," she added, with a sigh.</p> + +<p>"You have about fifteen thousand francs there, madame," replied Louis. +"They are yours."</p> + +<p>"Mine?" cried the sick woman, "mine?"</p> + +<p>Then, shaking her head with an incredulous air, she said, sharply, "Why +do you want to mock an old woman? How can this gold belong to me?"</p> + +<p>"Because this gold is to purchase you an annuity of twelve hundred +francs, so that, after Mariette's marriage, you can live alone or remain +with your goddaughter as you prefer, for to-morrow our marriage contract +will be signed, and, at the same time, you will receive papers assuring +you a yearly income of twelve hundred francs in exchange for this gold. +I brought the money here to convince you of the sincerity of my +promises. Now, madame, as you overheard our conversation, you know my +reasons for entreating Mariette to hasten our marriage. You are +comfortably provided for now. If there is any other obstacle to my union +with Mariette, tell us, I beseech you, madame. Anything that either she +or I can do to satisfy you, we will do. Our happiness will not be +complete if you, too, are not content."</p> + +<p>The words were uttered in a kind, almost affectionate tone, but Mother +Lacombe's only reply was a heavy sigh, as she turned her back upon the +speaker.</p> + +<p>Louis and Mariette gazed at each other in silent astonishment for a +moment; then the girl, kneeling by the invalid's bedside, asked, +tenderly:</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, godmother?"</p> + +<p>Receiving no reply, Mariette leaned over the old woman, and, seeing +tears trickling through her wasted fingers, exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Good Heavens, Louis, my godmother is weeping. This is the first time in +ten years!"<a name="page_130" id="page_130"></a></p> + +<p>"What is the matter, madame? Tell us, in Heaven's name."</p> + +<p>"I appear like a beggar. I seem to be thinking only of money, and I am +ashamed of it," responded the poor creature, sobbing bitterly. "Yes, you +think I care only for money; you think I am selling Mariette to you +exactly as I would have sold her to that villain, if I had been a bad +woman."</p> + +<p>"Do not say that, godmother," exclaimed Mariette, embracing the invalid +tenderly. "Can you suppose for one moment that Louis and I had any +intention of humiliating you by bringing you this money? Louis has done +what you asked, that is all."</p> + +<p>"I know that, but it was the fear of dying in the street, and of seeing +you after marriage far more miserable than you are now, that made me ask +for this money. I knew very well that I had no right to any money, but +think what it must be to be afraid of being turned into the street when +one is old and infirm. I asked for entirely too much, and I did very +wrong. What do I really need? Only a mattress in some corner, and a +morsel to eat now and then, and, above all, that Mariette will not +desert me. I am so used to seeing her around. If she left me I should +feel as lonely as if I were in the grave. Besides, there is nobody else +in the world who would be so kind and so patient with a cross old sick +woman like me. All I ask is to stay with Mariette. To have all this gold +thrown in my face, as it were, humiliates me. One may be a mere worm, +and yet have a little pride left. When that scoundrel came and offered +me gold if I would sell Mariette to him, it made me mad, that is all; +but this time it is very different, it makes me weep,—a thing I haven't +done before for ten years, as you said yourself, child. This cuts me to +the heart."</p> + +<p>"Come, come, my dear Madame Lacombe, you need not give yourself the +slightest uneasiness with regard to the future," said Louis, deeply +touched. "Mariette will<a name="page_131" id="page_131"></a> not leave you; we will all live, not +luxuriously, but very comfortably together."</p> + +<p>"Are you in earnest? Will you let me live with you, really and truly?"</p> + +<p>At this fresh proof of the unfortunate woman's unconquerable distrust, +Louis and Mariette again exchanged compassionate glances, and taking her +godmother's hand, the girl said, tenderly:</p> + +<p>"Yes, godmother, yes; we will keep you with us, and care for you as if +you were our own mother. You shall see if we do not make you very, very +happy."</p> + +<p>"It will be no fault of ours if we do not, you may be sure of that," +added Louis, earnestly.</p> + +<p>The tone and expression of the two young people would have convinced the +most skeptical, but it was so hard for this unfortunate woman to believe +that such happiness could ever be hers, that, though she tried to +conceal her doubts for fear of wounding Mariette and her lover, it was +with an involuntary sigh that she replied:</p> + +<p>"I believe you, children. Yes, I believe that M. Louis has money, and I +believe you both mean well toward me, but after awhile I am afraid +you'll find me very much in the way. Newly married people like to be +alone, and—"</p> + +<p>"What, godmother, you still doubt us, after all we have said?"</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, children, I don't mean to," sobbed the poor woman; then, +with a heart-broken smile, she added: "Perhaps it is all the better for +me that I do doubt, for if, after fifty years of trouble and poverty, I +should really come to believe that there was such a thing as happiness +for me, I might go mad."</p> + +<p>Then, in accents of inexpressible bitterness, she added:</p> + +<p>"It wouldn't surprise me if I did. It would be just my luck."<a name="page_132" id="page_132"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XVI-a" id="CHAPTER_XVI-a"></a>CHAPTER XVI.<br /><br /> +<small>A CAPRICIOUS BEAUTY.</small></h3> + +<p>Five years have elapsed since the events we have just related, and on +the evening of the 12th of May, 18—the anniversary of the terrible +catastrophe on the Versailles railroad, the following scene was taking +place.</p> + +<p>It was half-past nine in the evening, and a young woman about +twenty-five years of age, a decided brunette, with a perfect figure, and +a remarkably spirituelle and high-bred face, was just completing a +superb evening toilet with the assistance of two maids, one of whom had +just clasped a necklace of diamonds as big as hazelnuts around the neck +of her beautiful mistress, while another adjusted a magnificent diadem +of the same costly gems upon the lady's beautiful black hair. The low +corsage, too, of pale green satin, trimmed with superb lace and bows of +pale pink satin ribbon, also glittered with precious stones.</p> + +<p>The selection of diamonds as ornaments seemed to have been the result of +careful reflection, for on a table close by were several cases +containing complete and no less costly garnitures. Two of them, one +composed of enormous rubies, the other of magnificent pearls of +extraordinary size and lustre, would have excited the admiration of any +jeweller.</p> + +<p>One of the attendants, who was much older than her companion, +seemed—thanks, probably, to her long service—to be on quite familiar +terms with her mistress, who, like herself was a Russian, and the other +maid, a young Frenchwoman, not understanding the<a name="page_133" id="page_133"></a> Russian language, +consequently heard without understanding the following conversation +between the Comtesse Zomaloff and her trusted maid, Mlle. Katinka:</p> + +<p>"Does madame like the way in which I have adjusted her diadem?"</p> + +<p>"Very well," replied the countess.</p> + +<p>And with a final glance in the glass, she added, as she rose:</p> + +<p>"Where is my bouquet?"</p> + +<p>"Here, madame."</p> + +<p>"What, that horrid withered thing!" cried Madame Zomaloff.</p> + +<p>"It is the one M. le duc sent for madame la comtesse."</p> + +<p>"I recognise his taste," said Madame Zomaloff, shrugging her shoulders. +Then she added, with a mocking air, "It is one he picked up at a +bargain, I'll be bound. Some lover who quarrelled with his sweetheart +yesterday morning failed to send last evening for the bouquet he had +ordered. It takes M. de Riancourt to discover such bargains."</p> + +<p>"Ah, madame cannot suppose M. le duc is as stingy as all that. He is so +rich."</p> + +<p>"All the more reason that he should be."</p> + +<p>Some one rapped at the door of the chamber adjoining the dressing-room, +and the French maid who went to answer the summons returned in a moment +to say:</p> + +<p>"M. le Duc de Riancourt has come, and is awaiting madame's pleasure."</p> + +<p>"Let him wait," replied Madame Zomaloff. "The princess is in the +drawing-room, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Yes, madame la comtesse."</p> + +<p>"Very well. Here, Katinka, fasten this bracelet," continued the young +woman, holding out her beautiful arm. "What time is it?"</p> + +<p>But as Katinka was about to reply, Madame Zomaloff added, with a mocking +smile:<a name="page_134" id="page_134"></a></p> + +<p>"After all, what is the use of asking that question? The duke has just +arrived, consequently it must be exactly half after nine."</p> + +<p>The clock on the mantel interrupted the countess by striking the +half-hour designated, and the lady laughed heartily as she exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"What did I tell you, Katinka? M. de Riancourt is as punctual as the +clock itself."</p> + +<p>"That only proves his ardour and his love."</p> + +<p>"I should prefer a less well-regulated emotion, I think. Persons who +adore you at a stated time always seem to me to have a watch in place of +a heart. Hand me a smelling-bottle,—no, not that one. Yes, this one +will do. I am almost sorry that I am dressed, so I cannot keep the poor +duke waiting longer to punish him for his tiresome punctuality."</p> + +<p>"Why, madame, how unjust you are to him! Why do you marry him if you +feel this way toward him?"</p> + +<p>"Why do I marry M. de Riancourt?" the countess replied, as she took one +more look in the mirror. "You have more curiosity than I have, Katinka. +Does any woman ever know why she marries a second time?"</p> + +<p>"The reason seems apparent to every one. The duke, though he has no gold +mines in the Crimea, and no silver mines in the Ural Mountains—"</p> + +<p>"Spare me this tiresome enumeration of my worldly possessions, Katinka."</p> + +<p>"Well, madame, though M. le duc cannot boast of such immense possessions +as you have, he is one of the wealthiest and most powerful noblemen in +France. He is young and good-looking; he has not led a life of +dissipation like so many other young men; on the contrary, he is very +devout, and—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, he is a paragon of virtue, of course. Bring me a heavy wrap; +the nights are still cool."</p> + +<p>"Has madame any orders to give for the twentieth?"<a name="page_135" id="page_135"></a></p> + +<p>"Orders?"</p> + +<p>"Is it possible that madame forgets her marriage is to take place one +week from to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"What! as soon as that?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, madame. You decided on the twentieth of May, and this is the +twelfth."</p> + +<p>"If I said the twentieth, it will have to be the twentieth. But how +strange it is. One is leading a delightful life; one is young and free, +and one hates restraint, and yet one cannot give oneself another master +too soon."</p> + +<p>"A master? A man as kind and gentle as M. le duc? Why, you can make +whatever you please of him, madame!"</p> + +<p>"I shall never make a charming man of him, and yet I shall marry him. +Ah, aunt, aunt, you are responsible for all this. There is one good +thing about it, though. One will at least escape the bother of having to +ask oneself what one had better do."</p> + +<p>The countess proceeded in a leisurely fashion to the drawing-room, where +she found her aunt and the Duc de Riancourt awaiting her.</p> + +<p>The Princesse Wileska, Madame Zomaloff's aunt, was a tall, +distinguished-looking woman, with gray hair which she wore slightly +powdered. The Duc de Riancourt was a small man, about thirty years of +age, with a thin, rather crooked neck, long, straight hair parted in the +middle, a somewhat sanctimonious air, and eyes set rather obliquely, +while his slow, precise movements indicated a remarkable amount of +self-control.</p> + +<p>When Madame Zomaloff entered the room, he advanced to meet her, bowed +profoundly, and raised nearly to his lips the pretty hand the countess +carelessly offered him, then, straightening himself up, he gazed at her +a moment as if dazzled, exclaiming:</p> + +<p>"Ah, madame la comtesse, I never saw you arrayed in all your diamonds +before! I do not believe there are any other diamonds like them in the +world. How<a name="page_136" id="page_136"></a> beautiful they are! Good Heavens! how beautiful they are!"</p> + +<p>"Really, my dear duke, you quite overpower me by your admiration—for my +diamonds; and as my necklace and diadem arouse such tender emotion in +your breast and inspire you with such graceful compliments, I will tell +you, in strict confidence, the name of my jeweller. It is Ezekiel +Rabotautencraff, of Frankfort."</p> + +<p>While M. de Riancourt was trying to find some suitable response to +Madame Zomaloff's raillery, the aunt of that young lady gave the duke a +reproachful look, remarking, with a forced smile:</p> + +<p>"See how this mischievous Fedora delights in teasing you. It is a very +common way of concealing the affection one feels for people, I believe."</p> + +<p>"I humbly admit, my dear princess, that, dazzled by these magnificent +jewels, I failed to render due homage to their wearer," said M. de +Riancourt, in the hope of repairing his blunder. "But—but may not a +person be so dazzled by the sun as to be unable to see even the most +beautiful of flowers?"</p> + +<p>"I am so impressed by this comparison of yours that I am almost tempted +to believe that the same glaring sunshine you speak of must have +withered these poor blossoms," retorted the mischievous young woman with +a gay laugh, holding up for the duke's inspection the rather faded +bouquet he had sent her.</p> + +<p>That gentleman blushed up to his very ears; the princess frowned with an +impatient air, while the countess, perfectly indifferent to these signs +of disapproval, coolly remarked, as she walked toward the door:</p> + +<p>"Give your arm to my aunt, M. de Riancourt. I promised my friend, the +wife of the Russian ambassador, that I would be at her house very early, +as she wishes to present me to one of her relatives, and you know we +have first to inspect that wonderful mansion—that enchanted palace +everybody is talking about."<a name="page_137" id="page_137"></a></p> + +<p>After waiting a few seconds in the vestibule, the countess and her aunt +saw a clumsy landau, drawn by two emaciated horses, lumber up to the +door, and the young widow, turning to the duke in evident surprise, +said:</p> + +<p>"Why, this is not your carriage! What has become of that dark blue +berlin drawn by two handsome gray horses that you placed at our disposal +yesterday morning?"</p> + +<p>"Under the circumstances I feel no hesitation about confessing a little +detail of domestic economy to you, my dear countess," replied the duke, +with touching <i>naïveté</i>. "To save my grays, for which I was obliged to +pay a good round sum, I assure you, I always hire a carriage in the +evening. It is very much more economical than to risk one's own turnout +at night."</p> + +<p>"And you are perfectly right, my dear duke," the princess hastened to +say, fearing another shaft of ridicule from her niece. M. de Riancourt's +footman was in attendance. He opened the door of the antiquated vehicle. +The princess, assisted by the duke, quickly entered it, but as that +gentleman offered his hand to the young widow for the same purpose, the +petulant beauty paused with the tip of her white satin slipper lightly +poised on the carriage step, and said, with an air of the deepest +apprehension:</p> + +<p>"Do examine every nook and corner of the carriage carefully, aunt, I +beseech you, before I get in."</p> + +<p>"But why, my dear?" inquired the princess, naïvely. "What is the +necessity of this precaution?"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid some red-headed girl or some stout shopkeeper may have been +left in a corner, as it is in vehicles of this description that worthy +shopkeepers drive about all day with their families when they treat +themselves to an outing."</p> + +<p>Laughing heartily, the young widow sprang into the carriage. As she +seated herself, the princess said to her, in a low tone, but with a +deeply pained air:<a name="page_138" id="page_138"></a></p> + +<p>"Really, Fedora, I do not understand you. You are strangely sarcastic +toward M. de Riancourt. What can be your object?"</p> + +<p>"I want to cure him of his shameful stinginess. How could I better +manifest my interest in him?"</p> + +<p>Just then the duke took the seat opposite them. He seemed to endure with +Christian meekness the ridicule of this young woman who possessed such +magnificent diamonds, as well as all sorts of gold and silver mines; but +the furtive glance he bestowed on her now and then, and a certain +contraction of his thin lips, indicated that a sullen rage was rankling +in his heart.</p> + +<p>The footman having asked for orders, M. de Riancourt replied:</p> + +<p>"To the Hôtel Saint-Ramon."</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, M. le duc," answered the footman, "but I don't know where +the Hôtel Saint-Ramon is."</p> + +<p>"At the end of the Cours la Reine," responded M. de Riancourt.</p> + +<p>"Does M. le duc mean that large house on which they have been working +several years?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>The footman closed the door, and repeated the instructions to the +coachman who applied the whip vigorously to his bony steeds, and the +landau started in the direction of the Cours la Reine.<a name="page_139" id="page_139"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XVII-a" id="CHAPTER_XVII-a"></a>CHAPTER XVII.<br /><br /> +<small>THE HOTEL SAINT-RAMON.</small></h3> + +<p>M. de Riancourt's clumsy equipage moved so slowly that when it reached +the entrance to the Cours la Reine a pedestrian, who was proceeding in +the same direction, kept pace with it without the slightest difficulty.</p> + +<p>This pedestrian, who was very poorly dressed, did not seem to be very +active, for he leaned heavily on his cane. His long beard, his hair, and +his bushy eyebrows were as white as snow, while the swarthy hue of his +wrinkled face gave him the appearance of an aged mulatto. When M. de +Riancourt's carriage had advanced about half way up the Cours la Reine, +its progress was still further impeded by a long line of vehicles, which +were evidently also on the way to the Hôtel Saint-Ramon; so the old man +passed the landau, and walked on until he came to an avenue glittering +with gaily coloured lamps, and filled from end to end with a long +procession of carriages.</p> + +<p>Though the old man seemed deeply absorbed in thought, his attention was +naturally attracted to the large crowd that had assembled near the +handsome gateway that served as an entrance to this brilliantly lighted +avenue, so he paused, and, addressing one of the bystanders, inquired:</p> + +<p>"Can you tell me what all these people are looking at?"</p> + +<p>"They are looking at the guests who are going to the opening of the +famous Saint-Ramon mansion."<a name="page_140" id="page_140"></a></p> + +<p>"Saint-Ramon?" murmured the old man, with evident surprise. "How +strange!"</p> + +<p>Then he added aloud:</p> + +<p>"What is this Hôtel Saint-Ramon, monsieur?"</p> + +<p>"The eighth wonder of the world, people say. It has taken five years to +build it, and the owner gives a house-warming to-night."</p> + +<p>"To whom does this house belong, monsieur?"</p> + +<p>"To a young man worth several millions."</p> + +<p>"And what is his name?"</p> + +<p>"Saint-Harem, or Saint-Herem, I believe."</p> + +<p>"I thought as much," the old man said to himself. "But, in that case, +why do they call it the Saint-Ramon mansion?" Then, turning to the same +bystander again, he asked aloud: "Will you be kind enough to tell me +what time it is?"</p> + +<p>"Half-past ten, exactly."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, monsieur," responded the old man, getting a little nearer to +the gate. "Half-past ten," he said to himself. "I need not be at +Chaillot until midnight, so I have plenty of time to solve this +mystery."</p> + +<p>After a moment's hesitation, the old man passed through the gateway, and +proceeded up a walk shaded with magnificent elms, to a brilliantly +lighted half-circle in front of the house itself, which was a veritable +palace,—a superb example of the palmiest days of Renaissance +architecture.</p> + +<p>Crossing the half-circle, the old man found himself at the foot of the +imposing perron leading to the peristyle. Through the glass doors that +enclosed the entire front of this peristyle, he saw a long row of tall, +powdered footmen clad in gorgeous liveries, but all the while the +carriages that drew up at the foot of the perron were depositing men, +women, and young girls, whose plain attire contrasted strangely with the +splendour of this fairy palace.<a name="page_141" id="page_141"></a></p> + +<p>The old man, to whom allusion has already been made, urged on, +apparently, by an almost irresistible curiosity, followed several of +these newcomers up under the peristyle, where two tall Swiss, halberds +in hand, opened the broad portals of the large glass double door to all, +making their halberds ring noisily on the marble floor as each guest +entered. Still mingling with a party of invited guests, the old man +passed through a double row of footmen in bright blue livery, profusely +trimmed with silver, into a large reception-room, where numerous valets, +clad in bright blue jackets, black satin knee breeches, and white silk +stockings, were in attendance, all manifesting the utmost deference to +these guests whose unpretending appearance seemed so out of harmony with +the princely luxury of the abode. The guests passed from this room into +a large music-room, fitted up for concerts, and from that into an +immense circular hall surmounted by a dome. This hall served as a +nucleus for three other large apartments,—or rather four in all, +including the music-room,—one intended for a ballroom, another for a +banquet-hall and the other for a cardroom.</p> + +<p>It is impossible to describe the splendour, elegance, and sumptuous +furnishings of these large, brilliantly lighted apartments, whose lavish +adornments in the shape of paintings, statuary, and flowers were +multiplied again and again in the enormous mirrors that lined the walls. +The most illustrious artists of the time had assisted in this work of +ornamentation. Masterpieces by Ingres and Delacroix hung side by side +with those of Scheffer and Paul Delaroche; while the future fame of +Couture and Gérôme had evidently been divined by the wealthy and +discerning builder of this palace. Among the most magnificent works of +art, we must not forget to mention an immense sideboard in the +banquet-hall, loaded with superb silver, worthy of the master hand of +Benvenuto Cellini, and consisting of candelabra,<a name="page_142" id="page_142"></a> pitchers, epergnes, +and fruit-dishes, each and every one entitled to an honoured place in a +museum, by reason of its rare beauty of form and exquisite +ornamentation.</p> + +<p>One word more in relation to a peculiar feature of the spacious rotunda. +Directly over a gigantic white marble mantel, a monument to the genius +of David of Angers, the French Michael Angelo, with allegorical figures +in <i>alto-relievo</i>, representing the Arts and Sciences at the base, was a +portrait that might with reason have been attributed to Velasquez. It +represented a pale, austere-looking man with strongly marked features, +hollow cheeks, and sunken eyes. A brown robe similar to those worn by +monks imparted to this person the impressive character of those +portraits of saints or martyrs so frequently encountered in the Spanish +school of art,—a resemblance that was heightened by a sort of halo +which shone out brightly against the dark background of the picture, and +seemed to cast a reflected radiance upon the austere and thoughtful +countenance. On the frame below, in German text, were the words:</p> + +<p class="c">SAINT-RAMON.</p> + +<p>The aged stranger, who had continued to advance with the crowd, at last +found himself opposite this fireplace, but, on seeing the portrait, he +paused as if overwhelmed with astonishment. His emotion was so great +that tears rose to his eyes, and he murmured, almost unconsciously:</p> + +<p>"My poor friend, it is indeed he! But why has the word 'saint' been +added to his name? Why has this aureole been placed around his head? And +this strange entertainment, how is it that a person as poorly clad as I +am, and a stranger to the master of the house, besides, should be +allowed to enter here unhindered?"</p> + +<p>Just then a servant, carrying a large waiter loaded with ices, cake, and +similar dainties, paused in front of<a name="page_143" id="page_143"></a> the old man, and offered him +refreshments. This offer was declined, however, by the stranger, who was +striving, though in vain, to determine the social status of those around +him. The men, who were for the most part plainly but neatly dressed, +some in coats and others in new blouses, while they seemed delighted to +participate in the fête, appeared perfectly at ease, or, in other words, +perfectly at home, and not in the least astonished at the wonders of +this palatial abode; while the women and the young girls, many of whom, +by the way, were extremely pretty, were evidently much more deeply +impressed by the splendour around them. The young girls, particularly, +who were nearly all attired in inexpensive, though perfectly fresh, +white dresses, exchanged many admiring comments in low tones.</p> + +<p>The venerable stranger, more and more anxious to solve this mystery, at +last approached a group composed of several men and women who had paused +in front of the fireplace to gaze at the portrait of Saint-Ramon.</p> + +<p>"You see that picture, Juliette," he heard a sturdy, pleasant-faced +young man say to his wife. "It is only right to call that worthy man +Saint-Ramon. There is many a saint in paradise who is not to be compared +with him, judging from the good he has done."</p> + +<p>"How is that, Michel?"</p> + +<p>"Why, thanks to this worthy saint, I, like most of my fellow workmen +here, have had lucrative employment for the last five years, and we all +owe this good fortune to the original of this portrait, M. Saint-Ramon. +Thanks to him, I have not been out of work for a single day, and my +wages have not only been liberal enough to support us comfortably, but +also to enable us to lay aside a snug little sum for a rainy day."</p> + +<p>"But it was not this worthy man whose portrait we see here that ordered +and paid for all this work. It was M. de Saint-Herem, who is always so +pleasant and<a name="page_144" id="page_144"></a> kind, and who said so many nice things to us just now when +we came in."</p> + +<p>"Of course, my dear Juliette, it was M. de Saint-Herem who employed us, +but, as he always said to us when he came to see how we were getting on: +'Ah, boys, if it were not for the wealth I inherited from another +person, I could not give you employment or pay you as such industrious +and capable workmen ought to be paid, so always hold in grateful +remembrance the memory of the person who left me all this money. He +accumulated it, penny by penny, by depriving himself of every comfort, +while I have the pleasure of spending his wealth. In fact, it is my +bounden duty to spend it. What is the good of money, if it is not to be +spent? So hold in grateful remembrance, I say, the memory of yonder good +old miser. Bless his avarice, for it gives me the pleasure of +accomplishing wonderful things, and you, liberal wages, richly earned.'"</p> + +<p>"Still, while we are, of course, under great obligations to this worthy +miser, we ought to be equally grateful to M. de Saint-Herem, it seems to +me. So many wealthy people spend little or nothing; or, if they do +employ us, haggle about the price of our work, or keep us waiting a long +time for our money."</p> + +<p>The venerable stranger listened to this conversation with quite as much +interest as astonishment. He also lent an attentive ear to other +conversations that were going on around him, and everywhere he heard a +chorus of praises and benedictions lavished upon Saint-Ramon, while M. +de Saint-Herem's nobility of soul and liberality were lauded to the +skies.</p> + +<p>"Is all this a dream?" the old man said to himself. "Who would ever +believe that these eulogiums and protestations of respect were addressed +to the memory of a miser,—of a person belonging to a class of people +that is almost universally despised and vilified? And it is the +spendthrift heir of this miser who thus eulogises<a name="page_145" id="page_145"></a> him! But what strange +whim led him to invite all his workmen to his entertainment?"</p> + +<p>The astonishment of the old man increased as he began to note a strange +contrast that was becoming apparent between the guests, for quite a +number of correctly dressed and extremely distinguished-looking +men—many with decorations in their buttonholes—were now moving about +the spacious rooms with exquisitely dressed ladies on their arms.</p> + +<p>Florestan de Saint-Herem, handsomer, gayer, and more brilliant than +ever, seemed to be entirely in his element in this atmosphere of luxury +and splendour. He did the honours of his palace delightfully, receiving +every guest with wonderful grace and perfect courtesy. He had stationed +himself near the door of the large circular hall into which the +reception-room opened, and no woman or young girl entered to whom he did +not address a few of those cordial and affable words which, when they +are sincere, never fail to charm even the most timid, and make them +perfectly at ease.</p> + +<p>Florestan was thus engaged when he saw the Comtesse Zomaloff, +accompanied by the Princesse Wileska and the Duc de Riancourt, enter the +hall.<a name="page_146" id="page_146"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII-a" id="CHAPTER_XVIII-a"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.<br /><br /> +<small>A NOVEL ENTERTAINMENT.</small></h3> + +<p>Saint-Herem had never seen the Comtesse Zomaloff and her aunt before, +but he had known M. de Riancourt a long time, so on seeing him enter, +accompanied by two ladies, Florestan stepped quickly forward to meet +him.</p> + +<p>"My dear Saint-Herem," said the duke, "permit me to introduce to you +Madame la Princesse Wileska and Madame la Comtesse Zomaloff. These +ladies hope they have not been indiscreet in accompanying me here this +evening to see your new house and its wonders."</p> + +<p>"I am delighted to have the honour of receiving the ladies, and shall be +only too glad to show them what you are pleased to call the wonders of +my house."</p> + +<p>"And M. de Riancourt is right, for, on entering here, I must confess +that it is difficult to decide what one should admire most, everything +is so beautiful," remarked the countess.</p> + +<p>"I also feel it my duty to tell you, my dear Saint-Herem, that Madame +Zomaloff's visit is not altogether one of curiosity," remarked the duke, +"for I have told the countess of your intentions in regard to the house, +and as I shall be so fortunate as to have the honour of bestowing my +name on the countess a week from now, you understand, of course, that I +can come to no decision in this matter without consulting her."</p> + +<p>"Really, madame, as M. de Riancourt thus gives himself all the airs of a +married man in advance, don't you think it only fair that he should +submit to the consequences<a name="page_147" id="page_147"></a> of his revelation?" exclaimed Florestan, +gaily, turning to Madame Zomaloff. "So, as a husband never gives his arm +to his wife, will you not do me the honour to accept mine?"</p> + +<p>In this way Florestan escaped the necessity of offering his arm to the +princess, who seemed likely to prove a much less agreeable companion +than her young and pretty niece, who graciously accepted her host's +proffered arm, while M. de Riancourt, as in duty bound, offered his arm +to the princess.</p> + +<p>"I have travelled a great deal, monsieur," said Madame Zomaloff, "but I +have never seen anything to compare, not with the magnificence, for any +millionaire could compass that,—but with the exquisite taste which has +presided over every detail in the construction of this mansion. It is +really a superb museum. You will pardon me, I trust, but I really cannot +refrain from expressing the admiration the superb decoration of this +ceiling excites."</p> + +<p>"The artist's reward should follow admiration for his work, do you not +think so, madame?" inquired Florestan, smiling. "So it depends upon you +to make the artist who painted that ceiling both proud and happy."</p> + +<p>And as he spoke Saint-Herem pointed out to Madame Zomaloff one of the +most illustrious masters of the modern school of art.</p> + +<p>"I thank you a thousand times, monsieur, for this piece of good +fortune!" exclaimed the young woman, advancing with Florestan toward the +artist.</p> + +<p>"My friend," Saint-Herem said to him, "Madame la Comtesse Zomaloff +wishes to express to you her intense admiration for your work."</p> + +<p>"Not only my admiration, but my gratitude as well," added the lady, +graciously. "The profound pleasure the sight of such a <i>chef-d'œuvre</i> +excites certainly places the beholder under a deep obligation to the +creator of it."</p> + +<p>"However pleasing and flattering such praise may be<a name="page_148" id="page_148"></a> to me, I can take +only a part of it to myself," replied the illustrious painter, with +great modesty and good taste. "But leaving my own works out of the +question entirely, so I may be able to express myself more freely, let +me advise you to notice particularly the decorations of the ceiling of +the music-room. They are the work of M. Ingres, our Raphael, and will +furnish pilgrims of art in days to come with as many objects of +adoration as the finest frescoes of Rome, Pisa, or Florence, yet this +<i>chef-d'œuvre</i> would not be in existence but for my friend +Saint-Herem. Really, madame, in this extravagant but essentially +materialistic age, is it not a delightful phenomenon to meet a Medici, +as in the palmy days of the Italian republics?"</p> + +<p>"That is true, monsieur," replied the countess, quickly, "and history +has been only just in—"</p> + +<p>"Pardon me for interrupting you, madame la comtesse," said Saint-Herem, +smiling, "but I am no less modest than my famous friend here, so for +fear that your enthusiasm may lead you astray, I must point out the real +Medici to you. There he is," added Florestan, pointing to the portrait +of Saint-Ramon, as he spoke.</p> + +<p>"What an austere face!" exclaimed the countess, scrutinising the +portrait with mingled surprise and curiosity; then seeing the name +inscribed upon the frame, she asked, turning to Florestan in evident +astonishment, "Saint-Ramon? What saint is that?"</p> + +<p>"A saint of my own making, madame. He was my uncle, and, though I am not +a pope, I have ventured to canonise this admirable man as a reward for +his long martyrdom and for the miracles he has wrought since his death."</p> + +<p>"His long martyrdom! The miracles he wrought after his death!" Madame +Zomaloff repeated, wonderingly. "You are jesting, monsieur, are you +not?"</p> + +<p>"Far from it, madame. My uncle imposed the severest privations upon +himself during his life, for he<a name="page_149" id="page_149"></a> was a confirmed miser. That was his +martyrdom. I inherited his wealth; so the artistic achievements you so +much admire really owe their origin indirectly to him. These are the +miracles to which I alluded."</p> + +<p>Madame Zomaloff, more and more impressed by Saint-Herem's originality, +was silent for a moment, but M. de Riancourt, who had been standing a +little distance off, now approached Florestan, and said:</p> + +<p>"There is a question I have been wanting to ask you ever since our +arrival, my dear Saint-Herem. Who are these people? I have recognised +three or four great painters and a celebrated architect among them, but +who are the others? The princess and I have been trying in vain to solve +the mystery."</p> + +<p>"As M. Riancourt has ventured to ask this rather indiscreet question, I +must confess that I share his curiosity, monsieur," added Madame +Zomaloff.</p> + +<p>"You have doubtless noticed, madame, that most of the persons I have +taken such pleasure in welcoming this evening do not belong to the +fashionable world."</p> + +<p>"That is true."</p> + +<p>"Still, you were much pleased just now, were you not, madame, to meet +the great artist whose work you so greatly admired?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, monsieur; I told you how much pleasure the opportunity to meet him +afforded me."</p> + +<p>"You must consequently approve, I think, of my having extended an +invitation to him as well as to a number of his colleagues."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me that such an invitation was almost obligatory upon you, +monsieur."</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, madame, I feel that it was likewise obligatory upon me to +extend the same invitation to all who had assisted in any way in the +construction of this house, from the famous artists to the humblest +mechanic, so they are all here with their families enjoying the +beauties<a name="page_150" id="page_150"></a> they have created, as they, in my opinion, at least, have an +undoubted right to do."</p> + +<p>"What!" exclaimed M. de Riancourt, "do you mean to say that you have the +carvers, and gilders, and locksmiths, and carpenters, and paper-hangers, +and even the masons, here? Why, this passes my comprehension."</p> + +<p>"Do you know anything about the habits of bees, my dear duke?"</p> + +<p>"Not much, I must admit."</p> + +<p>"You might consider their habits exceedingly reprehensible, my dear +duke, inasmuch as the insolent creatures insist upon occupying the cells +they themselves have constructed; and, what is worse, they even assert +their claim to the delicious honey they have accumulated with so much +skill and labour for their winter's need."</p> + +<p>"And what conclusion do you draw from all this?"</p> + +<p>"That we drones should give the poor and industrious human bees the +innocent satisfaction of enjoying, at least for a day, the gilded cells +they have constructed for us,—for us who subsist upon the honey +gathered by others."</p> + +<p>Madame Zomaloff had dropped Florestan's arm a few moments before. She +now took it again, and walking on a few steps, so as to leave her aunt +and the duke a little way behind her, she said to Saint-Herem, with deep +earnestness:</p> + +<p>"Your idea is charming, monsieur, and I do not wonder at the expression +of contentment I notice on the faces of your guests. Yes, the more I +think of it, the more just and generous the idea seems to me. After all, +as you say, this superb mansion represents the combined labour of +artisans of every degree, high and low; hence, in your eyes, this house +must be much more than a marvel of good taste and luxury, as the +associations connected with its construction will always be unspeakably +precious to you. That being the case—"<a name="page_151" id="page_151"></a></p> + +<p>"Go on, madame."</p> + +<p>"I cannot understand how—"</p> + +<p>"You hesitate, madame. Speak, I beg of you."</p> + +<p>"M. de Riancourt has informed you of our intended marriage, monsieur," +said Madame Zomaloff, with some embarrassment, after a moment's silence. +"A couple of days ago, while talking with him about the difficulty of +securing as large and handsomely appointed house as I desired, M. de +Riancourt happened to remember that some one had told him that you might +be willing to dispose of the house you had just completed."</p> + +<p>"Yes, madame, M. de Riancourt wrote, asking to be allowed to go through +the house, and I advised him to wait until this evening, as I intended +to give an entertainment, and he would consequently be much better able +to judge of the arrangement and appearance of the reception-rooms, but I +did not expect to have the honour of receiving you, madame."</p> + +<p>"I have ventured to ask you several questions already, monsieur," +remarked the young woman, with marked hesitation, "and I am going to +hazard one more. How, monsieur, can you have the courage or the +ingratitude to think of abandoning this home which you have created with +so much interest and love, this home with which so many kind and +generous memories are already associated?"</p> + +<p>"Good Heavens! madame," replied Saint-Herem, with the most cheerful air +imaginable, "I am going to sell the house because I am ruined, utterly +ruined! This is my last day as a man of wealth, and you must admit, +madame, that, thanks to your presence here, the day could not have a +happier or more brilliant ending."<a name="page_152" id="page_152"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIX-a" id="CHAPTER_XIX-a"></a>CHAPTER XIX.<br /><br /> +<small>A CHANGE OF OWNERS.</small></h3> + +<p>Florestan de Saint-herem had uttered the words, "I am ruined, utterly +ruined," with such unruffled good-humour and cheerfulness that Madame +Zomaloff stared at him in amazement, unable to believe her ears; so +after a moment, she exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"What, monsieur, you are—"</p> + +<p>"Ruined, madame, utterly ruined. Five years ago my sainted uncle left me +a fortune of nearly or quite five millions. I have spent that and nearly +eighteen hundred thousand francs more, but the sale of this house and +its contents will pay what I owe and leave me about one hundred thousand +francs, upon which I can live in comfort in some quiet retreat. I shall +turn shepherd, perhaps. That existence would be such a charming contrast +to my past life, when impossibilities and marvellous dreams were changed +into realities for me and my friends by the vast wealth of which I had +so unexpectedly become the possessor, and when all that was beautiful, +elegant, sumptuous, and rare was blended in my dazzling career. Would +you believe it, madame, I was famed for my liberality through all +Europe? Europe? Why! did not a Chandernagor lapidary send me a sabre, +the handle of which was encrusted with precious stones, with the +following note: 'This scimitar belonged to Tippoo-Sahib; it ought now to +belong to M. de Saint-Herem. The price is twenty-five thousand francs, +payable at the house of the Rothschilds in Paris.'<a name="page_153" id="page_153"></a> Yes, madame, the +rarest and most costly objects of art were sent to me from every part of +the world. The finest English horses were in my stables; the most costly +wines filled my cellar; the finest cooks quarrelled for the honour of +serving me, and the famous Doctor Gasterini—you know him, madame, do +you not?"</p> + +<p>"Who has not heard of the greatest gourmand in the known world?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, madame, that famous man declared he dined quite as well at my +table as at his own—and he did not speak in equally flattering terms of +M. de Talleyrand's cuisine, I assure you. Believe me, madame, I have the +consoling consciousness of having spent my fortune generously, nobly, +and discriminately. I have no cause to reproach myself for a single +foolish outlay or unworthy act. It is with a mind filled with delightful +memories and a heart full of serenity that I see my wealth take flight."</p> + +<p>Saint-Herem's tone was so earnest, the sincerity of his sentiments and +his words were so legibly imprinted upon his frank and handsome face, +that Madame Zomaloff, convinced of the truth of what he said, replied:</p> + +<p>"Really, monsieur, such a philosophical way of viewing the subject +amazes me. To think of renouncing a life like that you have been leading +without one word of bitterness!"</p> + +<p>"Bitterness! when I have known so many joys. That would be ungrateful, +indeed!"</p> + +<p>"And you can leave this enchanted palace without one sigh of regret, and +that, too, just as you were about to enjoy it?"</p> + +<p>"I did not know that the hour of my ruin was so close at hand until my +rascally steward showed me the state of my bank account hardly a week +ago, so you see I have lost no time. Besides, in leaving this palace +which I have taken so much pleasure in creating, I am like a poet who +has written the last verse of his poem,<a name="page_154" id="page_154"></a> like the artist who has just +given the last touch to his picture, after which they have the +imperishable glory of having achieved a masterpiece to console them. In +my case, madame,—excuse my artistic vanity,—this temple of luxury, +art, and pleasure will be a noble monument; so how ungrateful I should +be to complain of my lot! And you, madame, will reign here as the +divinity of this temple, for you will purchase the house, I am sure. It +would suit you so well. Do not let the opportunity to secure it pass. M. +de Riancourt may or may not have told you, but he knows that Lord Wilmot +has made me a handsome offer for it. I should be so sorry to be obliged +to sell to him, for he is so ugly, and so is his wife and his five +daughters as well. Think what presiding spirits they would be for this +splendid temple, which seems somehow to have been built expressly for +you. I have one favour to ask, though, madame. That large painting of my +uncle is a fine work of art, and though the name and face of Saint-Ramon +appear several times in the medallions that adorn the facade, it would +be a pleasure to me to think that this worthy uncle of mine would gaze +down for ages to come upon the pleasures which he denied himself all his +life!"</p> + +<p>The conversation between the countess and Saint-Herem was here +interrupted by M. de Riancourt. The party had been making a tour of the +reception apartments as they talked, and the duke now said to Florestan:</p> + +<p>"The house is superb, and everything is in perfect taste, but eighteen +hundred thousand francs is entirely too much to ask for it, even +including furniture and silver."</p> + +<p>"I have no personal interest in the matter, I assure you, my dear duke," +replied Florestan, smiling. "The eighteen hundred thousand francs will +all go to my creditors, so I must needs be unpleasantly tenacious +in<a name="page_155" id="page_155"></a> regard to price; besides, Lord Wilmot offers me that amount, and +is urging me to accept it."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 406px;"> +<img src="images/ill_155.jpg" width="406" height="610" alt=""'My star has not deserted me.'" + +Original etching by Adrian Marcel." title="" /><br /> +<span class="caption">"'My star has not deserted me.'"<br /> +Original etching by Adrian Marcel.</span> +</div> + +<p>"But you will certainly make concessions to me that you would not make +to Lord Wilmot, my dear fellow. Come, Saint-Herem, don't be obdurate. +Make a reasonable reduction—"</p> + +<p>"M. de Saint-Herem," hastily interposed the countess, "the duke must +permit me to interfere with his negotiations, for I will take the house +at the price you have mentioned. I give you my word, and I ask yours in +return."</p> + +<p>"Thank Heaven, madame, my star has not deserted me," said Florestan, +cordially offering his hand to Madame Zomaloff. "The matter is settled."</p> + +<p>"But, madame!" exclaimed M. de Riancourt, greatly surprised and not a +little annoyed at this display of impulsiveness on the part of his +future wife,—for he had hoped to secure a reduction in price from +Saint-Herem,—"really, this is a very important matter, and you ought +not to commit yourself in this way without consulting me."</p> + +<p>"You have my word, M. de Saint-Herem," said Madame Zomaloff, again +interrupting the duke. "This purchase of mine is a purely personal +matter. If convenient to you, my agent will confer with yours +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Very well, madame," replied Saint-Herem. Then, turning to M. de +Riancourt, he added, gaily, "You are not offended, I hope, monsieur. It +is all your own fault, though. You should have played the grand +seigneur, not haggled like a shopkeeper."</p> + +<p>Just at that moment the orchestra, which had not been playing for nearly +a quarter of an hour, gave the signal for the dancing to begin.</p> + +<p>"Pardon me for leaving you, countess," remarked Saint-Herem, again +turning to Madame Zomaloff, "but I have invited a young girl to dance +this set with me,—<a name="page_156" id="page_156"></a>a very pretty girl, the daughter of one of the head +carpenters who built my house, or, rather, your house, madame. It is +pleasant to take this thought, at least, away with me on leaving you."</p> + +<p>And bowing respectfully to Madame Zomaloff, their host went in search of +the charming young girl he had engaged as a partner, and the ball began.</p> + +<p>"My dear Fedora," said the princess, who had watched her niece's long +conversation with Saint-Herem with no little annoyance, "it is getting +late, and we promised our friend that we would be at her house early."</p> + +<p>"You must permit me to say that I think you have acted much too hastily +in this matter," said the duke to his fiancée. "Saint-Herem has got to +sell this house to pay his debts, and, with a little perseverance, we +could have induced him to take at least fifty thousand francs less, +particularly if <i>you</i> had insisted upon it. It is always so hard to +refuse a pretty woman anything," added M. de Riancourt, with his most +insinuating smile.</p> + +<p>"What are you thinking of, my dear Fedora?" asked the princess, touching +the young woman lightly on the arm, for her niece, who was standing with +one elbow resting on a gilded console loaded with flowers, seemed to +have relapsed into a profound reverie, and evidently had not heard a +single word that her aunt and the duke had said to her. "Why don't you +answer? What is the matter with you?"</p> + +<p>"I hardly know. I feel very strangely," replied the countess, dreamily.</p> + +<p>"You need air, probably, my dear countess," said M. de Riancourt. "I am +not at all surprised. Though the apartments are very large, this +plebeian crowd renders the atmosphere suffocating, and—"</p> + +<p>"Are you ill, Fedora?" asked the princess, with increasing uneasiness.</p> + +<p>"Not in the least. On the contrary, the emotion I<a name="page_157" id="page_157"></a> experience is full of +sweetness and charm, so, my dear aunt, I scarcely know how to express—"</p> + +<p>"Possibly it is the powerful odour of these flowers that affects you so +peculiarly," suggested M. de Riancourt.</p> + +<p>"No, it is not that. I hesitate to tell you and my aunt; you will think +it so strange and absurd."</p> + +<p>"Explain, Fedora, I beg of you."</p> + +<p>"I will, but you will be greatly surprised," responded the young widow +with a half-confidential, half-coquettish air. Then, turning to M. de +Riancourt, she said, in an undertone:</p> + +<p>"It seems to me—"</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear countess?"</p> + +<p>"That—"</p> + +<p>"Go on. I beg of you."</p> + +<p>"That I am dying to marry M. de Saint-Herem."</p> + +<p>"Madame!" exclaimed the astonished duke, turning crimson with anger. +"Madame!"</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, my dear duke?" asked the princess quickly.</p> + +<p>"Madame la comtesse," said the duke, forcing a smile, "your jest is—is +rather unseemly, to say the least, and—"</p> + +<p>"Give me your arm, my dear duke," said Madame Zomaloff, with the most +natural air imaginable, "for it is late. We ought to have been at the +embassy some time ago. It is all your fault, too. How is it that you, +who are punctuality personified, did not strike the hour of eleven long +ago."</p> + +<p>"Ah, madame, I am in no mood for laughing," exclaimed the duke, in his +most sentimental tones. "How your cruel jest pained me just now! It +almost broke my heart."</p> + +<p>"I had no idea your heart was so vulnerable, my poor friend."</p> + +<p>"Ah, madame, you are very unjust, when I would gladly give my life for +you."<a name="page_158" id="page_158"></a></p> + +<p>"Would you, really? Ah, well, I shall ask no such heroic sacrifice as +that on your part, my dear duke."</p> + +<p>A few minutes afterward, Madame Zomaloff, her aunt, and the duke left +the Hôtel Saint-Ramon.</p> + +<p>Almost at the same instant the stranger who looked so much like an aged +mulatto left the palatial dwelling, bewildered by what he had just seen +and heard. The clock in a neighbouring church was striking the hour as +he descended the steps.</p> + +<p>"Half-past eleven!" the old man murmured. "I have plenty of time to +reach Chaillot before midnight. Ah, what other strange things am I about +to hear?"<a name="page_159" id="page_159"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XX-a" id="CHAPTER_XX-a"></a>CHAPTER XX.<br /><br /> +<small>THE RETURN.</small></h3> + +<p>The old man climbed the hill leading to the Rue de Chaillot, and soon +reached the church of that poor and densely populated faubourg.</p> + +<p>Contrary to custom at that hour, the church was lighted. Through the +open door the brilliantly illuminated nave and altar could be plainly +seen. Though the edifice was still empty, some solemn ceremony was +evidently about to take place, for though midnight was close at hand, +there were lights in many of the neighbouring houses, and several groups +had assembled on the pavement in front of the church. Approaching one of +these groups, the old man listened attentively, and heard the following +conversation:</p> + +<p>"They will be here soon, now."</p> + +<p>"Yes, for it is almost midnight."</p> + +<p>"It is a strange hour to be married, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but when one gets a dowry, one needn't be too particular about the +hour."</p> + +<p>"Who is to be married at this hour, gentlemen?" inquired the old man.</p> + +<p>"It is very evident that you don't live in this neighbourhood, my +friend."</p> + +<p>"No. I am a stranger here."</p> + +<p>"If you were not, you would know that it was the night for those six +marriages that have taken place here on the night of the twelfth of May, +for the last four years. On the night of the twelfth of May, every +year,<a name="page_160" id="page_160"></a> six poor young girls are married in this church, and each girl +receives a dowry of ten thousand francs."</p> + +<p>"From whom?"</p> + +<p>"From a worthy man who died five years ago. He left a handsome fund for +this purpose, and his name is consequently wonderfully popular in +Chaillot."</p> + +<p>"And what is the name of the worthy man who dowered these young girls so +generously?" inquired the stranger, with a slight tremor in his voice.</p> + +<p>"They call him Father Richard, monsieur. He has a son, a very fine young +man, who carries out his father's last wishes religiously. And a nobler +man than M. Louis never lived. Everybody knows that he and his wife and +child live on three or four thousand francs a year, and yet they must +have inherited a big fortune from Father Richard, to be able to give six +young girls a dowry of ten thousand francs apiece every year, to say +nothing of the expenses of the school and of Father Richard's Home."</p> + +<p>"Pardon a stranger's curiosity, monsieur, but you speak of a school."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Father Richard's School. Madame Mariette has charge of it."</p> + +<p>"Madame Mariette, who is she?"</p> + +<p>"M. Louis Richard's wife. The school was founded for twenty-five little +boys and as many little girls, who remain there until they are twelve +years old, and are then apprenticed to carefully chosen persons. The +children are well clothed and fed, and each child receives ten sous a +day besides, to encourage them to save their money."</p> + +<p>"And you say it is M. Louis Richard's wife who has charge of this +school?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, monsieur, and she says she takes so much interest in it because +before her marriage she was a poor working girl who could neither read +nor write, and that she herself suffered so cruelly from a lack of +education,<a name="page_161" id="page_161"></a> that she is glad to be able to prevent others from suffering +what she suffered."</p> + +<p>"But the home—You also spoke of a home, I believe."</p> + +<p>"That was founded for working women who are ill, or no longer able to +work. Madame Lacombe has charge of that."</p> + +<p>"And who is Madame Lacombe?"</p> + +<p>"Madame Mariette's godmother, a good woman who has lost one arm. She is +kindness and patience personified to the poor women under her charge, +and it is not at all to be wondered at, for she too knows what it is to +be poor and infirm; for, as she tells everybody, before her goddaughter +married M. Louis they often went hungry for days at a time. But here +comes the bridal party. Step in here beside me so you can see them +better."</p> + +<p>Louis Richard, with Madame Lacombe on his arm, walked at the head of the +little procession; then came Mariette, holding a handsome little +four-year-old boy by the hand.</p> + +<p>No one would have recognised Madame Lacombe. Her once pallid and +wrinkled face was plump and rosy, and characterised by an expression of +perfect content. She wore a lace bonnet, and a handsome shawl partially +concealed her silk gown.</p> + +<p>Louis Richard's countenance wore a look of quiet happiness. It was +evident that he realised the great responsibility that devolved upon +him. Mariette, who was prettier than ever, had that air of gentle +dignity that suits young mothers so well. In spite of her marriage, she +still clung to the simple garb of her girlhood. Faithful to the +coquettish little cap of the grisette, she had never worn a bonnet, and +she was quite irresistible in her freshness, grace, and beauty, under +her snowy cap with its bows of sky-blue ribbon.</p> + +<p>After Louis, his wife and child, and Mother Lacombe, came, dressed in +white and crowned with orange blossoms,<a name="page_162" id="page_162"></a> the six young girls who were to +receive dowries that year, attended by the parents or the witnesses of +their betrothed husbands, then the six bridegrooms escorting the +relatives or witnesses of their affianced wives, all evidently belonging +to the labouring class. Following them came the twenty-four couples that +had been married during the four preceding years, then the children of +Father Richard's School, and, finally, such inmates of the home as were +able to attend the ceremony.</p> + +<p>It took nearly a quarter of an hour for the procession to pass into the +church, and the aged stranger watched it sadly and thoughtfully while +such comments as the following were exchanged around him:</p> + +<p>"It is all due to Father Richard that these good, industrious girls can +become happy wives."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and how happy the married couples look!"</p> + +<p>"And they owe it all to Father Richard, too."</p> + +<p>"And to M. Louis, who carries out his father's wishes so faithfully."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but if it were not for the large fortune Father Richard left him, +M. Louis would not have been able to do any of these things."</p> + +<p>"And the schoolchildren. Did you notice how plump and rosy and contented +they looked,—the boys in their comfortable woollen jackets, and the +girls in their warm merino dresses."</p> + +<p>"Think of it, there were nearly one hundred and fifty persons in the +procession, and every one of them has shared Father Richard's benefits!"</p> + +<p>"That is true; and when one remembers that this work has been going on +for four years, it makes between six and seven hundred people who have +been taught or supported or married through Father Richard's bounty."</p> + +<p>"To say nothing of the fact that, if M. Louis lives thirty years longer, +there will be five or six thousand persons who will owe their happy, +respectable lives<a name="page_163" id="page_163"></a> to Father Richard—for poverty causes the ruin of so +many poor creatures!"</p> + +<p>"Five or six thousand persons, you say; why, there will be many more +than that."</p> + +<p>"How do you make that out?"</p> + +<p>"Why, there will be children in each of these households. These children +will share the advantages that have been bestowed upon their parents. +They will consequently be well brought up and receive a fair education. +Later in life they will receive their share of the small fortune their +thrifty and industrious parents are almost certain to accumulate, for it +is an easy matter to save when one has something to start with."</p> + +<p>"True; and calculating in this way, the number of persons benefited is +increased at least three-fold; while if one thinks of the second and +third generations, the good this worthy man has accomplished becomes +incalculable."</p> + +<p>"And yet it is so easy to do good, and there are so many persons who +have more money than they know what to do with. But what is the matter +with you, my friend?" exclaimed the speaker. "What the devil are you +crying about?" he added, seeing that the stranger beside him was sobbing +violently.</p> + +<p>"What I have heard you say about Father Richard, and the sight of all +these happy people, touches me so deeply—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, if that is the cause of your tears, they do you honour, my friend. +But as all this seems to interest you so much, let us go into the church +and witness the ceremony. You can go to the home, too, afterward, if you +choose; it is open to everybody to-night."</p> + +<p>The crowd in the church was so great that the old man was unable to +secure a place that commanded a view of the altar, but after a moment's +reflection he seemed to become perfectly reconciled to the fact, and +stationed himself by the holy-water font near the door.<a name="page_164" id="page_164"></a></p> + +<p>The ceremonies ended, a solemn silence pervaded the edifice, finally +broken by the grave voice of the officiating priest, who addressed the +newly wedded couples as follows:</p> + +<p>"And now that your unions have been consecrated by God, my young +friends, persevere in the honest, industrious, and God-fearing life that +has secured you this good fortune, and never forget that you owe this +just reward of courage in adversity and of dignity in poverty to a man +imbued with the tenderest affection for his brother man; for, faithful +to the spirit of a true Christian, he did not consider himself the +master, but simply as the custodian and almoner of the wealth with which +Heaven had blessed him. Does not Christ tell his followers to love one +another, and bid those who are endowed with this world's goods to give +to those who have none? The Saviour rewarded this good man by giving him +a son worthy of him, and his obedience to the laws of Christian +fraternity makes him deserve to have his name ever cherished and +honoured among men. You, in your just gratitude for benefits conferred, +owe him this remembrance, and Father Richard's name should be for ever +blessed by you, your children, and your children's children."</p> + +<p>An approving murmur from the crowd greeted these words, and drowned the +sobs of the aged stranger, who had dropped upon his knees, apparently +completely overcome with emotion.</p> + +<p>The noise the newly married couples made in leaving the altar aroused +the old man, who hastily rose just in time to see Louis Richard +advancing toward him with Madame Lacombe on his arm. The old man +trembled in every limb, but as Louis was about to pass he hastily caught +up a dipper of holy water and offered it to Mariette's husband.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, my good father," said Louis, kindly. Then noting the shabby +clothing and white hair of the<a name="page_165" id="page_165"></a> donor, and seeing a request for alms in +the act, the young man slipped a shining gold piece in the extended +hand, saying, almost affectionately:</p> + +<p>"Keep it and pray for Father Richard."</p> + +<p>The old man seized the coin greedily, and, raising it to his lips, +kissed it again and again, while the tears streamed down his wrinkled +cheeks.</p> + +<p>Louis Richard did not notice this strange incident, however, for he had +left the church, and, followed by the bridal party and a large number of +the spectators, was on his way to the home, whither the aged stranger, +leaning heavily on his cane, also followed him.<a name="page_166" id="page_166"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXI-a" id="CHAPTER_XXI-a"></a>CHAPTER XXI.<br /><br /> +<small>THE AWAKENING.</small></h3> + +<p>The home stood upon a high knoll in a location as pleasant as it was +salubrious, and large shady grounds surrounded the spacious building.</p> + +<p>The night was clear and still; spring perfumes filled the air, and when +the old man reached the spot he found the people ranged in a half-circle +around the steps of the building, no room inside being large enough to +hold the crowd.</p> + +<p>Soon Louis Richard, according to his custom each year, came out upon the +perron, and said:</p> + +<p>"My friends, five years ago to-night I lost the best and kindest of +fathers. He died a frightful death in that terrible catastrophe on the +Versailles railway. My father, being the possessor of a handsome +fortune, might have lived in luxury and idleness. On the contrary, he +preferred to lead a frugal and industrious life, so while he denied +himself all comforts, and earned his bread by his daily toil, his wealth +slowly but surely increased day by day; but when the day of his +premature death came, I had to mourn one of the warmest friends of +humanity, for nearly all his wealth was devoted to the accomplishment of +three great and noble works: the amelioration of the condition,—</p> + +<p>"First, Of poor children deprived of the advantages of an elementary +education.</p> + +<p>"Secondly, Of poor but honest and industrious young<a name="page_167" id="page_167"></a> girls who are too +often exposed to terrible temptation by reason of ill health, inadequate +wages, and poverty.</p> + +<p>"And lastly, Of aged or infirm women who, after a long life of toil, are +incapacitated for further labour.</p> + +<p>"True, the result accomplished each year is painfully small when one +thinks of the ills of humanity, but he who does all the good he can, +even if he only shares his crust with his starving brother, does his +duty as nobly as the person who gives millions.</p> + +<p>"It is the duty of every right-minded man to make every possible effort +to improve the condition of his fellow men; but in this work I am acting +only as my father's agent, and the accomplishment of this glorious duty +would fill my life with unbounded happiness if I were not obliged to +mourn the loss of the most beloved of parents."</p> + +<p>Louis Richard had scarcely uttered these last words when quite a +commotion became apparent in the crowd, for the aged stranger's strength +seemed suddenly to fail him, and he would have fallen to the ground had +it not been for the friendly support of those near him.</p> + +<p>On hearing the cause of the hubbub, Louis Richard hastened to the old +man's aid, and had him taken into the home in order that he might +receive immediate attention, after which he requested the bridal parties +to adjourn to the immense tent, where supper was to be served, and where +Madame Lacombe and Mariette would do the honours in his absence.</p> + +<p>The old man had been carried in an unconscious condition to Louis's +office, a room on the ground floor. His profound respect for his +father's memory had prevented him from parting with the furniture of the +room he and his father had shared so long. The writing-desk, the old +bureau, the antique chest, as well as the cheap painted bedstead, all +had been kept, and it was on this same bed the unconscious man was laid.</p> + +<p>As soon as he entered the room Louis despatched the<a name="page_168" id="page_168"></a> servant to a +neighbouring drug store for some spirits, so he was left alone with the +patient, whose features were almost entirely concealed by his long white +hair and beard.</p> + +<p>Louis took the old man's hand to feel his pulse, but as he did so the +patient made a slight movement and uttered a few incoherent words.</p> + +<p>The voice sounded strangely familiar to Louis, and he endeavoured to get +a better look at the stranger's features, but the dim light that +pervaded the room and the patient's long hair and beard rendered the +attempt futile.</p> + +<p>A moment more and Louis Richard's guest languidly raised his head and +gazed around him. His eyes having fallen on the rather peculiarly shaped +gray bedstead, he made a movement of surprise, but when he saw the +old-fashioned chest, he exclaimed, excitedly:</p> + +<p>"Where am I? My God, is this a dream?"</p> + +<p>Again the voice struck Louis as being so familiar that he, too, gave a +slight start, but almost immediately shaking his head and smiling +bitterly, he muttered under his breath:</p> + +<p>"Alas! regret often gives rise to strange illusions." Then addressing +the old man in affectionate tones, he asked:</p> + +<p>"How do you feel now, my good father?"</p> + +<p>On hearing these words, the old man, seizing Louis's hand, covered it +with tears and kisses before the latter could prevent it.</p> + +<p>"Come, come, my good father," said Mariette's husband, surprised and +touched, "I have done nothing to deserve such gratitude on your part. I +may be more fortunate some day, however. But tell me how you feel now. +Was it weakness or overfatigue that caused your fainting fit?"</p> + +<p>The old man made no reply, but pressed Louis's hand convulsively to his +panting breast. The younger man,<a name="page_169" id="page_169"></a> conscious of a strange and increasing +emotion, felt the tears spring to his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Listen to me, my good father," he began.</p> + +<p>"Oh, say that once more—just once more," murmured the old man, +hoarsely.</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, my good father—"</p> + +<p>But Louis did not finish the sentence, for his guest, unable to restrain +himself any longer, raised himself up in bed, at the same time +exclaiming, in a voice vibrating with tenderness:</p> + +<p>"Louis!"</p> + +<p>That name, uttered with all the passion of a despairing soul, was a +revelation.</p> + +<p>The younger man turned as pale as death, started back, and stood as if +petrified, with fixed, staring eyes.</p> + +<p>The shock was too great, and several seconds elapsed before the thought, +"My father is not dead," could penetrate his brain.</p> + +<p>Does not the sudden transition from intense darkness into bright +sunlight blind us for a time?</p> + +<p>But when the blissful truth dawned upon Louis's mind, he threw himself +on his knees by the old man's bedside, and, putting back his long white +locks with a feverish hand, studied his father's features with eager, +radiant eyes, until, convinced beyond a doubt, he could only murmur in a +sort of ecstasy: "My father, oh, God, my father!"</p> + +<p><br /> +</p> + +<p>The scene that ensued between father and son beggars description; but +when the first transports of happiness had given place to a momentary +calm, Father Richard said to his son:</p> + +<p>"I will tell you my story in a few words, my dear Louis. I have been +asleep for five years, and woke only forty-eight hours ago."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I was with poor Ramon and his daughter in one<a name="page_170" id="page_170"></a> of the worst wrecked +carriages. In some providential way my life was saved, though my right +leg was broken, and fright deprived me of reason."</p> + +<p>"You, father?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I became insane with terror. I lost my reason completely. Removed +from the scene of the catastrophe, my fractured limb was set in the home +of a worthy physician, and after I recovered from that injury I was +taken to an insane asylum near Versailles. My lunacy was of a harmless +type. I talked only of my lost wealth. For nearly four years there was +no change in my condition, but at the end of that time a slight +improvement became apparent. This continued until my recovery became +complete, though I was not allowed to leave the hospital until two days +ago. It would be impossible to describe my feelings on my entire +restoration to reason, when I woke as I told you from my long five +years' sleep. My first thought, I blush to confess, was one of avarice. +What had become of my property? What use had you made of it? When I was +released from the hospital yesterday, the first thing I did was to +hasten to my notary, your former employer, and my friend. You can +imagine his astonishment. He told me that at first it was your intention +to leave the property untouched, that is, except for a small stipend for +your maintenance and that of your wife, until you attained the age of +thirty-six; but after a serious illness, thinking that death might +overtake you before you had accomplished what you considered a sacred +duty, you changed your mind, and came to consult him in regard to +certain plans, to which he gave his unqualified approval. 'What were +these plans?' I asked. 'Have the courage to wait until to-morrow night,' +he replied; 'then, go to the church of Chaillot, and you will know all, +and thank God for having given you such a son.' I did wait, my dear +Louis. My long beard and my white hair changed me a great deal, but I +stained my skin<a name="page_171" id="page_171"></a> to disguise myself more completely, and to enable me to +approach you without any danger of recognition. Oh, if you knew all I +have seen and heard, my dear, noble child! My name revered and blessed, +thanks to your nobility of soul and the subterfuge prompted by your +filial love! Ah, what a revulsion of feeling this wrought in me. But, +alas! the illusion was of short duration. I had no hand whatever in the +noble deeds attributed to me."</p> + +<p>"How can you say that, father? But for your self-denial and +perseverance, how could I ever have done any good? Did you not leave me +the means of accomplishing it, an all-powerful lever? My only merit +consisted in having made a good use of the immense power bequeathed to +me by you at the cost of so many privations on your part, and in +realising the duties wealth imposed upon me. The terrible poverty and +the lack of education from which my beloved wife had suffered so much, +and the perils to which this poverty and lack of education had exposed +her, her godmother's cruel suffering,—all had served to enlighten me as +to the needs of the poor, and all three of us longed to do everything in +our power to save others from the ills we had suffered. But after all, +it is your work, not mine. I have reaped; it was you who sowed."</p> + +<p>The door suddenly opened, and Florestan Saint-Herem rushed in, and threw +himself into his friend's arms with so much impetuosity that he did not +even see Father Richard.</p> + +<p>"Embrace me, Louis, rejoice with me!" he exclaimed. "You are my best +friend, and you shall be the first to hear the news. I knew I should +find you here, so I did not lose a minute in coming to tell you that +Saint-Ramon has proved a saint indeed, for he has just worked the most +wonderful of miracles."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Why, two hours ago I was utterly ruined, but now<a name="page_172" id="page_172"></a> I am far richer than +I ever have been. Think of it, Louis, gold mines and silver mines, and +diamonds by the bushel,—fabulous wealth, in short, wealth amounting to +dozens of millions. Oh, Saint-Ramon, Saint-Ramon, blessed be thy name +for ever! I was right to canonise thee, for thou hast not proved +ungrateful, thank Heaven!"</p> + +<p>"For pity's sake, explain, Florestan."</p> + +<p>"An hour ago, just as the entertainment I was giving to those honest +workmen was drawing to a close, one of my servants came to inform me +that a lady wished to see me in private. Who should it be but the +Countess Zomaloff, a young and charming widow, who was to have married +the Duc de Riancourt a week from now. Earlier in the evening she had +come to look at my house, with a view to purchasing it. She had +purchased it, in fact. Astonished to see her again, I stood perfectly +silent for a moment. And what do you suppose she said to me, in the most +natural tone imaginable?</p> + +<p>"'A thousand pardons for disturbing you, M. de Saint-Herem. I can say +all I have to say in a couple of words. I am a widow. I am twenty-eight +years old. I have no idea why I promised Riancourt that I would marry +him, though very possibly I might have made this foolish marriage if I +had not met you. You have a generous heart and a noble soul. The +entertainment you gave this evening proves that. Your wit delights me, +your character charms me, your goodness of heart touches me, and your +personal appearance pleases me. So far as I, myself, am concerned, this +step I am now taking should give you some idea of what kind of a person +I am.</p> + +<p>"'This peculiar and unconventional procedure on my part, you will +understand, I think. If your impression of me is favourable, I shall be +both proud and happy to become Madame de Saint-Herem, and live in the +Hôtel Saint-Ramon with you. I have a colossal fortune. It<a name="page_173" id="page_173"></a> is at your +disposal, for I trust my future to you, unreservedly, blindly. I shall +await your decision anxiously. Good-evening.' And with these words the +fairy disappeared, leaving me intoxicated with happiness at my good +fortune."</p> + +<p>"Florestan," said Louis, with a grave but affectionate air, "the +confidence this young woman has shown in coming to you so frankly and +confidingly throws a weighty responsibility upon you."</p> + +<p>"I understand that," responded Saint-Herem, with undoubted sincerity. "I +may have squandered the fortune that belonged to me, and ruined myself, +but to squander a fortune that does not belong to me, and ruin a woman +who trusts her future so unreservedly to me, would be infamous."</p> + +<p><br /> +</p> + +<p>Madame Zomaloff married Florestan de Saint-Herem about one month after +these events. Louis Richard, his father, and Mariette attended the +wedding.</p> + +<p>Father Richard, in spite of his resurrection, made no attempt to change +the disposition Louis had made of his property up to the present time. +The old man merely asked to be made steward of the home, and in that +capacity he rendered very valuable assistance.</p> + +<p>Every year, the twelfth of May is doubly celebrated.</p> + +<p>Louis, his father, and Mariette, who are on the most intimate terms with +M. and Madame de Saint-Herem, always attend the magnificent +entertainment which is given at the Hôtel Saint-Ramon on the anniversary +of the owner's betrothal, but at midnight Florestan and his wife, who +adore each other, for this marriage became a love match, pure and +simple, come to partake of the bridal supper at Father Richard's Home.</p> + +<p class="c">THE END.</p> + +<p><a name="page_174" id="page_174"></a></p> + +<p><a name="page_175" id="page_175"></a></p> + +<h2>THE SEVEN CARDINAL SINS</h2> + +<p><a name="page_176" id="page_176"></a></p> + +<p><a name="page_177" id="page_177"></a></p> + +<h2><a name="ANGER" id="ANGER"></a>ANGER.</h2> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_I-b" id="CHAPTER_I-b"></a>CHAPTER I.<br /><br /> +<small>THE DUEL.</small></h3> + +<p>About the middle of the carnival season of 1801, a season enlivened by +the news of the treaty of peace signed at Lunéville, when Bonaparte was +First Consul of the French republic, the following scene took place in a +secluded spot overshadowed by the partially dismantled ramparts of the +city of Orléans.</p> + +<p>It was seven o'clock in the morning, day was just dawning, and the cold +was intense, as a tall man, enveloped in a big overcoat of a dark +colour, walked to and fro blowing his fingers and stamping his feet, +watching intently all the while a narrow footpath that wound around the +side of the bastion. In about ten minutes another man, wrapped in a +cloak, and heretofore concealed from sight by the projecting wall of the +bastion, appeared in the path and hastily advanced toward the man in the +long coat.</p> + +<p>"I feared I should be late," remarked the man in the cloak.</p> + +<p>"We have a quarter of an hour yet," replied the other. "Have you got the +swords?"</p> + +<p>"Here they are. I had a good deal of trouble in finding them; that was +what detained me. Have you seen Yvon this morning?"<a name="page_178" id="page_178"></a></p> + +<p>"No; he told me last night that I need not call for him. He feared that +our going out together so early would excite his wife's suspicions."</p> + +<p>"Well, while we are waiting for him, do enlighten me as to the cause of +this quarrel. He was in too much of a hurry last night to tell me +anything about the trouble."</p> + +<p>"Well, this is about the long and short of it. At the last meeting of +the court, a lawyer, named Laurent, made a rather transparent allusion +to the pretended partiality of our friend, one of the judges before whom +the case was tried."</p> + +<p>"Such an insinuation was unworthy of the slightest notice. Yvon +Cloarek's honesty is above suspicion."</p> + +<p>"Of course; but you know our friend's extreme irascibility of temper, +also, so, springing from his seat and interrupting the advocate in the +middle of his discourse, he exclaimed: 'Monsieur Laurent, you are an +infamous slanderer. I tell you this not as a magistrate, but as a man, +and I will repeat the accusation after the session is over!' You can +imagine the commotion this excited in the court-room. It was an odd +thing for a magistrate to do, I must admit. Well, after the court +adjourned, the other judges tried to appease Yvon, and so did the +numerous members of the bar, but you know how pig-headed our friend is. +Laurent, too, who is a stubborn sort of fellow, not only refused to +apologise himself, but demanded that our friend should. I thought Yvon +would choke with rage."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me that our friend is right in resenting such an +insinuation, but I fear that this duel will prove very detrimental to +his career as a magistrate."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid so, too, particularly as he has had several lively +altercations with the presiding judge of the court, and his violent +temper has already compelled him to change his place of residence +twice."</p> + +<p>"He is a noble fellow at heart, though."<a name="page_179" id="page_179"></a></p> + +<p>"Yes, but his obstinacy and his hot temper make him very hard to get +along with."</p> + +<p>"With such a temperament, his choice of a career was very unfortunate, +to say the least."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but his father, who was a magistrate himself, was anxious his son +should adopt the same profession. Yvon adored his father, so he +consented. Afterward, when he lost his father, it was too late for our +friend to change his profession, even if he had desired to do so; +besides, he possesses no fortune, and he has a wife and child, so he has +to make the best of the situation."</p> + +<p>"That is true, but I pity him, nevertheless. But tell me, Yvon is a good +swordsman, is he not?"</p> + +<p>"Capital, for he was passionately fond of all such sports in his youth; +but I am afraid his undoubted bravery and his hot temper will make him +too rash."</p> + +<p>"And his opponent?"</p> + +<p>"Is considered quite skilful in the use of the weapon. I have a cab a +little way off in case of an accident. Yvon lives almost on the edge of +the town, fortunately."</p> + +<p>"I can't bear to think of any such catastrophe. It would be the death of +his wife. You have no idea how much she loves him. She is an angel of +sweetness and goodness, and he, in turn, is perfectly devoted to her. +They adore each other, and if—But there come the others. I am sorry +Yvon did not get here before they did."</p> + +<p>"Doubtless the precautions he was obliged to take on his wife's account +detained him."</p> + +<p>"Probably, but it is very annoying."</p> + +<p>The three men who had just rounded the corner of the bastion proved to +be Yvon's adversary and his two seconds. They all greeted the first +comers with great courtesy, apologising for having kept them waiting, +whereupon M. Cloarek's friends were obliged to reply that that gentleman +had not yet arrived, but would doubtless be there in a minute or two.</p> + +<p>One of the lawyer's seconds then suggested that, to<a name="page_180" id="page_180"></a> save time while +awaiting M. Cloarek's arrival, they might decide upon the ground, and +the choice had just been made when Yvon made his appearance. His panting +breath and the perspiration that bedewed his forehead showed how he must +have hurried to reach the place even at this late hour, and as he +cordially shook hands with his seconds he remarked to them, in a low +tone:</p> + +<p>"I had no end of trouble in getting off without exciting my wife's +suspicions."</p> + +<p>Then addressing his adversary in a tone he tried his best to make calm +and composed, he added:</p> + +<p>"I beg a thousand pardons, monsieur, for having kept you waiting. I +assure you the delay was wholly unintentional on my part."</p> + +<p>The advocate bowed and proceeded to remove his overcoat, and his example +was promptly followed by Cloarek, while the seconds measured the swords. +In fact, so great was Yvon's alacrity and ardour, that he was ready for +the fray before his opponent, and would have hastily rushed upon him if +his seconds had not seized him by the arm.</p> + +<p>When the signal was at last given, Cloarek attacked his opponent with +such impetuosity that, though the latter tried his best to parry his +adversary's rapid thrusts, his guard was beaten down, and in less than +two minutes he had received a wound in the forearm which compelled him +to drop his weapon.</p> + +<p>"Enough, gentlemen!" exclaimed the seconds, on seeing one of the +combatants disabled.</p> + +<p>But, unfortunately, the Breton had become so frantic with rage, that he +did not hear this "Enough, gentlemen," and was about to renew the +attack, when his opponent, who had conducted himself very creditably up +to that time, being wholly unable to offer any further resistance, made +a sudden spring backwards, and then started to run. The now thoroughly +enraged Breton<a name="page_181" id="page_181"></a> was starting in pursuit of him, when his seconds rushed +upon him and disarmed him, though not without a fierce struggle and +considerable danger, while one of the advocate's seconds bound up his +slight wound with a handkerchief. Cloarek's second courteously offered +his cab to the wounded man, who accepted it, and the parties separated +amicably.</p> + +<p>"What were you thinking of, Yvon, to rush upon an unarmed enemy?" asked +one of the irascible magistrate's friends, as they wended their way back +to the city.</p> + +<p>"I could not believe it was over so soon," replied Yvon, with a sigh of +regret.</p> + +<p>"The fight couldn't last long at the rate you were going on."</p> + +<p>"If I could only have an hour's fighting, it seems to me I might be +peaceable for a long time," replied Yvon, so naïvely that his friends +could not help laughing.</p> + +<p>"Well, what of it?" stormed the choleric Breton, with a wrathful glance +at his companions.</p> + +<p>Then, ashamed of this ebullition of temper, he hung his head as one of +his seconds retorted, gaily:</p> + +<p>"You needn't try to pick a quarrel with us, my dear fellow. It wouldn't +be worth your while. We should only be able to furnish you with a couple +of minutes' amusement."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, be sensible, my dear fellow," good-naturedly remarked the +other second. "You ought to consider yourself very fortunate that this +affair ended as it did. You are not injured at all, and your adversary's +wound is very slight,—a very fortunate ending, you must admit. How we +should have felt if we had had to carry you home dead! Think of your +wife and your little daughter."</p> + +<p>"My wife and daughter!" exclaimed Cloarek, with a violent start. "Ah, +yes, you are right."</p> + +<p>And the tears rose to his eyes.</p> + +<p>"I am a fool, and worse than a fool," he exclaimed.<a name="page_182" id="page_182"></a> "But it is not my +fault. A man who has too much blood is always quarrelling, as they used +to say down in Brittany."</p> + +<p>"Then you had better put your feet in mustard water and call in a doctor +to bleed you, my friend, but don't take a sword for a lancet, and, above +all, don't draw blood from others under the pretext that you have too +much yourself."</p> + +<p>"And above all, remember that you are a magistrate, a man of peace," +added the other.</p> + +<p>"That is all very fine," retorted Yvon, with a sigh, "but you don't know +what it is to have a judge's robe on your back and too much blood in +your veins."</p> + +<p>After he had thanked his seconds heartily for their kind offices, +Cloarek was about to separate from them when one of them remarked: "We +shall see each other again at the masquerade ball this evening, of +course. I understand that all you reverend judges are to allow +yourselves considerable license this evening, and disport yourselves +like ordinary mortals."</p> + +<p>"I did not intend to go, as my wife is not as well as usual; but she +insisted so much that I finally consented," replied Yvon.</p> + +<p>As he reëntered his house, longing to embrace his wife and child even +more tenderly than usual, he was accosted by a servant, who said:</p> + +<p>"There is a man in your office who wants to see you. His business is +urgent, he says."</p> + +<p>"Very well. My wife did not ask for me after I went out, did she?"</p> + +<p>"No, monsieur, she gave Dame Roberts orders that she was not to be +disturbed until she rang, as she wanted to sleep a little later than +usual this morning."</p> + +<p>"Then take care that she is not disturbed on my account," said Cloarek, +as he entered his office.</p> + +<p>The person who was waiting for him was a tall, stout man about forty +years of age, of herculean stature, with<a name="page_183" id="page_183"></a> a coarse face, and clad in +countrified garments. Bowing awkwardly to Yvon, he asked:</p> + +<p>"Are you Judge Cloarek?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, monsieur."</p> + +<p>"I am a friend of Father Leblanc, at Gien. You remember him, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and a very worthy man he is. How is his health?"</p> + +<p>"Very good, judge. It was he who said to me: 'If you're in trouble, go +to Judge Cloarek, he is always kind to us poor folks.'"</p> + +<p>"What can I do for you?"</p> + +<p>"I am the father of a young man who is soon to be tried before your +court."</p> + +<p>"To what case do you allude, monsieur?"</p> + +<p>"To the case of Joseph Rateau," said the big man, with a meaning wink, +"charged with forgery—only forgery."</p> + +<p>Cloarek, surprised and displeased at the careless manner in which the +father spoke of the weighty accusation that was hanging over his son, +answered, sternly:</p> + +<p>"Yes, monsieur, a prisoner, Joseph Rateau, who is accused of the crime +of forgery, is soon to be tried."</p> + +<p>"Yes, judge, and as there's no use beating about the bush, I may as well +say that my son did it, and then, like a fool, allowed himself to be +caught."</p> + +<p>"Take care what you say, monsieur. This is a very grave admission on +your part."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, there is no use denying it, judge. It's as plain as the nose +on your face; but for that, do you suppose I would have come here—"</p> + +<p>"Not another word, monsieur; not another word!" exclaimed Yvon, +crimsoning with indignation and anger.</p> + +<p>"I quite agree with you, judge. What is the use of talking so much, +anyway? Actions speak louder than words."</p> + +<p>And putting his hand in one of the pockets of his<a name="page_184" id="page_184"></a> long overcoat, he +drew out a roll of money and, holding it up between his thumb and +forefinger, he remarked, with a cunning smile and another knowing wink:</p> + +<p>"There are fifty louis in here, and if you secure my son's acquittal, +you shall have another fifty."</p> + +<p>The austerity and incorruptibility of the early days of the republic had +given place to a deplorable laxness of morals, so the petitioner, +believing his case won, triumphantly deposited his roll of gold on a +corner of a desk near the door. Cloarek, quite beside himself with rage +now, was about to give vent to his wrath and indignation when, his eyes +chancing to fall upon a portrait of his wife that was hanging on the +wall opposite him, he remembered that she might be disturbed and +frightened by the noise, as she occupied the room directly over his +office, so, with an almost superhuman effort, he managed to control +himself and, picking up his hat, said to the countryman:</p> + +<p>"Take your money. We will talk this matter over outside."</p> + +<p>"The countryman, fancying that the judge was influenced solely by +prudential motives, put the money back in his pocket, and, taking his +big stick unsuspectingly, followed Cloarek out of the house.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going, judge?" he asked, as he lumbered along, finding it +difficult to keep up with Cloarek, as the latter strode swiftly on.</p> + +<p>"This way," replied Yvon, in a smothered voice, as he turned the corner +of the next street.</p> + +<p>This street led to the market-place, which was generally crowded with +people at that hour of the day. When Cloarek reached this square, he +suddenly turned upon the countryman, and, seizing him by the cravat, +cried, in tones of thunder:</p> + +<p>"Look, good people, at this scoundrel. Look at him well, and then +witness his chastisement."</p> + +<p>The days of popular agitation were not entirely over,<a name="page_185" id="page_185"></a> and appeals to +the populace as well as debates and harangues in public places were by +no means rare, so a crowd speedily gathered around the judge and the +countryman, who, in spite of his gigantic stature, had not succeeded in +freeing himself from the iron grasp of Cloarek, who, shaking him +violently, continued in even more vociferous tones:</p> + +<p>"I am judge of the court in this town, and this wretch has offered me +gold to acquit a criminal. That is the indignity he has offered me, and +this is going to be his punishment."</p> + +<p>And this strange magistrate, whose rage and indignation seemed to endow +him with superhuman strength, began to beat the stalwart countryman +unmercifully, but the latter, wrenching himself from his assailant's +grasp, sprang back a foot or two, and, lifting his heavy stick, would +probably have inflicted a mortal blow upon the enraged Breton if the +latter, by one of those adroit manœuvres well known to his +compatriots, had not avoided the danger by stooping and rushing, with +lowered head, straight upon his adversary with such violence that the +terrible blow, delivered straight in the chest, broke two of his ribs, +and threw him backward upon the ground unconscious; then, taking +advantage of the excitement in the crowd, Cloarek, desirous of escaping +a public ovation if possible, hurried away, and, catching sight of an +empty cab, sprang into it and ordered the driver to take him to the +Palace of Justice, the hour for the court to open having arrived.<a name="page_186" id="page_186"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_II-b" id="CHAPTER_II-b"></a>CHAPTER II.<br /><br /> +<small>ANOTHER EBULLITION OF TEMPER.</small></h3> + +<p>We will leave M. Cloarek to make his way to the court-house after +exploits which would have done honour to one of the gladiators of old, +and say a few words in regard to the masquerade ball, to which the +impetuous magistrate's seconds had referred on their way back to town +after the duel.</p> + +<p>This ball, a bold innovation for a provincial town, was to take place +that same evening at the house of M. Bonneval, a wealthy merchant, and +the father-in-law of the presiding judge of the court to which Yvon +Cloarek belonged, and all the members of the court having been invited +to this entertainment, and some disguise being obligatory, it had been +decided to wear either a black domino, or costumes of a sufficiently +grave character not to compromise the dignity of the body.</p> + +<p>Cloarek was one of the invited guests. The account of his duel of the +morning as well as the chastisement he had inflicted upon the +countryman, though noised about the town, had not reached Madame +Cloarek's ears at nightfall, so the magistrate's household was calm, and +occupied, like many others in the town, in preparations for the +evening's festivities, for in those days masquerade parties were rare in +the provinces. The dining-room of the modest home, strewn with fabrics +of divers colours as well as scraps of gold and silver embroidery and +braid, looked very much like a dressmaker's establishment.<a name="page_187" id="page_187"></a> Three young +sewing-women chattering like magpies were working there under the +superintendence of an honest, pleasant-faced woman about thirty years of +age, whom they called Dame Roberts. This worthy woman, after having +served as a nurse for M. Cloarek's daughter, now acted as maid, or +rather confidential attendant to Madame Cloarek; for, in consequence of +her devotion and faithful service, relations of affectionate familiarity +had been established between her and her mistress.</p> + +<p>"One scallop more, and this embroidered ribbon will be sewed on the +hat," remarked one of the young sewing-women.</p> + +<p>"I have finished hemming the sash," remarked the second girl.</p> + +<p>"I have only two more silver buttons to sew on the waistcoat," added the +third.</p> + +<p>"That is well, girls," said Dame Roberts. "M. Cloarek's costume will be +one of the most effective there, I am sure."</p> + +<p>"It seems very odd to think of a judge in a masquerade costume, all the +same."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! don't they disguise themselves every day when they put their +robes on?"</p> + +<p>"A judge's robe is not a disguise, but a badge of office, you ought to +understand," said Dame Roberts, severely.</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, Dame Roberts," replied the offender, blushing to the roots +of her hair, "I meant no harm, I am sure."</p> + +<p>"What a pity it is that Madame Cloarek is not going!" remarked one of +the other girls, in the hope of giving a more agreeable turn to the +conversation.</p> + +<p>"Ah, if I were in Madame Cloarek's place, I wouldn't miss such an +opportunity. A masquerade ball! why, it is a piece of good fortune that +may present itself but once in a lifetime. But here comes M. Segoffin. +Good<a name="page_188" id="page_188"></a> day, M. Segoffin! And how does M. Segoffin find himself to-day?"</p> + +<p>The newcomer was a tall, thin man about forty years of age, with an +immensely long nose, slightly turned up at the end, which imparted a +very peculiar expression to his face. His complexion was so white and +his beardless face so impassible that he looked exactly like a clown, +and the resemblance was heightened by a pair of piercing black eyes, +which gave a mocking expression to his face, and by a small, round black +wig. A long gray overcoat, brown knee-breeches, blue and white striped +stockings, and low shoes with big silver buckles formed the every-day +costume of M. Segoffin, who carried a red umbrella under his arm and an +old cocked hat in his hand.</p> + +<p>After having remained twenty years in the service of M. Cloarek's +father, at that gentleman's death he transferred his allegiance to the +son whom he had known as a child, and whom he served with unwearying +devotion.</p> + +<p>On his entrance, as we have just remarked, he was greeted with mocking +laughs and exclamations of—</p> + +<p>"Here comes M. Segoffin. Ah, good day, M. Segoffin!" But without losing +his habitual <i>sang-froid</i> in the least, he laid his umbrella and hat +down on a chair, and, seizing the prettiest of his tormentors in his +long arms, kissed her loudly on both cheeks in spite of her shrieks and +spirited resistance. Well satisfied with this beginning, he was +preparing to repeat the offence when Madame Roberts, seizing him by one +of his coat-tails, exclaimed, indignantly:</p> + +<p>"Segoffin, Segoffin! such behaviour is outrageous!"</p> + +<p>"That which is done is done," said Segoffin, sententiously, passing his +long, bony hand across his lips with an air of retrospective enjoyment, +as the young sewing-woman quitted the room with her companions, all +laughing like mad and exclaiming: "Good night, M. Segoffin, good +night."<a name="page_189" id="page_189"></a></p> + +<p>Left alone with the delinquent, Dame Roberts exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Would any one on earth but you coolly commit such enormities in the +respectable household of a magistrate?"</p> + +<p>"What on earth do you mean, I should like to know?"</p> + +<p>"Why, hugging and kissing that girl right under my very nose when you +are persecuting me with your declarations of love all the time."</p> + +<p>"I do believe you're jealous!"</p> + +<p>"Jealous! Get that idea out of your head as soon as possible. If I ever +do marry again,—which God forbid!—it certainly will not be you I +choose for a husband."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure of that?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly sure."</p> + +<p>"That which is to be, will be, my dear."</p> + +<p>"But—"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" exclaimed her phlegmatic companion, interrupting her with +the most positive air imaginable. "You are dying to marry me, and you +will marry me, so it is not worth while to say any more about it."</p> + +<p>"You are right," exclaimed the woman, exasperated by her interlocutor's +overweening conceit. "I think, with you, that we had better drop the +subject. Monsieur's costume is finished. Take it up to his room, for he +will return from court very soon, I am sure."</p> + +<p>"From court," sighed Segoffin, shaking his head sadly.</p> + +<p>A sigh was such a rare thing for this impassive individual to indulge +in, that Dame Roberta's anxiety was aroused, and she asked, quickly:</p> + +<p>"Why are you sighing like a furnace, you who display no emotion at all, +ordinarily?"</p> + +<p>"I expected it," remarked Segoffin, shaking his head dubiously.</p> + +<p>"What has happened? Tell me at once, for Heaven's sake."</p> + +<p>"M. Cloarek has thrown the chief judge of the court<a name="page_190" id="page_190"></a> out of the window," +responded Segoffin, with another sigh.</p> + +<p>"<i>Mon Dieu!</i>"</p> + +<p>"There is no undoing that which is done."</p> + +<p>"But what you say is absurd."</p> + +<p>"It was out of a window on the first floor, so he didn't have far to +fall," said Segoffin, thoughtfully, "and the presiding judge is sure to +have landed on his feet as usual. He's a sharp fellow."</p> + +<p>"Look here, Segoffin, I don't believe a single word you're telling me. +It is only one of those cock-and-bull stories you're so fond of +inventing, and it is really a shame for you to make merry at monsieur's +expense, when he has always been so kind to you."</p> + +<p>"Very well, you may think I am joking, if you want to," replied +Segoffin, coldly, "but you had better give me monsieur's costume. He +told me to take it up to his room, and he will be here before very long +now."</p> + +<p>"It is really true that there has been a scene between monsieur and the +chief judge, then?" exclaimed Suzanne.</p> + +<p>"Of course, as monsieur threw him out of the window."</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>mon Dieu</i>! <i>mon Dieu!</i> Monsieur will lose his place this time, +then."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Why? Why, after such scandalous behaviour on the part of a magistrate +he is sure to lose his office, I tell you, and poor madame! What a shock +it will be to her in her condition. What a life she leads! obliged to be +always on the watch, adoring her husband, but in mortal terror all the +while as to what he may say or do. But tell me how you happened to hear +of this calamity."</p> + +<p>"Well, I went to the palace an hour ago to take monsieur a letter. I +found the whole place in a hubbub. The lawyers and all the rest of the +people in the building were racing to and fro, and asking: 'Have you +heard about it?' 'Is it possible?' It seems that after the court +adjourned, the presiding judge summoned M.<a name="page_191" id="page_191"></a> Cloarek into his office. He +wanted to see him about his duel, some said."</p> + +<p>"His duel? What duel?"</p> + +<p>"The duel he fought this morning," answered Segoffin, phlegmatically.</p> + +<p>And taking advantage of his companion's speechless consternation, he +continued:</p> + +<p>"Others declared that the chief judge had sent for him to see about a +fracas monsieur had had with a countryman whom he nearly killed."</p> + +<p>"What countryman?" asked Suzanne, with increasing alarm.</p> + +<p>"The last one," answered Segoffin, naïvely. "Well, it seems, or at least +so they told me at the palace, that monsieur went into the presiding +judge's private office; they got to quarrelling, and one man finally +threw the other man out of the window, and I know monsieur so well," +added Segoffin, with a satisfied smile, "that I said to myself, 'If any +one was thrown out of the window it must have been the other man, not +monsieur,' and I was right. There is no undoing that which has been +done."</p> + +<p>"There is no undoing that which has been done? That tiresome old saying +is for ever in your mouth, it seems to me. Is it possible you cannot see +the consequences of all this?"</p> + +<p>"What is to be, will be."</p> + +<p>"Fine consolation that, is it not? This is the third time monsieur has +run a great risk of losing his place in consequence of giving way to his +temper, and this time he will be put out, sure."</p> + +<p>"Well, if he loses his place, he will lose it."</p> + +<p>"Indeed! But he needs the office on account of his wife and little +daughter, and as there will be still another mouth to feed before many +months have passed, what is to become of him and his family if he loses +his position?"</p> + +<p>"Your question is too much for me. I had better be getting up-stairs +with this toggery, I know that, though."<a name="page_192" id="page_192"></a></p> + +<p>"Have you lost your senses completely? Monsieur isn't really thinking of +going to this entertainment to-night, after what has occurred!"</p> + +<p>"He isn't? That shows how much you know about it."</p> + +<p>"But after what has occurred, he surely will not go to this ball, I +say."</p> + +<p>"You see if he doesn't."</p> + +<p>"What, go to a ball given by the presiding judge's father-in-law?"</p> + +<p>"He is all the more likely to on that very account."</p> + +<p>"But it is impossible, I tell you. Monsieur would not dare after all the +scandalous occurrences of this unfortunate day. The whole town will be +up in arms if he does."</p> + +<p>"He is ready for them."</p> + +<p>"He is ready for them?"</p> + +<p>"Most assuredly. He is not the man to draw back, no matter how many +persons league themselves together against him," responded Segoffin, +with a triumphant air. "I saw him after his row with the presiding +judge, and I said to him, 'Aren't you afraid you will be arrested, M. +Yvon?' 'No one has any business to meddle with what passed between me +and the chief justice so long as he doesn't complain, and he is not +likely to do that, for if the cause of our quarrel should be made public +he would be hopelessly disgraced.' Those were monsieur's very words, +Suzanne. 'Well, will you go to the ball just the same?' I asked. +'Certainly. I intend to be the first to go and the last to leave. +Otherwise people might think I regretted what I had done, or that I was +afraid. If my presence at this fête scandalises anybody, and they show +it in any way, I shall know what to say and do, never fear; so go back +home, and have my costume ready for me when I get there.'"</p> + +<p>"What a man of iron he is!" sighed Suzanne. "Always the same, and poor +madame suspects nothing."<a name="page_193" id="page_193"></a></p> + +<p>"I will take the costume up to monsieur's room and wait for him there, +for I am as certain that he will go to this entertainment as I am that +you will marry me some day, remember that."</p> + +<p>"If such a misfortune is ever to befall me, I shall try to keep it out +of my mind as much as possible," retorted Dame Roberts, curtly, as she +hastened off to her mistress.<a name="page_194" id="page_194"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_III-b" id="CHAPTER_III-b"></a>CHAPTER III.<br /><br /> +<small>THE WARNING.</small></h3> + +<p>At first Suzanne felt strongly inclined to inform Madame Cloarek of the +momentous events which had occurred that day, but after reflecting on +the effect this news might have upon the young wife, she abandoned that +idea and resolved to confine herself to an effort to make her mistress +devise some pretext for preventing M. Cloarek from attending the +masquerade ball, realising that such an audacious act on his part might +have the most disastrous consequences.</p> + +<p>Suzanne's position was extremely trying, for it was necessary for her to +conceal the events of the day from her mistress, on the one hand, and +yet implore her to use her influence over her husband to prevent him +from going to this entertainment, on the other.</p> + +<p>She was consequently in a very perplexed frame of mind when she entered +the apartment of her mistress, who, without being really beautiful in +the general acceptation of the word, had a remarkably sweet and +attractive face, though the extreme pallor of her complexion and her +frail appearance generally indicated very delicate health.</p> + +<p>Jenny Cloarek, seated beside a swinging crib, the silken curtains of +which were closely drawn, was occupied with some embroidery, while with +her little foot she occasionally imparted a gentle oscillatory motion to +the little bed in which her five-year-old daughter was reposing.<a name="page_195" id="page_195"></a> It was +night, and the soft light of a lamp illumined the peaceful picture.</p> + +<p>When Suzanne entered the room, Madame Cloarek held up a finger +warningly, and said to her, in a low tone:</p> + +<p>"Don't make a noise, Suzanne. My little Sabine is just going to sleep."</p> + +<p>And as the maid approached on tiptoe her mistress added: "Has my husband +returned yet?"</p> + +<p>"No, madame."</p> + +<p>"His going out so early this morning upset me for all day, for I was +asleep when he came back, and so long a time seldom elapses without my +seeing him. By the way, is his costume finished, and is it a success? +You know I promised my husband I would make no attempt to see it until I +could see it on him."</p> + +<p>"It is very handsome, madame."</p> + +<p>"And you think it will prove becoming?"</p> + +<p>"Extremely, madame."</p> + +<p>"I am almost sorry now that I made up my mind not to go to this +entertainment. I never attended a masquerade ball in my life, and I +should have enjoyed it immensely; but I shall enjoy Yvon's account of it +almost as much, provided he does not stay too late, for I feel rather +more tired and weak than usual to-day, it seems to me."</p> + +<p>"Madame does not feel as well as usual this evening?"</p> + +<p>"No; still I do not complain, for it is one of those sufferings that +promise me new joys," she added, with a smile of ineffable sweetness.</p> + +<p>As she spoke the young mother leaned forward and cautiously parted the +curtains of the crib, then after a moment of blissful contemplation she +added, as she again settled herself in her armchair:</p> + +<p>"The dear little thing is sleeping very sweetly, now. Ah, my good +Suzanne, with a husband and child like<a name="page_196" id="page_196"></a> mine, what more could I ask for +in this world, unless it be a little better health so I may be able to +nurse my next child, for do you know, Suzanne, I used to be dreadfully +jealous of you for acting as part mother to my little Sabine? But now my +health is better, it seems to me I have nothing more to ask for. Even my +dear Yvon's impetuosity, which used to cause me so much uneasiness, +seems to have subsided of late. Poor fellow, how often I witnessed his +efforts to overcome, not a fault, but his very nature. Had it been a +fault, with his energy and determination of character, he would have +overcome it years and years ago; but at last, thank Heaven, his +disposition seems to have become much more even."</p> + +<p>"Undoubtedly, madame," replied Suzanne, "monsieur's temper is much more +even now."</p> + +<p>"And when I think how kind and gentle he has always been to me," +continued the young wife, tenderly, "and how I have never been the +object or the cause of any of the terrible ebullitions of temper which I +have witnessed with so much terror, and which have often proved so +disastrous in their consequences to him, I realise how devotedly he must +love me!"</p> + +<p>"He would indeed be a madman to fly in a passion with one as kind and +gentle as you, my poor dear lady."</p> + +<p>"Hush, flatterer," replied Jenny, smiling. "It is not my amiability of +disposition, but his love for me that prevents it, and though I am +almost ashamed to confess it, I cannot help feeling proud sometimes when +I think that I have never excited any feeling but the tenderest +consideration in such an impassioned and indomitable nature."</p> + +<p>"Monsieur is really one of the best-hearted men in the world, madame, +and, as you say, it must be his temperament that carries him away in +spite of himself, for unfortunately with characters like these the +merest trifle may lead to a terrible explosion."</p> + +<p>"What you say is so true, Suzanne, that my poor<a name="page_197" id="page_197"></a> husband, in order not +to expose himself to dangers of that kind, spends nearly all his +evenings at home with me instead of seeking amusement as so many persons +do in public places where his quick temper might involve him in endless +difficulties."</p> + +<p>"I think, madame, with you, that for your own peace of mind, and +monsieur's as well, it is advisable to avoid all places where there is +any danger of one's anger being aroused, so, madame, if you will take my +advice—"</p> + +<p>"Well, Suzanne, why do you pause so suddenly? What is the matter?"</p> + +<p>"I—I—"</p> + +<p>"Go on, Suzanne."</p> + +<p>"Don't you fear that the masquerade ball this evening—"</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Is a rather dangerous place for monsieur to go?"</p> + +<p>"What an absurd idea!"</p> + +<p>"There will be a great many people there."</p> + +<p>"True; but they will be the best people in town, as the ball is given by +the father-in-law of the presiding judge."</p> + +<p>"Undoubtedly, madame, but I think I have heard that people chaff each +other a good deal at these masquerade balls, and if monsieur, being +quick-tempered, should take offence—"</p> + +<p>"You are right, Suzanne. I had not thought of that."</p> + +<p>"I don't like to worry you, madame, still—"</p> + +<p>"On the other hand, my husband is too much of a gentleman, and too used +to the ways of the world, to take offence at any of the liberties +permissible at such an entertainment; besides, his intimate relations +with the court over which M. Bonneval's son-in-law presides make it +almost obligatory upon him to attend this ball, for it having been +agreed that all the members of the court should go, Yvon's absence might +be considered a mark of disrespect to the presiding judge, to whom my +husband is really subordinate."<a name="page_198" id="page_198"></a></p> + +<p>"My poor lady! if she but knew how her husband evinces his subordination +to the presiding judge," thought Suzanne.</p> + +<p>"No, you need have no fear, Suzanne," continued the young wife, "the +presiding judge's very presence at this entertainment, the deference +Yvon must feel for him, will necessitate the maintenance of the utmost +decorum on his part; besides, my husband's absence would be sure to +excite remark."</p> + +<p>"Still, madame—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I shall urge Yvon to be very prudent," added Jenny, smiling, "but I +see no reason why he should not avail himself of an opportunity for +enjoyment that our retired life will make doubly pleasant to him."</p> + +<p>So Suzanne, fearing the consequences of her mistress's blindness, said, +resolutely:</p> + +<p>"Madame, monsieur must not be allowed to attend this fête."</p> + +<p>"I do not understand you, Suzanne."</p> + +<p>"Heed what I say, madame, and for your own sake and the sake of your +child prevent monsieur from attending this entertainment," exclaimed +Suzanne, clasping her hands imploringly.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, Suzanne? You alarm me."</p> + +<p>"You know how entirely I am devoted to you, madame?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but explain."</p> + +<p>"You know perfectly well, too, that I would not run any risk of alarming +you if it were not absolutely necessary. Believe me, some terrible +misfortune is likely to happen if monsieur attends this fête."</p> + +<p>Dame Roberts could say no more, for just then the door opened, and Yvon +Cloarek entered his wife's room. Suzanne dared not remain any longer, so +she departed, but not until after she had given her mistress one more +imploring look.<a name="page_199" id="page_199"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IV-b" id="CHAPTER_IV-b"></a>CHAPTER IV.<br /><br /> +<small>"THOSE WHOM THE GODS DESTROY THEY FIRST MAKE MAD."</small></h3> + +<p>Yvon Cloarek was only about thirty years of age, and the Breton costume +in which he had just arrayed himself set off his robust and symmetrical +figure to admirable advantage.</p> + +<p>This severe but elegant costume consisted of a rather long black jacket +elaborately embroidered with yellow on the collar and sleeves, and still +further ornamented with rows of tiny silver buttons set very close +together. The waistcoat, too, was black, and trimmed with embroidery and +buttons to match the jacket. A broad sash of orange silk encircled the +waist. Large trousers of white linen, almost as wide as the floating +skirt of the Greek Palikares, extended to the knee. Below, his shapely +limbs were encased in tight-fitting buckskin leggings. He wore a round, +nearly flat hat, encircled with an orange ribbon embroidered with +silver, the ends of which hung down upon his shoulders. Thanks to this +costume and to his thick golden hair, his eyes blue as the sea itself, +his strong features, and his admirable carriage, Cloarek was an +admirable type of the valiant race of Breton Bretons, of the sturdy sons +of Armorica, as the historians style them.</p> + +<p>When he entered his wife's room, Yvon's face was still a trifle clouded, +and though he made a powerful effort to conceal the feelings which the +exciting events of the day had aroused, his wife, whose apprehensions +had already been awakened by Dame Roberts's warning,<a name="page_200" id="page_200"></a> was struck by the +expression of his face. He, entirely ignorant of these suspicions on her +part, having done everything possible to conceal the disquieting +occurrences of the day from her, approached very slowly and pausing a +few steps from his wife, asked, smilingly:</p> + +<p>"Well, how do you like my costume, Jenny? I hope I am faithful to the +traditions of my native province, and that I shall represent Brittany +creditably at the fête?"</p> + +<p>"There isn't the slightest doubt that the costume of your native +province is wonderfully becoming," replied the young mother, with some +embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"Really? Well, I am delighted," said Yvon, kissing his wife fondly; "you +know I set great store by your approval even in the most trifling +matters, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Madame Cloarek, with deep feeling, "yes, I know your +tender love for me, your deference to my slightest wish."</p> + +<p>"Great credit I deserve for that! It is so easy and pleasant to defer to +you, my Jenny,—to bow this hard, stiff Breton neck before you, and say: +'I abdicate to you. Command; I will obey.'"</p> + +<p>"Ah, my dear Yvon, if you only knew how happy it makes me to hear you +say that, to-day especially."</p> + +<p>These last words failed to attract Yvon's attention, however, and he +continued:</p> + +<p>"What are the little concessions I make, my dearest, in comparison with +the blissful happiness I owe to you? Think," he added, turning to the +crib, "this little angel that is the joy of my life, who gave her to +me?" And he was about to open the curtains, when his wife said to him, +warningly:</p> + +<p>"Take care, Yvon, she is asleep."</p> + +<p>"Let me just take one peep at her, only one. I have not seen her all +day."</p> + +<p>"The light of the lamp might arouse her, my dear, and the poor little +thing has just had such a trying time."<a name="page_201" id="page_201"></a></p> + +<p>"What! has she been ill?" inquired Cloarek, anxiously, leaving the +cradle. "Do you really feel uneasy about her?"</p> + +<p>"Not now, my dear, but you know how extremely nervous and excitable she +is. She resembles me only too much in this respect," added Jenny, with a +melancholy smile.</p> + +<p>"And I, far from regretting that the dear child is so impressionable, +rejoice at it, on the contrary, for I hope she will be endowed with the +same exquisite sensibility of feeling that you are."</p> + +<p>The young woman gently shook her head.</p> + +<p>"This is what happened. Our big Newfoundland dog came into the room, and +frightened the poor little thing so that I had great difficulty in +quieting her afterward."</p> + +<p>"I am thankful it was nothing serious. But how have you passed the day? +You were asleep this morning, and I would not wake you. You know how +much solicitude I always feel about your health, but it is even more +precious to me than ever now," he added, smiling tenderly upon her.</p> + +<p>Jenny slipped her little frail white hand into her husband's.</p> + +<p>"What courage your love gives me," she murmured, softly. "Thanks to +that, I can even bear suffering bravely."</p> + +<p>"Then you have not been feeling as well as usual to-day?" exclaimed +Yvon, anxiously. "Tell me, Jenny, why didn't you send for the doctor?"</p> + +<p>"I did not need to, for have I not a great and learned physician in whom +I have perfect confidence, and who I am sure will not refuse me any +attention I ask?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I understand. I am that great and learned physician, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"And could I select a more careful and devoted one?"</p> + +<p>"No, certainly not; so go on and consult me, Jenny."</p> + +<p>"My dear Yvon, though I have not undergone any<a name="page_202" id="page_202"></a> very severe suffering +to-day, I have experienced and I still experience a sort of vague +uneasiness, as well as an unusual depression of spirits. Oh, don't be +alarmed, it is nothing serious; besides, you can cure me completely if +you will, my beloved doctor."</p> + +<p>"How? Tell me at once."</p> + +<p>"But will you do it?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Jenny,—what a question!"</p> + +<p>"I repeat that my cure depends absolutely and entirely upon you."</p> + +<p>"So much the better, then, for, in that case, you are cured. Go on; +explain, my charming invalid."</p> + +<p>"Remain with me, then."</p> + +<p>"Have I any intention of leaving you?"</p> + +<p>"But the entertainment this evening?" ventured the young wife, +hesitatingly.</p> + +<p>"I dressed early, you see, so as to be able to remain with you until the +very last moment."</p> + +<p>"Don't leave me this evening, Yvon."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Give up this fête for my sake."</p> + +<p>"You cannot mean it, surely."</p> + +<p>"Stay at home with me."</p> + +<p>"But, Jenny, you yourself insisted that—"</p> + +<p>"That you should accept the invitation. That is true. This very morning +I was rejoicing that you were going to have this diversion,—you who +lead such an extremely quiet life."</p> + +<p>"Then why have you changed your mind so suddenly?"</p> + +<p>"How can I tell?" responded the young wife, much embarrassed. "It is +only an absurd and senseless whim on my part, doubtless. All I know is +that you would make me happy, oh, very happy, if you would do what I +ask, absurd and ridiculous as it may appear to you."</p> + +<p>"My poor darling," Yvon said, tenderly, after a<a name="page_203" id="page_203"></a> moment's reflection, +"in your condition, and nervous as you are, I can easily understand why +you should, in spite of your good sense, be beset with all sorts of +contradictory notions, and that you should be averse in the evening to +what you most wished for in the morning. Do you suppose I should think +of such a thing as blaming you for that?"</p> + +<p>"You are the best and most kind-hearted man in the world, Yvon!" +exclaimed the young wife, her eyes filling with tears of joy, for she +felt sure now that her husband was going to accede to her wishes. "There +are not many men who would be so patient with the whims of a poor woman +who knows neither what she wants nor why she wants it."</p> + +<p>"But in my character of physician I do, you see," replied Yvon, kissing +his wife's brow tenderly. "Look," he added, glancing at the clock, "it +is now nine o'clock; ten minutes to go, ten to return, and a quarter of +an hour to remain at the ball,—it is a matter of three-quarters of an +hour at most. I will be back here by ten o'clock, I promise you."</p> + +<p>"What, Yvon, you persist in your determination to attend this +entertainment?"</p> + +<p>"Just to show myself there, that is all."</p> + +<p>"I beg you will not, Yvon."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Don't go."</p> + +<p>"What! not even for a few moments?"</p> + +<p>"Do not leave me this evening, I entreat you."</p> + +<p>"But, be reasonable, Jenny."</p> + +<p>"Make this slight sacrifice for my sake, I implore you."</p> + +<p>"But, Jenny, this is childish."</p> + +<p>"Call it childishness, idiocy, what you will, but don't leave me this +evening."</p> + +<p>"Jenny, love, it breaks my heart to see you so unreasonable, for I am +obliged to refuse you."<a name="page_204" id="page_204"></a></p> + +<p>"Yvon—"</p> + +<p>"It is absolutely necessary for me to show myself at this entertainment, +though I need remain only a few moments."</p> + +<p>"But, my dear Yvon—"</p> + +<p>A flush of impatience mounted to Cloarek's brow, nevertheless he +controlled himself, and said to his wife in the same affectionate though +slightly reproachful tone:</p> + +<p>"Such persistency on your part surprises me, Jenny. You know I am not in +the habit of having to be begged. On the contrary, I have always +endeavoured to anticipate your wishes, so spare me the annoyance of +being obliged to say 'no' to you for the first time in my life."</p> + +<p>"Great Heavens!" exclaimed the now thoroughly distressed woman, "to +think of your attaching so much importance to a mere pleasure—"</p> + +<p>"Pleasure!" exclaimed Yvon, bitterly, his eyes kindling. Then +restraining himself, he added:</p> + +<p>"If it were a question of pleasure, you would not have been obliged to +ask me but once, Jenny."</p> + +<p>"But if you are not going for pleasure, why do you go at all?"</p> + +<p>"I am going for appearance's sake," replied Yvon, promptly.</p> + +<p>"In that case, can't you let appearances go, just this once, for my +sake?"</p> + +<p>"I must attend this entertainment, Jenny," said Yvon, whose face had +become purple now; "I must and shall, so say no more about it."</p> + +<p>"And I say that you shall not," exclaimed the young woman, unable to +conceal her alarm any longer; "for there must be some grave reason that +you are concealing from me to make you persist in refusing, when you are +always so kind and affectionate to me."</p> + +<p>"Jenny!" exclaimed Cloarek, stamping his foot,<a name="page_205" id="page_205"></a> angrily, for this +opposition was intensely exasperating to a person of his irascible +nature, "not another word! Do you hear me? Not another word!"</p> + +<p>"Listen to me, Yvon," said his wife, with dignity. "I shall resort to +subterfuge no longer. It is unworthy of us both. I am afraid, yes, +afraid for you to go to this fête, for I have been told that your +presence there might cause trouble."</p> + +<p>"Who told you that? who said that? Answer me!" cried Cloarek, in a more +and more angry tone, and so loudly that the child in the crib woke. "Why +should you feel afraid? You have heard something, then, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"There is something, then, Yvon," cried the poor woman, more and more +alarmed. "There is some terrible thing that you are keeping from me!"</p> + +<p>Yvon remained silent and motionless for a moment, for a violent struggle +was going on in his breast, but calmness and reason finally conquered, +and approaching his wife to kiss her before going out, he said:</p> + +<p>"I shall return almost immediately, Jenny. You will not have to wait for +me long."</p> + +<p>But the young woman hastily sprang up, and, before her husband could +make a movement to prevent it, she had run to the door, locked it, and +removed the key; then turning to Yvon, she said, with all the energy of +despair:</p> + +<p>"You shall not leave this room. We will see if you dare to come and take +this key from me."</p> + +<p>Utterly stupefied at first, then exasperated beyond expression by +Jenny's determined action, he gave way to his anger to such an extent +that his features became unrecognisable. The flush that had suffused his +face was succeeded by a livid pallor, his eyes became bloodshot, and, +advancing threateningly toward his wife, he exclaimed, in a terrible +voice:</p> + +<p>"The key! give me the key!"<a name="page_206" id="page_206"></a></p> + +<p>"No, I will save you in spite of yourself," replied Jenny, intrepidly.</p> + +<p>"Wretch!" cried Cloarek, now completely beside himself.</p> + +<p>The young woman had never been the object of her husband's anger before +in her life, so it is impossible to convey any idea of the horror she +experienced on seeing him ready to rush upon her. Terrified by his +ferocious, bloodthirsty look, in which there seemed to be not even the +slightest gleam of recognition, she remained for a moment trembling and +motionless, feeling as if she were about to swoon. Suddenly the little +girl, who had been awakened several minutes before by the loud talking, +parted the curtains of her crib and looked out. Not recognising her +father, and mistaking him for a stranger, as she had never before seen +him in such a costume, she uttered a shrill cry of terror, and +exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Oh, mamma, the black man! the black man!"</p> + +<p>"The key! give me the key!" repeated Cloarek, in thunder tones, taking +another step toward his wife, who, slipping the key in her bosom, ran to +the crib and caught her child in her arms, while the little girl, more +and more terrified, hid her face on her mother's breast, sobbing:</p> + +<p>"Oh, that black man, that black man, he means to kill mamma!"</p> + +<p>"To take this key from me, you will have to tear my child from my arms," +said the frail but courageous woman.</p> + +<p>"You don't know that I am capable of anything when I am angry," +exclaimed the unfortunate man, aroused to such a pitch of fury as to be +blind and deaf to the most sacred sentiments. As he spoke, he rushed +toward his wife in such a frenzied, menacing manner that the unfortunate +woman, believing herself lost, strained her little daughter to her +breast, and, bowing her head, cried:<a name="page_207" id="page_207"></a></p> + +<p>"Spare, oh, spare my child!"</p> + +<p>This cry of agony and of maternal despair penetrated to the innermost +depths of Yvon's soul. He stopped short, then quicker than thought he +turned, and, with a strength that his fury rendered irresistible, dashed +himself against the door with such impetuosity that it gave way.</p> + +<p>On hearing the sound, Madame Cloarek raised her head in even greater +terror, for her child was in convulsions, caused by fright, and seemed +likely to die in her arms.</p> + +<p>"Help!" faltered Jenny, faintly. "Help, Yvon, our child is dying!"</p> + +<p>A despairing cry answered these panting words uttered by Jenny, who felt +that she, too, was dying, for in this delicate woman's critical +condition such a shock was almost certain to prove fatal.</p> + +<p>"Yvon, our child is dying!"</p> + +<p>Cloarek, who was still only a few yards off, heard these lamentable +words. The horror of the thought that his child was dying dispelled his +anger as if by magic, and, rushing wildly back into his wife's room, he +saw her still standing by the crib, but already as livid as a spectre.</p> + +<p>With a supreme effort Jenny extended her arms to place her child in her +husband's hands, faltering:</p> + +<p>"Take her, I am dying," and without another word fell heavily at the +feet of Cloarek, who, with his child strained to his breast, stood as if +dazed, hearing nothing, seeing nothing.<a name="page_208" id="page_208"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_V-b" id="CHAPTER_V-b"></a>CHAPTER V.<br /><br /> +<small>DEADLY ENMITY.</small></h3> + +<p>Twelve years after the events we have just related, late in the month of +March, 1812, about two o'clock in the afternoon a traveller walked into +the inn known as the Imperial Eagle, the only tavern in the town of +Sorville, which was then the second station on the post-road between +Dieppe and Paris.</p> + +<p>This traveller, who was a man in the prime of life, wore a tarpaulin hat +and a thick blue reefer jacket, and looked like a petty officer or a +sailing master in the merchant service. His hair and whiskers were red, +his complexion light, his expression stern and impassible, and he spoke +French without the slightest accent though he was an Englishman.</p> + +<p>Walking straight up to the landlord, he said: "Can you tell me if a +dark-complexioned man dressed about as I am, but very dark-complexioned +and with a strong Italian accent, did not come here this morning? His +name is Pietri."</p> + +<p>"I have seen no one answering either to that name or description, +monsieur."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly sure."</p> + +<p>"Is there any other inn in the town?"</p> + +<p>"No, thank Heaven! monsieur, so parties travelling either by diligence +or post patronise me, as the post-station is only a few yards from my +door."</p> + +<p>"So there is a relay station near here."<a name="page_209" id="page_209"></a></p> + +<p>"On the other side of the street, almost directly opposite."</p> + +<p>"Can you give me a room and have a breakfast prepared for two persons? I +am expecting some one who will call and inquire for Master Dupont, for +that is my name."</p> + +<p>"Very well, monsieur."</p> + +<p>"As soon as this person comes, you will serve breakfast in my room."</p> + +<p>"Very well, and monsieur's baggage, shall I send for that?"</p> + +<p>"I have no baggage. Have many post-carriages passed to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Not a single one, monsieur."</p> + +<p>"Neither from Paris nor Dieppe?"</p> + +<p>"No, monsieur, neither from Paris nor Dieppe. But, by the way, as you +came from the last named place, you must have seen those wonderful men +everybody is talking about."</p> + +<p>"What wonderful men?"</p> + +<p>"Why, that famous corsair who is death to the English, the brave Captain +l'Endurci (a good name for a privateer, isn't it?). With his brig <i>The +Hell-hound</i> (another appropriate name by the way), that goes through the +water like a fish, not a single English ship seems to escape him. He +gobbles them all up, his last haul being a number of vessels loaded with +wheat, that he captured after a terrible fight. A wonderful piece of +good luck, for wheat is so scarce now! They say the people of Dieppe +have gone wild over him! He must have been born under a lucky star, for +though it is said that he fights like a tiger, he has never been +wounded. Is that true? Do you know him? What kind of a looking man is +he? He must be terribly ferocious-looking, and people say he dresses +very strangely. You, being a sailor, have probably seen him."</p> + +<p>"Never," dryly replied the stranger, who did not<a name="page_210" id="page_210"></a> appear to share the +innkeeper's admiration for the privateer.</p> + +<p>Then he added:</p> + +<p>"Show me to my room, and when the person who inquires for Master Dupont +comes, bring him to me at once. Do you understand?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly, monsieur."</p> + +<p>"And as soon as the person comes you are to serve breakfast."</p> + +<p>"Very well, monsieur. I will show you to your room now."</p> + +<p>"Is it a front room?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, monsieur, with two large windows."</p> + +<p>"I want some of your best wine, remember."</p> + +<p>"Give yourself no uneasiness; you will be perfectly satisfied, I think," +replied the innkeeper.</p> + +<p>About a quarter of an hour afterward a second guest entered the inn. +This man also wore a heavy pea-jacket, and his swarthy skin, jet-black +hair, and hard, almost repulsive features gave him a decidedly sinister +appearance. After casting a quick glance around, the newcomer said, in +bad French, and with an Italian accent, for he was a native of the +island of Malta:</p> + +<p>"Is there a man named Dupont here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, monsieur, and I will take you to his room at once if you will +follow me."</p> + +<p>Subsequently, when the host had placed breakfast on the table, he +received orders to retire and not return until he was summoned.</p> + +<p>As soon as the two strangers found themselves alone together, the +Maltese, striking the table a terrible blow with his clenched fist, +exclaimed in English:</p> + +<p>"That dog of a smuggler has backed out; all is lost!"</p> + +<p>"What are you saying?"</p> + +<p>"The truth, as surely as I would take delight in burying this knife in +the heart of the coward who betrayed us," and as he spoke he plunged his +knife into the table.<a name="page_211" id="page_211"></a></p> + +<p>"Damnation!" exclaimed the Englishman, startled out of his usual phlegm, +"and the captain is to pass through the town about nightfall."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure?"</p> + +<p>"This morning just as I was leaving Dieppe our friend told me that the +captain had ordered post-horses for four o'clock this afternoon, so he +will arrive here between five and six."</p> + +<p>"<i>Mille tonnerres!</i> everything seemed to favour our plans, and but for +this miserable smuggler—"</p> + +<p>"Pietri, the case is not so desperate as you think, perhaps, after all. +At all events this violence will avail nothing, so let us talk the +matter over calmly."</p> + +<p>"Calmly, when rage fairly blinds me!"</p> + +<p>"A blind man can not see his road."</p> + +<p>"If you can be calm, you do not hate this man as I do."</p> + +<p>"I do not?"</p> + +<p>It is impossible to give the reader any adequate conception of the tone +in which the Englishman uttered these words.</p> + +<p>After a pause, he resumed, in a tone of concentrated hatred:</p> + +<p>"I must hate him worse than you hate him, Pietri, as I do not wish to +kill him."</p> + +<p>"A dead serpent bites no more."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but a dead serpent suffers no more, and I want to see this man +suffer a thousand worse tortures than death. He must atone for the evil +he has done my country; he must atone for the bloody victories which +have demoralised our cruisers; he must atone for the recent insult +offered to me. D—n him! Am I such an insignificant enemy that I can be +released simply upon parole after the combat that cost us so much +treasure and blood, but without one drop of his being shed, for he +really seems to be invulnerable as they say. As surely as there is a +hell my disgrace and England's shall be avenged."<a name="page_212" id="page_212"></a></p> + +<p>"And yet a moment ago Captain Russell was reproaching me for the foolish +violence of my words," retorted the Maltese, with a sardonic smile.</p> + +<p>"You are right," replied Russell, controlling himself. "Such an outburst +is foolish in the extreme. Besides, we must not despair. What passed +between you and the smuggler?"</p> + +<p>"Leaving Dieppe in a fishing-smack last night, I reached Hosey this +morning and made my way to the man's hut, which stands some distance +farther down the beach. 'Is your name Bezelek?' I asked. 'Yes.' 'I was +sent here by Master Keller.' 'What is the countersign?' +'<i>Passe-partout</i>.' 'Good! I have been expecting you. My boat is at your +service. It is high tide at ten o'clock to-night, and the wind, if it +doesn't change, will take you to England before morning.' 'Master Keller +told you what is to be done?' 'Yes, some one is to be transported to +England, willy-nilly, but safe and sound, understand. I am a smuggler, +but no murderer. So bring your passenger along to-night and I promise +you he shall be in England before sunrise.' 'Did Keller tell you that I +must have four or five of your most determined men at my disposal?' +'What for?' 'To assist me in capturing the man on the highway a few +miles from here.' 'Keller told me nothing of the kind, and you need not +expect me or my men to mix ourselves up in any such affair. Bring your +man here, and I will see that he is put aboard my boat. That is all. If +he resists, I can suppose he is drunk, and that it is for his good we +are putting him aboard, but to assist in the abduction of a man on the +public highway is a very different thing, and I have no notion of doing +anything of the kind.' That was what he said, and he stuck to it. I soon +discovered there wasn't the slightest chance of moving him, for neither +threats nor bribes had the slightest effect upon him."</p> + +<p>"This is too bad! too bad!"<a name="page_213" id="page_213"></a></p> + +<p>"So you see, Russell, we shall have to resort to other means, for even +if the postilion remains neutral, it would be impossible for us two to +do the job without assistance, especially as the captain has a devoted +and intrepid companion in the shape of his head gunner, who never leaves +him either on land or sea, so if we resort to force we shall only make +fools of ourselves, it seems to me."</p> + +<p>"That is true," muttered the Englishman, gloomily.</p> + +<p>"So as there is no chance of succeeding by violence we shall have to +resort to stratagem," continued the Maltese.</p> + +<p>"Explain."</p> + +<p>"On my way here I noticed that about two miles from the town, at a place +marked by a stone cross, there is a steep hill, followed by a no less +abrupt descent."</p> + +<p>"Well, what of it?"</p> + +<p>"We will lie in wait for the carriage about half-way up the hill. It +will be moving very slowly as the hill is so steep, and we will suddenly +rush out from our hiding-place, and, pretending that we are sailors on +our way back to our vessel, ask the captain for aid, you at one door and +I at the other. Both of us will have our pistols loaded and our knives +in our belts and—"</p> + +<p>"Never!" exclaimed Russell, "I am no assassin nor do I desire this man's +death. The murder would be a disgrace to England; besides, it would only +half avenge me. No, what I want is to enjoy this indomitable man's rage +and humiliation when, as our prisoner, he is exposed to the abuse and +derision and insults of the multitudes whom his name has so often +terrified. No caged tiger ever roared and chafed against confinement +more wildly and yet more impotently than he will. Imprisonment in the +hulks will be a thousand times more terrible than death to such a man. +But the obstinacy of this smuggler ruins all my plans. As they have +become impossibilities, what shall we do?"</p> + +<p>"Adopt mine," urged the Maltese. "Death may be<a name="page_214" id="page_214"></a> less cruel than +vengeance, but it is much more certain; besides, vengeance is impossible +now, but we hold this man's life in our hands. Besides, what difference +does it really make about the means we employ so long as England is +delivered from one of her most dangerous enemies?"</p> + +<p>"Say no more."</p> + +<p>"But think of the vessels this man has captured and burned, and of the +bloody combats from which he has emerged safe and sound and victorious, +too, in spite of greatly inferior numbers!"</p> + +<p>"Be silent, I tell you."</p> + +<p>"Think of the terror his name inspires in English sailors—the best +seamen in the world; haven't you even heard them say in their +superstitious fear that the success of this invincible and invulnerable +man seems to indicate the swift decadence of England's maritime +supremacy, and that the sea is to have its Napoleon as well as the land? +Think what a disastrous effect such a superstition will have if the time +ever comes when England makes an attempt to overthrow Bonaparte and +crush France."</p> + +<p>"But a murder,—a cowardly assassination!"</p> + +<p>"An assassination? No, England and France are at war, and to take +advantage of an ambuscade to surprise and destroy an enemy is one of the +recognised laws of warfare."</p> + +<p>Russell made no reply, but sat with his head bowed upon his breast for +some time apparently absorbed in thought.</p> + +<p>The Maltese seemed to be equally absorbed in thought. As they sat there +in silence, the sound of carriage wheels was heard in the distance, +followed by the cracking of the postilion's whip and the ring of horses' +hoofs.</p> + +<p>"Five o'clock! It must be he!" exclaimed the Englishman as he glanced at +his watch.<a name="page_215" id="page_215"></a></p> + +<p>Both men darted to the window and saw a dusty cabriolet drawn by two +horses stop in front of the post-house on the other side of the street, +opposite the inn, and in another instant the Englishman turned livid +with rage and cast a look of implacable hatred on the unsuspecting +traveller.</p> + +<p>"It is he! It is really he!"</p> + +<p>"And he is alone," added the Maltese, quickly.</p> + +<p>"He is entering this very inn."</p> + +<p>"Everything favours us. He must have left his friend and companion in +Dieppe. He is alone; there are two of us!"</p> + +<p>"Can we still count upon the smuggler's boat and assistance to-night?" +suddenly inquired Russell. A new idea seemed to have struck him. A +slight flush suffused his pale, cold face, and a spark of diabolical joy +glittered in his eye, as he asked the question.</p> + +<p>"Yes; for desiring to reserve a means of flight in case of need, I told +him he might expect us."</p> + +<p>"Courage, then," exclaimed Russell, ringing the bell, violently.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" inquired the Maltese. "What do you intend to do?"</p> + +<p>"You shall know, presently. Hush! here comes somebody."</p> + +<p>It was the innkeeper that had answered the summons.</p> + +<p>"The breakfast was excellent, my friend," said Russell. "How much do I +owe you?"</p> + +<p>"Six francs, including the room."</p> + +<p>"Here it is, and a present for the waiter, besides."</p> + +<p>"You are very honest, monsieur. I hope to be honoured with your +patronage again."</p> + +<p>"You certainly will be. But tell me, I thought I heard post-horses just +now. Has there been another arrival?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, monsieur, another gentleman just came. I put him in the blue room +overlooking the garden."<a name="page_216" id="page_216"></a></p> + +<p>"He is one of your old patrons, probably, as a person who has been here +once is sure to come back."</p> + +<p>"Monsieur is very kind, I am sure, but it is the first time this +traveller has ever stopped here."</p> + +<p>"Is he travelling in style with a retinue of servants and all that, and +is he going to remain long?"</p> + +<p>"No, monsieur, only long enough to take a slight lunch. This is no rich +nobleman. He is travelling alone, and looks and acts like a well-to-do +tradesman. He hums tunes and drums upon the window-panes, and seems as +gay as a peacock. He must be a very pleasant man."</p> + +<p>"You seem to be a great physiognomist, mine host," responded the +Englishman, with a sarcastic smile.</p> + +<p>Then making a sign to his companion, he rose, remarking to the innkeeper +as he did so:</p> + +<p>"<i>Au revoir</i>, my friend. We are going to take a stroll around the town, +and then return to Dieppe."</p> + +<p>"If you would like to wait for the Paris diligence, it will pass through +the town about eight o'clock this evening."</p> + +<p>"Thanks, but though we are sailors, we are good walkers, and it is such +a fine evening I think we won't wait for it."<a name="page_217" id="page_217"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VI-b" id="CHAPTER_VI-b"></a>CHAPTER VI.<br /><br /> +<small>A CUNNING SCHEME.</small></h3> + +<p>After leaving the inn, the two strangers took themselves off for a +quarter of an hour to decide upon their plans, then strolled like a +couple of inquisitive idlers toward the post-station in front of which +the traveller's carriage stood, nearly ready for departure, as the +postilion was already putting fresh horses to it.</p> + +<p>Captain Russell and his companion approached the vehicle, and, seating +themselves upon one of the benches in front of the post-house, pretended +to be examining the animals that were being harnessed, with a knowing +eye.</p> + +<p>"You have a horse there that seems to be as willing as he is handsome," +Russell remarked to the postilion, after a few minutes' scrutiny.</p> + +<p>"And he is as good as he looks, my friend," replied the postilion, +pleased by the well-deserved praise bestowed upon his steed, "so I call +him the Friar, and he is worthy of his name."</p> + +<p>"He's a fine animal, there's no doubt of that. What a broad chest he +has, and what powerful withers and flanks!"</p> + +<p>"And what a beautiful head he has!" chimed in Pietri. "It is as delicate +and intelligent as that of any Arabian steed."</p> + +<p>"It is evident that you are both good judges of horse flesh, gentlemen, +so you won't doubt my word when I<a name="page_218" id="page_218"></a> tell you that I can get over a mile +or two of ground in the twinkling of an eye with the Friar and +Sans-Culotte, as I call his mate."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it must be a real pleasure to have a horse like that between one's +legs, my worthy fellow. Though I'm a sailor, I've ridden horseback a +good deal, but I never had the good fortune to bestride an animal like +that."</p> + +<p>"I can very readily believe that, monsieur; but this I know, you will +never bestride a finer one."</p> + +<p>"And it is too bad!"</p> + +<p>"I don't see what you are going to do about it."</p> + +<p>"Would you like to make forty francs, my friend?" inquired the +Englishman, after a brief silence.</p> + +<p>"Forty francs, I?" exclaimed the astonished postilion.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"But how the devil could I?"</p> + +<p>"In the easiest way imaginable."</p> + +<p>"Let me hear it."</p> + +<p>Just as the Englishman was about to make known his proposition, a waiter +from the inn crossed the street to tell the postilion that he need not +be in a hurry, for the traveller would not be ready for some time.</p> + +<p>"What is he doing? and why did he order his horses so long ahead, then?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know anything about that, but I do know he's a queer one. What +do you think he dined on? He drank milk instead of wine, and ate some +poached eggs and panada."</p> + +<p>"Panada? Well, he must be a queer one!" said Jean Pierre, scornfully. +Then turning to Russell, "Come, friend, what were you going to tell me a +few minutes ago about—"</p> + +<p>"Step into the stable-yard, my good fellow, I want to say a few words to +you."</p> + +<p>"I can't leave the Friar; he would be sure to cut up some caper. He's +always fussing with Sans-Culotte. Whoa, you rascal! See, he's beginning +his antics now.<a name="page_219" id="page_219"></a> Whoa, there! if you break away, you brigand, I'll give +you a beating you'll remember."</p> + +<p>"Listen, then," said the Englishman, whispering a few words in the +postilion's ear.</p> + +<p>"What a funny idea!" exclaimed that young man, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Will you accept my offer?"</p> + +<p>"Really—"</p> + +<p>"If you will, here are twenty francs. You shall have the rest when you +get to the appointed place. After all, what risk do you run? There is no +harm in it."</p> + +<p>"None in the world, but it is such a funny idea. It isn't the first time +I've heard of the like, though. What do you think I saw in Dieppe the +other day? Those privateersmen—my! how they make their money fly!—did +the queerest things! I saw some of them offer twenty-five napoleons to +an old sacristan to dress himself up like a woman in a furbelowed dress +and a plumed hat and then drive about the town in a cab with them."</p> + +<p>"What else could you expect, my good fellow? Sailors are on shore too +seldom not to amuse themselves according to their fancy, provided it +doesn't injure anybody. You agree, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, it isn't worth while to have any scruples when one has to +deal with a passenger who eats panada and doesn't drink wine, I admit, +so—"</p> + +<p>"So here are twenty francs," added Russell, slipping a gold piece into +the postilion's hand. "You shall have as much more presently."</p> + +<p>"All right, but make haste, for the place is a good league from here. +Take the first road to the left."</p> + +<p>A moment afterward the two strangers had disappeared.</p> + +<p><br /> +</p> + +<p>About a quarter of an hour afterward, while the postilion was doing his +best to restrain the gambols of<a name="page_220" id="page_220"></a> the Friar and his mate, the proprietor +of the Imperial Eagle appeared in the doorway and cried:</p> + +<p>"Mount, my boy, mount! Here comes the gentleman!"</p> + +<p>"The devil!" muttered Jean Pierre, climbing slowly into the saddle. "My +milk-drinker is in a dreadful hurry all of a sudden. I sha'n't be able +to get my horses there fast enough, now, I suppose."</p> + +<p>As he spoke, he guided his horses up to the door of the inn, and the +traveller stepped into the vehicle. The landlord bowed respectfully to +his patron, and as he closed the carriage door called out to the +postilion:</p> + +<p>"Drive along, Jean Pierre, monsieur is in a hurry."</p> + +<p>"You shall just fly along, monsieur," replied Jean Pierre, cracking his +whip noisily.</p> + +<p>They traversed the town at a gallop and soon reached the highway, but +they had gone only a couple of hundred yards when the postilion checked +his horses abruptly, and, turning in his saddle, seemed to be waiting +for something.</p> + +<p>The traveller, surprised at this sudden stop, lowered one of the +windows, and asked:</p> + +<p>"Well, what's the matter?"</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"I've no idea, I'm sure."</p> + +<p>"You don't know?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I don't."</p> + +<p>"But why did you stop?"</p> + +<p>"Because you called to me to stop."</p> + +<p>"I did?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and so I stopped."</p> + +<p>"You are mistaken, I didn't call you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you did, monsieur."</p> + +<p>"But I tell you I didn't. So go on, and try to make up for the time you +have lost."</p> + +<p>"You needn't worry about that. I'll drive like mad<a name="page_221" id="page_221"></a> now. I don't mean +there shall be a piece of the carriage left when we get to the next +station."</p> + +<p>And he again started his horses off at a gallop. But at the end of two +hundred yards there was another sudden pause.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter now?" demanded the traveller. "Is anything the matter +with your harness?" he reiterated, seeing the postilion busying himself +with his saddle-girth, uttering the most frightful oaths all the while.</p> + +<p>There was no reply but another long string of furious imprecations, +however.</p> + +<p>"Is your horse disabled?"</p> + +<p>Another string of oaths was the only answer.</p> + +<p>"At least tell me what is the matter, my boy."</p> + +<p>"Oh, never mind, monsieur, I've fixed everything all right now."</p> + +<p>"Well, try to keep it all right, then."</p> + +<p>"We shall fly along the road like birds, now, never fear, bourgeois," +responded the youth, springing into the saddle and cracking his whip +furiously.</p> + +<p>The shades of night were falling, a few stars were already visible in +the western horizon, but in the distance one could still dimly discern, +by reason of the chalky character of the soil, a steep hill bordered by +tall elm-trees.</p> + +<p>The post-chaise flew swiftly along for about ten minutes, then the pace +slackened, a trot succeeded the gallop, a walk succeeded the trot, and +then the vehicle stopped short again.</p> + +<p>This time Jean Pierre jumped down and examined one of the Friar's feet +with great apparent solicitude.</p> + +<p>"<i>Mille tonnerres!</i> one of my horses has gone lame!" he cried.</p> + +<p>"Gone lame?" repeated the traveller, with unruffled calmness, though +these numerous delays were certainly enough to try the patience of a +saint. "Gone lame, did you say?"<a name="page_222" id="page_222"></a></p> + +<p>"Yes, frightfully lame," answered Jean Pierre, still holding up the +horse's foot.</p> + +<p>"But how did he happen to go lame so suddenly, my boy?"</p> + +<p>"The devil take me if I know."</p> + +<p>"Shall we have to stay here?"</p> + +<p>"No, bourgeois, there's no danger of that. If I could only see what has +made the horse go lame, but it is getting so dark—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and you must be sure not to forget to light the lanterns at our +next stopping-place."</p> + +<p>"Ah! I can feel what it is with my finger. There is a stone crowded in +between the shoe and the frog. If I can only loosen it everything will +be all right again."</p> + +<p>"Try then, my boy, for really this is getting very tiresome," replied +the still calm voice of the traveller.</p> + +<p>Inwardly chuckling over the success of his ruse, the postilion continued +to loudly curse the stone he was ostensibly endeavouring to remove, +until he thought the two strangers must have had plenty of time to reach +the appointed spot, after which he uttered a cry of triumph. "The +accursed stone is out at last!" he exclaimed. "Now we shall just fly +along again."</p> + +<p>And again the vehicle started off at a rapid trot. Though night had +really come now, thanks to the clearness of the air and the innumerable +stars, it was not very dark. On reaching the foot of the hill the +postilion stopped his panting horses, and, after springing to the +ground, approached the carriage door, and said:</p> + +<p>"This is such a steep hill, bourgeois, that I always walk up to make it +easier for my horses."</p> + +<p>"Very well, my boy," replied the occupant of the vehicle, tranquilly.</p> + +<p>The postilion walked along beside his horses for a few seconds, then +gradually slackened his pace, thus allowing them to get a short distance +ahead of him. Just then, Russell and Pietri emerged from behind a<a name="page_223" id="page_223"></a> clump +of bushes on the roadside, and approached the postilion. The latter, as +he walked along, had removed his braided jacket, red waistcoat, and +top-boots. The Englishman, who had likewise divested himself of his +outer apparel, slipped on the jacket, plunged his feet into the high +boots, and seized the hat, after which the postilion, smiling at what he +considered an excellent joke, handed his whip to Russell, remarking:</p> + +<p>"It is too dark for the gentleman to see anything, so when you mount my +horse I'll get up on the rack behind, with your companion."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and when we reach the next station I will get down, and you can +put on your own clothes again, and I mine. And now here is the twenty +francs I promised you."</p> + +<p>And slipping a gold piece in Jean Pierre's hand, Russell quickened his +pace, and, overtaking the horses about twenty yards from the top of the +hill, began to walk along beside them.</p> + +<p>It was now too dark for the traveller to perceive the substitution that +had just been effected, but as the carriage reached the summit of the +hill the occupant leaned out and said to the supposed postilion:</p> + +<p>"Don't forget to put on the brake, my lad."</p> + +<p>"I am going to do that now," answered the pretended postilion, in a +disguised voice.</p> + +<p>Then slipping behind the vehicle, he said in a low tone to the Maltese +and to Jean Pierre:</p> + +<p>"Get up behind and hold on tight. I'm going to put on the brake."</p> + +<p>The two men obeyed, while Russell rattled the chain of the brake, as if +he were applying it to the wheel, but this was really only a pretence on +his part; then vaulting into the saddle, he dug his spurs into his +horse's flanks, and sent the carriage flying down the hill with +frightful rapidity.</p> + +<p>"Good God! we are lost, and the milk drinker in the<a name="page_224" id="page_224"></a> bargain," exclaimed +Jean Pierre hearing the chain of the brake dragging along on the ground. +"Your friend failed to put the brake on, after all."</p> + +<p>The Maltese, instead of answering the postilion, struck him such a +violent blow on the head with the butt end of a pistol that Jean Pierre +let go his hold on the rack and fell to the ground, while the carriage +flew down the hill enveloped in a cloud of dust.<a name="page_225" id="page_225"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VII-b" id="CHAPTER_VII-b"></a>CHAPTER VII.<br /><br /> +<small>HOME PLEASURES.</small></h3> + +<p>Several days have passed since the traveller fell into the trap Captain +Russell and his companion had set for him, and we must beg the reader to +accompany us to a pretty cottage in the little village of Lionville, +about four miles from Havre.</p> + +<p>A bracing and salubrious climate, a country which is at the same time +fertile and picturesque, fine trees, luxuriant turf, and a superb view +of the ocean, make Lionville a veritable paradise to persons who love +peace and quiet and opportunities for solitary meditation.</p> + +<p>At that time, as in many other towns and villages, great and small, the +absence of young men was particularly noticeable, the last wars of the +Empire having summoned to the defence of the flag nearly all who were +young and able-bodied, until a young man of twenty-five who had remained +a civilian, unless he was a hunchback, or crippled, was almost as rare a +phenomenon as the phoenix or a white crow.</p> + +<p>Lionville possessed one of these rarities in the shape of a handsome +young man not over twenty-four years of age, but we must make haste to +say that he did not seem in the least inclined to take advantage of his +position, for he led a very retired life, quite as much from preference +as from any other reason.</p> + +<p>This young man was one of the inmates of the pleasant, cheerful home to +which we have already alluded, and several days after the traveller had +been<a name="page_226" id="page_226"></a> victimised by the pretended postilion a middle-aged woman, a young +girl, and this young man (the phœnix referred to) were assembled one +evening in a pretty, comfortably furnished drawing-room. A good fire was +blazing on the hearth, for the evenings were still cool, and a shaded +lamp diffused a soft light through the apartment, while the tea-kettle, +standing in front of the fire, bubbled softly.</p> + +<p>A close observer would perhaps have noticed that most of the ornaments +and articles of luxury were of English origin, in spite of the stern +prohibition against the importation of English goods which then +prevailed on the continent. The same might be said of the handsome +silver tea-service, no two pieces of which were alike, however, a ducal +coronet surmounting the massive hot-water urn and a knight's crest +adorning the teapot, while an unpretending initial was engraved upon the +sugar-bowl, though it was none the less brilliant on that account.</p> + +<p>The middle-aged woman had a frank, intelligent, cheerful face. She was +at least forty-two years old, but her hair was still black, her +complexion fresh, her teeth white, and her eyes bright; in short, this +worthy dame still attracted plenty of admiring glances when, arrayed in +a handsome bonnet of English lace, a gown of English tissue, and a +Paisley shawl of the finest texture, she accompanied her youthful charge +to the village church.</p> + +<p>The young girl in question was seventeen, tall, slender, extremely +delicate in appearance, and endowed or rather afflicted with an +extremely nervous and impressionable temperament. This extreme +sensibility or susceptibility was at least partially due to, or perhaps +we should say, had been greatly aggravated by a terrible event which +occurred many years before, and which had had the effect of rendering +her excessively timid. It would be difficult to find a more pleasing and +attractive face than hers, however, and when, yielding to the +uncontrollable<a name="page_227" id="page_227"></a> fear which the most trivial incident sometimes excited, +she arched her slender neck, and listened pantingly, breathlessly, with +her graceful attitude and large wondering, frightened eyes, she reminded +one of a startled gazelle. By reason of this nervous and extremely +sensitive temperament, probably, the young girl had not the brilliant +colouring of sturdy health, but was usually very pale, though every +passing emotion brought a delicate rose tint to her cheek, and then her +charming face, framed in a wealth of bright chestnut hair, seemed +radiant with the glowing beauty of youth. True, with a more vivid +colouring and fuller contour, she might have been much more attractive +to many persons, but much of the charm of her expressive features and +delicate loveliness would have been lost.</p> + +<p>The last of the three persons assembled in the cosy parlour was the +phœnix to whom allusion has been made, that is to say, a handsome +young man who had not been summoned to the defence of the flag.</p> + +<p>This phœnix was twenty-five years old, of medium height, slender, but +admirably formed, with a frank expression and regular features, though a +tinge of slightly deprecating embarrassment was apparent both in his +face and manner, the result of the infirmity which had exempted him from +military service. In short, the young man's sight was very poor, so +poor, indeed, that he could scarcely see to move about; besides, by +reason of some organic peculiarity, he could derive no assistance from +glasses, and though his large brown eyes were clear and well-shaped, +there was something vague and uncertain in their gaze, and sometimes +when the poor myope, after having turned quickly, as if to look at you, +remembered, alas! with bitter sadness, that three yards from him every +person and object became unrecognisable, the expression of his face was +almost heartrending.</p> + +<p>Still, it must be admitted that the consequences of<a name="page_228" id="page_228"></a> the young man's +infirmity were sometimes so amusing as to excite mirth rather than +compassion; and it is needless to say that the middle-aged lady was +keenly alive to all that was ludicrous in her youthful relative's +blunders—for the relationship existing between them was that of nephew +and aunt,—while the young girl, on the contrary, seemed to sympathise +deeply with the oftentimes painful position of the half-blind man.</p> + +<p>The young girl was embroidering, and her governess or housekeeper +knitting, while the young man, with the last issue of the <i>Journal of +the Empire</i> held close to his eyes, was reading the latest news aloud, +and informing his readers of the Duc de Reggio's departure to take +command of the army.</p> + +<p>The housekeeper, hearing a brisk bubbling sound accompanied with several +little jets of steam from the kettle, said to her nephew:</p> + +<p>"The water is boiling, Onésime. Pour some into the urn, but pray be +careful."</p> + +<p>Onésime laid his paper on the table, rose, and started toward the hearth +with dire misgivings which were more than justified. He knew, alas! that +his path was full of snares and pitfalls, for there was an armchair +standing on his left to be avoided, then a small round table to the +right of him, and this Scylla and Charybdis avoided, he had to step over +a small footstool near the hearth before he could seize the boiling +kettle. Consequently, one can easily understand the extreme prudence +with which Onésime started on his mission. One outstretched hand warning +him of the close proximity of the armchair on his left, he avoided that +obstacle, but he was almost on the point of running against the table +before his other hand discovered danger of a second shipwreck, and he +was inwardly rejoicing at having reached the fireplace without mishap, +when he stumbled over the footstool. In his efforts to regain his +equilibrium he took a step or two backwards, and,<a name="page_229" id="page_229"></a> coming in violent +contact with the table, overturned it with a loud crash.</p> + +<p>For several minutes the young girl had been absorbed in a profound +reverie. Rudely awakened from it by the noise made by the falling table, +ignorant of the cause of the commotion, and unable to overcome her fear, +she uttered a cry of terror and sank back in her chair, trembling like a +leaf.</p> + +<p>"Don't be frightened, my dear," cried the housekeeper. "It is another of +Onésime's escapades, that is all. Calm yourself, my child."</p> + +<p>The young girl, on discovering the cause of the commotion, deeply +regretted having increased her unfortunate friend's embarrassment, so, +striving to overcome the nervous trembling that had seized her, she +said:</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, my dear friend. How silly I am, but you know I never seem +to be able to conquer this absurd nervousness."</p> + +<p>"Poor child, it is no fault of yours! Are you not the one who suffers +most from it? Surely there is no necessity for apologising to us, +especially as but for my nephew's awkwardness—"</p> + +<p>"No, no, I am the culprit," interrupted the young girl. "To be so +childish at my age is disgraceful."</p> + +<p>The unfortunate young man, distressed beyond measure at his mishap, +stammered a few incoherent words of apology, then set the table on its +feet again, shoved the footstool aside, and, seizing the tea-kettle, +started to pour the water into the urn, when his aunt exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Don't attempt that, for Heaven's sake! You are so awkward, you will be +sure to make a mess of it."</p> + +<p>Onésime, deeply mortified and anxious to atone for his former blunder, +persisted, nevertheless, and, lifting the cover of the urn, began to +pour the water from the kettle with his right hand, while his left +rested on the edge of the table. But unfortunately his eyes played him +false as usual, and he began pouring the contents<a name="page_230" id="page_230"></a> of the tea-kettle +down one side of the urn, instead of into the opening, covering his left +hand with boiling water and burning it frightfully.</p> + +<p>He manifested a truly heroic stoicism, however. But for the slight start +caused by the sudden and intense suffering, he gave no sign, and, +conscious now of the mistake he had made, finally managed to fill the +urn, after which he said, gently:</p> + +<p>"The urn is filled, aunt. Shall I make the tea? Mademoiselle will take a +cup, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"What! you have actually filled the urn without any fresh catastrophe? +You really ought to have a leather medal, my dear," laughed his aunt.</p> + +<p>"Don't pay any attention to what she says, M. Onésime," interposed the +young girl. "Your aunt takes such delight in teasing you that I feel it +my duty to come to your assistance. And now will you be kind enough to +give me a cup of tea?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, don't you dare to think of such a thing!" exclaimed the +housekeeper, laughing. "You will be sure to break one of these pretty +pink and white cups monsieur brought us the last time he came home."</p> + +<p>But Onésime gave the lie to his aunt's gloomy prognostications, by +bringing the cup of tea to the young girl without spilling a drop, and +was rewarded by a gentle "Thank you, M. Onésime," accompanied with her +sweetest smile. But the sad, almost imploring expression in the young +man's eyes, as he turned toward her, touched her deeply.</p> + +<p>"Alas!" she said to herself, "he does not even see that I am smiling at +him. He always seems to be asking you to have patience with his +infirmity."</p> + +<p>This thought grieved her so much that the older woman noticed the fact, +and asked:</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, my child? You look sad."</p> + +<p>Hearing his aunt's words, Onésime turned anxiously to the young girl, as +if trying to read the expression of<a name="page_231" id="page_231"></a> her face, while she, embarrassed by +the housekeeper's remark, answered:</p> + +<p>"You are mistaken, I am not in the least sad; but just now when you +spoke of my father it reminded me that he ought to have reached home +several days ago."</p> + +<p>"Surely you are not going to torment yourself about that, my child. Is +this the first time your father has failed to arrive at the appointed +time?"</p> + +<p>"It worries me, nevertheless."</p> + +<p>"Dear me! There isn't the slightest doubt that business has detained +him. Do you suppose that a man who acts as the business agent of a +number of big factories can tell the exact hour at which he will be able +to return home? An opportunity to make a large sale sometimes presents +itself just as he is about to start, and he is obliged to remain. Only a +couple of months ago, just before he went away, he said to me: 'I am +determined my daughter shall be rich. A couple more trips like the last, +and I will never leave the dear child again.'"</p> + +<p>"Heaven grant that time may soon come," sighed the girl. "I should be +tranquil and happy if my kind and loving father were always with me. You +are tormented by so many fears when one you love is absent from you."</p> + +<p>"Fears! fears about what, I should like to know! What risk can a quiet +merchant like monsieur run? A merchant who doesn't meddle with other +people's affairs, but travels about from town to town in a post-chaise, +to sell his goods. What risk does a man like that run? Besides, he +travels only in the daytime, and always has his clerk with him, and you +know he would go through fire and water for your father, though he +really does seem to be the most unfortunate of mortals."</p> + +<p>"That is true. Poor man! some accident seems to befall him every time he +travels with my father."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and why? Simply because he is the most<a name="page_232" id="page_232"></a> meddlesome old creature +that ever lived, and the awkwardest. Still, that doesn't prevent him +from being a great protection to monsieur if any one should attempt to +molest him. So what have you to fear, my child?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing."</p> + +<p>"Think how you would feel if you had a father in the army as so many +girls have."</p> + +<p>"I could never stand such a terrible strain as that. Why, to be always +thinking that my father was exposed to danger, to death,—why, the mere +idea of such a thing is appalling."</p> + +<p>"Yes, my poor child, the mere idea of such a thing makes you as pale as +a ghost, and sets you to trembling like a leaf. It does not surprise me, +though, for I know how devoted you are to your father. But drive these +dreadful thoughts from your mind, and, by the way, suppose Onésime +finishes reading the paper to us."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, if M. Onésime is not too tired."</p> + +<p>"No, mademoiselle," replied the young man, making almost superhuman +efforts to conceal his suffering, which was becoming more and more +intolerable.</p> + +<p>And getting the paper as close to his eyes as possible, he was preparing +to resume the reading, when he remarked:</p> + +<p>"I think this is an article which is likely to interest mademoiselle."</p> + +<p>"What is it about?"</p> + +<p>"It describes the exploits of that famous Dieppe privateer, of whom +everybody is talking."</p> + +<p>"I fear the article will be too exciting for you to-day, my dear, you +seem to be so nervous," remarked the housekeeper.</p> + +<p>"Is it such a very blood-curdling story, M. Onésime?" inquired the girl, +smiling.</p> + +<p>"I think not, mademoiselle, judging from the title. The article is +headed: 'Remarkable Escape of the Brave<a name="page_233" id="page_233"></a> Captain l'Endurci, Who Was +Abducted from French Soil by English Emissaries.'"</p> + +<p>"It must be very interesting. Pray read it, monsieur."</p> + +<p>So the young man at once began to read the following account of the +brave captain's escape.<a name="page_234" id="page_234"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VIII-b" id="CHAPTER_VIII-b"></a>CHAPTER VIII.<br /><br /> +<small>THE CAPTAIN'S NARRATIVE.</small></h3> + +<p>"All France is familiar with the name and heroic valour of Captain +l'Endurci, commander of the privateer <i>Hell-hound</i>, as well as the large +number of prizes which the gallant captain has recently captured from +the English.</p> + +<p>"Only a few days ago Captain l'Endurci returned to Dieppe, with a large +three-master belonging to the East India Company, and armed with thirty +guns, in tow, while the <i>Hell-hound</i> can boast of only sixteen. This +three-master, which was convoying several merchant vessels loaded with +wheat, had, together with her convoy, been captured by the intrepid +captain, after a desperate fight of three hours, in which nearly or +quite one-half of the French crew had been killed or wounded.</p> + +<p>"The gallant captain's entrance into the port of Dieppe was a veritable +triumph. The entire population of the town assembled upon the piers, and +when the brig, black with powder and riddled with shot, sailed slowly in +with her prizes, shouts of the wildest enthusiasm rent the air, but the +brave captain's triumph became an ovation when the people learned that +the vessels which the three-master was convoying were laden with wheat. +At a time when grain is so appallingly scarce in France, such a capture +is a national benefaction, and when the people discovered that Captain +l'Endurci, being aware of the speedy arrival of these vessels, had spent +several days<a name="page_235" id="page_235"></a> lying in wait for them, allowing richer and less dangerous +prizes to pass unmolested, all Dieppe went wild."</p> + +<p>"How grand!" exclaimed the housekeeper, enthusiastically. "Ah, I would +give ten years of my life to be the mother or sister of such a hero."</p> + +<p>"And I, my friend, deem myself a thousand times more fortunate in being +the daughter of an honest merchant, instead of having some bloodthirsty +hero for a father," remarked Sabine.</p> + +<p>"What a strange child you are! Wouldn't you feel proud to be able to +say: 'That famous man is my father?'"</p> + +<p>"Not by any means. If he were absent, I should be always trembling to +think of the danger he might be in; if he were with me, I should always +be imagining I saw blood on his hands."</p> + +<p>"Such ideas seem very strange to me, for I love heroes, myself," said +the older woman, gaily. "But go on, Onésime, I am anxious to hear how +this valiant captain could have been kidnapped on French soil." Then, +noticing that her nephew was unusually pale, and that big drops of +perspiration were standing on his brow, she asked:</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, Onésime? You seem to be suffering."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed, aunt," replied the young man, enraged at himself for not +being able to conceal the agony his burn was causing him. "Now listen to +the rest of the story.</p> + +<p>"Captain l'Endurci, after a three day's sojourn in Dieppe, started for +Paris, unfortunately leaving his head gunner, one of his oldest +comrades-in-arms, who was seriously wounded in the last engagement, in +Dieppe to attend to some business matters.</p> + +<p>"It was between the second and the third post-stations on his route that +this audacious attack was made upon the captain, evidently by English +emissaries<a name="page_236" id="page_236"></a> who had been lying in wait for him. It seems that these +emissaries had taken advantage of the postilion's credulity to persuade +him to allow one of them to take his place and drive the vehicle for +awhile. This change of drivers was made while ascending a steep hill, +where the progress of the vehicle was necessarily slow, but the +Englishman was scarcely in the saddle before he started the horses off +at a frightful pace, while the postilion was hurled half-dead upon the +ground by the other Englishman, who was clinging to the back of the +post-chaise.</p> + +<p>"The captain astonished at the terrific speed with which the horses were +tearing down the steep descent, thought that the postilion had neglected +to put on the brake, and had lost all control of the horses; but soon +the rate of speed diminished perceptibly, though the vehicle continued +to fly swiftly along.</p> + +<p>"The night having become very dark, the captain could not see that the +carriage, instead of following the main road, was going in an entirely +different direction. Not having the slightest suspicion of this fact, +and ignorant of the change of postilions, the captain rode on in this +way about an hour and a half, and finally fell asleep.</p> + +<p>"The sudden stopping of the carriage woke him, and supposing that he had +reached the next relay station, and seeing two or three lanterns +flitting about, he was unsuspectingly alighting from the vehicle, when +several men suddenly rushed upon him, and, before he had time to offer +the slightest resistance, he was securely bound and gagged, and dragged +down to the beach on the outskirts of the little seaport town of Hosey, +about fifteen miles from Dieppe, and known as the headquarters of a +daring gang of smugglers. Here, the captain, who was unable to make the +slightest movement or utter a word, was hustled aboard a fishing-smack, +and a few minutes afterward, wind and tide both being favourable, the +little vessel set sail for England.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 417px;"> +<img src="images/ill_236.jpg" width="417" height="625" alt=""Several men rushed upon him." + +Original etching by Adrian Marcel." title="" /><br /> +<span class="caption">"Several men rushed upon him."<br /> +Original etching by Adrian Marcel.</span> +</div> + +<p>"But Captain l'Endurci is not the man to tamely submit<a name="page_237" id="page_237"></a> to defeat, as +the following extract from that gentleman's letter to a friend in this +city conclusively proves.</p> + +<p>"He writes as follows:</p> + +<p>"'When I found myself a prisoner in the hold, my rage at the cowardly +trick which had been played upon me became ungovernable. I had been +thrown upon a few pieces of old sail in the hold, with my legs securely +bound together with a long piece of rope as big as my thumb, and with my +hands tied behind my back. I tried by stooping to reach with my teeth +the rope that bound my legs, but found it impossible. I knew by the +motion of the boat that a strong wind was blowing, and that we were +heading straight for the shores of England.</p> + +<p>"'I knew the fate that awaited me there. A few words that had passed +between my captors had enlightened me. Instead of killing me outright, +they wanted to see me lead a life of torture in the hulks. One of them +had even spoken of exposing me to the jeers and insults of the populace +for several days.</p> + +<p>"'The mere thought of such a thing nearly drove me mad, and in a +paroxysm of fury I sank back on the old sails, foaming with rage. This +ebullition over, anger as usual gave me new strength. My blood boiled in +my veins, then, mounting to my brain, gave birth to a thousand projects, +each one more audacious than the other, and I felt both my physical and +mental vigour increased a hundred-fold by this effervescent condition of +all my vital powers.</p> + +<p>"'I finally decided upon one of the plans that this paroxysm of rage had +suggested to me. In any other frame of mind, it would have seemed +utterly impracticable to me, and I believe it would have seemed so to +any man who was not half frenzied by a spirit of anger,—anger, that +dread and powerful divinity, as the Indian poet says.'"</p> + +<p>For some time the young girl who sat listening had seemed to be a prey +to a painful preoccupation;<a name="page_238" id="page_238"></a> several times she had started impatiently +as if anxious to escape from some harrowing thought, and now suddenly +interrupting the reading in spite of herself, as it were, she exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"That man makes me shudder!"</p> + +<p>"And why?" demanded the housekeeper. "This brave sailor seems to me as +brave as a lion."</p> + +<p>"But what a man of iron!" exclaimed the girl, more and more excitedly. +"How violent he is! And to think that any person should dare to excuse +and even glorify anger when it is so horrible—so unspeakably horrible!"</p> + +<p>The housekeeper, without attaching much importance to the girl's +protest, however, replied:</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, my child! You say that anger is so terrible. That +depends,—for if anger suggested to the captain a way and means of +escape from these treacherous Englishmen, he is perfectly right to +glorify it, and I, in his place—But good Heavens!" she exclaimed, +seeing the girl turn alarmingly pale and close her eyes as if she were +about to swoon. "Good Heavens, what is the matter with you? Your lips +are quivering. You are crying. You do not answer me,—speak, what is the +matter?"</p> + +<p>But the words failed to reach the ears of the poor child. With her large +eyes distended with terror and bewilderment, she indicated with a +gesture some apparition which existed only in her disordered +imagination, and murmured, wildly:</p> + +<p>"The man in black! Oh, the man in black! There he is now! Don't you see +him?"</p> + +<p>"Calm yourself! Don't allow yourself to think any more about that, in +Heaven's name. Don't you know how hurtful such thoughts are to you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that man! He was equally terrible in his rage, when—It was years +and years ago, and I was little more than a baby, but I can see him yet, +in his strange, sombre costume of black and white like the livery of +the<a name="page_239" id="page_239"></a> dead. It was night, and my father was absent from home when this +man gained an entrance into our house, I know not how. I had never seen +him before. He threatened my mother, who was holding me in her arms. 'At +least spare my child!' she sobbed. I remember it well. But he only +exclaimed, still advancing threateningly upon my mother, 'Don't you know +that I am capable of anything in my anger?' And then he rushed out of +the room. Oh, my mother, my mother dead, and I—"</p> + +<p>The girl could say no more, for she was relapsing into one of the +nervous spasms which this terrible recollection almost always +caused,—this recollection of a deplorable occurrence from which her +condition of morbid susceptibility seemed to have dated.</p> + +<p>This crisis soon abated, thanks to the judicious attentions of the +housekeeper, who was, alas! only too used to rendering them. When she +was herself again, the young girl, whose character was a singular +compound of weakness and firmness, thought with shame and regret of the +lack of self-control she had displayed while this account of the +corsair's escape was being read, an account which, strange to say, had +an inexplicable fascination for her, inspiring her at the same time with +horror and a sort of morbid curiosity; so, in spite of Onésime's +entreaties, she insisted that he should continue the reading so +unfortunately interrupted.</p> + +<p>The housekeeper, noting this insistence, and fearing that any opposition +might react very dangerously upon the girl's excitable nature just at +this time, also requested Onésime to continue the account of Captain +l'Endurci's escape.<a name="page_240" id="page_240"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IX-b" id="CHAPTER_IX-b"></a>CHAPTER IX.<br /><br /> +<small>CONCLUSION OF THE CAPTAIN'S NARRATIVE.</small></h3> + +<p>The rest of the captain's letter read as follows:</p> + +<p>"'In order to carry out my plan, the first thing I had to do was to free +myself from my bonds. Being unable to reach them with my mouth so I +could gnaw them in two with my teeth, I devised another means. By +crawling about on my stomach and feeling around with my face—as I had +no use of my hands—I finally succeeded in discovering a large iron +hook, doubtless intended for holding the ballast in place. Approaching +this hook, I leaned my back against it and began to rub the ropes that +bound me across the iron and upon the sharp end of the hook. Two hours +afterward I had worn the ropes sufficiently thin to be able to sever +them by a powerful wrench, anger having endowed me with almost +supernatural strength.</p> + +<p>"'My hands free, the rest was only child's play.</p> + +<p>"'I had my tinder-box, my pipe, a package of tobacco, and a long +whaling-knife in my pocket. In the twinkling of an eye I had cut the +ropes that bound my legs and started on a tour of inspection through the +hold on my hands and knees, as it was too low to admit of my standing +upright.</p> + +<p>"'I could find nothing but some scraps of old sail and a few pieces of +rope. The only means of egress was a square hatchway. The boards of +which this was made had separated a little in one place, and I could see +the moonlight through the opening. Placing my hands upon<a name="page_241" id="page_241"></a> my knees and +making my body into a bow, I tried to force open the hatchway with my +shoulders, but in vain. It was evidently secured—as it should have +been—with two strong iron bars.</p> + +<p>"'Taking some of the ends of rope, I cut them into small pieces, +untwisted the strands, and in this way soon collected a small pile of +tow. Afterward I cut some of the old canvas on which I had been lying +into narrow strips and laid them on the little pile of tow, which I had +placed directly under the hatchway; after which I emptied my little bag +of tobacco on it to make it more combustible, and set fire to it, +blowing it vigorously all the while.</p> + +<p>"'The tow took fire, communicated it to the pieces of old sail, and an +instant afterward the hold was filled with a dense smoke, part of which +filtered through the opening in the hatchway, while I yelled "Fire!" +with all my might. My cries and the strong smell of smoke that escaped +through the hatchway frightened the men on deck. I heard a great +commotion up there, the hatchway was raised almost immediately, and the +thick cloud of smoke that poured out through the opening was so blinding +that I was able to make my way through it, unseen, to the deck, with a +single bound, knife in hand. I found myself face to face with a tall, +swarthy man. I plunged my knife into his heart. He fell backward into +the sea. Leaping for the axe which is always kept near the bitt, so the +rigging can be quickly cut away if need be, I struck down another man; +then, with a back stroke, nearly cut off the arm of a man who was +rushing upon me, sabre in hand. All this occurred almost in the +twinkling of an eye. Taking advantage of the sort of stupor that had +seized the crew, and feeling much calmer after this explosion of +long-suppressed rage, I could see better where I was, or take my +bearings a little, as the saying is.</p> + +<p>"'It was a magnificent moonlight night; a strong<a name="page_242" id="page_242"></a> breeze was blowing; an +old, white-haired sailor was at the helm; a cabin-boy and three +terrified sailors had taken refuge in the bow, separated from me by the +open hatchway. The man I had struck down with the axe did not move; the +one I had wounded was on his knees, holding his right arm in his left +hand.</p> + +<p>"'I still had three able-bodied men, a boy, and an old man to contend +with, but they, all seemed to be demoralised by my sudden attack.</p> + +<p>"'Just then I caught sight of a pair of pistols near the rudder, and +before either of the three sailors could make the slightest movement, I +jumped for these weapons. In another moment my two bullets had struck +down a man apiece. With me at the helm, and the old sailor and the boy +to assist me, the boat could be handled with little or no difficulty, +for the weather was superb, and we could not be more than fourteen or +fifteen miles from the shores of France.</p> + +<p>"'My situation thus promptly defined, I loaded my pistols again and +advanced toward the three men, who were gradually recovering from their +surprise.</p> + +<p>"'"Go down into the hold, all three of you," I thundered. "If you don't, +I'll shoot two of you, and hew down the other."</p> + +<p>"'There was only the length of the hatchway—about four feet—between me +and these men, so I could easily blow their brains out. They instantly +jumped into the hold, where the small quantity of combustible material I +had lighted was now nearly burned out. The wounded man, too, staggered +down as best he could; I replaced the hatchway, securing it with the +iron bars as before; then I walked to the stern of the boat.</p> + +<p>"'"Give me the helm," I said to the old sailor; "you and the boy are to +manage the sail, and manage it right, or I'll blow your brains out."</p> + +<p>"'As I took the rudder out of his hand, he recoiled a step and +exclaimed:<a name="page_243" id="page_243"></a></p> + +<p>"'"It is Captain l'Endurci, as I live!"</p> + +<p>"'"You know me, then?"</p> + +<p>"'"Know you, captain! I made two voyages with you on the <i>Hell-hound</i>."</p> + +<p>"'"And your name?"</p> + +<p>"'"Simon from Dunkirk."</p> + +<p>"'"I remember you now. So you intended to deliver me, your old captain, +into the hands of the English, did you?"</p> + +<p>"'"May I be shot if I suspected for a single instant that it was you, +captain."</p> + +<p>"'"So this smack belongs to you, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"'"No, captain, to Bezelek."</p> + +<p>"'"And where is he?"</p> + +<p>"'"At the bottom of the sea. He was the man that you killed first and +that fell overboard."</p> + +<p>"'"But how does it happen that you consented to have a hand in my +abduction?"</p> + +<p>"'"Well, captain, we've been doing a little smuggling."</p> + +<p>"'"That is very apparent."</p> + +<p>"'"And night before last two men came to us,—that is one of them lying +there now."</p> + +<p>"'He pointed to the dead man in the bow as he spoke.</p> + +<p>"'"Throw him into the sea," I said, curtly.</p> + +<p>"'"And the other man?" I inquired, as soon as this order had been +obeyed.</p> + +<p>"'"He is down in the hold. He is the man you wounded in the arm."</p> + +<p>"'"And how did these men induce you and Bezelek to become their +accomplices?"</p> + +<p>"'"They said: 'Bezelek, there are fifty guineas ready for you if you +will consent to take a man we will bring to you to England. We do not +intend to injure him in any way; but if he resists, you and your men +will be expected to lend a hand in gagging and binding him, and placing +him in the hold of your fishing-smack. You will be paid twenty-five +guineas in advance, and<a name="page_244" id="page_244"></a> twenty-five more on your arrival at +Folkestone.' As there seemed to be no great harm in the proceeding, the +offer tempted Bezelek and he agreed to do what the men asked. But I +swear that I had no idea it was you. If I had, I would never have had +anything to do with the affair."</p> + +<p>"'Four hours after I escaped from the hold we were within sight of the +port of Mora, where I landed safe and sound.'</p> + +<p><br /> +</p> + +<p>"Our readers will, we are sure, feel grateful to us," added the <i>Journal +of the Empire</i>, "for having given them this extract from the brave +privateer's letter. Thanks be to God, Captain l'Endurci, by his coolness +and courage, succeeded in escaping this most infamous conspiracy against +him. Let us hope that his name will long remain a terror to the enemies +of France."</p> + +<p>The article concluded, Onésime laid the paper on the table.</p> + +<p>"What a wonderful man this corsair must be!" exclaimed the housekeeper, +admiringly. "Alone, bound and gagged, he nevertheless found a way to +escape his imminent danger."</p> + +<p>"But what a quantity of blood he had to shed!" exclaimed the girl, +shuddering. "And not a single word of regret or of pity for his victims. +With what cruel indifference he speaks of the men he killed in cold +blood; for thus taken by surprise, the poor creatures could offer no +resistance."</p> + +<p>"That is true," murmured Onésime.</p> + +<p>But his aunt did not even hear him, for, turning to the girl, she +exclaimed, warmly:</p> + +<p>"It is very easy to talk, my child, but in such a position one certainly +has a right—"</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes, my dear, you are probably going to say that this man was the +victim of the vilest treachery,—that he had an undoubted right to +recover his liberty at any<a name="page_245" id="page_245"></a> cost, and that his ferocious disregard of +the lives of others is what people call courage and heroism. All this is +very possible. I am a poor judge, perhaps. I only tell you how it +impresses me. This account of his exploits excites only horror and +aversion in me."</p> + +<p>"But a corsair is a corsair, my child. You certainly don't expect him to +be a saint. Each man according to his trade."</p> + +<p>"It is an executioner's business to behead people, aunt, but that makes +his trade none the less horrible," exclaimed Onésime.</p> + +<p>"Ah, I felt sure M. Onésime would feel as I do about it," said the girl, +quickly.</p> + +<p>"He? oh, yes, I don't doubt it! He is a regular sissy. When did you ever +hear of his doing any fighting?"</p> + +<p>"I admit that I am no hero, aunt," replied Onésime, smiling, "I don't +doubt in the least that if I were a prisoner, and obliged to kill +somebody to regain my liberty, I should remain a prisoner."</p> + +<p>"Yours is the truest, noblest kind of courage, after all," responded the +young girl, warmly, for her dislike of warriors in general was perhaps +due in a great measure to the fact that Onésime, both by reason of his +temperament and his infirmity, was never likely to be a man of that +kind.</p> + +<p>"Onésime courageous!" retorted the housekeeper. "You must be jesting!" +Then, turning to her nephew, she cried: "Don't you see that mademoiselle +is making fun of you, my poor boy? Oh, well, put my knitting on the +table for me, my brave hero, and hand me my work-box without dropping it +if you can."</p> + +<p>The young man was consequently obliged to hold out both his hands in +turn, one to present the work-box, the other to take the knitting, and +as the light from the lamp fell full on the table, the pitiless aunt +instantly discovered the terrible burn he had received.<a name="page_246" id="page_246"></a></p> + +<p>"Good Heavens! what is the matter with your hand?" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Nothing of any consequence, aunt," he replied, hastily drawing back his +hand, while the young girl, whose attention had been attracted by the +housekeeper's exclamation, turned toward him anxiously.</p> + +<p>But the aunt sprang up, and, seizing her nephew's hand in spite of his +efforts to hide it, examined it carefully.</p> + +<p>"It is frightfully burned, frightfully!" she cried. "Why, you must be +suffering agony with it. It was just done. How did it happen? I know. It +was when you poured the boiling water in the urn, and, for fear we would +laugh at you, you endured the terrible pain without a word. You even had +the courage to go on reading all this time just as if nothing had +happened."</p> + +<p>"Ah, I told you that he was brave," exclaimed the young girl. "His is +the true courage, after all,—not the ferocious courage born of anger, +that seeks only to destroy, but the courage of noble hearts who, for +fear of alarming those whom they love, endure the most intense suffering +without so much as a sign."</p> + +<p>The girl's emotion repaid the young man a thousand-fold for his +suffering; he even had the happiness of seeing the touching expression +of her features, too, this time, as she would insist upon assisting the +housekeeper in dressing Onésime's hand.</p> + +<p>This work had just been completed, and Onésime was regretting that he +had only one burn, when the door of the little parlour was suddenly +thrown open, and a servant rushed in, exclaiming:</p> + +<p>"Dame Roberts, Dame Roberts, M. Segoffin has come!"</p> + +<p>"And my father,—my father has come too, has he not?" exclaimed the +girl, her face radiant with joy.</p> + +<p>"No, mademoiselle, M. Segoffin says monsieur was<a name="page_247" id="page_247"></a> detained at the +post-office by some letters, but that he will be here almost +immediately."</p> + +<p>The girl hastened out of the room to prepare to meet her father. As the +door closed behind her, Dame Roberts turned to her nephew and said:</p> + +<p>"Go up to your room now, Onésime. I will see you before I go to bed and +tell you what M. Cloarek says in relation to you, for he must know why I +took you into his house in his absence, though I know his kindness of +heart well enough to feel sure that he will approve of what I have +done."</p> + +<p>So Onésime went up to his room oppressed by a vague uneasiness. He had +scarcely left the parlour, when M. Segoffin entered it.<a name="page_248" id="page_248"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_X-b" id="CHAPTER_X-b"></a>CHAPTER X.<br /><br /> +<small>SEGOFFIN'S DISSIMULATION.</small></h3> + +<p>It would be far from complimentary to the reader's penetration to +suppose that he had not long since recognised in Onésime's defender +Mlle. Cloarek, who lost her mother at the age of five years, in +consequence of a nervous shock. We trust, too, that the reader's +penetration has served him equally well in the case of Suzanne Roberts, +Sabine's former nurse, and Madame Cloarek's confidential attendant and +housekeeper, and likewise in the case of Captain l'Endurci and his brave +head gunner.</p> + +<p>Twelve years have elapsed since we last saw Segoffin, and he is little +changed in appearance. He looks as much like a clown as ever, the only +modifications which time, or rather events, have made in his grotesquely +grave features being, first, a deep scar beginning at the left temple, +and extending to the bottom of the cheek (a wound caused, as he +affirmed, by an unfortunate fall upon a piece of broken glass).</p> + +<p>Second, the recent loss of an eye, an unfortunate loss indicated by a +large black patch, and caused, no doubt, by some similar mishap.</p> + +<p>In spite of these rather grave injuries to his personal charms, M. +Segoffin held his head as high as ever. A long white cravat, decorated +with bright red polka dots, encircled his throat; his long redingote and +knee-breeches were of the finest brown broadcloth, and his<a name="page_249" id="page_249"></a> black +stockings were of silk. In his right hand, from which two fingers were +missing,—two fingers carelessly lost, as he declared, from having been +caught in a piece of machinery,—he carried a heavy cane, for he was +quite lame now, in consequence of another accident,—at least, so he +said.</p> + +<p>On seeing Segoffin, Dame Roberts, in spite of the taunts with which she +had pursued him for so many years, made no attempt to conceal her +pleasure. In the delight his return caused her, she did not notice, at +first, that Segoffin was all the while endeavouring to present only his +profile, or as nearly a three-quarter view of his face as possible, to +the object of his affections. The fact is, he wished to defer the +explanation of the recent loss of his eye until the latest possible +moment, but the lady, on going a little closer to him, noticed the +disfiguring patch, and exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Good Heavens! what is the matter with your eye, Segoffin?"</p> + +<p>"Which eye?"</p> + +<p>"Why, your right eye."</p> + +<p>"My right eye?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Why do you wear that big black patch over it?"</p> + +<p>"I know."</p> + +<p>"I should suppose that you did. As for me, I am afraid to guess what the +matter is."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! guess away."</p> + +<p>"You have lost an eye."</p> + +<p>"There is no undoing that which is done."</p> + +<p>"I declare, since monsieur went into business and took you for his +clerk, there is many a soldier at the Invalides that isn't half as much +battered up as you are. How on earth did you lose your eye?"</p> + +<p>"The fact is, my sight has been failing for some time past, so I decided +to put on spectacles. I went to purchase a pair. It was at Lyons. Ah, +that rascally<a name="page_250" id="page_250"></a> optician!" exclaimed Segoffin, shaking his fist in a sort +of retrospective rage.</p> + +<p>"Calm yourself, Segoffin, and go on with your story."</p> + +<p>"It was a splendid day, and the optician's shop stood in a blaze of +sunlight on the Quai du Rhone, my dear,—in a blaze of sunlight, +remember that."</p> + +<p>"What difference does that make?"</p> + +<p>"A vast amount of difference. I asked to try some spectacles. The +scoundrel handed me a pair. I put them on my nose. Just at that moment +loud screams were heard on the quay, and curiosity naturally caused me +to run to the door."</p> + +<p>"Of course."</p> + +<p>"I ran to the door, I say, with the spectacles still on my nose, and I +was looking all around, first to the right, then to the left, to see +where the cries came from, when, happening to look up, I had very much +the same feeling in my right eye as if the ball had been pierced by a +red-hot iron."</p> + +<p>"Good Heavens! what caused it?"</p> + +<p>"One of the glasses in the pair which the optician had given me was of +great magnifying power," replied Segoffin, "and when I looked up and the +noonday sun shone full on my glasses, it converted the lens I speak of +into a sort of burning-glass. My eye was burned out. You could +positively hear it sizzle."</p> + +<p>"Is it possible?" exclaimed Dame Roberts. "Did you really lose your eye +in that way?"</p> + +<p>"There is no undoing that which is done. But I will say this much, since +I have had but one eye that one has been doing the work of two in the +most remarkable manner. I have the eyes or rather the eye of fifteen, so +to me you look as handsome, as handsome as if you were fifteen, my +dear."</p> + +<p>"I have no such juvenile eyes, my poor Segoffin, so I see you exactly as +you are. I certainly regret the<a name="page_251" id="page_251"></a> accident exceedingly, and I truly hope +this will be the last. Did monsieur have a satisfactory trip, and is he +well?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly."</p> + +<p>"And his fits of despondency when he thinks of madame's death?"</p> + +<p>"He has them still. He shuts himself up alone for several hours, and +when he appears again one can see that he has been weeping."</p> + +<p>"And his disposition?"</p> + +<p>"I am a regular firebrand in comparison."</p> + +<p>"Then he evinces no more temper while travelling than he does here?"</p> + +<p>"Not a bit more."</p> + +<p>"And really when one remembers what monsieur was a dozen years ago, +Segoffin!"</p> + +<p>"There is as much difference as there is between day and night."</p> + +<p>"That reminds me that Mlle. Sabine had another of her nervous attacks +to-day, when something reminded her of her poor mother's death. How +fortunate it is that she did not recognise monsieur in his Breton +costume on that terrible night. The poor child still believes that it +was a stranger who killed her mother."</p> + +<p>"And she must never be allowed to suspect anything to the contrary."</p> + +<p>"The complete change in monsieur's character makes that a comparatively +easy matter."</p> + +<p>"All the effect of a business career. When monsieur lost his position +after poor madame's death, he said to himself: 'I have barely enough to +support my daughter for a few years. I was evidently not intended for a +judicial career. I have a taste for commerce, so I will try commerce.' +And a very wise decision it has proved on his part, for he has not only +accumulated a handsome fortune for his daughter, but transformed himself +into the most lamb-like of men, and you have commerce to<a name="page_252" id="page_252"></a> thank for it +all; for you must see for yourself that if a merchant went about beating +his customers over the head and kicking them in the stomach, he wouldn't +make many sales."</p> + +<p>"You are and always will be the same exasperating creature, Segoffin!" +exclaimed the housekeeper, impatiently. "Years of travel and business +have made no change in you, mentally, understand; physically—it is +different—"</p> + +<p>"Hold, my ungrateful friend," said Segoffin, drawing a peculiarly shaped +box from his pocket, and gallantly offering it to Suzanne. "This is the +way in which I avenge myself for your abuse."</p> + +<p>"What is it, Segoffin?"</p> + +<p>"Some little tokens of friendly regard, for you know that in your secret +heart you are really very fond of me."</p> + +<p>But as the housekeeper opened the box, and unfolded a piece of paper in +which the present was wrapped, she recoiled almost in terror.</p> + +<p>"The paper is burnt at one end, and stained with blood at the other," +she exclaimed, in dismay.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," replied M. Cloarek's clerk, imperturbably, "it is a piece +of—no matter what, that I used to light my candle with, and when I was +wrapping the pin and the earrings up, I pricked my finger,—awkward as +usual, you see."</p> + +<p>The housekeeper took out a pair of enormous gold earrings, and a large +gold pin ornamented with an anchor surmounted by a crown. We will here +add, for the information of the reader, that in those days sailors in +the royal navy of England still wore earrings, and fastened their +woollen shirts with large gold or silver pins.</p> + +<p>The housekeeper, more grateful for the kindly feeling than for the +present itself, as she had no intention of dragging down her ears with +these rings, fastened the pin in her dress.<a name="page_253" id="page_253"></a></p> + +<p>"Really, you are too kind," she said. "These earrings and this pin, +especially, are in perfect taste, and as we live so near the sea the +selection of a pin surmounted with an anchor is extremely appropriate. +But here, M. Traveller," continued Suzanne, taking the red worsted +comforter she had been knitting from the table, "you see you are not the +only person who thinks of the absent."</p> + +<p>"What, Suzanne, this comforter—"</p> + +<p>"Is intended to keep you warm and comfortable in the winter."</p> + +<p>"Ah, Suzanne, Suzanne, I shall never forget—"</p> + +<p>But Segoffin's protestations of gratitude were, unfortunately, +interrupted by the entrance of M. Cloarek and his daughter, arm in arm.</p> + +<p>Yvon, who was now forty-two years of age, had changed very little in +appearance. His hair was beginning to turn gray, and his skin was much +sunburned; but he seemed to have gained in strength and vigour, his face +was radiant, and his eyes were full of joyful tears.</p> + +<p>"Come and let me take a good look at you, my child," he exclaimed, as he +led his daughter to the light, and gazed at her with anxious tenderness, +as if to satisfy himself that the health of this idolised child had +improved since they parted; then, again enfolding her tenderly in his +arms, he added:</p> + +<p>"Ah, my beloved child, I can embrace you with a thankful heart, for I +can see that you are much stronger than when I went away."</p> + +<p>Then, addressing Dame Roberts for the first time, he said, with a +friendly shake of the hand:</p> + +<p>"I thank you with all my heart for your care and attentions, Suzanne, +for I know how much you must have aided in Sabine's restoration to +health."</p> + +<p>And again turning to his daughter, Cloarek held out his arms.<a name="page_254" id="page_254"></a></p> + +<p>"One more embrace, my child, one more!" he cried.</p> + +<p>"Fathers and daughters as well as lovers like to be alone together after +a long absence, my dear," Segoffin whispered to the housekeeper.</p> + +<p>"You are right, Segoffin," replied Suzanne, starting toward the door.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Suzanne, what a fine opportunity this would be for a tender +interview if we wanted one," said M. Cloarek's clerk as he followed Dame +Roberts into the adjoining room.</p> + +<p>"Unfortunately love is blind, my poor Segoffin, and you are only half +blind yet."</p> + +<p>"That will not prevent you from becoming Madame Segoffin," responded our +friend, in tones of the most profound conviction. "That which is to be, +will be."<a name="page_255" id="page_255"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XI-b" id="CHAPTER_XI-b"></a>CHAPTER XI.<br /><br /> +<small>SABINE'S CONFESSION.</small></h3> + +<p>When Yvon found himself alone with his daughter, he embraced her again +even more passionately than before, as if Dame Roberts's presence had +been rather a constraint upon the transports of paternal tenderness +hitherto; then making Sabine seat herself on an ottoman near him and +taking both her hands in his, he asked:</p> + +<p>"And now, how have you been feeling during the last three months, months +which have seemed well-nigh interminable to me?"</p> + +<p>"Remarkably well, father."</p> + +<p>"You look much stronger, I think. Besides—"</p> + +<p>"What, my dear father?"</p> + +<p>"It may be only a doting father's fancy, fathers have so many of them, +but—"</p> + +<p>"Let me hear what it is, father."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me that you are even prettier than when I went away."</p> + +<p>"That must be a doting father's fancy, especially as it implies that I +was pretty before you left."</p> + +<p>"And who ever doubted it, mademoiselle?"</p> + +<p>"I, myself, in the first place."</p> + +<p>"Then you never see yourself, or your mirror is a poor one. The more I +look at you, the more convinced I am that you look less childish, +somehow, and that you have quite a grown-up air."<a name="page_256" id="page_256"></a></p> + +<p>"How absurd, father! In what does this change consist?"</p> + +<p>"I can hardly explain, for your features have not changed, thank Heaven! +but there is an air of sweet and gentle dignity about you that I never +noticed before, and an expression of serene happiness on your features."</p> + +<p>"How could it be otherwise when you have returned, father? It is +something better than joy, it is happiness I feel on seeing you again, +and happiness inclines one to be rather quiet and serious, you know."</p> + +<p>"If you go on talking in this way my eyes will be so full of tears I +shall not be able to see you at all, so let us change the subject. You +have been well, you say; that is the main thing, of course, but have you +not been lonely and dull here, my poor child? The winter months are so +gloomy in the country."</p> + +<p>"I have not been lonely a single moment, father. Haven't I my books, and +my piano, and my embroidery, and my walks to occupy me?"</p> + +<p>"And Suzanne, I scarcely need ask if she has been kind to you?"</p> + +<p>"As you know her so well you must know that she has been kindness +itself."</p> + +<p>"And—"</p> + +<p>But Yvon stopped short.</p> + +<p>He was on the point of asking Sabine if her nervousness was abating, and +if the attacks to which she had been subject from childhood were +becoming less frequent, but he feared he might sadden his daughter, and +decided it would be better to question the housekeeper on the subject.</p> + +<p>So, to cover his sudden pause, he said:</p> + +<p>"So you really enjoy yourself here in the country, you say? You have but +to express a wish, you know, my dearest. The sea air has been +recommended for you, it is true, but the coasts of France are extensive +and there<a name="page_257" id="page_257"></a> is abundant room for choice, and if you prefer any other +place—"</p> + +<p>"No, father, this place suits me perfectly. The surroundings are +delightful, and I feel so much at home here that it would be ungrateful +in me to leave the place unless you desire it."</p> + +<p>"You know very well that I only desire what you desire."</p> + +<p>"That sounds very fine, father."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, my child?"</p> + +<p>"I mean that your actions do not always correspond with your words."</p> + +<p>"What actions?"</p> + +<p>"You say that you only desire what I desire. Yet how often I have begged +you to give up the journeys that keep you away from me so much of the +time."</p> + +<p>"That is different. It is really for your sake, my darling child. I have +my reasons."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know, my poor, dear father. It is to enrich me that you devote +so much time to your business. But what is the use of so much money? But +you have told me nothing about yourself! What kind of a trip did you +have this time?"</p> + +<p>"A remarkably successful one."</p> + +<p>"The roads were better this time, then, and you did not take cold? I am +so glad, we had so many snow-storms last month. I used to say to Suzanne +again and again while we were sitting by the fire warm and comfortable, +'I am afraid my poor dear father is shivering with cold and making only +a couple of miles an hour on account of the snow.'"</p> + +<p>"Don't worry any more, my dear child. The trip is over now, and it was +not only less fatiguing than usual, but unusually profitable."</p> + +<p>"Is that really so? Then why was your return so long delayed, father?"</p> + +<p>"A complication of business interests, that is all."<a name="page_258" id="page_258"></a></p> + +<p>"If you knew how uneasy I always am during your absence! It is foolish, +I know, but I shall be spared all these fears hereafter, for you intend +to keep your promise, do you not?"</p> + +<p>"What promise?"</p> + +<p>"Not to travel, or, rather, not to leave me any more."</p> + +<p>"I promised you on condition that no unforeseen circumstance—"</p> + +<p>"No excuses, now. You will remain with me?"</p> + +<p>"Always."</p> + +<p>"Will you swear it?"</p> + +<p>"By a father's love."</p> + +<p>"Ah, I know what happiness is now," cried Sabine, throwing herself on +her father's neck, "and yet, I have no words to tell you how happy I am, +so, to reward you—"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Cloarek, smiling, but deeply moved by the touching +expression of his daughter's features, "so, to reward me—"</p> + +<p>"I am going to ask a favour of you, as you are always reproaching me for +never asking for anything."</p> + +<p>"You could not please me more, my dear child. Well, let me hear what it +is. What have you to ask of me?"</p> + +<p>"Your protection and aid."</p> + +<p>"For whom?"</p> + +<p>"For a person who is worthy of it, and of whom Suzanne, too, intends to +speak to you. But you see how jealous I am, I wish to be the first to +recommend my protégé."</p> + +<p>"The protégé of both of you, then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, both of us."</p> + +<p>"Then you are tolerably certain of having your request granted. But what +does the person desire?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, he doesn't dare to ask or even desire anything. He is so timid. +That is the reason Suzanne and I both resolved to ask for him. His +position is so interesting and so trying!"<a name="page_259" id="page_259"></a></p> + +<p>"My poor, tender-hearted child, how deeply in earnest you are, and how +you are blushing! I am sure the person you have in mind must be both +very deserving and very unfortunate."</p> + +<p>"Yes, father, and when one sees a person every day, and thus learns to +know and appreciate him, one's interest naturally increases."</p> + +<p>"But of whom are you speaking, my child?"</p> + +<p>"Of M. Onésime."</p> + +<p>"And who is M. Onésime? Onésime, Onésime,—I have heard the name before, +it seems to me."</p> + +<p>"M. Onésime is Suzanne's nephew."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes, I recollect now. She has often spoken of him. He is the son of +the sister she lost a couple of years ago."</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear father, he is an orphan. He had a government clerkship at +Lille, but he was obliged to give that up, and as he could not secure +any other situation there, Suzanne sent for him to come here and stay +until he could find something to do."</p> + +<p>"What, he is here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, father."</p> + +<p>"He is living here in this house?"</p> + +<p>"He has been living here for the last two months."</p> + +<p>"Why are you blushing again?"</p> + +<p>"But I am not blushing, father, I assure you."</p> + +<p>"Surely, my dear child, you cannot suppose that I would be displeased +because our friend Suzanne, to whom we owe so much, has entertained her +nephew here, especially as he must be a well-behaved boy, or Suzanne +would not have kept him with her."</p> + +<p>"You must see him, father, and then you can judge for yourself."</p> + +<p>"But how did he happen to lose his place?"</p> + +<p>"He was a copyist, but his sight is so bad that it interfered with his +work, and they dismissed him. You can imagine, my dear father, how +painful his present position<a name="page_260" id="page_260"></a> is to him, for he has a good education, +and cannot bear to be idle. His defective vision will make it very +difficult for him to secure any position, I fear; so, father, I have +been counting, that is to say, Suzanne and I have been counting on you +to assist and advise M. Onésime. I am sure when you see him and know +him, you will do anything in the world for him, he is so kind and good, +and you will pity him and love him so much."</p> + +<p>It is impossible to describe the naïve and touching manner in which +Sabine uttered these last words, her changing colour and gently heaving +breast betraying the lively interest she felt in her protégé.</p> + +<p>Cloarek stood silent and thoughtful for a moment. He was beginning to +understand the change he had noticed in his daughter's manner and +expression. At last the young girl, surprised and somewhat alarmed by +Yvon's silence, asked:</p> + +<p>"Why do you not answer me, my dear father?"</p> + +<p>"Tell me, my child, since Suzanne's nephew has been living here, what +has he done? What kind of a life has he led?"</p> + +<p>"The same life we have led, father. When we go out to walk, he goes with +us; if we remain at home, he remains. We make him read to us a good +deal,—he reads so well and with so much expression. Sometimes we play +duets together, for he is an excellent musician. He is very well up, +too, in history, and it is very pleasant and instructive to hear him +talk on such subjects, and lastly, he is always trying to do us some +little service, though he doesn't always succeed, for his poor sight +makes him very awkward. But that is his only fault, my dear father," +added Sabine, with charming ingenuousness, "and though he surely cannot +be held accountable for it, Suzanne is pitiless toward it, for she is +always making fun of him."</p> + +<p>"You do not make fun of him, I am sure."</p> + +<p>"It would be cruel in me to do that, father, for he<a name="page_261" id="page_261"></a> tries to be the +first to laugh at his mishaps, though they worry him terribly. It is so +sad to be almost blind. And this very evening—you can judge from that +how courageous he is—he scalded his hand nearly to the bone with +boiling water. You will see, father, what a dreadful burn it was. Well, +for all that, M. Onésime had self-control and courage enough not only to +make no ado about it, but also to go on with his reading as if nothing +had happened, so it was only by the merest chance that we discovered the +accident nearly an hour afterward."</p> + +<p>"Really, M. Onésime seems to be quite a hero."</p> + +<p>"A hero; no, father, for, as we were saying this evening, only persons +who kill and spill blood are called heroes, while M. Onésime—"</p> + +<p>"Spills boiling water."</p> + +<p>"Why, father!"</p> + +<p>"Why do you look at me so reproachfully?"</p> + +<p>"It seems strange that you, too, who are always so just—"</p> + +<p>"Why, what great injustice have I been guilty of, my child?"</p> + +<p>"You are making light of a very serious matter, father, for even Suzanne +turned pale with fright when she saw his burn, though she is always +ridiculing him in the most merciless manner. And why? Because he has +such a horror of everything that is cruel and bloodthirsty. Only this +evening we had quite a discussion with Suzanne, and M. Onésime was on my +side, and he is on my side only when I am right, so I feel sure in +advance that you will agree with us."</p> + +<p>"What was the subject of this discussion, my child?"</p> + +<p>"M. Onésime was reading, in that newspaper you see over there on the +table, an account of the escape of a famous privateer named Captain +l'Endurci. You have read it too, perhaps, father."</p> + +<p>"No," replied Cloarek, repressing an involuntary<a name="page_262" id="page_262"></a> movement of surprise +and alarm; "no, my child. Well, what do you and M. Onésime think of the +corsair?"</p> + +<p>"His cruelty shocked us, dear father; for would you believe it? to +regain his liberty he killed two men and severely wounded a third. +Suzanne approved his conduct, claiming that he had behaved in a very +brave and heroic manner, but M. Onésime said, and this proves the +generosity of his heart—"</p> + +<p>"Well, what did M. Onésime say?"</p> + +<p>"That he would rather remain a prisoner all his life than owe his +freedom to the death of another person. Don't you think that M. Onésime +and I are right?"</p> + +<p>"I hardly know what to say, my child. A humdrum merchant like myself is +not a very good judge of such matters. Still, it seems to me that you +and M. Onésime are rather hard on the poor privateer."</p> + +<p>"But, father, read the frightful story, and you will see—"</p> + +<p>"But listen, this privateer had a family, perhaps, that he tenderly +loved, and that he was hoping soon to see again, and in his despair at +finding himself a prisoner—"</p> + +<p>"A family! Men who live in the midst of carnage have families that they +love tenderly? Is that possible, father?"</p> + +<p>"Why, do not even wolves love their young?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know anything about that; but if they do love them, they love +them after the manner of wolves, I suppose, bringing them a piece of +their bleeding prey when they are little, and leading them out to attack +and devour the poor lambs when they get older."</p> + +<p>A bitter expression flitted over Cloarek's face; then he answered, +smiling:</p> + +<p>"After all, you and M. Onésime may be right. If you would talk to me +about silks and merino I might hold my own, but I am not much of a judge +of privateers and privateering."</p> + +<p>"I was sure you would agree with us. How could a<a name="page_263" id="page_263"></a> person who is as +generous, compassionate, and affectionate as you are think otherwise? +or, rather, I could not think differently from what you do, my dear +father, for if I have a horror of everything that is cruel and wicked, +if I love everything that is good and beautiful, is it not to you and +your example I owe it, as well as to the precepts of my poor mother whom +you loved so devotedly? for not a day passes that Suzanne does not +relate some instance of your deep affection for her."</p> + +<p>The conversation was here interrupted by the entrance of the +housekeeper, candle in hand, who, to Yvon's great surprise, announced:</p> + +<p>"I am very sorry, but it is ten o'clock, monsieur."</p> + +<p>"Well, what of it, Suzanne?"</p> + +<p>"It is the hour the doctor said mademoiselle must go to bed, you know."</p> + +<p>"Give me just a quarter of an hour more, Suzanne?"</p> + +<p>"Not a single minute, mademoiselle."</p> + +<p>"On the evening of my return, you might permit this slight dissipation, +it seems to me, Suzanne."</p> + +<p>"Heaven be thanked, mademoiselle will have plenty of opportunity to see +you now, but allowing her to sit up later than ten o'clock is not to be +thought of. She would be sure to be tired out, if not ill, to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"In that case, I have nothing to say except good night, my dear child," +said Cloarek, taking his daughter's face in his two hands, and kissing +her tenderly on the forehead. "Sleep well, my dearest, and may the +morning find you well and happy."</p> + +<p>"You need feel no anxiety on that score, my dear father. Now I know that +you are here beside me, and that you will be with me, not only to-morrow +but always, I shall go to sleep with that blissful thought on my mind, +and I shall sleep on and on and on like a dormouse—that is the word, +isn't it, Suzanne? So good night, my dear father, good night, good +night."</p> + +<p>Then she whispered:<a name="page_264" id="page_264"></a></p> + +<p>"I am sure Suzanne is going to speak to you about M. Onésime. How glad I +am I got ahead of her. Good night, dearest father, good night."</p> + +<p>"Good night, and pleasant dreams!"</p> + +<p>"It will be the best night I have passed for many a month. Good night, +my beloved father, good night."</p> + +<p>"Good night, my child."</p> + +<p>Then turning to the housekeeper, Cloarek added:</p> + +<p>"Come back presently, Suzanne, I want to talk with you."</p> + +<p>"Very well, monsieur; I have something I wish to speak to you about, +too."</p> + +<p>When he was left alone, Cloarek began to walk the room. As he passed the +table, the <i>Journal of the Empire</i> attracted his attention. He picked it +up and glanced over the article to which his daughter had alluded.</p> + +<p>"How indiscreet in Verduron to make a strictly confidential letter +public, and without warning me!" he exclaimed, evidently much annoyed. +"I have always feared that man's stupidity and greed would cause me +trouble sooner or later. Fortunately, I have concealed my place of abode +from him. To think of this happening now, when my child's feelings and +mental condition make dissimulation more imperative than ever. Poor +child, such a discovery would kill her!"</p> + +<p>At that very instant the housekeeper reëntered the room.<a name="page_265" id="page_265"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XII-b" id="CHAPTER_XII-b"></a>CHAPTER XII.<br /><br /> +<small>SUZANNE'S ENLIGHTENMENT.</small></h3> + +<p>"My dear Suzanne," said M. Cloarek, "first of all, I want to thank you +for the excellent care you have taken of my daughter."</p> + +<p>"Poor Mlle. Sabine, didn't I nurse her when she was a baby, and isn't +she almost like my own child to me?"</p> + +<p>"You have been a second mother to my child, I know. And it is on account +of the tender affection you have always manifested toward her that I +wish to talk with you on a very important matter."</p> + +<p>"What is it, monsieur?"</p> + +<p>"You sent for your nephew in my absence. He has been here nearly two +months, I understand."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and it is in regard to the poor fellow that I wish to talk with +you this evening, monsieur. I will explain—"</p> + +<p>"Sabine has told me all about it."</p> + +<p>"Great Heavens! you are not angry, I hope."</p> + +<p>"Not angry, Suzanne, but greatly worried and alarmed."</p> + +<p>"Alarmed! Alarmed about what?"</p> + +<p>"The effect of your nephew's presence in this house."</p> + +<p>"Had I foreseen that it would be disagreeable to you, I would not have +sent for the poor boy; but he was so unhappy, and I knew your kindness +of heart so well, that I thought I might take the liberty—"</p> + +<p>"You have rendered too valuable service to each and every member of my +family, Suzanne, for your relatives<a name="page_266" id="page_266"></a> not to have a right to my interest +and assistance. What I reproach you for is a great imprudence."</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, monsieur, but I do not understand."</p> + +<p>"Your nephew is young?"</p> + +<p>"Twenty-five."</p> + +<p>"He is well educated?"</p> + +<p>"Too well for his position, monsieur. My poor sister and her husband +made great sacrifices for him. His sight being so poor, they gave him an +excellent education in the hope he might enter the clergy, but Onésime +felt that he had no calling that way, so there was nothing for him to do +but secure a clerkship."</p> + +<p>"I know the rest, but how about his personal appearance? What kind of a +looking young man is he?"</p> + +<p>"The poor fellow is neither handsome nor ugly, monsieur. He has a very +kind and gentle manner, but his extreme near-sightedness gives him a +rather scared look. He is really the best-hearted boy that ever lived. +Ask mademoiselle, and see what she will tell you."</p> + +<p>"Really, Suzanne, such blindness on your part amazes me."</p> + +<p>"Such blindness, monsieur?"</p> + +<p>"Is it possible, Suzanne, that you, who are a person of so much +experience and good sense, have not felt, I will not say the +impropriety, but the grave imprudence there is in having your nephew +under the same roof with my daughter, and allowing them to live in the +extremely intimate relations of such a secluded existence as you lead +here?"</p> + +<p>"I know that I am only a servant, monsieur, and that my nephew—"</p> + +<p>"That is not the question at all. Have not I and my daughter always +striven to prove that we regarded you as a friend, and not as a +servant?"</p> + +<p>"Then I do not understand the cause of your reproaches."</p> + +<p>"And that is very unfortunate, for if you had been<a name="page_267" id="page_267"></a> more clear-sighted, +you would long since have discovered what has happened."</p> + +<p>"Good Heavens! what has happened, monsieur?"</p> + +<p>"Sabine loves your nephew."</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle!"</p> + +<p>"She loves him, I tell you."</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle loves Onésime! Monsieur cannot be in earnest. It is +impossible."</p> + +<p>"Impossible, and why?"</p> + +<p>"Because the poor boy is as timid as a girl; because he is not at all +good-looking; because he sees very badly, a defect that makes him commit +twenty blunders a day, at which mademoiselle is not unfrequently the +first to laugh. He does not resemble a hero of romance in the least. Oh, +no, monsieur, you need feel no anxiety on that score. Mademoiselle has +always been very kind and considerate to Onésime, because he is my +nephew, and she pitied him, but—"</p> + +<p>"Ah, blind woman that you are, not to have foreseen that, in a person of +Sabine's character, in a person of her extreme sensibility and angelic +kindness of heart, pity was almost certain to lead to a more tender +sentiment,—as it has!"</p> + +<p>"Can it be possible that mademoiselle would condescend to look at a poor +fellow like Onésime?"</p> + +<p>"It is precisely because he is poor and helpless and timid, and because +his infirmity places him in such an exceptional and painful position, +that Sabine was almost certain to love him, and you, who know her as +well as I do, should have foreseen this. I hope to Heaven that your +blindness may not prove disastrous in its consequences."</p> + +<p>"Ah, monsieur," responded the housekeeper, contritely, "your words +enlighten me, now, when it is too late. But no, I cannot believe what +you have just told me. Mlle. Sabine has not admitted that she loves +Onésime, has she?"<a name="page_268" id="page_268"></a></p> + +<p>"Oh, no; she has not admitted it, but I am satisfied of the fact. She is +so candid and so sincere that one can read her heart as one reads an +open book. She does love him, I tell you, and this destroys all the +plans I had formed. But what is the matter? Why are you sobbing so? +Suzanne, Suzanne, get up," cried Cloarek, seeing the housekeeper throw +herself at his feet.</p> + +<p>"I have such a dreadful fear."</p> + +<p>"Explain."</p> + +<p>"Good Heavens, monsieur, what if you should suppose that in asking my +nephew here I was actuated by a desire to interest mademoiselle in him, +and so bring about a marriage between them!"</p> + +<p>"Suzanne, you do me a gross injustice by supposing me capable of such a +suspicion."</p> + +<p>"Tell me, oh, tell me that you do not believe me capable of such a +thing."</p> + +<p>"I repeat that you have been thoughtless and imprudent. That is all, and +that is enough; but as for accusing you of any such shameful plotting, +that would be utterly absurd on my part. I understand, too, how certain +peculiarities in your nephew's character seemed a sufficient guarantee +against any such possibility, and that you never suspected that any such +danger could threaten my daughter."</p> + +<p>"Alas! that is the truth, monsieur. I didn't consider Onésime any more +dangerous than an infant."</p> + +<p>"I believe you, but the evil is done, nevertheless."</p> + +<p>"But it can be repaired. Onésime shall leave the house at daybreak, +to-morrow morning, and never set foot in it again."</p> + +<p>"And Sabine? His sudden departure would grieve her terribly, it might +even kill her, weak and nervous as she is,—for she is her poor dear +mother over again, in her sensitiveness and extreme susceptibility."<a name="page_269" id="page_269"></a></p> + +<p>"<i>Mon Dieu</i>, I see, I see! How culpable I have been!" sobbed the +governess. "What are we to do, monsieur? What are we to do?"</p> + +<p>"I have no idea myself."</p> + +<p>"Cloarek paced the room in silence several minutes, then he asked, +suddenly:</p> + +<p>"Where is your nephew?"</p> + +<p>"In the Blue Boom, monsieur. I told him to wait there until I could let +him know the result of my interview with you."</p> + +<p>"Send him to me."</p> + +<p>"Here, monsieur?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Oh, monsieur, have pity on him, have pity on him, I beseech you!" cried +Suzanne, clasping her hands imploringly. "I swear to you that it was not +his fault. The poor boy is innocent of any wrong-doing, even in thought. +He hasn't the slightest suspicion of all this, I am sure. Have pity on +him, I implore you!"</p> + +<p>"Send him to me, I say."</p> + +<p>"He shall leave the house this very night, monsieur, I swear it!"</p> + +<p>"And my daughter! You want her to die of grief, perhaps!"</p> + +<p>"One word, monsieur. It may be that mademoiselle's affection for Onésime +is only a youthful fancy that time and absence will soon cause her to +forget."</p> + +<p>"But what if she does not forget it? What if this love is really deep +and true, as it must be, if it has once really taken root in a heart +like Sabine's? No, no, it would be an insult to the poor child to +believe her capable of loving in that way. She is her mother over again, +I tell you."</p> + +<p>"Alas! monsieur, what you say nearly breaks my heart, and yet I am +forced to admit that you are right. I never realised, until this very +moment, all the possible consequences of this deplorable intimacy; for, +unfortunately,<a name="page_270" id="page_270"></a> this is not the only thing that must be considered."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Monsieur—"</p> + +<p>"Speak, speak, I say."</p> + +<p>"What if,—and it would not be his fault, remember, monsieur,—what if +he should not share the affection he has inspired in mademoiselle—"</p> + +<p>"Damnation!" exclaimed Cloarek.</p> + +<p>Then after a moment's silence he said, sternly:</p> + +<p>"Send your nephew here."</p> + +<p>"Do not ask me to do that, monsieur!" pleaded Suzanne, in terror.</p> + +<p>"Obey me, do you hear?"</p> + +<p>"Not if you kill me, monsieur," replied Suzanne, resolutely; "no, he +shall not come. I will make him leave the house. I will not expose him +to—"</p> + +<p>"To what? To my violence, my anger, I suppose you mean. Don't you see +that my daughter's love for him renders him sacred in my eyes?"</p> + +<p>"But if he does not love her, monsieur?"</p> + +<p>"If he does not love her?" exclaimed Cloarek, becoming frightfully pale; +then, without adding a word, and before the housekeeper, overcome with +consternation, could make so much as a movement to prevent it, he rushed +out of the parlour and into the room where Onésime was waiting to hear +the result of his aunt's interview with the master of the house.</p> + +<p>To open the door of this room, and close and lock it behind him, to +prevent Suzanne from entering and Onésime from leaving it, was only the +work of an instant, and he thus found himself alone with Suzanne's +nephew.<a name="page_271" id="page_271"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIII-b" id="CHAPTER_XIII-b"></a>CHAPTER XIII.<br /><br /> +<small>ONÉSIME'S CONQUEST.</small></h3> + +<p>On hearing the violent opening and closing of the door, Onésime sprang +up surprised and alarmed, for he was expecting to see only his aunt, and +the heavy tread of the person who had just entered so boisterously +indicated the presence of a stranger.</p> + +<p>Cloarek, who had recovered the composure which had momentarily deserted +him, scrutinised Onésime with anxious curiosity. At the first glance the +countenance of the young man seemed gentle and prepossessing, but soon, +forgetting the infirmity that prevented him from gaining more than a +vague idea of objects a few feet from him, and seeing him gaze at him +intently without giving any sign of recognition, he began to consider +Onésime's manner extremely insolent, even audacious.</p> + +<p>Suzanne's nephew, surprised at the prolonged silence, advanced a step or +two in the hope of recognising the intruder, and at last asked, +hesitatingly:</p> + +<p>"Who is it?"</p> + +<p>Cloarek, still forgetting the young man's infirmity, thought the +question impertinent, and replied:</p> + +<p>"Who is it! It is the master of the house, I would have you know."</p> + +<p>"M. Cloarek!" exclaimed Onésime, recoiling a little, for the speaker's +manner and tone indicated only too plainly that his, Onésime's, presence +in the house was unwelcome to Sabine's father, so after a moment he +said, in a trembling, almost timid voice:<a name="page_272" id="page_272"></a></p> + +<p>"In complying with the wishes of my aunt, I believed, monsieur, that her +request was made with your approval, or at least that you would not +disapprove her kindness to me. But for that, I should not have thought +of accepting her invitation."</p> + +<p>"I hope so, indeed."</p> + +<p>"I must therefore beg you to excuse an indiscretion of which I have been +the involuntary accomplice, monsieur. I will leave your house +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"And where will you go? What will you do?" demanded Cloarek, abruptly. +"What will become of you afterward?"</p> + +<p>"Not understanding the feeling that prompts these questions, you cannot +be surprised that I hesitate to answer them," responded Onésime, with +gentle dignity.</p> + +<p>"My feeling may be kindly, and it may be the opposite,—that depends +upon circumstances. I shall know presently, however."</p> + +<p>"You seem to constitute yourself the sole arbiter of my destiny, +monsieur!" exclaimed Onésime, with respectful firmness. "By what right, +may I ask?"</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, you seem to have made yourself the arbiter of my +destiny," exclaimed Cloarek, impetuously.</p> + +<p>"I do not understand you, monsieur."</p> + +<p>"Do you dare to look me in the face and answer me in that way?"</p> + +<p>"Look you in the face, monsieur? I wish that I could, but alas! at this +distance I am utterly unable to distinguish your features."</p> + +<p>"True, monsieur," replied Cloarek, with much less brusqueness, "I had +forgotten your infirmity. But though you cannot see, you may rest +assured that I have an eye that nothing escapes. It is one advantage +that I have over you, and one that I shall profit by, I assure you."</p> + +<p>"I assure you that this advantage will be of very little<a name="page_273" id="page_273"></a> service to you +so far as I am concerned. I have never had anything to conceal in my +life."</p> + +<p>This odd mixture of frankness and gentleness, of melancholy and dignity, +touched Cloarek; nevertheless he tried to resist its softening +influence.</p> + +<p>"I am blessed with a very small amount of penetration, monsieur," +continued Onésime, "but your questions and the tone in which they are +asked, as well as some of your remarks, lead me to suppose that you have +a grievance against me, though I am unfortunately ignorant of the +cause."</p> + +<p>"You love my daughter?" said Cloarek, gazing searchingly at the youth as +if resolved to read his inmost thoughts.</p> + +<p>Onetime turned red and pale by turns, and felt so much like falling that +he was obliged to reseat himself at a small table and bury his face in +his hands.</p> + +<p>In his attempt to cover his face the handkerchief that was bound around +his hand fell off, disclosing to view the terrible burn he had received, +and though Cloarek was accustomed to seeing all sorts of hurts, the +grave nature of this one made him shudder and say to himself:</p> + +<p>"Poor wretch, how he must suffer! A person must have a good deal of +courage to endure such torture uncomplainingly. Such courage, combined +with such amiability of character, as well as quiet dignity, at least +indicates nobility of heart."</p> + +<p>Seeing how completely overcome Onésime seemed to be, Yvon asked, in +rather more friendly tones:</p> + +<p>"How am I to interpret your silence? You do not answer me."</p> + +<p>"What can I say, monsieur?"</p> + +<p>"You confess it, then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, monsieur."</p> + +<p>"And is my daughter ignorant of this love?"</p> + +<p>"Ignorant of it! Why, monsieur, I would rather die<a name="page_274" id="page_274"></a> than reveal it to +her. I thought I had concealed my secret in the depths of my innermost +soul, so I have no idea how you can have discovered what I have almost +succeeded in hiding from myself."</p> + +<p>"Why did you not endeavour to overcome a feeling that could only make +you unhappy?"</p> + +<p>"Believing every one ignorant of it, I abandoned myself to it with +delight. Up to this time I have only known misfortune. This love is the +first happiness of my life, as it will be the only consolation of the +dreary destiny that awaits me."</p> + +<p>"You would be separated from my daughter sooner or later. Did that +thought never occur to you?"</p> + +<p>"No, monsieur, I did not stop to reflect. I think I loved merely for the +happiness of loving. I loved without hope, but also without fear and +without remorse."</p> + +<p>"So you were not even deterred by a fear that I would find out about +this love some day or other?"</p> + +<p>"I did not reflect at all, as I told you just now. I loved only for the +pleasure of loving. Ah, monsieur, when one is as I am, almost entirely +isolated from external objects and the diversion of mind they cause, it +is easy to yield oneself entirely to the solitary enjoyment of a single, +all-absorbing passion."</p> + +<p>"But if your sight is so bad, you can scarcely know how my daughter +looks."</p> + +<p>"During all the weeks I have been living in this house, I never saw +Mlle. Sabine distinctly until this evening."</p> + +<p>"And why this evening rather than any other evening?"</p> + +<p>"Because she insisted on aiding my aunt in dressing a severe burn on my +hand, and, while she was doing this, she came near enough for me to be +able to distinguish her features perfectly."</p> + +<p>"In that case, how did you come to love her?"</p> + +<p>"How did I come to love her? Why, what I love<a name="page_275" id="page_275"></a> in her," exclaimed +Onésime, "is her noble and generous heart, the sweetness of her +disposition, the charms of her mind. What do I love in her? Why, her +sweet and soothing presence and her voice,—her voice, so gentle and +touching when she utters words of friendly interest or consolation."</p> + +<p>"Then the thought that you might become Sabine's husband some day has +never occurred to you?"</p> + +<p>"I love her too much for that, monsieur."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"You forget, monsieur, that I am half blind, and that, by reason of this +infirmity, I am doomed to ridicule, to poverty, or a humiliating +idleness. I, who can never be anything but a burden to those who feel an +interest in me, the idea that I should have the audacity—No, no, I +repeat it, I even swear, that I have loved and still love Mlle. Sabine +as one loves the good and the beautiful, without any other hope than of +the heavenly felicity the love of the good and the beautiful inspires. +This, monsieur, is what I have felt and still feel. If my frankness is +convincing, deign to promise me, monsieur, that I shall at least take +your esteem with me when I leave this house."</p> + +<p>"You have won this esteem; you deserve it, Onésime," replied Cloarek, +earnestly; "and after this assurance on my part, you will permit me to +ask what you intend to do after leaving here."</p> + +<p>"I shall endeavour to find some employment similar to that I was engaged +in before; but, however modest and laborious my situation in life may +be, if it enables me to earn my living, it is all I ask."</p> + +<p>"But are you not afraid you will lose this situation for the same +reasons you did before?"</p> + +<p>"Alas! monsieur, if I allowed myself to think of all the trials and +disappointments that are, undoubtedly, in store for me, I should become +utterly disheartened," answered Onésime, sadly.<a name="page_276" id="page_276"></a></p> + +<p>"It was not to discourage you that I ventured this reminder. On the +contrary, I wish, and certainly hope to find the means of helping you to +escape from a position which must be unspeakably trying."</p> + +<p>"Ah, monsieur, how kind you are! How have I deserved—"</p> + +<p>The conversation was here interrupted by several hurried knocks at the +door, and Suzanne's voice was heard, crying:</p> + +<p>"Open the door, monsieur, for pity's sake!"</p> + +<p>Cloarek instantly complied with the request.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?" he exclaimed, seeing Suzanne standing there, pale +and terrified.</p> + +<p>"Thérèse was just closing the windows in the dining-room, when she saw, +in the moonlight, two men peering over the garden wall."</p> + +<p>"Thérèse is a coward, afraid of her own shadow, I expect."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, monsieur, Thérèse did see the two men distinctly. They were +evidently about to enter the garden, when the noise she made in opening +the window frightened them away."</p> + +<p>"These fears seem to me greatly exaggerated," replied Cloarek; "still, +take good care not to say anything about this to Sabine to-morrow. It +will only make the poor child terribly uneasy. It is a splendid +moonlight night, and I will go out into the garden and satisfy myself +that everything is all right."</p> + +<p>"Go out into the garden!" cried Suzanne, in great alarm. "Don't think of +such a thing. It would be very dangerous, I am sure."</p> + +<p>"That is all nonsense, my dear Suzanne," said Cloarek, turning toward +the door. "You are as great a coward as Thérèse."</p> + +<p>"First, let me go and wake Segoffin, monsieur," pleaded Suzanne. "I +tried before I came to you, but this time I will knock so loud that he +can't help hearing me."<a name="page_277" id="page_277"></a></p> + +<p>"And at the same time wake my daughter and frighten her nearly to death +by all this hubbub in the house."</p> + +<p>"You are right, monsieur, and yet you ought not to venture out entirely +alone."</p> + +<p>"What are you doing, Onésime?" asked Cloarek, seeing the younger man +making his way toward the door. "Where are you going?"</p> + +<p>"I am going with you, monsieur."</p> + +<p>"And what for?"</p> + +<p>"My aunt thinks there may be some danger, monsieur."</p> + +<p>"And of what assistance could you be?" asked Yvon, not curtly or +scornfully this time, for Onésime's devotion touched him.</p> + +<p>"It is true that I can be of very little assistance," sighed the +unfortunate youth, "but if there is any danger, I can at least share it, +and, though my sight is poor, perhaps, as a sort of compensation, I can +hear remarkably well, so I may be able to find out which way the men +went if they are still prowling around the house."</p> + +<p>This artless offer was made with such evident sincerity, that Cloarek, +exchanging a compassionate look with Suzanne, said, kindly:</p> + +<p>"I thank you for your offer, my young friend, and I would accept it very +gratefully if your hand did not require attention. The burn is evidently +a deep one, and must pain you very much, so you had better attend to it +without further delay, Suzanne," he added, turning to the housekeeper.</p> + +<p>Cloarek went out into the garden. The moon was shining brightly on the +sleeping waves. A profound stillness pervaded the scene, and no other +human being was visible. Climbing upon the wall, he gazed into the +depths below, for the garden wall on the side next the sea was built +upon the brow of a steep cliff. Cloarek<a name="page_278" id="page_278"></a> tried to discover if the grass +and shrubbery on the side of the cliff had been broken or trampled, but +the investigation revealed no trace of any recent visitor. He listened +attentively, but heard only the murmur of the waves as they broke upon +the beach, and, concluding that there was no cause for alarm as such a +thing as a robbery had not been heard of since Sabine had lived there, +he was about to leave the terrace and reënter the house when he saw one +of those rockets that are used in the navy as signals at night suddenly +dart up from behind a clump of bushes half-way up the beach.</p> + +<p>The rocket swiftly described a curve, its stream of light gleaming +brightly against the dark blue heavens for an instant, then died out. +This occurrence seemed so remarkable to Cloarek, that he hastily +retraced his steps to see if there were any vessel in sight to respond +to this signal from the shore, but no vessel of any sort or kind was +visible,—only the broad expanse of ocean shimmering in the moonlight +met his gaze.</p> + +<p>After vainly endeavouring to explain this singular occurrence for some +time, but finally deciding that the rocket must have been fired by +smugglers as a signal, he returned to the house.</p> + +<p>This occurrence, which ought, perhaps, to have furnished the captain +with abundant food for thought, closely following as it did the bold +abduction of which he had been the victim, was speedily forgotten in the +grave reflections that his conversation with Onésime had awakened.<a name="page_279" id="page_279"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIV-b" id="CHAPTER_XIV-b"></a>CHAPTER XIV.<br /><br /> +<small>ARGUMENTS FOR AND AGAINST.</small></h3> + +<p>When Cloarek rapped at the door of his daughter's room the next morning, +she promptly responded to the summons, smiling and happy.</p> + +<p>"Well, my child, did you rest well?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"Splendidly, father. I had the most delightful dreams, for you bring me +happiness even in my sleep."</p> + +<p>"Tell me about these delightful dreams. I am always anxious to hear +about everything that makes you happy, whether it be an illusion or +reality," he responded, anxious to bring the conversation around +naturally to the subject of Onésime. "Come, I am listening. What +brilliant castles in Spain did you behold in your slumbers?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am not ambitious, father, even in my dreams."</p> + +<p>"Is that really so, my child?"</p> + +<p>"It is indeed, father. My desires are very modest. Luxury and display +have no charms for me. I dreamed last night that I was spending my life +with you,—with you and dear Suzanne, and with Segoffin, who is so +warmly attached to you."</p> + +<p>"And who else?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I forgot."</p> + +<p>"Thérèse, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"No, not Thérèse."</p> + +<p>"Who was it, then?"</p> + +<p>"M. Onésime."</p> + +<p>"M. Onésime? I do not understand that. How did M. Onésime happen to be +living with us?"<a name="page_280" id="page_280"></a></p> + +<p>"We were married."</p> + +<p>The words were uttered in such a frank and ingenuous manner that Cloarek +could not doubt the perfect truthfulness of his daughter's account; and +rather in doubt as to whether he ought to congratulate himself on this +singular dream or not, he asked, a little anxiously:</p> + +<p>"So you and M. Onésime were married, you say?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, father."</p> + +<p>"And I had consented to the marriage?"</p> + +<p>"You must have done so, as we were married. I don't mean that we were +just married,—we seemed to have been married a long time. We were all +in the parlour. Three of us, you and Onésime and I, were sitting on the +big sofa. Suzanne was crocheting by the window, and Segoffin was on his +knees fixing the fire. You had been silent for several minutes, father, +when, suddenly taking M. Onésime's hand and mine,—you were sitting +between us,—you said: 'Do you know what I have been thinking?' 'No, +father,' M. Onésime and I answered (for naturally he, too, called you +father). 'Well,' you continued, 'I have been thinking that there is not +a happier man in the world than I am. To have two children who adore +each other, and two faithful old servants, or rather two tried friends, +and spend one's life in peace and plenty with them, surely this is +enough and more than enough to thank the good God for now and always, my +children.' And as you spoke, father, your eyes filled with tears."</p> + +<p>"Waking as well as dreaming, you are, and ever will be, the best and +most affectionate of daughters," said Cloarek, deeply touched. "But +there is one thing about your dream that surprises me very much."</p> + +<p>"And what is that?"</p> + +<p>"Your marriage with Onésime."</p> + +<p>"Really?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."<a name="page_281" id="page_281"></a></p> + +<p>"How strange. It seemed so perfectly natural to me that I wasn't at all +surprised at it."</p> + +<p>"But in the first place, though this is not the greatest objection, by +any means, M. Onésime has no fortune."</p> + +<p>"But how often you have told me that all these business trips, and all +these frequent absences that grieve me so much, have been made solely +for the purpose of amassing a handsome dowry for me."</p> + +<p>"That is true."</p> + +<p>"Then, in that case, M. Onésime does not need any fortune."</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless, though it is not absolutely indispensable that M. Onésime +should possess a fortune, it is certainly very desirable. There is +another objection."</p> + +<p>"Another?"</p> + +<p>"M. Onésime has no profession and consequently no assured social +position."</p> + +<p>"He is not to blame for that, poor fellow! Who could possibly consider +his enforced idleness a crime? Will, education, capability, none of +these are lacking. It is his terrible infirmity that proves such an +obstacle to everything he undertakes."</p> + +<p>"You are right, my child; this infirmity is an insuperable obstacle that +will unfortunately prevent him from achieving success in any career; +from creating any position for himself, and even from marrying, except +in dreams, understand."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand you at all, my dear father. I really don't."</p> + +<p>"What! my child, don't you understand that it would be folly in any +woman to marry a half-blind man who cannot see ten feet in front of him? +don't you understand that in such a case the rôles would be entirely +reversed, and that, instead of protecting his wife, as every man ought +to do, M. Onésime will have to be protected by the woman who would be +foolish enough to marry him?"<a name="page_282" id="page_282"></a></p> + +<p>"It seems to me only right that the person who is able to protect the +other should do so."</p> + +<p>"Certainly; but this duty devolves upon the man."</p> + +<p>"Yes, when he is able to fulfil this duty; when he is not, it devolves +upon the wife."</p> + +<p>"If she is foolish enough, I repeat, to accept such a life of +self-sacrifice and weighty responsibility."</p> + +<p>"Foolish?"</p> + +<p>"Idiotic, rather. Don't look at me so indignantly."</p> + +<p>"Listen to me, father."</p> + +<p>"I am listening."</p> + +<p>"You have reared me with the utmost kindness and devotion; you have +anticipated my every wish; you have surrounded me with every comfort; +and for my sake you have exposed yourself to all the fatigue and +discomfort of long business trips. Am I not right?"</p> + +<p>"It was not only a pleasure, but my duty to do these things for you, my +dear child."</p> + +<p>"A duty?"</p> + +<p>"The most sacred of all duties."</p> + +<p>"To protect me—to be my guide and my support, you mean, do you not?"</p> + +<p>"Precisely. It is the duty of every parent."</p> + +<p>"That is exactly what I was coming at," said Sabine, with amusing +<i>naïveté</i>. "It is a father's duty to protect his child, you say?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"But, father, suppose that you should meet with an accident during one +of your journeys; suppose, for instance, that you should lose your +sight, would I be foolish or idiotic if I did everything in my power to +repay you for all you have done for me, and to act, in my turn, the part +of guide, support, and protector? Our rôles would be reversed, as you +say. Still, what daughter would not be proud and happy to do for her +father what I would do for you? Ah, well, why should not a wife manifest +the same devotion toward her husband<a name="page_283" id="page_283"></a> that a daughter manifests toward +her father? I am sure you will not be able to refute that argument, my +dear father."</p> + +<p>"But your comparison, though extremely touching, is by no means just. In +consequence of some misfortune, or some deplorable accident, a girl +might find herself obliged to become the support and protector of her +father. In such a case, it is very grand and noble in her to devote her +life and energies to him; but she has not deliberately chosen her +father, so she is performing a sacred duty, while the woman who is free +to choose would, I repeat,—don't glare at me so,—be a fool, yes, an +idiot, to select for a husband—"</p> + +<p>"An unfortunate man who needs to be surrounded with the tenderest +solicitude," cried Sabine, interrupting her father. "So you really +believe that a woman would be committing an act of folly if she made +such a choice. Say that again, father, if you want me to believe +it,—you, who have so generously devoted your life to your child, who +have been so lenient to her many weaknesses, who have made every +sacrifice for her,—tell me that it would be arrant folly to devote +one's life to an unfortunate creature to whom Fate has been most unkind; +tell me that it would be arrant folly to cling to him because an +infirmity kept everybody else aloof from him; tell me this, father, and +I will believe you."</p> + +<p>"No, my generous, noble-hearted child, I do not say that. I should be +lying if I did," exclaimed Cloarek, quite carried away by Sabine's +generous enthusiasm; "no, I cannot doubt the divine happiness that one +finds in devoting oneself to a person one loves; no, I cannot doubt the +attraction that courage and resignation under suffering exert over all +superior natures."</p> + +<p>"So you see that my dream is not as extraordinary as you thought, after +all," replied the girl, smiling.</p> + +<p>"You are a doughty antagonist, and I will admit that<a name="page_284" id="page_284"></a> I am beaten, or +rather convinced, if you can answer one more objection as successfully."</p> + +<p>"And what is that?"</p> + +<p>"When a man loves, he loves body and soul; you must admit that. The +contemplation of the charming face of a beloved wife is as sweet to a +man as the realisation of her merits and virtues. Now, in a long +conversation that I had last evening with M. Onésime, at your +recommendation, remember, I asked him if he could see a person a few +feet off, distinctly. He replied that he could not, and remarked in this +connection that he had seen you plainly but once, and that was yesterday +when you were assisting Suzanne in binding up his hand. The most +inconceivable thing in your dream-marriage, after all, is a husband who +spends his life near his wife without ever seeing her except by +accident, as it were."</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, father, I, for my part, think such a state of affairs is not +without its advantages, after all."</p> + +<p>"Really, that is going a little too far, I think."</p> + +<p>"I will prove it to you if you wish."</p> + +<p>"I defy you to do it."</p> + +<p>"But, father, I have read somewhere that nothing could be more +sacrilegious than to leave always exposed to view the portraits of one's +loved ones; for the eye finally becomes so accustomed to these +lineaments that the effect is perceptibly impaired."</p> + +<p>"There may be some truth in this remark, but I do not perceive any +special advantage to be derived from it so far as you are concerned."</p> + +<p>"But if, on the contrary, these portraits are in a case that is opened +only when one desires to contemplate the beloved features, the +impression produced upon you is powerful in proportion to the rarity of +the treat."</p> + +<p>"Your reasoning is fairly good, to say the least; but how about the +other party, the person that can see? She will be obliged to close her +eyes, I suppose, and keep<a name="page_285" id="page_285"></a> them closed, to prevent her husband's +features from losing their charm."</p> + +<p>"Are you really in earnest in making this objection?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly I am."</p> + +<p>"Then I will merely say in reply that, though I put myself in M. +Onésime's place for a moment, that is no reason why I should renounce my +own excellent eye-sight, for I am not in the least afraid that I should +ever tire of looking at my husband any more than I tire of looking at +you, my dear father, and I know I could gaze at your face a hundred +years without growing weary of reading on your noble features all your +devoted tenderness for me," added Sabine, kissing her father fondly.</p> + +<p>"My dear, dear child," murmured Cloarek, responding to his daughter's +fervent caress, "how can I hope to contend successfully with your heart +and reason. I must acknowledge myself beaten, I suppose, and confess +that your dream is not so unreasonable, perhaps, after all, and that a +woman might perhaps marry such a terribly near-sighted man if she really +loved him. Nevertheless, in spite of your romantic way of regarding poor +Onésime's infirmity, I should infinitely prefer—But, now I think of +it—"</p> + +<p>"Well, father?"</p> + +<p>"During my travels I have heard a good deal about a young and +wonderfully skilful surgeon,—a terrible gourmand, too, they say he is, +by the way. It is his only fault, I understand. This young surgeon +established himself in Paris a few years ago, and his fame has grown, +until he is now considered one of the greatest celebrities of the +scientific world. It is possible that he may be able to restore this +poor fellow's sight."</p> + +<p>"Do you really suppose there is any hope of that?" cried Sabine.</p> + +<p>"I cannot say, my child, but I know several wonderful cures that Doctor +Gasterini has effected, and I will write to him this very day. I am +going out for a little<a name="page_286" id="page_286"></a> while, but I shall be back in an hour, and as I +shall want to see you as soon as I return, you had better wait for me +here."</p> + +<p>On leaving Sabine, Cloarek went up to Onésime's room, and, desiring that +their conversation should be of the most secret character and free from +any possibility of interruption, he asked that young man to accompany +him on a promenade he intended to take on the beach before dinner.<a name="page_287" id="page_287"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XV-b" id="CHAPTER_XV-b"></a>CHAPTER XV.<br /><br /> +<small>AN UNWELCOME VISITOR.</small></h3> + +<p>Soon after M. Cloarek left the house in company with Onésime, Segoffin +might have been seen standing on the garden terrace with an old +spy-glass levelled on an object that seemed to be absorbing his +attention and exciting his surprise and curiosity to the highest pitch.</p> + +<p>The object was a vessel that he had just discovered in the offing and +that elicited the following comments as he watched its evolutions.</p> + +<p>"It seems preposterous! Am I dreaming, or is that really our brig? It +must be! That rigging, that mast, those lines, are certainly hers, and +yet it cannot be. That is not her hull. With her barbette guns she sat +as low in the water as a whaler. I don't see a single gun poking its +nose out of this craft, though. No, no, it is not, of course it is not. +This vessel is painted a dark gray, while the <i>Hell-hound</i> was black +with scarlet stripes. And yet that big sail perched so rakishly over the +stem, that rigging fine as a spider's web, there never was a vessel +built except the <i>Hell-hound</i> that could carry such a stretch of canvas +as that. But what an ass I am! She is putting about, so there's a sure +way of satisfying myself of the identity I wish to verify, as M. Yvon +used to say when he wore the robes of office and amused himself by +throwing chief justices out of the window,—that is to read the name on +her stern, as I shall be able to do in a minute or two, and—"</p> + +<p>But Segoffin's soliloquy was here interrupted by a<a name="page_288" id="page_288"></a> familiar tap on the +shoulder, and, turning quickly, he found himself face to face with +Suzanne.</p> + +<p>"That which is done can not be undone, but the devil take you, my dear, +for disturbing me just at this time!" exclaimed M. Cloarek's head +gunner, raising his glass to his eye again.</p> + +<p>But unfortunately he was too late. The brig had completed the evolution, +and the name on her stern was no longer visible, so the verification of +her identity which Segoffin contemplated had become impossible.</p> + +<p>"So the devil may have me and welcome, may he?" responded Suzanne, +tartly. "You are very polite, I must say."</p> + +<p>"Frankness is a duty between old friends like ourselves," said Segoffin, +casting a regretful glance seaward. "I came here to amuse myself by +watching the passing ships, and you had to come and interrupt me."</p> + +<p>"You are right; frankness is a duty between us, Segoffin, so I may as +well tell you, here and now, that no stone-deaf person was ever harder +to wake than you."</p> + +<p>"How do you know? Unfortunately for me and for you, Suzanne, you have +never had a chance to see how I sleep," responded the head gunner, with +a roguish smile.</p> + +<p>"You are very much mistaken, for I rapped at your door last night."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" exclaimed Segoffin, winking his only remaining eye with a +triumphant air, "I have often told you that you would come to it sooner +or later, and you have."</p> + +<p>"Come to what?" inquired the housekeeper, without the slightest +suspicion of her companion's real meaning.</p> + +<p>"To stealing alone and on tiptoe to my room to—"</p> + +<p>"You are an abominably impertinent creature, M. Segoffin. I rapped at +your door to ask your aid and protection."</p> + +<p>"Against whom?"</p> + +<p>"But you are such a coward that you just lay there<a name="page_289" id="page_289"></a> pretending to be +asleep and taking good care not to answer me."</p> + +<p>"Tell me seriously, Suzanne,—what occurred last night? Did you really +think you needed me?"</p> + +<p>"Hear that, will you! They might have set fire to the house and murdered +us, it wouldn't have made the slightest difference to you. M. Segoffin +was snug in bed and there he remained."</p> + +<p>"Set fire to the house and murdered you! What on earth do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I mean that two men tried to break into this house last night."</p> + +<p>"They were two of your lovers, doubtless."</p> + +<p>"Segoffin!"</p> + +<p>"You had probably made a mistake in the date—"</p> + +<p>But the head gunner never finished the unseemly jest. His usually +impassive features suddenly assumed an expression of profound +astonishment, succeeded by one of fear and anxiety. The change, in fact, +was so sudden and so striking that Dame Roberts, forgetting her +companion's impertinent remarks, exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Good Heavens, Segoffin, what is the matter with you? What are you +looking at in that way?"</p> + +<p>And following the direction of Segoffin's gaze, she saw a stranger, +preceded by Thérèse, advancing toward them. The newcomer was a short, +stout man with a very prominent abdomen. He wore a handsome blue coat, +brown cassimere knee-breeches, high top-boots, and a long white +waistcoat, across which dangled a double watch-chain lavishly decorated +with a number of charms. In one hand he held a light cane with which he +gaily switched the dust from his boots, and in the other he held his +hat, which he had gallantly removed at the first sight of Dame Roberts. +This newcomer was Floridor Verduron, the owner of the brig <i>Hell-hound</i>, +usually commanded by Captain l'Endurci.</p> + +<p>Up to this time Cloarek had concealed from Verduron<a name="page_290" id="page_290"></a> his real name as +well as the motives which had led him to take up privateering. He had +also taken special pains to keep his place of abode a secret from the +owner of the privateer, a mutual friend having always served as an +intermediary between the captain and the owner. Consequently, the dismay +of the head gunner can be readily imagined when he reflected that, as +the captain's real name and address had been discovered by M. Verduron, +and that gentleman was wholly ignorant of the double part M. Cloarek was +playing, his very first words were likely to unwittingly reveal a secret +of the gravest importance. M. Verduron's presence also explained, at +least in part, the arrival of the brig Segoffin had seen a short time +before, and which he fancied he recognised under the sort of disguise he +could not yet understand.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, M. Floridor Verduron was coming nearer and nearer. Suzanne +noted this fact, and remarked:</p> + +<p>"Who can this gentleman be? What a red face he has! I never saw him +before. Why don't you answer me, Segoffin? Good Heavens, how strangely +you look! And you are pale, very much paler than usual."</p> + +<p>"It is the redness of this man's face that makes me look pale by +contrast, I suppose," replied Segoffin, seeing himself confronted by a +danger he was powerless to avert.</p> + +<p>The servant, who was a few steps in advance of the visitor, now said to +Suzanne:</p> + +<p>"Dame Roberts, here is a gentleman who wishes to see the master on very +important business, he says."</p> + +<p>"You know very well that monsieur has gone out."</p> + +<p>"That is what I told the gentleman, but he said he would wait for his +return, as he must see monsieur."</p> + +<p>As Thérèse finished her explanation of the intrusion, M. Verduron, who +prided himself upon his good manners, and who had won fame in his +earlier days as a skilful dancer of the minuet, paused about five yards +from Dame Roberts and made her a very low bow, with his<a name="page_291" id="page_291"></a> elbows +gracefully rounded, his heels touching each other, and his feet forming +the letter V.</p> + +<p>Dame Roberts, flattered by the homage rendered to her sex, responded +with a ceremonious curtsey, saying <i>sotto voce</i> to Segoffin the while, +with a sarcastically reproachful air:</p> + +<p>"Notice how a polite gentleman ought to accost a lady."</p> + +<p>M. Floridor Verduron, advancing a couple of steps, made another profound +bow, to which Suzanne responded with equal deference, murmuring to +Segoffin as if to pique him or arouse his emulation:</p> + +<p>"These are certainly the manners of a grandee,—of an ambassador, in +fact."</p> + +<p>The head gunner, instead of replying, however, tried to get as much out +of sight as possible behind an ever-green. M. Verduron's third and last +salute (he considered three bows obligatory) was too much like the +others to deserve any especial mention, and he was about to address +Suzanne when he caught sight of the head gunner.</p> + +<p>"What! you here?" he exclaimed, with a friendly nod. "I didn't see you, +you old sea-wolf. And how is your eye getting along?"</p> + +<p>"I have no use of it, as you see, M. Verduron, but don't let's talk +about that, I beg of you. I have my reasons."</p> + +<p>"I should think so, my poor fellow, for it would be rather making light +of misfortune, wouldn't it, madame?" asked the visitor, turning to +Suzanne, who bowed her assent with great dignity, and then said:</p> + +<p>"The servant tells me you wish to see M. Cloarek on pressing business, +monsieur."</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear madame, very pressing," replied the ship owner, gallantly. +"It is doubtless to monsieur's wife I have the honour of speaking, and +in that case, I—"</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, monsieur, I am only the housekeeper."<a name="page_292" id="page_292"></a></p> + +<p>"What! the cap—"</p> + +<p>But the first syllable of the word captain had not left the ship owner's +lips before the head gunner shouted at the top of his voice, at the same +time seizing Suzanne suddenly by the arm:</p> + +<p>"In Heaven's name, look! See there!"</p> + +<p>The housekeeper was so startled that she uttered a shrill cry and did +not even hear the dread syllable the visitor had uttered, but when she +had partially recovered from her alarm, she exclaimed, sharply:</p> + +<p>"Really, this is intolerable, Segoffin. You gave me such a scare I am +all of a tremble now."</p> + +<p>"But look over there," insisted the head gunner, pointing toward the +cliffs; "upon my word of honour, one can hardly believe one's eyes."</p> + +<p>"What is it? What do you see?" asked the ship owner, gazing intently in +the direction indicated.</p> + +<p>"It seems impossible, I admit. I wouldn't have believed it myself if +anybody had told me."</p> + +<p>"What is it? What are you talking about?" demanded Suzanne, her +curiosity now aroused, in spite of her ill-humour.</p> + +<p>"It is unaccountable," mused the head gunner, to all appearance lost in +a sort of admiring wonder. "It is enough to make one wonder whether one +is awake or only dreaming."</p> + +<p>"But what is it you see?" cried the ship owner, no less impatiently than +the housekeeper. "What are you talking about? Where must we look?"</p> + +<p>"You see that cliff there to the left, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"To the left?" asked the ship owner, ingenuously, "to the left of what?"</p> + +<p>"To the left of the other, of course."</p> + +<p>"What other?" demanded Suzanne, in her turn.</p> + +<p>"What other? Why, don't you see that big white cliff that looks like a +dome?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered the ship owner.<a name="page_293" id="page_293"></a></p> + +<p>"Well, what of it?" snapped Suzanne.</p> + +<p>"Look, high up."</p> + +<p>"High up, Segoffin?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, on the side."</p> + +<p>"On the side?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, don't you see that bluish light playing on it?"</p> + +<p>"Bluish light?" repeated the ship owner, squinting up his eyes and +arching his hand over them to form a sort of shade.</p> + +<p>"Yes, high up, near the top! The deuce take me if it isn't turning red +now! Look, will you! Isn't it amazing? But come, M. Verduron, come, +let's get a closer look at it," added Segoffin, seizing the ship owner +by the arm and trying to drag him away.</p> + +<p>"One moment," exclaimed M. Verduron, releasing himself from the head +gunner's grasp, "to take a closer look at anything one must first have +seen it at a distance, and the devil take me if I can see anything at +all. And you, madame?"</p> + +<p>"I don't, I am sure, monsieur."</p> + +<p>Segoffin would perhaps have attempted to prolong the illusion by +endowing the light with all the other colours of the rainbow, but the +approach of another and even greater danger extinguished his inventive +genius.</p> + +<p>He heard Sabine's voice only a few feet from him, exclaiming:</p> + +<p>"What are you all looking at, my dear Suzanne?"</p> + +<p>"Mlle. Sabine!" Segoffin mentally exclaimed. "All is lost! Poor child! +Such a revelation will kill her, I fear."<a name="page_294" id="page_294"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XVI-b" id="CHAPTER_XVI-b"></a>CHAPTER XVI.<br /><br /> +<small>SEGOFFIN'S RUSE.</small></h3> + +<p>On seeing Sabine, M. Floridor Verduron began his reverential evolutions +all over again, and the girl returned his bows blushingly, for she had +not expected to meet a stranger in the garden.</p> + +<p>Segoffin, terrified at the thought that Cloarek's secret might be +revealed at any moment, resolved to get the visitor away at any cost; +so, interrupting him in the midst of his genuflections, he said:</p> + +<p>"And now, M. Verduron, if you will come with me I will take you to +monsieur at once."</p> + +<p>"But my father has gone out, Segoffin," said Sabine.</p> + +<p>"Never mind, mademoiselle, I know where to find him."</p> + +<p>"But it would be much better for monsieur to wait for my father here, I +think," insisted the girl. "He said he would soon be back, and if you go +out in search of him you run a great risk of missing him, Segoffin, and +of giving this gentleman a long walk for nothing, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"No, no, mademoiselle, it is such a delightful day monsieur will enjoy a +little walk, and I know a very pleasant road your father is sure to +return by."</p> + +<p>"But he might not return that way, Segoffin," interposed Suzanne, +favourably disposed toward the visitor, by reason of his extreme +politeness, and consequently anxious to enjoy his society as long as +possible.</p> + +<p>"But I tell you that—"<a name="page_295" id="page_295"></a></p> + +<p>"My good friend," interrupted M. Verduron, "I must admit that I am too +gallant, or rather not sufficiently unselfish, to debar myself of the +pleasure of waiting here for the return of—"</p> + +<p>"Very well, very well," interposed Segoffin, quickly, "we won't say any +more about it. I thought mine would be the better plan; but it doesn't +matter in the least, in fact, now I think of it, there is something +particular that I want to speak to you about. I only ask two minutes of +your time—"</p> + +<p>"Two minutes, fair ladies!" exclaimed the visitor, laughing, "as if two +minutes spent out of such delightful society was not two centuries of +time."</p> + +<p>"Ah, monsieur, you are really too kind," exclaimed Suzanne, bridling +coquettishly in her delight at this new compliment.</p> + +<p>"You will have to make up your mind to it, Segoffin," said Sabine, who +was beginning to find M. Verduron very amusing.</p> + +<p>"But I really must speak to you in private, monsieur, and at once," +exclaimed the head gunner, greatly alarmed now.</p> + +<p>"Come, come, my worthy friend, don't speak in such thunder tones, you +will frighten these fair ladies," said M. Verduron, too anxious to +exercise his fascinations upon the ladies to comply with Segoffin's +request. "I will promise you a private audience after they have deprived +us of the light of their presence, but not until then."</p> + +<p>"But at least listen to what I have to say," insisted poor Segoffin, +desperate now, and trying to get near enough to the visitor to whisper a +few words in his ear.</p> + +<p>But that gentleman hastily drew back with a loud laugh.</p> + +<p>"No whispering in the presence of ladies, man! What do you take me for, +a savage, a cannibal? This indiscreet<a name="page_296" id="page_296"></a> friend of mine seems to be +resolved to ruin me in your estimation, my dear ladies."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you have no idea how obstinate M. Segoffin is," remarked Suzanne. +"When he once gets anything into his head there is no moving him."</p> + +<p>The head gunner made no reply. Foiled in his efforts to get the visitor +away, he now came a little closer to the trio, with the expression of a +person who is prepared for the worst.</p> + +<p>"So it is to Mlle. Cloarek that I have the honour of speaking," said the +ship owner, gallantly, turning to Sabine.</p> + +<p>"Yes, monsieur, and you, I understand, are one of my father's friends."</p> + +<p>"He has no more devoted friend and admirer, I assure you, mademoiselle. +I should be very ungrateful if I were not; I am under such great +obligations to him."</p> + +<p>"My father has been fortunate enough to render you some service, then, +monsieur."</p> + +<p>"Some service, mademoiselle? He has made my fortune for me."</p> + +<p>"Your fortune, and how?" asked Sabine, much surprised.</p> + +<p>"Why, mademoiselle," interrupted Segoffin, hastily, "it is in this +gentleman's interest that your father has made so many—so many trips."</p> + +<p>"That is true, mademoiselle," replied the ship owner, "and every one, +almost without exception, has yielded rich returns."</p> + +<p>"Yes, he is a great manufacturer," whispered Segoffin, edging in between +Sabine and Suzanne. "We sell lots of goods for him during our trips."</p> + +<p>"Then you are at least partially accountable for the anxiety which my +father's frequent absences cause me, monsieur," remarked Sabine.</p> + +<p>"And you have no idea how unreasonable mademoiselle is, monsieur," +chimed in Suzanne. "She frets just<a name="page_297" id="page_297"></a> as much as if her father were really +in some danger—"</p> + +<p>"Some danger! Ah, my dear lady, you may well say—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is astonishing how people deceive themselves," interrupted +Segoffin, with great volubility. "Everybody thinks that everybody else +has an easy time of it, and because a person makes a good deal of money, +other people think he has only to stop and rake it up."</p> + +<p>"Appearances are, indeed, very deceitful, my dear young lady," remarked +the ship owner, "and though your father makes so light of the danger he +incurs, I assure you that in the last fight—"</p> + +<p>"Fight?" exclaimed the young girl, in astonishment; "fight?"</p> + +<p>"What fight are you speaking of, monsieur?" asked Suzanne, in her turn, +no less amazed.</p> + +<p>"Why, a desperate fight, a fight to the death," whispered Segoffin, +"with a merchant who didn't find our goods to his taste, but M. Cloarek +and I finally succeeded so well in bringing him around to our way of +thinking that he ended by taking a hundred pieces from us—"</p> + +<p>"What on earth is the fellow talking about, my dear ladies?" cried M. +Verduron, who had tried several times to interrupt Segoffin, but in +vain. "Has my worthy friend gone stark, staring mad?"</p> + +<p>"Mad!" exclaimed Segoffin, in a voice of thunder. Then advancing toward +M. Verduron, he said, in threatening tones:</p> + +<p>"You call me a madman, do you, you old rascal!"</p> + +<p>For the fact is the head gunner, finding himself at the end of his +resources, and despairing of averting the evil moment much longer, had +resolved upon heroic measures; so, taking advantage of the amazement of +the ship owner, who was very naturally stupefied by this sudden change +of manner, Segoffin continued, in still more violent tones:<a name="page_298" id="page_298"></a></p> + +<p>"Yes, you are an insolent old rascal, and if you try any more of your +impudence on me, I'll shake you out of your boots."</p> + +<p>"Segoffin, what are you saying, in Heaven's name?" cried Sabine, all of +a tremble.</p> + +<p>"What! you have the audacity to speak to me in this way, and in the +presence of ladies, too!" exclaimed the ship owner.</p> + +<p>"Take mademoiselle away from here at once," Segoffin said to Suzanne, +<i>sotto voce</i>. "We are going to have a row, and it will be sure to throw +her into a spasm. Get her away, get her away at once, I say."</p> + +<p>Then, rushing upon the ship owner, and seizing him by the collar, he +shouted:</p> + +<p>"I've a great mind to hurl you down the cliff through that gap in the +wall, you old bergamot-scented fop."</p> + +<p>"Why, this poor man has gone stark, staring mad. Did any one ever see +the like of it? What has happened to him?" stammered the amazed visitor.</p> + +<p>"In God's name, take mademoiselle away!" thundered Segoffin, again +turning to the housekeeper.</p> + +<p>That lady, seeing Sabine turn pale and tremble like a leaf, had not +waited to hear this injunction repeated before trying to lead Sabine to +the house, but the young girl, in spite of her terror and the +housekeeper's entreaties, could not be induced to leave the spot, +deeming it cowardly to desert her father's friend under such +circumstances; so, releasing herself from Suzanne's grasp, she +approached the two men and cried, indignantly:</p> + +<p>"Segoffin, your conduct is outrageous. In my father's name I command you +to stop such scandalous behaviour at once."</p> + +<p>"Help, help, he is strangling me!" murmured M. Verduron, feebly. "Ah, +when the captain—"</p> + +<p>The word captain sealed the ship owner's fate. In the twinkling of an +eye Segoffin had seized M. Verduron around the waist, and had sprung +with him over the low<a name="page_299" id="page_299"></a> parapet on to the grassy slope below, where, +still locked in each other's arms, they rolled unharmed to the bottom of +the cliff, while Sabine, unable to control the terror which this last +incident had excited, swooned in Suzanne's arms.</p> + +<p>"Help, Thérèse, help! Mademoiselle has fainted; help!" cried the +housekeeper. The servant came running in answer to the summons, and with +her assistance Sabine was carried to the house.</p> + +<p>This call was heard by Segoffin, who at once said to himself: "There is +no farther cause for fear; our secret is safe!"</p> + +<p>So he released his hold upon M. Floridor Verduron, who staggered to his +feet, panting and dishevelled, and so angry that he was unable to utter +a word, though his eyes spoke volumes. Segoffin, profiting by this +silence, said to the ship owner, with the most good-humoured air +imaginable, quite as if they were continuing a friendly conversation, in +fact:</p> + +<p>"Now, my dear M. Verduron, I will explain why I was obliged to force you +to follow me to this rather lonely retreat."</p> + +<p>"Wretch, how dare you insult me in this fashion?" yelled the ship owner, +exasperated beyond endurance by the head gunner's coolness.</p> + +<p>"It was all your fault, M. Verduron."</p> + +<p>"My fault? How outrageous!"</p> + +<p>"I asked you to give me a moment's conversation in private, but you +wouldn't do it, so I was obliged to resort to this little manœuvre to +secure it."</p> + +<p>"Very well, very well, we will see what the captain says about all this. +To place me in such a position, and in the presence of ladies!"</p> + +<p>"I really ask your pardon for the liberty I took, M. Verduron," said +Segoffin, seriously enough this time, "but upon my honour I was +absolutely compelled to do it."<a name="page_300" id="page_300"></a></p> + +<p>"What! you dare—"</p> + +<p>"Listen to me. For several very important reasons M. Cloarek has +carefully concealed from his daughter the fact that he has been engaged +in privateering."</p> + +<p>"Is that really so?" exclaimed the ship owner, his wrath giving place to +profound astonishment. "Possibly that is the reason he took such pains +to conceal his real name and address from me, then."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and in order to explain his frequent absences he has given his +daughter to understand that he sells dry goods on a commission, so you +can understand my embarrassment when I saw you drop down upon us from +the clouds."</p> + +<p>"But why didn't you ask me to keep the secret?"</p> + +<p>"That was what I wanted to speak to you in private about. After you +refused, it was like treading on live coals to continue the +conversation, and when I saw you were certain to let the cat out of the +bag there was nothing for me to do but tumble you down the cliff to get +you away from Mlle. Sabine and the housekeeper. It was pretty rough +treatment, I admit, but I could see no other way out of the difficulty."</p> + +<p>"I forgive you, Segoffin," said M. Verduron, magnanimously. "I must even +admit that it was very clever of you to—"</p> + +<p>"Where are they? Where are they?" shouted M. Cloarek's voice high above +their heads.</p> + +<p>"They both fell over the cliff, monsieur," replied the voice of Thérèse.</p> + +<p>Almost immediately Yvon's head appeared above the parapet.</p> + +<p>On seeing the ship owner, he stood a moment as if stupefied, then +remembering that M. Verduron's presence imperilled the secret he was so +anxious to guard, he exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Damnation! You here, monsieur! How dare you—"<a name="page_301" id="page_301"></a></p> + +<p>But with three bounds Segoffin had reached the brow of the cliff.</p> + +<p>"Don't be alarmed; Mlle. Sabine and Suzanne know nothing," he cried.</p> + +<p>"Thank God! I can breathe again!" murmured Cloarek, relieved of a +terrible apprehension.<a name="page_302" id="page_302"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XVII-b" id="CHAPTER_XVII-b"></a>CHAPTER XVII.<br /><br /> +<small>THE VOICE OF THE TEMPTER.</small></h3> + +<p>Cloarek, reassured in regard to the probable consequences of the ship +owner's visit, was anxious to ascertain the object of his coming, but it +was first necessary to devise some way of helping him up the cliff, so +Segoffin went in search of a rope. They threw one end of it to M. +Verduron, and he soon made the ascent, thanks to its aid.</p> + +<p>"Come in the house," said Cloarek, without making any attempt to conceal +his annoyance. "I want to know why you ventured to come and search me +out when I had taken such pains to conceal my identity."</p> + +<p>"Well, to make a long story short, I came to hold a council of war with +you."</p> + +<p>"A council of war? Are you mad?"</p> + +<p>"By no means, my brave captain, as you will profit by it to the extent +of at least four or five hundred thousand francs."</p> + +<p>"In other words, you want me to put to sea again, I suppose. But one +question, here and now: What right had you to make a confidential letter +that I wrote to you—what right, I say, had you to make such a letter +public?"</p> + +<p>"I thought it would give such pleasure to the many readers of the +<i>Journal</i>, all of whom are hungering for news of the bravest and most +renowned of privateers."</p> + +<p>"You are very complimentary, I am sure, but this indiscretion on your +part has annoyed me greatly."<a name="page_303" id="page_303"></a></p> + +<p>"In that case your modesty will certainly suffer very much from the +article in to-day's paper."</p> + +<p>"What article? Let me tell you once for all—"</p> + +<p>"Don't be alarmed, my dear captain. It merely described how the brave +Captain l'Endurci conducted an attack, how like a tiger he fought, etc. +It said nothing in relation to his private life."</p> + +<p>"This is unbearable," said Cloarek, impatiently, though he was in +reality greatly relieved.</p> + +<p>"I was certainly actuated by no evil motive, in any event; besides, as +Segoffin says, there is no undoing that which is done, or words to that +effect."</p> + +<p>"It is useless to discuss the matter further. You came here to ask me to +put to sea again. I shall do nothing of the kind. That is the end of +it."</p> + +<p>"But it is not the end of it by any means, my dear captain. Just give me +your attention for a moment. A three-master belonging to the East India +Company, with two million francs in bullion, will soon be along. Two +million francs, do you hear?"</p> + +<p>"If she had ten millions aboard it would make no difference to me. I +shall not put to sea again. I have said it, and I mean it."</p> + +<p>"It is true that you have said so, my dear captain, but you will change +your mind—for many reasons."</p> + +<p>"I never go back on my word, monsieur."</p> + +<p>"No more do I; but often, and in spite of ourselves, circumstances +force—"</p> + +<p>"Once again I tell you that I said no, and no it is."</p> + +<p>"You said no, I admit! You will say yes, too, my dear captain," +responded the ship owner, with an air of profound conviction.</p> + +<p>"Enough, M. Verduron, enough!" cried Cloarek, stamping his foot, +angrily.</p> + +<p>"Don't irritate M. Yvon," Segoffin remarked to the ship owner, <i>sotto +voce</i>. "I know him. You'll only bring down a terrific storm upon your +head."<a name="page_304" id="page_304"></a></p> + +<p>"All I ask, my dear captain," persisted M. Verduron, "is that you will +give me your attention for five minutes, that is all."</p> + +<p>"Go on, then."</p> + +<p>"You will see by this clipping from an English newspaper,—and the +sources of information seem to be perfectly trustworthy, by the +way,—you will see that the British cruiser <i>Vanguard</i> which is +convoying the richly laden vessel is commanded by Captain Blake."</p> + +<p>"Captain Blake?"</p> + +<p>"The same," replied the ship owner. "He is, as you know, one of the most +daring officers in the British navy, and, unfortunately for us, he has +always come off victorious in his encounters with our vessels."</p> + +<p>"Oh, if I could only have been lucky enough to get a shot at him!" +muttered Segoffin.</p> + +<p>"You will, never fear, you old sea-wolf. As for you, my dear captain, +your silence means consent, I am sure. Think of the honour, as well as +the profit, to be derived from the operation: four or five hundred +thousand francs and the <i>Vanguard</i> in tow of the <i>Hell-hound</i>, all in +forty-eight hours."</p> + +<p>Segoffin, who had been accustomed for years to make a profound study of +his employer's physiognomy, and who had been carefully noting the effect +of these proposals, said in a low tone to the ship owner, shaking his +head the while:</p> + +<p>"The bait is tempting, but he isn't going to swallow it this time."</p> + +<p>His prognostications proved correct; the flush of anger gradually faded +from Cloarek's face; his contracted features relaxed, and it was calmly, +half-smilingly, that he at last said to M. Verduron:</p> + +<p>"You are a clever tempter, but I have a talisman against you. It is the +promise I have made to my daughter not to leave her again. You have seen +her, and you must feel that I shall keep my word."<a name="page_305" id="page_305"></a></p> + +<p>"Mlle. Cloarek is a charming girl. There is not the slightest doubt of +that, my dear captain, but you would be very foolish to miss such a fine +opportunity as this."</p> + +<p>"It is impossible, I tell you."</p> + +<p>"Help me persuade him, Segoffin, and then you will get your wished-for +shot at Captain Blake, I promise you."</p> + +<p>"Segoffin knows that I never break my word, M. Verduron. I said no, and +no it is."</p> + +<p>"<i>Sacre bleu!</i> it is amazing how atrociously selfish some people are!" +exclaimed the ship owner, highly incensed by Cloarek's refusal.</p> + +<p>"You must be jesting, M. Verduron," responded Cloarek, who could not +help smiling at this outbreak. "It is all very easy for you to talk +about stirring conflicts. I, for my part, should like to know which is +the most selfish, you who remain safe and comfortable in your office at +Dieppe, or the sailor who mans your ship, and exposes himself to all the +perils of deadly combats."</p> + +<p>"You talk as if I had to run no risk whatever," exclaimed Verduron. "You +forget to say anything about the bullets I receive."</p> + +<p>"Well, upon my word! I never knew before that you, too, were in the +habit of exposing yourself to a shower of bullets!" cried Segoffin.</p> + +<p>"Isn't my vessel under fire if I am not? And how about all the repairs, +and all the damages your humble servant has to pay for? And the wounds, +and the legs and arms, you have forgotten what they cost me, I suppose. +Didn't I have to pay for five legs and three arms lost in that last +fight of yours? Reckon them up at the rate of fifty crowns a limb, and +see what they come to."</p> + +<p>"But you must remember that you don't have to pay a sou when a man loses +his head," retorted Segoffin.</p> + +<p>"This is no subject for jesting, I want you to understand," snapped the +ship owner, who was evidently<a name="page_306" id="page_306"></a> becoming more and more excited, "for am I +not doing everything on earth to secure you the best of crews? For don't +you think, yourself, captain, that the prospect of a small pension in +case of serious injuries encourages our sailors and makes regular devils +of them under fire? And yet when I am bleeding myself in this fashion, I +am repaid by the blackest ingratitude."</p> + +<p>"What you say is absurd," replied Cloarek, shrugging his shoulders. "I +have quadrupled your fortune."</p> + +<p>"And because Captain l'Endurci has made all the money he wants, he +doesn't care in the least whether other persons have or not," persisted +the ship owner.</p> + +<p>"There is not the slightest need of your working yourself into such a +passion, Verduron," replied Cloarek. "There are plenty of brave +sea-captains in Dieppe, thank Heaven! quite as capable of commanding the +<i>Hell-hound</i> and contending successfully with Captain Blake as I am."</p> + +<p>"Then you refuse, captain?"</p> + +<p>"For the tenth time, yes."</p> + +<p>"Positively?"</p> + +<p>"Positively."</p> + +<p>"Very well, then, captain," responded the ship owner, resolutely. "What +I have been unable to obtain by persuasion and entreaties, I shall +obtain in some other way."</p> + +<p>"What does he mean?" asked Cloarek, turning to Segoffin.</p> + +<p>"I mean that it is not easy to resign oneself to the loss of at least +half a million, captain," responded Verduron, threateningly; "so, though +I had no idea that you would persist in your refusal, I was prudent +enough to take my precautions."</p> + +<p>"Your precautions?"</p> + +<p>"The <i>Hell-hound</i> is now in Havre, where she arrived this morning."</p> + +<p>"Then it was the <i>Hell-hound</i> I saw!" cried Segoffin. "I thought I +couldn't be mistaken."<a name="page_307" id="page_307"></a></p> + +<p>"The brig is at Havre?" exclaimed Cloarek.</p> + +<p>"Yes, M. Yvon, but disguised beyond any possibility of recognition. She +has been painted gray with a broad yellow band, and not a sign of a gun +is visible."</p> + +<p>"And now will you be kind enough to tell me what all this signifies?" +demanded Cloarek.</p> + +<p>"It means that I have changed the appearance of the brig as much as +possible, because all the British cruisers are on the lookout for her, +and now, thanks to this disguise, you will be able to reach Jersey with +little or no trouble."</p> + +<p>"You are persistent, I must say," said Cloarek, restraining himself only +by a powerful effort.</p> + +<p>"Yes, captain, and what is more, I've got you, and I mean to keep you. +The crew are wild with enthusiasm; the prospect of another voyage under +you has made them frantic with delight. They expect to see you this +evening, and I warn you that if you are not in Havre within an hour, +they will be here in two hours."</p> + +<p>"What! You will dare—" began Cloarek, in a voice choked with anger.</p> + +<p>"I? Why, I have nothing to do with it, captain. It is your sailors that +you will have to deal with, and you have had a chance to find out +whether they are milk-sops or not. If you persist in your refusal, you +will see one hundred and fifty of those dare-devils here with drums and +fifes, and resolved to have their brave captain, whether or no. I am +afraid those drums and fifes will destroy your <i>incognito</i> effectually +this time."</p> + +<p>"Wretch!" roared Cloarek, realising how entirely feasible the ship +owner's plan was, and he would have precipitated himself upon his +tormentor if Segoffin had not suddenly interposed his own body between +the two men and said to Cloarek:</p> + +<p>"Remember that there are white hairs under his musk-scented powder, M. +Yvon."</p> + +<p>"Oh, knock me down! Kill me, if you like! that will<a name="page_308" id="page_308"></a> not prevent the +crew from coming for you, nor you from going with them," snarled the +ship owner.</p> + +<p>"Don't talk so loud, gentlemen, I beg of you. I hear somebody coming +now."</p> + +<p>In another instant Suzanne appeared, pale and terrified.</p> + +<p>"Oh, monsieur,—come,—come quick!" she cried.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle—"</p> + +<p>"Is my daughter worse?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, monsieur, I am so frightened,—come, come!"</p> + +<p>Cloarek, forgetting everything else in his alarm, rushed off, leaving +Segoffin and the ship owner alone together.</p> + +<p>"M. Verduron, I tell you very plainly, you have had a narrow escape," +said the head gunner. "I have only one piece of advice to give you. Get +away from here as soon as possible."</p> + +<p>"You may be right," replied the visitor, hastily picking up his hat and +cane.</p> + +<p>"I am right."</p> + +<p>"Well, listen to me. You know I mean well, and I must admit now that I +am sorry I tried to carry things with such a high hand, for I had no +idea that the captain had a daughter, or that he was so anxious to +conceal the fact that he was a privateer; but no power on earth now, not +even that of the captain himself, can prevent those devilish sailors +from coming here in search of him if he does not go to them, so you had +better tell him, in any case, that the ship's officers and a part of the +crew are waiting for him at the tavern known as The Golden Anchor on the +quay."</p> + +<p>The ship owner hastened off and Segoffin darted into the house to +inquire if there was any improvement in Sabine's condition.<a name="page_309" id="page_309"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII-b" id="CHAPTER_XVIII-b"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.<br /><br /> +<small>"MY MOTHER'S MURDERER STILL LIVES."</small></h3> + +<p>Segoffin had been pacing the hall out of which Sabine's sitting-room +opened for about half an hour with ever-increasing anxiety before +Suzanne came out.</p> + +<p>"Well, how is mademoiselle?" he asked, anxiously. "Tell me, Suzanne, how +is she?"</p> + +<p>"A nice question to ask, truly, when your brutality toward that +estimable gentleman this morning threw mademoiselle into a frightful +nervous spasm."</p> + +<p>"I admit that I did very wrong, but she had got over that. M. Yvon told +me so when he came out into the garden. What happened afterward to upset +her so again?"</p> + +<p>"Alas! the one great sorrow of her life has been recalled to her +remembrance more vividly than ever!"</p> + +<p>"You refer to her poor mother's death, of course."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and she has just been talking to M. Yvon about it. You can judge +how painful the conversation must have been to him."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" cried Segoffin, in alarm. "Is it possible that Mlle. +Sabine knows that terrible secret?"</p> + +<p>"No, thank Heaven! she does not, and I sincerely hope she never will."</p> + +<p>"I do not understand you then, Suzanne."</p> + +<p>"This is what caused all the trouble," said the housekeeper, drawing a +paper from her pocket.</p> + +<p>"What is that?"</p> + +<p>"The morning paper. It contains further details in<a name="page_310" id="page_310"></a> relation to that +famous privateer, Captain l'Endurci. Listen to what it says, and you +will then understand the situation."</p> + +<p>And opening the paper, Suzanne read the following extract from an +article headed, "Further Particulars in Relation to the Famous Corsair, +Captain l'Endurci:"</p> + +<p>"'The captain's personal appearance is well calculated to increase his +prestige, and each and every one of his men would willingly follow him +to the death.</p> + +<p>"'This intrepid corsair is about forty years of age. Though only of +medium height, he is remarkably agile and robust; his physiognomy is +both virile and expressive; his eagle eye, the imperious carriage of his +head, and his resolute bearing all show him to be a man born to command. +His real name and origin is shrouded in mystery, but many persons are of +the opinion that he is a native of Brittany, basing the supposition upon +the costume he always wears on shipboard. Others think the captain came +from some southern province, and that he adopted the Breton costume +merely from motives of convenience.</p> + +<p>"'However that may be, we are sure our readers will peruse with interest +a description of the costume this famous corsair always wears on +shipboard; in fact, it is even said that he attaches a superstitious +importance to the wearing of this garb, which consists of a long black +jacket and waistcoat trimmed with small silver buttons, a broad orange +sash into which his weapons are thrust, wide white linen trousers +similar to the <i>morphs</i> worn by the fishermen of Holland and the pilots +of the island of Batz, high leggings, and a low, broad-brimmed felt +hat.'"</p> + +<p>After having read this extract the housekeeper remarked: "You see, +Segoffin, that this corsair wears a costume which is identical in every +respect with that worn by M. Cloarek on the night of madame's deplorable +death."</p> + +<p>"Yes; it makes me shudder to think of it," exclaimed<a name="page_311" id="page_311"></a> Segoffin, +interrupting her, "and on reading it, I suppose Mlle. Cloarek fancied +she saw in this corsair the mysterious personage who was the cause of +her mother's death."</p> + +<p>"Alas! yes, Segoffin, and she said to monsieur, in a sort of frenzy: +'Father, my mother's murderer still lives. Will you not avenge her?' You +can imagine M. Cloarek's feelings. To undeceive his daughter he would +have to accuse himself."</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle must have read the papers after M. Yvon's return, then, I +suppose."</p> + +<p>"Yes, monsieur came in about eleven o'clock. He looked radiant; my +nephew, who was with him, also seemed to be in the best of spirits. 'Is +my daughter in her room?' asked monsieur, gaily. 'I have some good news +for her.' Though I am no talebearer, there was nothing for me to do but +tell him about the altercation you and the worthy merchant had had in +the garden, and how much it had terrified mademoiselle."</p> + +<p>"Of course, but go on."</p> + +<p>"Monsieur ran up to his daughter's room and found that she had almost +entirely recovered from her attack. Soon afterward, Thérèse brought up +the paper as usual, and I, unfortunately, thinking it would divert +mademoiselle, gave it to her to read. When she came to the passage in +which the privateer's peculiar costume was described, she uttered a +terrible cry—But hush! here comes monsieur," exclaimed Suzanne, +hastily.</p> + +<p>Cloarek, with an expression of the gloomiest despair imprinted on his +features, and as pale as death, had just come out of his daughter's +room.</p> + +<p>"Go to her, Suzanne, she is asking for you," he said, hoarsely. "Come +with me, Segoffin."</p> + +<p>Segoffin silently followed his employer into his bedroom, where Cloarek, +throwing himself into an armchair, buried his face in his hands and +groaned aloud.</p> + +<p>On beholding this poignant grief, Segoffin felt his own<a name="page_312" id="page_312"></a> eyes grow moist +as he stood silent and motionless beside his master.</p> + +<p>"I can not understand how the recollection of that terrible night +impressed itself so deeply on that unfortunate child's memory," +exclaimed Cloarek, at last. "I shudder still as I think with what an +expression of horror she exclaimed, 'Father, father, my mother's +murderer still lives.' And as I gazed at her in a sort of stupor without +replying, she added, with all the energy of intense hatred, 'Father, I +tell you that the man who killed my mother, the man who killed your +wife, still lives. Her murder cries for vengeance, and this man still +lives.' And for the first time I saw an expression of hatred on my +daughter's gentle face, and I was the object of that hatred. This +terrible scene has reopened the wound again and revived my remorse, and +yet you know how much I have suffered, and how bitterly I have expiated +that momentary madness."</p> + +<p>"But the worst thing, after all, is this scheme of Verduron's, M. Yvon," +responded Segoffin, after a moment's silence.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is enough to drive one mad, for if I remain with my daughter +the crew is sure to come here."</p> + +<p>"That is absolutely certain. You know our men."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and Sabine will then learn that her father, Captain l'Endurci, and +her mother's murderer are all one and the same person, and this child, +upon whom I have concentrated all my affection for years,—this child +who is my only hope and joy and consolation in life,—will feel for me +henceforth only aversion and loathing."</p> + +<p>Then, after a few moments of gloomy reflection, he murmured, his eyes +wild, his lips contracted in a sardonic smile:</p> + +<p>"But nonsense! she is rich; she loves an honourable man, who loves her +in return. She will still have Suzanne and Segoffin. Instead of loathing +me, she shall mourn for me, and, so far as she is concerned, my<a name="page_313" id="page_313"></a> death +shall be enshrouded in the same mystery as my life."</p> + +<p>As he spoke Cloarek stepped toward a table on which a pair of pistols +were lying; but Segoffin, who had not once taken his eyes off his +employer, sprang forward and, seizing the pistols before the captain +could reach them, removed the charge and coolly replaced the weapons.</p> + +<p>"Wretch!" exclaimed Cloarek, seizing Segoffin by the collar, and shaking +him violently, "you shall pay dearly for your audacity."</p> + +<p>"Time presses, M. Yvon, and you have more important business on hand +than shaking poor old Segoffin. Your time is too precious for that!"</p> + +<p>The head gunner's coolness restored Cloarek to himself, and sinking +despondently into a chair, he said, gloomily:</p> + +<p>"You are right, I am a fool. What shall I do? My brain seems to be on +fire."</p> + +<p>"Do you really want to know what I think you had better do?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"I think you had better go to Havre immediately."</p> + +<p>"Leave Sabine in this condition? Increase her alarm by a hasty departure +and an incomprehensible absence after all my promises to her? Abandon +her when she needs my care and affection more than ever before,—at the +time she is about to marry, in short?"</p> + +<p>"Mlle. Sabine?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, the idea of this marriage was not at all pleasing to me at first, +but now I feel confident that my daughter's future will prove a happy +one; still, I ought to guide these children and surround them with the +tenderest paternal solicitude, and it is at a time like this that I must +put to sea again, and again risk my life now that it has become more +necessary than ever to Sabine. I have recovered my senses now, and +realise how mad I was to think of killing myself just now.<a name="page_314" id="page_314"></a> Thanks to +you, my tried and faithful friend, I have been saved from that crime."</p> + +<p>"I wish I could save you from the visit of our ship's crew as well, M. +Yvon. You must not forget that danger. If you do not go to them, they +will surely come to you."</p> + +<p>"Then I will go to them," exclaimed Cloarek, as if a way out of the +difficulty had suddenly presented itself to his mind. "Yes, I will go to +Havre at once, and tell my men that I have abandoned the sea, and that +it will be useless for them to attempt to coerce me. You know how +determined I am, and how little likelihood there is that I shall yield +to overpersuasion. You shall accompany me. You have considerable +influence over them, and you must exert it in my behalf. It is the only +means of averting the danger that threatens me. It is now two o'clock, +by three we shall be in Havre, and back home again by five. My daughter +is lying down, and will not even suspect my absence. To avert suspicion, +we will take a carriage at the inn."</p> + +<p>Cloarek had already started toward the door, when the head gunner +checked him by saying:</p> + +<p>"You are making a great mistake in one respect, M. Yvon."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"If you go to Havre you will not return here until after the cruise is +ended."</p> + +<p>"You are mad."</p> + +<p>"No, I am not mad."</p> + +<p>"You think my crew will carry me away by force, do you?"</p> + +<p>"It is very probable. Besides, when you are with the sailors again, you +will not have the strength to resist them."</p> + +<p>"I will not?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Not after the reasons I have just stated to you? I<a name="page_315" id="page_315"></a> shall be back here +by five o'clock, I tell you, and before my daughter has even discovered +my absence. Your fears are absurd. Come, I say."</p> + +<p>"You insist?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do."</p> + +<p>"That which is to be, will be," said Segoffin, shaking his head +dubiously, but following his employer for all that.</p> + +<p>After inquiring how Sabine was feeling, and learning that she had fallen +asleep, Cloarek started for Havre in company with his head gunner.<a name="page_316" id="page_316"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIX-b" id="CHAPTER_XIX-b"></a>CHAPTER XIX.<br /><br /> +<small>AFTER THE STORM.</small></h3> + +<p>Three days have elapsed since Yvon Cloarek left his home without +notifying his daughter of his intended departure, and this once pleasant +and tranquil abode shows traces of recent devastation almost everywhere.</p> + +<p>One of the out-buildings have been almost entirely destroyed by fire, +and pieces of blackened rubbish and half-burned rafters cover a part of +the garden.</p> + +<p>The door and several windows on the ground floor, which have been +shattered by an axe, have been replaced by boards; several large red +stains disfigure the walls, and several of the sashes in the second +story have been riddled with shot.</p> + +<p>It is midnight.</p> + +<p>By the light of a shaded lamp burning in one of the sleeping apartments, +one can dimly discern the form of Onésime, and the sheets of the bed on +which he is lying are stained with blood in several places.</p> + +<p>Suzanne's nephew seems to be asleep. His face is death-like in its +pallor, and a melancholy smile is playing upon his parted lips.</p> + +<p>An elderly woman in peasant garb is sitting by his bedside, watching him +with evident solicitude.</p> + +<p>The profound silence that pervades the room is broken by the cautious +opening and shutting of the door, and Dame Roberts steals on tiptoe up +to the bed, and, drawing one of the curtains a little aside, gazes in +upon her nephew with great anxiety.<a name="page_317" id="page_317"></a></p> + +<p>In three days Suzanne's features have become almost +unrecognisable,—sorrow, anxiety, and tears have wrought such ravages in +them.</p> + +<p>After gazing at Onésime in silence for several seconds, Suzanne stepped +back, and, beckoning the attendant to come closer, said to her, in a +whisper:</p> + +<p>"How has he been since I went out?"</p> + +<p>"He hasn't seemed to suffer quite as much, I think."</p> + +<p>"Has he complained at all?"</p> + +<p>"Very little. He has tried to question me several times, but I +remembered your orders and would tell him nothing."</p> + +<p>"He has recovered consciousness, then?"</p> + +<p>"Entirely, madame. It is very evident that he would be glad enough to +talk, if he could get any one to answer his questions."</p> + +<p>"Has he asked for me?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, madame, he said to me several times: 'My aunt will be in soon, +won't she?' I told him that you came in almost every half-hour. He made +a slight movement of the head to indicate that he thanked me, and then +he fell asleep, but only to wake with a start a few minutes afterward."</p> + +<p>"He doesn't seem to suffer much from his wound now, does he?"</p> + +<p>"No, madame, only he has had considerable difficulty in breathing once +or twice."</p> + +<p>"Heaven grant that his wound may not prove fatal!" exclaimed Suzanne, +clasping her hands imploringly, and raising her tearful eyes heavenward.</p> + +<p>"The surgeon assured you to the contrary, you know, madame."</p> + +<p>"He told me that he had hopes of his recovery, that is all, alas!"</p> + +<p>"I think he is waking, madame," whispered the peasant woman, for Onésime +had just made a slight movement and uttered a deep sigh.<a name="page_318" id="page_318"></a></p> + +<p>Suzanne peeped in again, and, seeing that Onésime was not asleep, she +said to the peasant:</p> + +<p>"Go down and get your dinner. I will ring for you when I want you."</p> + +<p>The nurse left the room, and Suzanne seated herself in the chair the +woman had just vacated.</p> + +<p>On hearing his aunt's voice, Onésime looked greatly relieved; and when +he saw her seat herself near him, he exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"So you have come at last! How glad I am!"</p> + +<p>"I heard you sigh just now, my dear boy, so you must still be suffering +just as much or more, I fear."</p> + +<p>"No; I feel much better."</p> + +<p>"You are not saying that merely to reassure me, I hope."</p> + +<p>"Take hold of my hand. You know how hot it was awhile ago."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is much cooler now, I see. And your wound, does it still +trouble you much?"</p> + +<p>"I have a little difficulty in breathing, that is all. The wound itself +doesn't amount to much."</p> + +<p>"Good Heavens! so a wound in the breast from a dagger is nothing, is +it?"</p> + +<p>"My dear aunt—"</p> + +<p>"What do you want?"</p> + +<p>"How is Mlle. Sabine?"</p> + +<p>"Everybody is well, very well, as I've told you before."</p> + +<p>"And M. Cloarek?"</p> + +<p>"There is no use in asking me so many questions. I sha'n't answer them. +By and by, when you are really better, it will be different."</p> + +<p>"Listen, aunt. You refuse to answer me for fear of agitating me too +much, but I swear to you that the uncertainty I am in concerning Mlle. +Sabine and M. Cloarek makes me miserable."</p> + +<p>"Everybody is getting on very well, I tell you."<a name="page_319" id="page_319"></a></p> + +<p>"No, aunt, no, that is impossible, after the terrible and still +inexplicable occurrence that—"</p> + +<p>"But, my dear nephew, I assure you—Come, come, don't be so impatient. +Can't you be a little more reasonable? Calm yourself, Onésime, I beg of +you!"</p> + +<p>"Is it my fault? Why will you persist in keeping me in such a state of +suspense?"</p> + +<p>"Don't I keep telling you that everybody is well?"</p> + +<p>"But I tell you that is impossible," exclaimed the young man, excitedly. +"What! do you mean to tell me that Mlle. Sabine, who starts and trembles +at the slightest sound, could see her home invaded by a furious band of +armed men, without sustaining a terrible, perhaps fatal, shock?"</p> + +<p>"But, Onésime, listen to me—"</p> + +<p>"Who knows but she may be dead, dead, and you are concealing it from me? +You think you are acting for the best, aunt, but you are mistaken. The +truth, no matter how terrible it may be, will do me much less harm than +this state of frightful uncertainty. Sleeping and waking, I am a prey to +the most terrible fears. I would a hundred times rather be dead than +live in this state of suspense."</p> + +<p>"Listen, then, but promise to be reasonable and have courage."</p> + +<p>"Courage? Ah, I knew that some terrible calamity had occurred."</p> + +<p>"Dear me! I knew it would be just this way whatever I said or did!" +cried poor Suzanne. "You see yourself that at the very first word I say +to you—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, my God! I had a presentiment of it. She is dead!"</p> + +<p>"No, no, she is living, she is living. I swear it! She has suffered +terribly,—she has been alarmingly ill, but her life is no longer in +danger."</p> + +<p>"It has been in danger, then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, for two days, but I have just seen her and<a name="page_320" id="page_320"></a> talked with her, and +there is no longer cause for the slightest anxiety."</p> + +<p>"God be thanked!" exclaimed Onésime, fervently. "And how much I thank +you, too, my dear aunt. Ah, if you knew how much good you have done me, +and how relieved I feel. Is M. Cloarek here?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Where is he?"</p> + +<p>"We do not know."</p> + +<p>"But that fatal night—"</p> + +<p>"He came home, and was slightly wounded in the fray, but no one has seen +him since."</p> + +<p>"And that strange attack upon the house, those frightful but +incomprehensible words which were uttered by Mlle. Sabine, and which I +seemed to hear as in a dream after I was hurt. These things puzzle me +so. Explain them, I beg of you."</p> + +<p>"In your present state of mind I can see that a refusal on my part might +prove dangerous."</p> + +<p>"Yes, very dangerous."</p> + +<p>"But I repeat that you must have courage, for—"</p> + +<p>"I will, aunt, I will."</p> + +<p>"You remember, do you not, that on the afternoon of that memorable day, +M. Cloarek, who had left for Havre without our knowing it, sent a +message to his daughter from that city telling her that she must not be +anxious about him, as some business matters might detain him until late +that night? You recollect that, do you not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"You remember, too, the fright we had the very evening of M. Cloarek's +arrival?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, about those two men Thérèse thought she saw."</p> + +<p>"The poor girl saw them only too plainly, as subsequent events have +proved, for two men, as we afterward learned, did effect an entrance +into the garden, not to break into the house, but to reconnoitre."<a name="page_321" id="page_321"></a></p> + +<p>"The two men belonged to this armed band, then, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"One of them was the leader of it."</p> + +<p>Just then the nurse reëntered the room and motioned to Suzanne that she +wished to speak to her.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" inquired Suzanne, in a low tone.</p> + +<p>"M. Segoffin has come."</p> + +<p>"And M. Cloarek?"</p> + +<p>"M. Segoffin is alone and wants to see Mlle. Sabine at once. Thérèse +went up to tell her, and she sent word for him to come right up to her +room."</p> + +<p>"Tell mademoiselle that I will come at once if she needs me."</p> + +<p>The nurse left the room again, and Suzanne returned to her nephew's +bedside to continue her conversation with him.<a name="page_322" id="page_322"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XX-b" id="CHAPTER_XX-b"></a>CHAPTER XX.<br /><br /> +<small>THE MIDNIGHT ATTACK.</small></h3> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">It</span> was no bad news that they came to tell you just now, was it, aunt?" +inquired Onésime, as Suzanne reseated herself near him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no; I will tell you what it was presently. Let me go on with my +story. You recollect Thérèse running in to tell us that the stable was +on fire, and that a band of armed men were attacking the house?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; what a terrible night it was!"</p> + +<p>"I shall never forget the mingled terror and admiration I felt at the +courage you displayed. I can hear you saying now: 'Flight is impossible; +I cannot preserve you from danger, my infirmity, alas! prevents that, +but I can at least make a rampart of my body for your protection;' and, +arming yourself with an iron bar wrenched from one of the shutters, you +rushed to the door, and alone and unaided guarded the entrance to the +room with truly supernatural courage and strength."</p> + +<p>"Don't speak of that, my dear aunt. Really, I—"</p> + +<p>"What! not speak of it when the recollection of your bravery and +devotion is the only consolation I have when I see you lying here. No, +the most determined resistance I ever read of paled beside yours. +Entrenched in the doorway, the iron bar became a formidable weapon in +your hands, and though your defective vision prevented you from aiming +your blows very accurately, those who came within reach of your arm fell +at your feet, one by one."<a name="page_323" id="page_323"></a></p> + +<p>"How terrified Mlle. Sabine must have been! Timid as she is, she must +have died a thousand deaths during that brief struggle."</p> + +<p>"You are very much mistaken, my friend. The courage and strength of +character she displayed in that trying hour amazed me. I can see her now +standing there pale but resolute. Her first words were: 'Thank God, I +shall die alone, my father is absent.' Then, pointing to you, she said, +exultantly: 'Do you admit that he is brave now? He is confronting death +unflinchingly for our sakes, but we shall at least perish with him.' And +when, overpowered, by numbers, you were at last struck down, and four of +the men, the leader with his arm in a sling, burst into the room, she +showed even greater heroism. 'Onésime is dead!' she exclaimed. 'It is +our turn now! Farewell, Suzanne,' she added, clasping me in her arms, +and murmuring, softly, 'Farewell, dear father, farewell.'"</p> + +<p>"Loving and courageous to the last!" exclaimed Onésime, with tears both +in his voice and eyes.</p> + +<p>"I felt much less resigned. I had just seen you fall bleeding across the +threshold, and I threw myself at the feet of the leader, begging for +mercy. With a gesture he commanded the men to pause, and then, turning +to me, demanded, in a threatening voice: 'Where is Captain l'Endurci?'"</p> + +<p>"Captain l'Endurci?" repeated Onésime, in great surprise. "Why did they +come here to look for Captain l'Endurci? Besides, these men were +Englishmen. I remember now."</p> + +<p>"I will explain presently. When the leader of the party asked where +Captain l'Endurci was, I replied: 'This house belongs to M. Cloarek. He +is absent from home. This is his daughter. Have pity on her.'</p> + +<p>"'His daughter!' exclaimed the man, with a ferocious laugh. 'So this is +his daughter, is it? So much the better! And you,—are you his wife?'<a name="page_324" id="page_324"></a></p> + +<p>"'No, I am only the housekeeper.'</p> + +<p>"'So this is his daughter,' he repeated again, approaching poor +mademoiselle, whose courage seemed to increase with the danger, for, +with both hands crossed upon her breast, like a saint, she looked the +leader of the bandits straight in the eye.</p> + +<p>"'Where is your father?' he demanded.</p> + +<p>"'A long way from here, thank God!' replied the poor child, bravely.</p> + +<p>"'Your father arrived here yesterday. He can hardly have gone away again +so soon. He must be somewhere about the house. Where is he? Where is he, +I say?'</p> + +<p>"And as Sabine remained silent, he continued, with a sardonic smile:</p> + +<p>"'I have missed your father, it seems, but, by taking you, I shall get +him sooner or later. You shall write to him from England, telling him +where you are, and he will incur any risk to release you. I shall be +waiting for him, and so capture him sooner or later. Come with me.'</p> + +<p>"'Go with you? I would rather die,' exclaimed Sabine.</p> + +<p>"'No one has any intention of killing you, but you have got to come, so +you had better do so peaceably, and not compel us to resort to force.'</p> + +<p>"'Never!' cried the poor girl.</p> + +<p>"The scoundrel turned to his men, and said a few words to them, +whereupon they sprung upon Sabine. I tried to defend her, but they +dragged me away, and, in spite of her tears and cries, she was soon +securely bound. They had scarcely done this before the report of +fire-arms and loud shouts were heard outside. Two men came rushing in, +and said a few words to their leader, who quickly followed them out of +the room. All the men except those who were holding Sabine hurried out +after him. Then, and not until then, was I able to approach you. I +thought at first that you were dead, so,<a name="page_325" id="page_325"></a> forgetting Sabine and +everything else, I was sobbing over you, when, suddenly—" Suzanne +paused for a moment overcome with emotion.</p> + +<p>"Go on! Oh, go on, I beg of you!" exclaimed Onésime.</p> + +<p>"Never shall I forget that scene. At the farther end of the room two of +the wretches were trying to drag Sabine along, in spite of her +despairing cries. The other two men, evidently frightened by the +increasing uproar outside, darted to the door, but just as they reached +it both were struck down in turn by a terrific blow from an axe. A +moment afterward Sabine's captors shared the same fate."</p> + +<p>"But who struck them down?"</p> + +<p>"Who?" exclaimed Suzanne, with a shudder, and lowering her voice. "A man +clad in a strange costume. He wore a long, black jacket and waistcoat, a +broad-brimmed hat, and full, white trousers. Axe in hand, he had just +burst into the room, followed by several sailors."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me that I have heard Mlle. Sabine speak of some other man +dressed in a similar manner who, she said, was her mother's murderer."</p> + +<p>"Alas! this recollection was only too vivid in her mind," said Suzanne, +sadly.</p> + +<p>"But who was the man that came to Mlle. Sabine's assistance, clad in +this way?"</p> + +<p>"This man was the famous privateer, Captain l'Endurci,—this man was M. +Cloarek!"</p> + +<p>"M. Cloarek! Impossible!" exclaimed Onésime, raising himself up in bed, +in spite of his weakness.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he had an axe in his hand. His garments were covered with blood; +his face, never, oh, never, have I beheld a face so terrible. When he +came in, Sabine, not distinguishing his features at first, uttered a cry +of horror, and exclaimed, 'The black man! The black man!' and when M. +Cloarek ran to his daughter, she recoiled<a name="page_326" id="page_326"></a> in terror, crying, 'Father, +ah, father, then it was you who killed my mother!' and fell apparently +lifeless upon the floor."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, those words, 'Father, then it was you who killed my mother,' +I heard them vaguely, as life seemed to be deserting me. Oh, this is +frightful, frightful! What a horrible discovery! What misery it entails! +Such a tender father and loving daughter to have such a gulf between +them for ever! You were right, aunt, you were right! It does indeed +require courage to bear such a revelation. And Mlle. Sabine, how has she +been since that time?"</p> + +<p>"The unfortunate child lay between life and death for two whole days, as +I told you."</p> + +<p>"And M. Cloarek?"</p> + +<p>"Alas! we know nothing about him. On hearing his daughter reproach him +for her mother's death, he uttered a loud cry, and rushed out of the +room like one demented, and nothing has been seen of him since."</p> + +<p>"How unfortunate! Great Heavens, how unfortunate! But how did M. Cloarek +hear of this intended attack?"</p> + +<p>"It seems this party had made two or three similar descents at different +points along the coast; but this attack was unquestionably made in the +hope of capturing M. Cloarek, who, under the name of Captain l'Endurci, +had inflicted such injury upon the British navy."</p> + +<p>The nurse, reëntering the room at that moment, said to Suzanne:</p> + +<p>"Madame Roberts, M. Segoffin wishes to speak to you, as well as to M. +Onésime, if he feels able to see him."</p> + +<p>"Certainly," responded the young man, promptly.</p> + +<p>Segoffin entered the room almost immediately. Dame Roberts did not +receive him with ironical words and looks, as she had been wont to do, +however. On the contrary, she advanced to meet him with affectionate +eagerness.<a name="page_327" id="page_327"></a></p> + +<p>"Well, my dear Segoffin, is your news good or bad?" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"I hardly know, my dear Suzanne. It will all depend upon this," he +sighed, drawing a bulky envelope from his pocket as he spoke.</p> + +<p>"What is that?"</p> + +<p>"A letter from M. Cloarek."</p> + +<p>"He is alive, then, thank Heaven!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and his only remaining hope is in this letter, and I am to give +the letter to you, M. Onésime."</p> + +<p>"To me?"</p> + +<p>"And I am to tell you what you are to do with it. But first let me ask +if you feel able to get up?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, oh, yes!" exclaimed the young man, making a quick movement.</p> + +<p>"And I say you are not. It would be exceedingly imprudent in you, +Onésime," cried his aunt.</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, Suzanne," interposed Segoffin. "I am as much opposed to +anything like imprudence as you can possibly be, but (I can confess it +now, you see) as I have had considerable experience in injuries of this +kind during the last twelve years, I am probably much better able to +judge than you are, so I am going to feel your nephew's pulse and note +his symptoms carefully, and if I find him able to go down to the parlour +where Mlle. Sabine is, I—No, no, not so fast!" added Segoffin, laying a +restraining hand on Onésime, who, upon hearing Sabine's name, had +evinced an evident intention of springing out of bed. "I have not made +my diagnosis yet. Do me the favour to keep quiet. If you don't, I will +take the letter away, and lock you up here in your room."</p> + +<p>Onésime sighed, but submitted with breathless impatience to Segoffin's +careful examination, made with the aid of a lamp held by Suzanne, an +examination which satisfied him that the young man could sit up an hour +or two without the slightest danger.<a name="page_328" id="page_328"></a></p> + +<p>"You are positive there is no danger, Segoffin?" asked Dame Roberts, +anxiously.</p> + +<p>"None whatever."</p> + +<p>"But why not postpone this conference for awhile?"</p> + +<p>"Because there is a person counting the hours, nay, the very minutes, +until he hears from us."</p> + +<p>"You mean M. Cloarek, do you not?"</p> + +<p>"I tell you there is some one not far from here to whom this decision +means life or death," said Segoffin, without answering the question.</p> + +<p>"Life or death!" cried Suzanne.</p> + +<p>"Or rather hope or despair," added Segoffin, gravely, "and that is why, +Suzanne, I ask your nephew to make the effort to go down-stairs. Now, if +you will go to mademoiselle, I will help M. Onésime dress."</p> + +<p>Ten minutes afterward Onésime, leaning on Segoffin's arm, entered the +little parlour where Sabine was awaiting him.<a name="page_329" id="page_329"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXI-b" id="CHAPTER_XXI-b"></a>CHAPTER XXI.<br /><br /> +<small>A LAST APPEAL.</small></h3> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> poor girl was as pale as death, and so weak that she was obliged to +half recline in a large easy-chair.</p> + +<p>"Will you sit down, M. Onésime, and you too, my dear Suzanne and +Segoffin," she said, with gentle dignity.</p> + +<p>They all seated themselves in silence.</p> + +<p>"Before beginning this conversation," said Sabine, with a melancholy +smile, "I must tell you that I am greatly changed. The vague and often +senseless fears which have haunted me from infancy seem to have +vanished. The terrible reality seems to have dispelled these phantoms. I +tell you this, my friends, so you may understand that it is no longer +necessary to manifest so much caution and consideration in your +treatment of me, and that you can tell me the entire truth with safety, +no matter how terrible it may be. One word more: I adjure you, Suzanne, +and you too, Segoffin, in the name of your devotion to me and to—other +members of my family, to answer all my questions fully and truthfully. +Will you promise to do this?"</p> + +<p>"I promise," replied Suzanne.</p> + +<p>"I promise," said Segoffin.</p> + +<p>A brief silence followed.</p> + +<p>All present, and more especially Onésime, were struck by the firm and +resolute manner in which Sabine expressed herself, and felt that, +whatever her decision might be, it would unquestionably prove +unalterable.</p> + +<p>"You saw me born, Suzanne," continued the young<a name="page_330" id="page_330"></a> girl, after a moment, +"and by your untiring care and faithful devotion you made yourself my +mother's valued friend. It is in the name of this friendship that I +adjure you to tell me if the memories of my infancy have deceived me, +and if it was not my father who, twelve years ago, dressed as I saw him +three days ago, caused—caused my mother's death."</p> + +<p>"Alas! mademoiselle—"</p> + +<p>"In the name of my sainted mother, I adjure you to tell me the truth, +Suzanne."</p> + +<p>"The truth is, mademoiselle," replied the housekeeper, in a trembling +voice, "the truth is, that, after a stormy scene between your parents, +madame died; but—"</p> + +<p>"Enough, my dear Suzanne," said Sabine, interrupting her. Then, passing +her hand across her burning brow, she relapsed into a gloomy silence +that no one dared to break.</p> + +<p>"Segoffin," she said, at last, "you were my grandfather's faithful +servant and trusted friend. You watched over my father in childhood; at +all times, and under all circumstances, you have been blindly devoted to +him. Is it true that my father, instead of being engaged in business as +he said, has been privateering under the name of Captain l'Endurci?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, mademoiselle, it is true," Segoffin answered, smothering a sigh.</p> + +<p>After another brief silence, Sabine said:</p> + +<p>"M. Onésime, I owe it to myself and I owe it to you to inform you of my +determination. In happier days there was some talk of a marriage between +us, but after what has occurred, after what you know and have just +heard, you will not be surprised, I think, to hear me say that this +world is no longer any place for me."</p> + +<p>"Good Heavens! what do you mean, mademoiselle?" cried Onésime, in +dismay.</p> + +<p>"I have decided to retire to a convent, where I intend to end my days."<a name="page_331" id="page_331"></a></p> + +<p>Onésime did not utter a word, but sat with his head bowed upon his +breast, while quick, heavy sobs shook his frame.</p> + +<p>"No, mademoiselle, no! That is impossible," sobbed Suzanne. "No, surely +you will not thus bury yourself alive."</p> + +<p>"My mind is made up," answered Sabine, firmly; "but if such a sojourn +does not seem too gloomy to you, my dear Suzanne, I should be glad to +have you accompany me."</p> + +<p>"I shall never leave you. You know that very well, mademoiselle, but you +will not do this, you will not—"</p> + +<p>"Suzanne, for two days I have been reflecting upon the course I ought to +pursue. There is nothing else for me to do, so my resolution is +irrevocable."</p> + +<p>"And your father, mademoiselle," interposed Segoffin, "before you +separate yourself from him for ever you will surely see him once more."</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Then, from this day on, you are dead to him and he is dead to you."</p> + +<p>It was evidently with a violent effort at self-control that Sabine at +last replied:</p> + +<p>"It will be better for me not to see my father again until we are +reunited with my mother."</p> + +<p>"Ah, mademoiselle, how can you be so cruel?" murmured Segoffin, +despairingly. "If you knew how wretched he is—"</p> + +<p>"No, I am not cruel," replied the girl; "at least I do not mean to be. I +can only repeat what I said to Suzanne just now. For two days I have +been reflecting on the course I ought to pursue, and my decision is +irrevocable."</p> + +<p>A gloomy silence greeted this announcement. Segoffin was the first to +speak.</p> + +<p>"You surely will not refuse to hear a letter from M. Cloarek read, +mademoiselle," he said, at last. "It<a name="page_332" id="page_332"></a> is the only request he makes of +you, for he foresaw the aversion you would feel for him."</p> + +<p>"Aversion!" cried Sabine, like one in mortal agony. Then controlling +herself, she added:</p> + +<p>"There seems to have been a strange and cruel fatality about all this."</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered the old servant, sighing; "but as M. Cloarek is never to +see you again, will you not at least listen to the letter I brought to +M. Onésime?"</p> + +<p>"It is undoubtedly my duty to comply with my father's wishes, so I am +ready to listen, M. Onésime."</p> + +<p>The young man opened the envelope Segoffin handed him. The letter which +Cloarek had written to his daughter was accompanied with the following +brief note:</p> + +<p>"I implore you to read the enclosed letter to Sabine, my dear Onésime. +It is a last proof of esteem and affection I desire to give you.</p> + +<p>"May this truthful account written by a despairing parent, and read by a +beloved voice, reach his daughter's heart. Yours affectionately,</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Y. Cloarek</span>."</p> + +<p>After telling Sabine the contents of this note the young man read the +following aloud:</p> + +<p>"'<span class="smcap">To My Daughter</span>:—Fate seems to decree that I am to be separated from +you for ever, my child, for now I know you can no longer bear the sight +of me.</p> + +<p>"'A strange and unforeseen event has revealed a terrible and jealously +guarded secret to you.</p> + +<p>"'Yes, that man in the strange costume, whom you have always remembered +as your mother's murderer, was I, your father.</p> + +<p>"'The privateer whose deeds inspired you with such horror was I.<a name="page_333" id="page_333"></a></p> + +<p>"'Your mother was <i>enceinte</i>. We had a quarrel,—the first in our whole +married life, I swear it! I gave way to my temper, and my anger became +so terrible that, in your mother's nervous condition, her fright killed +her.</p> + +<p>"'Mine was a double crime, for the terror that proved fatal to your +mother also had a lasting effect upon you, for the unfortunate +impression made upon you at that tender age had a most deplorable +influence, not only upon your health, but upon your whole life.</p> + +<p>"'You know my crime, now let me tell you how I have expiated it.</p> + +<p>"'When I saw you motherless, I asked myself what would become of you.</p> + +<p>"'The small fortune that your mother and I possessed had been almost +entirely lost in consequence of the political agitations of the day and +a ruinous lawsuit. I had lost my position as a magistrate in consequence +of the scandal which my ebullitions of temper caused.</p> + +<p>"'I sold the small amount of property I had left, and realised about six +thousand francs from the sale. Suzanne, who had gained your poor +mother's affectionate esteem by her virtues and her faithfulness, was +devoted to you. I said to her:</p> + +<p>"'"Here are five thousand francs; enough, with economy, to supply my +daughter's wants and yours for five years. I entrust my child to your +care. If you have seen or heard nothing from me at the expiration of +these five years, you will send a letter which I will leave with you to +the person to whom it is addressed."</p> + +<p>"'The person to whom this letter was written was a man of noble lineage +whose life I had saved during the revolution, and who had taken up his +abode in Germany; and I felt sure that this man, who was still wealthy, +would treat you as an adopted child; but I did not intend you to eat the +bitter bread of dependence if I could help it.</p> + +<p>"'These arrangements made, I kissed you while you<a name="page_334" id="page_334"></a> were peacefully +sleeping, and departed with one thousand francs as my only dependence. +Segoffin, my tried and trusted friend, insisted upon sharing my +fortunes, so he accompanied me.</p> + +<p>"'I had devoted the days which immediately preceded my departure to +sorrowful meditations upon the future and the past, during which I had +questioned, studied, and judged myself with inexorable severity.</p> + +<p>"'My misfortunes and my crime toward your mother were due to the +impetuosity of my character. Anything that wounded my feelings, anything +contradictory to my convictions, anything in the way of opposition to my +wishes, made my blood boil and excited me almost to frenzy; and this +exuberance and impetuosity vented themselves in fury and violence.</p> + +<p>"'In short, my only capital was anger.</p> + +<p>"'While thus studying myself I recollected the wonderful mental and +physical power with which I seemed to be endowed when I yielded to these +transports of rage.</p> + +<p>"'Often when I had revolted against certain iniquitous facts or acts of +cruel oppression, the very intensity of my anger had given me almost +superhuman power to defend the weak and chastise the oppressor. For +instance, one day when I found three ruffians attacking a poor +defenceless woman, I nearly killed all three of them, though in my +normal condition I could not have coped successfully with any one of +them single-handed.</p> + +<p>"'But alas! my child, on continuing this inexorable study of myself, I +was also obliged to admit that I had not always had just cause for my +anger, by any means, for not unfrequently the slightest contradiction +infuriated me almost to madness. Your poor mother's death was a terrible +example of this idiosyncrasy on my part.</p> + +<p>"'After this long and careful examination of myself, I summed up the +result as follows:<a name="page_335" id="page_335"></a></p> + +<p>"'Anger is a passion of such intensity in me, that it increases my +mental and physical powers a hundred-fold. In other words, it is a +force.</p> + +<p>"'When this force is brought into action by generous motives, it leads +to acts of which I have every reason to be proud.</p> + +<p>"'When, on the contrary, it is brought into action by unworthy motives, +it causes me to commit culpable or even criminal acts, which I shall +never cease to regret.</p> + +<p>"'Anger has been the cause of my ruin and of my despair. It killed my +wife. Now, anger shall be my salvation and the salvation of my daughter.</p> + +<p>"'These words may seem incomprehensible to you, my child, but listen.</p> + +<p>"'In my position of magistrate, my proneness to anger and violence was +most prejudicial to me. It caused people to regard me with derision, +even with contempt, and destroyed every prospect of my advancement in my +judicial career. In other words, my mind, character, and temperament did +not harmonise with my functions.</p> + +<p>"'It was consequently advisable for me to adopt a profession in which +the vice, or rather, the radical force of my nature could be utilised to +the best advantage of myself and of others.</p> + +<p>"'I soon found such a profession.</p> + +<p>"'My grandfather had been a sea-faring man, like nearly all Bretons who +live on the coast; but my father's rather delicate health led him to +enter the judiciary. But I had been reared on the coast, and the sight +of the sea, and the daring, adventurous, and independent life of the +fishermen had made a deep impression upon my mind.</p> + +<p>"'A privateer! to be a privateer! When this idea presented itself to my +mind my heart bounded with hope.</p> + +<p>"'It seemed to amount to a revelation.<a name="page_336" id="page_336"></a></p> + +<p>"'It offered an outlet for the feverish ardour that was devouring me.</p> + +<p>"'My one object in life now was to save you from poverty, and ensure you +the comforts of life, both now and in years to come,—to secure +sufficient wealth to make it possible for you to marry the man of your +choice, some day. This, and to find a career in which my powers could be +best utilised.</p> + +<p>"'How could I do this more effectually than by becoming a privateer?</p> + +<p>"'The prize-money gained by privateers often amounts to large sums, so +it was quite possible that I might succeed in amassing a very +comfortable little fortune for you; besides, where could I hope to find +a life that would suit me better, or even as well as the daring, +exciting, adventurous life of a corsair?</p> + +<p>"'Contention and strife were like the breath of life to me. Resistance +exasperated me to frenzy; peril only incited me to greater efforts; the +presence of danger set my blood to boiling. Madness seized me, and my +capabilities seemed to increase in power in proportion to the number of +my enemies.</p> + +<p>"'Nor was this all, my child. As I have remarked before, cruelty, or +oppression, or treachery, enraged me well-nigh to madness, and against +whom should I fight if I became a corsair? Against a country I +abhorred,—against a country that, impelled by hatred, greed, or +ambition, as the case might be, had pursued France with the utmost +vindictiveness for years, hesitating at nothing,—now trying to ruin us +by flooding our country with counterfeit assignats, now torturing our +brave soldiers to madness, even to death, in her horrible prison +hulks,—in short, <i>England</i>!</p> + +<p>"'<i>England</i>! In spite of the despair that overwhelms me as I write, the +mere name of that country (which I hate with an even more mortal hatred +since the dastardly attempt of which you so narrowly escaped becoming<a name="page_337" id="page_337"></a> +the victim) brings a hot flush of anger to my cheek; my wrath kindles +again, and—</p> + +<p>"'But forgive me, forgive me, my poor child, forgive me for thus +grieving your tender and ingenuous heart, which is incapable of aught +like hatred.</p> + +<p>"'I did feel it necessary, however, to explain all the reasons that +actuated me in entering upon the only career that seemed open to me.</p> + +<p>"'My decision made, I kissed you farewell while you were sleeping, and +departed in company with Segoffin.'"</p> + +<p><br /> +</p> + +<p>Onésime's reading was here interrupted by a despairing sob that Sabine +could no longer repress.<a name="page_338" id="page_338"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXII-b" id="CHAPTER_XXII-b"></a>CHAPTER XXII.<br /><br /> +<small>CONCLUSION.</small></h3> + +<p>Sabine had been deeply touched by the opening paragraphs of her father's +letter.</p> + +<p>Cloarek's simple and straightforward confession, his deep remorse at the +ebullition of temper which had been the cause of his wife's death, his +resolve to expiate his faults, or, rather, to make them assist in +ensuring his daughter's future happiness, the paternal love which +dominated every word and deed, all combined to arouse a feeling of +tender commiseration for misfortunes which had been due, in a great +measure, at least, to peculiarities of temperament; and seeing the +strong impression that had been made on the young girl, the others saw a +ray of hope.</p> + +<p>Segoffin and the housekeeper exchanged inquiring glances, but seemed to +silently agree that it would be advisable to make no comment, but leave +Sabine to the influence of her own reflections.</p> + +<p>But after a few moments, Suzanne, leaning toward her nephew, whispered +in his ear:</p> + +<p>"All is not lost yet. Go on, go on, my dear Onésime." So Onésime +continued as follows:</p> + +<p><br /> +</p> + +<p>"'Segoffin and I went to Dieppe, where we shipped as common sailors on a +privateer, for we realised that we must both serve an apprenticeship at +our new trade. We made several voyages in that capacity. In my<a name="page_339" id="page_339"></a> leisure +moments I studied mathematics and the art of navigation assiduously, so +I should be able to command a vessel myself when the necessary practical +knowledge had been acquired.</p> + +<p>"'My apprenticeship lasted two years, during which we were engaged in a +number of bloody conflicts. At the end of that time I was offered the +position of mate aboard a well-known privateer. After eighteen months +spent in this way, I had become so well known that a ship owner offered +me the command of a vessel called the <i>Hell-hound</i>, that he was fitting +out.</p> + +<p>"'Strange to say, I was never wounded, though I took part in so many +desperate conflicts. I received my first wound on coming to your +assistance the other night.</p> + +<p>"'I dare not tell you the cause to which I attribute this singular +immunity from danger. I should be obliged to mention your mother's name, +and that would revive your grief, and possibly it is only a +superstitious fancy, after all.</p> + +<p>"'Fate has not been equally kind to Segoffin, unfortunately. He has +received several wounds, and, in boarding a vessel during our last +fight, he lost an eye by a blow from a pike. No words could do justice +to this worthy man's wonderful devotion. I no longer regard him as a +servant, but as a friend.</p> + +<p>"'One more brief explanation, my child.</p> + +<p>"'I knew your affection for me. I knew, too, that your nervous system +had received a severe shock at the time of your poor mother's death, so +I resolved to save you from constant anxiety by concealing my real +occupation from you. So it was agreed between Segoffin and me that we +should explain our frequent absences by pretending that we were +travelling around the country selling dry goods. I also arranged that +the letters you sent to the different towns agreed upon should be +forwarded to Dieppe.</p> + +<p>"'When I returned after a cruise, I got these letters,<a name="page_340" id="page_340"></a> and dated my +replies from different towns, where I had previously arranged to have +them mailed.</p> + +<p>"'Such were some of the many precautions that I was obliged to take to +conceal the truth from you and allay any suspicions that might be +excited in your mind.</p> + +<p>"'Forgive these deceptions. They seemed to me necessary. That excuse +will, I am sure, avail me.</p> + +<p>"'Two years ago the doctors assured me that the sea air would be very +beneficial to you, so I purchased our present home and established you +in it. Our home being a long way from Dieppe, the port from which I +usually sail, my secret has been carefully guarded, up to this time, +thanks to my assumed name, Captain l'Endurci, and neither you nor +Suzanne have ever suspected that the famous corsair, whose bloody +exploits so excited your horror, was your father, Yvon Cloarek.</p> + +<p>"'And now, my darling child, you know all. I have not made this +confession with any hope of changing your resolution; I can see that my +presence will henceforth be extremely painful to you, but I could not +leave you for ever without removing the veil of mystery that has +enshrouded my conduct up to the present time.</p> + +<p>"'And now, farewell, and for ever, my beloved daughter.</p> + +<p>"'My only consolation is the thought that your future happiness is +well-nigh certain. You love, and you are loved in return by a generous +and noble-hearted man; Suzanne will be another mother to you, and I +leave you my good and faithful Segoffin.</p> + +<p>"'My notary has received full instructions in relation to your marriage +contract. I wish your marriage to take place on the first of next month, +so I may be with you in thought on that happy day.</p> + +<p>"'Once more farewell, my idolised daughter. The tears are falling so +fast, that I cannot see to write any more.<a name="page_341" id="page_341"></a></p> + +<p> +"'Your father, who loves you as he has always loved<br /> +you,</p> +<p class="r"><span class="smcap">Yvon Cloarek</span>.</p> + +<p>"'Segoffin will tell you the cause of my hasty departure for Havre, and +how I happened to return in time to rescue you from the wretches who +were dragging you away."</p> + +<p><br /> +</p> + +<p>When the reading of this letter was concluded, Sabine, who was very pale +and who seemed to be deeply moved, buried her face in her hands, and +sobbed softly.</p> + +<p>Segoffin exchanged another meaning look with Suzanne, and then, +reconquering his own emotion, said:</p> + +<p>"Now, mademoiselle, with your permission, I will tell you how M. Yvon +got here in time to save you."</p> + +<p>And Sabine making no reply, the head gunner continued:</p> + +<p>"That powdered gentleman, who was here the other day, Mlle. Sabine, was +the owner of our vessel. He came to try to persuade M. Yvon to make +another voyage. He had heard of a vessel laden with two millions in +gold, that would soon be along, and offered us a chance of a stirring +fight besides; but M. Yvon had promised you he would not leave you +again, so he refused, whereupon the ship owner told your father that the +ship's crew would certainly come for him, and take him away with them, +whether or no. In order to prevent any such proceeding as that, which +would have let the cat out of the bag, so far as you were concerned, we +hurried off to Havre. Most of the crew were at a tavern there. They +greeted M. Yvon with the wildest enthusiasm and delight, for he is as +tenderly loved by these rough corsairs as he is by the members of his +own family; for though he can be severe, if need be, he is also just and +humane. There is more than one English captain, mademoiselle, whom M. +Yvon has captured and then set free with all his personal belongings. +And do you know why? Because<a name="page_342" id="page_342"></a> the first question your father always +asked a prisoner was, 'Have you a daughter?'</p> + +<p>"If he answered in the affirmative," continued Segoffin, "he was all +right, for, as M. Yvon often said to me, 'I love my little Sabine too +much to hold a man who has a daughter, a prisoner.'</p> + +<p>"So Mlle. Sabine, you have made many a father and daughter happy in +England, without even suspecting it. But excuse me, I had almost +forgotten what I started to tell you. Well, though the sailors were so +glad to see your father again, they got very angry when they found out +that he had no intention of going to sea again, and there was no such +thing as inducing them to listen to reason. I have seen M. Yvon in a +great peril many a time, but never did I see him show such courage as he +did the other day, when he refused what would have been the crowning +glory of his maritime career, and why? 'Because I have given my daughter +my word,' he said. But this was not all. His refusal so infuriated the +crew that some of them even went so far as to hint that if your father +refused, it was because he was afraid to fight the famous English +captain. He, M. Yvon, afraid! After that, Mlle. Sabine, he said to me, +in a low tone, and with a melancholy smile that I shall never forget:</p> + +<p>"'My affection for my daughter has been really put to the test for the +first time in my life, and now I know that there is not a father in the +world who loves his child more than I do.'"</p> + +<p>"Go on, go on, Segoffin," pleaded Sabine, evidently deeply moved.</p> + +<p>"When they ventured to accuse M. Yvon of cowardice, he coldly replied +that his mind was made up, and that it was useless for them to insist +further. A scene of the wildest excitement followed, and some of the men +shouted: 'Let us take the captain, whether or no. The first mate can +navigate the vessel, and when the captain sees the enemy, he'll change +his mind fast enough.'<a name="page_343" id="page_343"></a></p> + +<p>"They were all so excited that I don't know how the affair would have +ended, had not an officer of the fort, who knew that the captain of the +<i>Hell-hound</i> was at the tavern, come rushing in to tell M. Yvon that a +fishing-smack had just come in and reported that a suspicious-looking +schooner had been sighted from the cliffs, and that appearances seemed +to indicate her intention of making a landing, as had been done at +several other points along the coast. There being no war-ship in the +harbour the officer came to implore the captain of the <i>Hell-hound</i> to +go out and attack the schooner if she made any attempt to land. M. Yvon +could not refuse, as it was in defence of his country that he was +requested to give his services. We were soon aboard the brig; the wind +was favourable, we weighed anchor, and were soon flying along in search +of the schooner. Right here, Mlle. Sabine, I must tell you something +that M. Yvon dared not confess in his letter. He speaks, you know, of a +superstitious idea he had in connection with his never having been +wounded. You must understand, Mlle. Sabine, that your poor father's life +has been divided as it were into two parts,—one supremely happy, the +part spent at home or in talking with me about you; the other desolation +itself, the hours spent in thinking of your poor dear mother, whom he +loved even more tenderly than he loves you, as Suzanne has told you a +hundred times. The night she died, it so happened that he had dressed +himself in Breton costume to attend a fancy dress ball. Being very young +at the time, you did not recognise him. After this calamity, when we +shipped as common sailors on a privateer where every one dressed as he +pleased, M. Yvon said to me: 'As I am here to expiate a crime I shall +regret all my life, I intend always to wear the costume of my native +province at sea. It has become sacred to me, as I wore it on the fatal +night when I held my poor dying wife in my arms for the last time.'<a name="page_344" id="page_344"></a></p> + +<p>"M. Yvon has kept his word ever since, in spite of my entreaties, for it +having been reported in England that the famous corsair, Captain +l'Endurci, wore the Breton costume, it was at M. Yvon that every one +aimed. But though your father exposed himself so much more than any of +the rest of us, he was never wounded, and as there is a superstitious +streak in the composition of every human being, M. Yvon finally began to +think that there must be a protecting charm attached to our national +costume. The sailors, too, imagined that this costume brought the ship +good luck. At least, they would have felt much less confident of success +if M. Yvon had commanded them in any other garb, so that is why M. Yvon, +when he went aboard to go out and fight the schooner, put on the costume +of his native province exactly as he would have put on a uniform, not +supposing for an instant that there was any likelihood of his going to +his own home.</p> + +<p>"We had been sailing around about three-quarters of an hour, when all at +once we saw a bright light stream up on the coast above the cliffs. A +careful scrutiny convinced the captain that the house where we lived was +on fire; and almost at the same moment, the first mate, with the aid of +a night telescope, discovered the schooner riding at anchor, with all +her boats at the foot of the cliff where the English had doubtless +landed. The captain ordered the long-boat lowered, and sprang into it in +company with me and twenty picked men. We reached the scene of action in +a quarter of an hour. M. Yvon received his first wound while striking +down the leader of the bandits, a Captain Russell, who figured so +prominently in the abduction of M. Yvon a short time ago. Wounded by +your father and left a prisoner at Dieppe, he had nevertheless managed +to make his escape and concoct this new conspiracy. This, Mlle. Sabine, +is the whole truth with regard to M. Yvon. He has suffered, oh, how he +has suffered these three last days! and this is<a name="page_345" id="page_345"></a> nothing to what he will +suffer up to the time of your marriage; but after that, when he knows +you are happy, I fear that he can endure it no longer. No human being +could and—"</p> + +<p>"My father, where is my father?" cried Sabine, trembling with grief, +anxiety, and long repressed tenderness.</p> + +<p>"Really, mademoiselle, I do not know that I ought—"</p> + +<p>"My father, is he here?" repeated the girl breathlessly.</p> + +<p>"He is not very far off, perhaps," replied Segoffin, nearly wild with +joy; "but if he returns, it must be never to leave you again."</p> + +<p>"Oh, can he ever forgive me for having doubted his love and his nobility +of soul for one moment? If he will, all the rest of my life shall be +devoted to him. My God! you are silent, you are all weeping—you are all +looking toward that room as if my father were there. Thank Heaven! my +father is there!" cried Sabine, her face radiant with inexpressible joy +as she ran toward the door leading into the next room.</p> + +<p>The door suddenly opened, and in another instant father and daughter +were locked in each other's arms.</p> + +<p><br /> +</p> + +<p>One month afterward, a double marriage united Suzanne and Segoffin, +Sabine and Onésime.</p> + +<p>The famous Doctor Gasterini, equally celebrated as a gourmand and as a +physician, had restored Onésime's sight.</p> + +<p>On returning from the church, Segoffin remarked to Suzanne with a +triumphant air:</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, my dear, was I not right in telling you that, 'what is to be, +will be?' Haven't I always predicted that you would be Madame Segoffin +some day? Are you, or are you not?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, I suppose one must make the best of it,"<a name="page_346" id="page_346"></a> responded Madame +Segoffin, with a pretended sigh, though she really felt as proud of her +husband as if he had been one of the heroes of the <i>Grande Armée</i> she +was so fond of raving about. "There's no help for it, I suppose, as +'that which is done cannot be undone.'"</p> + +<p class="c">THE END.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Avarice-Anger, by Eugène Sue + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AVARICE-ANGER *** + +***** This file should be named 34308-h.htm or 34308-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/3/0/34308/ + +Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Google Print project.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Avarice-Anger: + two of the seven cardinal sins + +Author: Eugene Sue + +Illustrator: Adrian Marcel + +Release Date: November 13, 2010 [EBook #34308] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AVARICE-ANGER *** + + + + +Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Google Print project.) + + + + + + + + + +THE SEVEN CARDINAL SINS + +AVARICE + +[Illustration: "_Axe in hand._" + +Original etching by Adrian Marcel.] + + + +Illustrated Cabinet Edition + +Avarice--Anger +Two of the Seven Cardinal Sins +By Eugene Sue + +Illustrated with Etchings by +Adrian Marcel + +Dana Estes & Company +Publishers +Boston + +_Copyright, 1899_ +BY FRANCIS A. NICCOLLS & CO. + + + +Avarice--Anger + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +CHAPTER PAGE + +AVARICE. + +I. AN UNFORTUNATE CHOICE 13 + +II. A TOUCHING EXAMPLE OF UNSELFISH DEVOTION 25 + +III. A SHAMEFUL DECEPTION 36 + +IV. THE VOICE OF THE TEMPTER 46 + +V. FATHER AND SON 57 + +VI. A FATHER'S AMBITION 65 + +VII. THE FORGED LETTER 72 + +VIII. A STARTLING DISCOVERY 78 + +IX. COMMANDANT DE LA MIRAUDIERE'S ANTECEDENTS 86 + +X. THE MYSTERY EXPLAINED 97 + +XI. HIDDEN TREASURE 106 + +XII. A VOICE FROM THE GRAVE 113 + +XIII. THE MISER EXTOLLED 118 + +XIV. PLANS FOR THE FUTURE 122 + +XV. MADAME LACOMBE'S UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER 126 + +XVI. A CAPRICIOUS BEAUTY 132 + +XVII. THE HOTEL SAINT-RAMON 139 + +XVIII. A NOVEL ENTERTAINMENT 146 + +XIX. A CHANGE OF OWNERS 152 + +XX. THE RETURN 159 + +XXI. THE AWAKENING 166 + + +ANGER. + +I. THE DUEL 177 + +II. ANOTHER EBULLITION OF TEMPER 186 + +III. THE WARNING 194 + +IV. "THOSE WHOM THE GODS DESTROY THEY FIRST MAKE MAD" 199 + +V. DEADLY ENMITY 208 + +VI. A CUNNING SCHEME 217 + +VII. HOME PLEASURES 225 + +VIII. THE CAPTAIN'S NARRATIVE 234 + +IX. CONCLUSION OF THE CAPTAIN'S NARRATIVE 240 + +X. SEGOFFIN'S DISSIMULATION 248 + +XI. SABINE'S CONFESSION 255 + +XII. SUZANNE'S ENLIGHTENMENT 265 + +XIII. ONESIME'S CONQUEST 271 + +XIV. ARGUMENTS FOR AND AGAINST 279 + +XV. AN UNWELCOME VISITOR 287 + +XVI. SEGOFFIN'S RUSE 294 + +XVII. THE VOICE OF THE TEMPTER 302 + +XVIII. "MY MOTHER'S MURDERER STILL LIVES!" 309 + +XIX. AFTER THE STORM 316 + +XX. THE MIDNIGHT ATTACK 322 + +XXI. A LAST APPEAL 329 + +XXII. CONCLUSION 338 + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. + + + PAGE + +"AXE IN HAND" _Frontispiece_ + +"'GO AWAY AND LET ME ALONE'" 53 + +"'MY STAR HAS NOT DESERTED ME'" 155 + +"SEVERAL MEN RUSHED UPON HIM" 236 + + +Avarice and Anger. + + + + +THE MILLIONAIRES + + + + +AVARICE. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +AN UNFORTUNATE CHOICE. + + +The narrow street known for many long years as the Charnier des +Innocents (the Charnel-house of the Innocents), near the market, has +always been noted for the large number of scriveners who have +established their booths in this densely populated part of Paris. + +One fine morning in the month of May, 18--, a young girl about eighteen +years of age, who was clad in working dress, and whose charming though +melancholy face wore that peculiar pallor which seems to be a sort of +sinister reflection of poverty, was walking thoughtfully down the +Charnier des Innocents. Several times she paused as if in doubt in front +of as many scriveners' booths, but either because the proprietors seemed +too young or too unprepossessing in appearance or too busy, she went +slowly on again. + +Seeing, in the doorway of the last booth, an old man with a face as good +and kind as it was venerable, the young girl did not hesitate to enter +the modest little establishment. + +The scrivener, struck in his turn by the young girl's remarkable beauty +and modest bearing, as well as her timid and melancholy air, greeted her +with almost paternal affability as she entered his shop, after which he +closed the door; then drawing the curtain of the little window, the good +man motioned his client to a seat, while he took possession of his old +leather armchair. + +Mariette--for that was the young girl's name--lowered her big blue eyes, +blushed deeply, and maintained an embarrassed, almost painful, silence +for several seconds. Her bosom rose and fell tumultuously under the +small gray shawl that she wore over her faded calico gown, while the +hands she had clasped in her lap trembled violently. + +The old scrivener, anxious to reassure the poor girl, said to her, +almost affectionately, "Come, come, my child, compose yourself. Why +should you feel this embarrassment? You came to ask me to write some +request or petition for you, or, perhaps, a letter, did you not?" + +"Yes, monsieur, it was--it was to ask you to write a letter for me that +I came." + +"Then you do not know how to write?" + +"No, monsieur," replied Mariette, blushing still more deeply, as if +ashamed of her ignorance, whereupon the scrivener, regretting that he +had thus humiliated his client, said, kindly: + +"You certainly cannot suppose me capable of blaming you for your +ignorance. On the contrary, it is a sincere compassion I feel for +persons who, for want of an education, are compelled to come to me, to +apply to a third party, who may betray their confidence, and, perhaps, +even ridicule them! And yet they are compelled to confide their dearest +and most secret thoughts to these strangers. It is very hard, is it +not?" + +"It is, indeed, monsieur," replied Mariette, touched by these words. "To +be obliged to apply to a stranger to--" + +The young girl did not finish the sentence, but blushed deeply, and her +eyes filled with tears. + +Gazing at his youthful client with even greater interest, the scrivener +said: + +"Do not be so troubled, my child. You have neither garrulousness nor +ridicule to fear from me. I have always regarded as something +indescribably touching and sacred the confidence which persons who have +been deprived of the advantages of an education are obliged to repose in +me." + +Then, with a kindly smile, he added: "But pray do not suppose for one +moment, mademoiselle, that I say this to glorify myself at the expense +of my _confreres_, and to get their clients away from them. No, I am +saying exactly what I think and feel; and at my age, one certainly may +be allowed to do that." + +Mariette, more and more surprised at the old man's words, said, +gratefully: + +"I thank you, monsieur; you relieve me very much by thus understanding +and excusing my embarrassment. It is very hard not to know how to read +and write," she added, sighing," but, alas! very often one cannot help +it." + +"I am sure, my poor child, that in your case, as in the case of many +other young girls who apply to me, it is not the good-will but the +opportunity that is lacking. Many of these young girls, from being +obliged to take care of their young brothers and sisters while their +parents are busy away from home, have had no chance to attend school. +Others were apprenticed at an early age--" + +"Like myself, monsieur," said Mariette, smiling. "I was apprenticed when +I was only nine years old, and up to that time I had been obliged to +remain at home and take care of a little brother, who died a short time +before my father and mother." + +"Poor child! your history is very similar to that of most young girls of +your station in life. But, since your term of apprenticeship expired, +have you made no effort to acquire a little education?" + +"Since that time I have had to work all day and far into the night to +earn enough to keep my godmother and myself alive, monsieur," said +Mariette, sadly. + +"Alas! yes, time is bread to the labourer, and only too often he has to +choose whether he shall die of hunger or live in ignorance." + +Then, becoming more and more interested, he added: "You spoke of your +godmother just now; so your father and mother are both dead, I suppose?" + +"Yes, as I told you a little while ago," replied Mariette, sadly. "But +pardon me, monsieur, for taking up so much of your time instead of +telling you at once what I want you to write for me." + +"I am sure my time could not have been better spent, for I am an old +man, and I have had a good deal of experience, and I feel sure that you +are a good and worthy girl. But now about the letter. Do you prefer to +give me a rough idea of what you wish to write and let me put it in my +own words, or do you prefer to dictate the letter?" + +"I would rather dictate it, monsieur." + +"Then I am ready," said the old man, putting on his spectacles, and +seating himself at his desk with his eyes fixed upon the paper so as not +to increase his client's embarrassment by looking at her. + +So, after a moment's hesitation, Mariette, with downcast eyes, proceeded +to dictate, as follows: + +"Monsieur Louis." + +On hearing this name, the old scrivener made a slight movement of +surprise,--a fact that was not noticed by Mariette, who repeated, in a +less trembling voice this time, "Monsieur Louis." + +"I have written that," said the scrivener, still without looking at +Mariette, whereupon the latter continued, hesitating every now and then, +for, in spite of her confidence in the old man, it was no easy matter to +reveal her secret thoughts to him: + +"I am greatly troubled, for I have heard nothing from you, though you +promised to write me while you were away." + +"While you were away," repeated the scrivener, whose face had suddenly +become thoughtful, and who was saying to himself, with a vague anxiety: +"This is a singular coincidence. His name is Louis, and he is away." + +"I hope you are well, M. Louis," Mariette continued, "and that it is not +on account of any illness that you have not written to me, for then I +should have two causes of anxiety instead of one. + +"To-day is the sixth of May, M. Louis, the sixth of May, so I could not +let the day pass without writing to you. Perhaps the same thought will +occur to you, and that day after to-morrow I shall receive a letter from +you, as you will receive one from me. Then I shall know that it was not +on account of forgetfulness or sickness that you have delayed writing to +me so long. In that case, how happy I shall be! So I shall wait for day +after to-morrow with great impatience. Heaven grant that I may not be +disappointed, M. Louis." + +Mariette stifled a sigh as she uttered these last words, and a tear +rolled down her cheek. + +A long pause followed. The features of the scrivener who was bending +over his desk could not be seen by the young girl, but they were +assuming a more and more anxious expression; and two or three times he +tried to steal a furtive glance at his client, as if the interest he had +felt in her had given place to a sort of distrust caused by grave +apprehensions on his part. + +The young woman, keeping her eyes still fixed upon her lap, continued: + +"I have no news to tell you, M. Louis. My godmother is still very ill. +Her sufferings seem to increase, and that renders her much more +irritable. In order that I may be with her as much as possible, I sew at +home now most of the time, instead of going to Madame Jourdan's, so the +days seem long and gloomy; for the work done in the shop with my +companions was almost a pleasure, and seemed to progress much more +rapidly. So I am obliged to work far into the night now, and do not get +much sleep, as my godmother suffers much more at night than in the +daytime, and requires a great deal of attention from me. Sometimes I do +not even wake when she calls me because I am so dead with sleep, and +then she scolds, which is very natural when she suffers so. + +"You can understand, of course, that my life at home is not very happy, +and that a friendly word from you would be a great comfort, and console +me for many things that are very unpleasant. + +"Good-bye, M. Louis. I expected to have written to you through +Augustine, but she has gone back to her home now, and I have been +obliged to apply to another person, to whom I have dictated this letter. +Ah, M. Louis, never have I realised the misfortune of not knowing how to +read or write as much as I do at this present time. + +"Farewell, M. Louis, think of me, I beg of you, for I am always thinking +of you. + +"With sincere affection I once more bid you adieu." + +As the young girl remained silent for a minute or two after these words, +the old man turned to her and asked: + +"Is that all, my child?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"And what name is to be signed to this letter?" + +"The name of Mariette, monsieur." + +"Mariette only?" + +"Mariette Moreau, if you think best, monsieur. That is my family name." + +"Signed, Mariette Moreau," said the old man, writing the name as he +spoke. + +Then, having folded the letter, he asked, concealing the secret anxiety +with which he awaited the girl's reply: + +"To whom is this letter to be addressed, my child?" + +"To M. Louis Richard. General delivery, Dreux." + +"I thought as much," secretly groaned the old man, as he prepared to +write the address Mariette had just given him. + +If the young girl had not been so deeply preoccupied she could hardly +have failed to notice the change in the expression of the scrivener's +face,--a change which became still more noticeable when he discovered +for a certainty for whom this missive was intended. It was with a look +of positive anger now that he furtively watched Mariette, and he seemed +unable to make up his mind to write the address she had just given him, +for after having written upon the envelope the words, "To Monsieur," he +dropped his pen, and said to his client, forcing a smile in order to +conceal alike his resentment and his apprehensions: + +"Now, my child, though this is the first time we ever saw each other, it +seems to me you feel you can trust me a little already." + +"That is true, monsieur. Before I came here, I feared I should not have +the courage to dictate my letter to an entire stranger, but your manner +was so kind that I soon got over my embarrassment." + +"I certainly see no reason why you should feel the slightest +embarrassment. If I were your own father, I could not find a word of +fault with the letter you have just written to--to M. Louis, and if I +were not afraid of abusing the confidence you say that you have in me, I +should ask--but no, that would be too inquisitive." + +"You would ask me what, monsieur?" + +"Who this M. Louis Richard is?" + +"That is no secret, monsieur. M. Louis is the clerk of a notary whose +office is in the same building as the shop in which I work. It was in +this way that we became acquainted on the sixth of May, just one year +ago to-day." + +"Ah! I understand now why you laid such stress upon that date in your +letter." + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"And you love each other, I suppose,--don't blush so, child,--and expect +to marry some day, probably?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"And M. Louis's family consents to the marriage?" + +"M. Louis has no one but his father to consult, and we hope he will not +refuse his consent." + +"And the young man's father, what kind of a person is he?" + +"The best of fathers, M. Louis says, and bears his present poverty with +great courage and cheerfulness, though he used to be very well off. M. +Louis and his father are as poor now, though, as my godmother and I are. +That makes us hope that he will not oppose our marriage." + +"And your godmother, my child,--it seems to me she must be a great trial +to you." + +"When one suffers all the time, and has never had anything but +misfortunes all one's life, it is very natural that one should not be +very sweet tempered." + +"Your godmother is an invalid, then?" + +"She has lost one of her hands, monsieur, and she has a lung trouble +that has confined her to the bed for more than a year." + +"Lost her hand,--how?" + +"She used to work in a mattress factory, monsieur, and one day she ran a +long, crooked needle into her hand. The wound became inflamed from want +of care, for my godmother had not time to give it the attention it +should have had, and the doctors were obliged to cut her arm off. The +wound reopens now and then, and causes her a great deal of pain." + +"Poor woman!" murmured the scrivener, absently. + +"As for the lung trouble she has," continued Mariette, "many women who +follow that trade contract the disease, the doctors say, from breathing +the unwholesome dust from the old mattresses they make over. My +godmother is bent almost double, and nearly every night she has such +terrible fits of coughing that I have to hold her for hours, sometimes." + +"And your godmother has nothing but your earnings to depend on?" + +"She cannot work now, monsieur, of course." + +"Such devotion on your part is very generous, I must say." + +"I am only doing my duty, monsieur. My godmother took care of me after +my parents died, and paid for a three years' apprenticeship for me. But +for her, I should not be in a position to earn my living, so it is only +right that she should profit now by the assistance she gave me years +ago." + +"But you must have to work very hard to support her and yourself?" + +"Yes; I have to work from fifteen to eighteen hours a day, monsieur." + +"And at night you have to nurse her instead of taking the rest you so +much need?" + +"Who else would nurse her, monsieur?" + +"But why doesn't she try to get into some hospital?" + +"They will not take her into a hospital because the lung trouble she has +is incurable. Besides, I could not desert her like that." + +"Ah, well, my child, I see that I was not mistaken. You are a good, +noble-hearted girl, there is no doubt of it," added the old man, holding +out his hand to Mariette. + +As he did, either through awkwardness, or intentionally, the scrivener +overturned the inkstand that stood on his desk in such a way that a good +part of the contents ran over the letter, which lacked only the address +to complete it. + +"Good heavens! How unfortunate, the letter is covered with ink, +monsieur!" exclaimed Mariette. + +"How awkward in me!" responded the old man, with a disgusted air. +"Still, it doesn't matter very much, after all. It was a short letter. I +write very rapidly, and it will not take me more than ten minutes to +copy it for you, my child. At the same time, I will read it aloud so you +can see if there is any change you would like to make in it." + +"I am truly sorry to give you so much trouble, monsieur." + +"It serves me right, as it was all my fault," responded the old man, +cheerfully. + +And he began to read the letter aloud as he wrote, exactly as if he were +recopying it, as he proceeded with the reading. Nevertheless, from the +scrivener's manner it seemed evident that a violent struggle was going +on in his breast, for sometimes he sighed and knit his brows, sometimes +he seemed confused and kept his eyes sedulously averted from the +ingenuous face of Mariette, who sat with one elbow resting upon the +table, and her head supported on her hand, watching with envious eyes +the rapid movements of the old man's pen, as it traced characters which +were undecipherable to her, but which would, as she fondly supposed, +convey her thoughts to the man she loved. + +The young girl expressing no desire to make the slightest change in her +artless missive, the scrivener handed it to her after having carefully +sealed it. + +"And now, monsieur, how much do I owe you?" timidly inquired the girl, +drawing a little purse containing two small silver corns and a few sous +from her pocket. + +"Fifty centimes," replied the old man after a moment's hesitation, +remembering, perhaps, that it was at the cost of a day's bread that the +poor girl was writing to her lover; "fifty centimes," repeated the +scrivener, "for you understand, of course, my child, that I expect you +to pay for only one of the letters I have written. I alone am +responsible for my awkwardness." + +"You are certainly very honest, monsieur," said Mariette, touched by +what she considered a proof of generosity on the part of the scrivener. +Then, after having paid for her letter, she added: + +"You have been so kind to me, monsieur, that I shall venture to ask a +favour of you." + +"Speak, my child." + +"If I have any other letters to write, it would be almost impossible for +me to apply to any one but you, monsieur." + +"I shall be at your service." + +"But this is not all, monsieur. My godmother is as I am. She can neither +read nor write. I had a friend I could depend upon, but she is out of +town. In case I should receive a letter from M. Louis, would you be kind +enough to read it to me?" + +"Certainly, my child. I will read your letters to you with pleasure. +Bring them all to me," replied the old man, with much inward +gratification. "It is I who should thank you for the confidence you +manifest in me. I hope I shall soon see you again, and that you leave +here much more easy in mind than when you came." + +"I certainly could not expect such kindness as you have shown me from +any one else." + +"Farewell, then, my child, and be sure that you consider me your reader +and secretary henceforth. It really seems as if we must have known each +other a dozen years." + +"That is true, monsieur. _Au revoir._" + +"_Au revoir_, my child." + +Mariette had hardly left the booth when a postman appeared in the +doorway, and holding out a letter to the old scrivener, said, cordially: + +"Here, Father Richard, is a letter from Dreux." + +"A letter from Dreux!" exclaimed the old man, seizing it eagerly. "Thank +you, my friend." Then, examining the handwriting, he said to himself: +"It is from Ramon! What is he going to tell me? What does he think of my +son? Ah! what is going to become of all the fine plans Ramon and I +formed so long ago?" + +"There are six sous to pay on it, Father Richard," said the postman, +arousing the old scrivener from his reverie. + +"Six sous! the devil! isn't it prepaid?" + +"Look at the stamp, Father Richard." + +"True," said the scrivener, sighing heavily, as he reluctantly drew the +ten sous piece he had just received from his pocket and handed it to the +postman. + +While this was going on, Mariette was hastening homeward. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +A TOUCHING EXAMPLE OF UNSELFISH DEVOTION. + + +Mariette soon reached the gloomy and sombre thoroughfare known as the +Rue des Pretres St. Germain-l'Auxerrois, and entered one of the houses +opposite the grim walls of the church. After traversing a dark alley, +the girl began to climb a rickety stairway as dark as the alley itself, +for the only light came through a courtyard so narrow that it reminded +one of a well. + +The porter's room was on the first landing only a few steps from the +stairway, and Mariette, pausing there, said to the woman who occupied +it: + +"Madame Justin, did you have the goodness to go up and see if my +godmother wanted anything?" + +"Yes, Mlle. Mariette, I took her milk up to her, but she was in such a +bad humour that she treated me like a dog. Had it not been for obliging +you, I would have let the old crosspatch alone, I can tell you." + +"You must not be too hard on her, Madame Justin; she suffers so much." + +"Oh, you are always making excuses for her, I know. It shows how +good-hearted you are, but it doesn't prevent your godmother from being a +hateful old thing. Poor child, you certainly are having your purgatory +in advance. If there is no paradise for you hereafter you will certainly +be cheated out of your rightful dues. But wait a minute, I have a letter +for you." + +"A letter?" exclaimed Mariette, her heart throbbing with relief and +hope, "a letter from some one out of the city?" + +"Yes, mademoiselle, it is postmarked Dreux, and there are six sous to +pay on it. Here it is, and see, on the corner of the envelope the writer +has put the words, 'Very urgent.'" + +Mariette seized the letter and slipped it into her bosom; then, drawing +out her little purse again, she took from it her last ten sous piece and +paid the woman, after which she hastened up to her room, pleased and at +the same time anxious and sad; pleased at having received a letter from +Louis, anxious concerning the significance of those words, "Very +urgent," written in a corner of the envelope, and sad because several +hours must elapse before she would know the contents of the letter, for +she dared not absent herself again after having left her godmother alone +so long. + +It was with a sort of dread that she finally opened the door of the room +on the fifth floor that she occupied with her godmother. The poor woman +was lying on the only bed the two women possessed. A thin mattress now +rolled up out of the way in a corner, but laid on the floor at night, +served as a bed for Mariette. A table, an old bureau, two chairs, a few +cooking utensils hanging on the wall near the fireplace, were the only +articles of furniture in the dimly lighted room, but everything was +scrupulously clean. + +Madame Lacombe--for that was the invalid's name--was a tall, frightfully +pale, and emaciated woman, about fifty years of age, with a peevish, +disagreeable face. Bent nearly double in the bed, one could see of her +only her mutilated arm swathed in bandages, and her irascible face, +surrounded by an old cap from which a wisp of gray hair crept out here +and there, while her bluish lips were continually distorted by a bitter +and sardonic smile. + +Madame Lacombe seemed to be suffering greatly. At all events she was in +an execrable temper, and her hollow eyes gleamed ominously. Making an +effort to turn herself in bed, so as to get a look at her godchild, she +exclaimed, wrathfully: + +"Where on earth have you been all this time, you gadabout?" + +"I have been gone barely an hour, godmother." + +"And you hoped to find me dead when you got back, didn't you, now? Oh, +you needn't deny it. You've had enough of me, yes, too much. The day my +coffin lid is screwed down will be a happy day for you, and for me, too, +for it is too bad, too bad for any one to have to suffer as I do," added +the poor woman, pressing her hand upon her bosom, and groaning heavily. + +Mariette dried the tears her godmother's sarcastic words had excited, +and approaching the sufferer, said, gently: + +"You had such a bad night last night that I hoped you would be more +comfortable to-day and get a little sleep while I was out." + +"If I suffer or if I starve to death it makes no difference to you, +evidently, provided you can run the streets." + +"I went out this morning because I was absolutely obliged to, godmother, +but before I left I asked Madame Justin--" + +"I'd as lief see a death's-head as that creature, so when you want to +get rid of me you have only to send her to wait on me." + +"Shall I dress your arm, godmother?" + +"No, it is too late for that now. You stayed away on purpose. I know you +did." + +"I am sorry I was late, but won't you let me dress it now?" + +"I wish to heaven you would leave me in peace." + +"But your arm will get worse if you don't have it dressed." + +"And that is exactly what you want." + +"Oh, godmother, don't say that, I beg of you." + +"Don't come near me! I won't have it dressed, I say." + +"Very well, godmother," replied the girl, sighing. Then she added, "I +asked Madame Justin to bring up your milk. Here it is. Would you like me +to warm it a little?" + +"Milk? milk? I'm tired of milk! The very thought of it makes me sick at +my stomach. The doctor said I was to have good strong bouillon, with a +chop and a bit of chicken now and then. I had some Monday and +Wednesday--but this is Sunday." + +"It is not my fault, godmother. I know the doctor ordered it, but one +must have money to follow his directions, and it is almost impossible +for me to earn twenty sous a day now." + +"You don't mind spending money on clothes, I'm sure. When my comfort is +concerned it is a very different thing." + +"But I have had nothing but this calico dress all winter, godmother," +answered Mariette, with touching resignation. "I economise all I can, +and we owe two months' rent for all that." + +"That means I am a burden to you, I suppose. And yet I took you in out +of the street, and had you taught a trade, you ungrateful, hard-hearted +minx!" + +"No, godmother, I am not ungrateful. When you are not feeling as badly +as you are now you are more just to me," replied Mariette, restraining +her tears; "but don't insist upon going without eating any longer. It +will make you feel so badly." + +"I know it. I've got dreadful cramps in my stomach now." + +"Then take your milk, I beg of you, godmother." + +"I won't do anything of the kind! I hate milk, I tell you." + +"Shall I go out and get you a couple of fresh eggs?" + +"No, I want some chicken." + +"But, godmother, I can't--" + +"Can't what?" + +"Buy chicken on credit." + +"I only want a half or a quarter of one. You had twenty-four sous in +your purse this morning." + +"That is true, godmother." + +"Then go to the _rotisseur_ and buy me a quarter of a chicken." + +"But, godmother, I--" + +"Well?" + +"I haven't that much money any longer, I have only a few sous left." + +"And those two ten sous pieces; what became of them?" + +"Godmother--" + +"Where are those two ten sous pieces, tell me?" + +"I--I don't know," repeated the poor girl, blushing. "They must have +slipped out of my purse. I--I--" + +"You lie. You are blushing as red as a beet." + +"I assure you--" + +"Yes, yes, I see," sneered the sick woman, "while I am lying here on my +death-bed you have been stuffing yourself with dainties." + +"But, godmother--" + +"Get out of my sight, get out of my sight, I tell you! Let me lie here +and starve if you will, but don't let me ever lay eyes on you again! You +were very anxious for me to drink that milk! There was poison in it, I +expect, I am such a burden to you." + +At this accusation, which was as absurd as it was atrocious, Mariette +stood for a moment silent and motionless, not understanding at first the +full meaning of those horrible words; but when she did, she recoiled, +clasping her hands in positive terror; then, unable to restrain her +tears, and yielding to an irresistible impulse, she threw herself on the +sick woman's neck, twined her arms around her, and covering her face +with tears and kisses, exclaimed, wildly: + +"Oh, godmother, godmother, how can you?" + +This despairing protest against a charge which could have originated +only in a disordered brain restored the invalid to her senses, and, +realising the injustice of which she had been guilty, she, too, burst +into tears; then taking one of Mariette's hands in one of hers, and +trying to press the young girl to her breast with the other, she said, +soothingly: + +"Come, come, child, don't cry so. What a silly creature you are! Can't +you see that I was only joking?" + +"True, godmother, I was very stupid to think you could be in earnest," +replied Mariette, passing the back of her hand over her eyes to dry her +tears, "but really I couldn't help it." + +"You ought to have more patience with your poor godmother, Mariette," +replied the sick woman, sadly. "When I suffer so it seems as if I can +hardly contain myself." + +"I know it, I know it, godmother! It is easy enough to be just and +amiable when one is happy, while you, poor dear, have never known what +happiness is." + +"That is true," said the sick woman, feeling a sort of cruel +satisfaction in justifying her irritability by an enumeration of her +grievances, "that is true. Many persons may have had a lot like mine, +but no one ever had a worse one. Beaten as an apprentice, beaten by my +husband until he drank himself to death, I have dragged my ball and +chain along for fifty years, without ever having known a single happy +day." + +"Poor godmother, I understand only too well how much you must have +suffered." + +"No, child, no, you cannot understand, though you have known plenty of +trouble in your short life; but you are pretty, and when you have on a +fresh white cap, with a little bow of pink ribbon on your hair, and you +look at yourself in the glass, you have a few contented moments, I +know." + +"But listen, godmother, I--" + +"It is some comfort, I tell you. Come, child, be honest now, and admit +that you are pleased, and a little proud too, when people turn to look +at you, in spite of your cheap frock and your clumsy laced shoes." + +"Oh, so far as that is concerned, godmother, I always feel ashamed, +somehow, when I see people looking at me. When I used to go to the +workroom there was a man who came to see Madame Jourdan, and who was +always looking at me, but I just hated it." + +"Oh, yes, but for all that it pleases you way down in your secret heart; +and when you get old you will have something pleasant to think of, while +I have not. I can't even remember that I was ever young, and, so far as +looks are concerned, I was always so ugly that I never could bear to +look in the glass, and I could get no husband except an old drunkard who +used to beat me within an inch of my life. I didn't even have a chance +to enjoy myself after his death, either, for I had a big bill at the +wine-shop to pay for him. Then, as if I had not trouble enough, I must +needs lose my health and become unable to work, so I should have died of +starvation, but for you." + +"Come, come, godmother, you're not quite just," said Mariette, anxious +to dispel Madame Lacombe's ill-humour. "To my certain knowledge, you +have had at least one happy day in your life." + +"Which day, pray?" + +"The day when, at my mother's death, you took me into your home out of +charity." + +"Well?" + +"Well, did not the knowledge that you had done such a noble deed please +you? Wasn't that a happy day for you, godmother?" + +"You call that a happy day, do you? On the contrary it was one of the +very worst days I ever experienced." + +"Why, godmother?" exclaimed the girl, reproachfully. + +"It was, for my good-for-nothing husband having died, as soon as his +debts were paid I should have had nobody to think of but myself; but +after I took you, it was exactly the same as if I were a widow with a +child to support, and that is no very pleasant situation for a woman who +finds it all she can do to support herself. But you were so cute and +pretty with your curly head and big blue eyes, and you looked so pitiful +kneeling beside your mother's coffin, that I hadn't the heart to let you +go to the Foundling Asylum. What a night I spent asking myself what I +should do about you, and what would become of you if I should get out of +work. If I had been your own mother, Mariette, I couldn't have been more +worried, and here you are talking about that having been a happy day for +me. No; if I had been well off, it would have been very different! I +should have said to myself: 'There is no danger, the child will be +provided for.' But to take a child without any hope of bettering its +condition is a very serious thing." + +"Poor godmother!" said the young girl, deeply affected. Then smiling +through her tears in the hope of cheering the sick woman, she added: + +"Ah, well, we won't talk of days, then, but of moments, for I'm going to +convince you that you have at least been happy for that brief space of +time, as at this present moment, for instance." + +"This present moment?" + +"Yes, I'm sure you must be pleased to see that I have stopped crying, +thanks to the kind things you have been saying to me." + +But the sick woman shook her head sadly. + +"When I get over a fit of ill-temper like that I had just now, do you +know what I say to myself?" she asked. + +"What is it, godmother?" + +"I say to myself: 'Mariette is a good girl, I know, but I am always so +disagreeable and unjust to her that way down in the depths of her heart +she must hate me, and I deserve it.'" + +"Come, come, godmother, why will you persist in dwelling upon that +unpleasant subject, godmother?" said the girl, reproachfully. + +"You must admit that I am right, and I do not say this in any +faultfinding way, I assure you. It would be perfectly natural. You are +obliged almost to kill yourself working for me, you nurse me and wait on +me, and I repay you with abuse and hard words. My death will, indeed, be +a happy release for you, poor child. The sooner the undertaker comes for +me, the better." + +"You said, just now, that when you were talking of such terrible things +it was only in jest, and I take it so now," responded Mariette, again +trying to smile, though it made her heart bleed to see the invalid +relapsing into this gloomy mood again; but the latter, touched by the +grieved expression of the girl's features, said: + +"Well, as I am only jesting, don't put on such a solemn look. Come, get +out the chafing-dish and make me some milk soup. While the milk is +warming, you can dress my arm." + +Mariette seemed as pleased with these concessions on the part of her +godmother as if the latter had conferred some great favour upon her. +Hastening to the cupboard she took from a shelf the last bit of bread +left in the house, crumbled it in a saucepan of milk, lighted the lamp +under the chafing-dish, and then returned to the invalid, who now +yielded the mutilated arm to her ministrations, and in spite of the +repugnance which such a wound could not fail to inspire, Mariette +dressed it with as much dexterity as patience. + +The amiability and devotion of the young girl, as well as her tender +solicitude, touched the heart of Madame Lacombe, and when the unpleasant +task was concluded, she remarked: + +"Talk about Sisters of Charity, there is not one who deserves half as +much praise as you do, child." + +"Do not say that, godmother. Do not the good sisters devote their lives +to caring for strangers, while you are like a mother to me? I am only +doing my duty. I don't deserve half as much credit as they do." + +"Yes, my poor Mariette, I would talk about my affection for you. It is a +delightful thing. I positively made you weep awhile ago, and I shall be +sure to do the same thing again to-morrow." + +Mariette, to spare herself the pain of replying to her godmother's +bitter words, went for the soup, which the invalid seemed to eat with +considerable enjoyment after all, for it was not until she came to the +last spoonful that she exclaimed: + +"But now I think of it, child, what are you going to eat?" + +"Oh, I have already breakfasted, godmother," replied the poor little +deceiver. "I bought a roll this morning, and ate it as I walked along. +But let me arrange your pillow for you. You may drop off to sleep, +perhaps, you had such a bad night." + +"But you were awake even more than I was." + +"Nonsense! I am no sleepyhead, and being kept awake a little doesn't +hurt me. There, don't you feel more comfortable now?" + +"Yes, very much. Thank you, my child." + +"Then I will take my work and sit over there by the window. It is so +dark to-day, and my work is particular." + +"What are you making?" + +"Such an exquisite chemise of the finest linen lawn, godmother. Madame +Jourdan told me I must be very careful with it. The lace alone I am to +put on it is worth two hundred francs, which will make the cost of each +garment at least three hundred francs, and there are two dozen of them +to be made. They are for some kept woman, I believe," added Mariette, +naively. + +The sick woman gave a sarcastic laugh. + +"What are you laughing at, godmother?" inquired the girl, in surprise. + +"A droll idea that just occurred to me." + +"And what was it, godmother?" inquired Mariette, rather apprehensively, +for she knew the usual character of Madame Lacombe's pleasantries. + +"I was thinking how encouraging it was to virtue that an honest girl +like yourself, who has only two or three patched chemises to her back, +should be earning twenty sous a day by making three hundred franc +chemises for--Oh, well, work away, child, I'll try to dream of a rest +from my sufferings." + +And the sick woman turned her face to the wall and said no more. + +Fortunately, Mariette was too pure-hearted, and too preoccupied as well, +to feel the bitterness of her godmother's remark, and when the sick +woman turned her back upon her the girl drew the very urgent letter the +portress had given her from her bosom, and laid it in her lap where she +could gaze at it now and then as she went on with her sewing. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +A SHAMEFUL DECEPTION. + + +Discovering, a little while afterward, that her godmother was asleep, +Mariette, who up to that time had kept the letter from Louis +Richard--the scrivener's only son--carefully concealed in her lap, broke +the seal and opened the missive. An act of vain curiosity on her part, +for, as we have said, the poor girl could not read. But it was a +touching sight to see her eagerly gaze at these, to her, +incomprehensible characters. + +She perceived with a strange mingling of anxiety and hope that the +letter was very short. But did this communication, which was marked +"Very urgent" on a corner of the envelope, contain good or bad news? + +Mariette, with her eyes riveted upon these hieroglyphics, lost herself +in all sorts of conjectures, rightly thinking that so short a letter +after so long a separation must contain something of importance,--either +an announcement of a speedy return, or bad news which the writer had not +time to explain in full. + +Under these circumstances, poor Mariette experienced one of the worst of +those trials to which persons who have been deprived of the advantages +of even a rudimentary education are exposed. To hold in one's hand lines +that may bring you either joy or sorrow, and yet be unable to learn the +secret! To be obliged to wait until you can ask a stranger to read these +lines and until you can hear from other lips the news upon which your +very life depends,--is this not hard? + +At last this state of suspense became so intolerable that, seeing her +godmother continued to sleep, she resolved, even at the risk of being +cruelly blamed on her return,--for Madame Lacombe's good-natured fits +were rare,--to hasten back to the scrivener; so she cautiously rose from +her chair so as not to wake the sick woman, and tiptoed to the door, but +just as she reached it a bitter thought suddenly checked her. + +She could not have the scrivener read her letter without asking him to +reply to it. At least it was more than probable that the contents of the +letter would necessitate an immediate reply, consequently she would be +obliged to pay the old man, and Mariette no longer possessed even +sufficient money to buy bread for the day, and the baker, to whom she +already owed twenty francs, would positively refuse, she knew, to trust +her further. Her week's earnings which had only amounted to five francs, +as her godmother had taken up so much of her time, had been nearly all +spent in paying a part of the rent and the washerwoman, leaving her, in +fact, only twenty-five sous, most of which had been used in defraying +the expenses of her correspondence with Louis, an extravagance for which +the poor child now reproached herself in view of her godmother's +pressing needs. + +One may perhaps smile at the harsh recriminations to which she had been +subjected on account of this trifling expenditure, but, alas! twenty +sous does not seem a trifling sum to the poor, an increase or decrease +of that amount in their daily or even weekly earnings often meaning life +or death, sickness or health, to the humble toiler for daily bread. + +To save further expense, Mariette thought for a moment of asking the +portress to read the letter for her, but the poor girl was so shy and +sensitive, and feared the rather coarse, though good-natured woman's +raillery so much, that she finally decided she would rather make almost +any sacrifice than apply to her. She had one quite pretty dress which +she had bought at a second-hand clothes store and refitted for herself, +a dress which she kept for great occasions and which she had worn the +few times she had gone on little excursions with Louis. With a heavy +sigh, she placed the dress, together with a small silk fichu, in a +basket to take it to the pawnbroker; and with the basket in her hand, +and walking very cautiously so as not to wake her godmother, the girl +approached the door, but just as she again reached it Madame Lacombe +made a slight movement, and murmured, drowsily: + +"She's going out again, I do believe, and--" + +But she fell asleep again without finishing the sentence. + +Mariette stood for a moment silent and motionless, then opening the door +with great care she stole out, locking it behind her and removing the +key, which she left in the porter's room as she passed. She then +hastened to the Mont de Piete, where they loaned her fifty sous on her +dress and fichu, and, armed with this money, Mariette flew back to the +Charnier des Innocents to find the scrivener. + +Since Mariette's departure, and particularly since he had read the +letter received from Dreux that morning, the old man had been reflecting +with increasing anxiety on the effect this secret which he had +discovered by the merest chance would have upon certain projects of his +own. He was thus engaged when he saw the same young girl suddenly +reappear at the door of his shop, whereupon, without concealing his +surprise, though he did not betray the profound uneasiness his client's +speedy return caused him, the scrivener said: + +"What is it, my child? I did not expect you back so soon." + +"Here is a letter from M. Louis, sir," said the young girl, drawing the +precious missive from her bosom, "and I have come to ask you to read it +to me." + +Trembling with anxiety and curiosity, the girl waited as the scrivener +glanced over the brief letter, concealing with only a moderate degree of +success the genuine consternation its contents excited; then, uttering +an exclamation of sorrowful indignation, he, to Mariette's intense +bewilderment and dismay, tore the precious letter in several pieces. + +"Poor child! poor child!" he exclaimed, throwing the fragments under his +desk, after having crumpled them in his hands. + +"What are you doing, monsieur?" cried Mariette, pale as death. + +"Ah, my poor child!" repeated the old man, with an air of deep +compassion. + +"Good heavens! Has any misfortune befallen M. Louis?" murmured the girl, +clasping her hands imploringly. + +"No, my child, no; but you must forget him." + +"Forget him?" + +"Yes; believe me, it would be much better for you to renounce all hope, +so far as he is concerned." + +"My God! What has happened to him?" + +"There are some things that are much harder to bear than ignorance, and +yet I was pitying you a little while ago because you could not read." + +"But what did he say in the letter, monsieur?" + +"Your marriage is no longer to be thought of." + +"Did M. Louis say that?" + +"Yes, at the same time appealing to your generosity of heart." + +"M. Louis bids me renounce him, and says he renounces me?" + +"Alas! yes, my poor child. Come, come, summon up all your courage and +resignation." + +Mariette, who had turned as pale as death, was silent for a moment, +while big tears rolled down her cheeks; then, stooping suddenly, she +gathered up the crumpled fragments of the letter and handed them to the +scrivener, saying, in a husky voice: + +"I at least have the courage to hear all. Put the pieces together and +read the letter to me, if you please, monsieur." + +"Do not insist, my child, I beg of you." + +"Read it, monsieur, in pity read it!" + +"But--" + +"I must know the contents of this letter, however much the knowledge may +pain me." + +"I have already told you the substance of it. Spare yourself further +pain." + +"Have pity on me, monsieur. If you do really feel the slightest interest +in me, read the letter to me,--in heaven's name, read it! Let me at +least know the extent of my misfortune; besides, there may be a line, or +at least a word, of consolation." + +"Well, my poor child, as you insist," said the old man, adjusting the +fragments of the letter, while Mariette watched him with despairing +eyes, "listen to the letter." + +And he read as follows: + + * * * * * + +"'MY DEAR MARIETTE:--I write you a few lines in great haste. My soul is +full of despair, for we shall be obliged to renounce our hopes. My +father's comfort and peace of mind, in his declining years, must be +assured at any cost. You know how devotedly I love my father. I have +given my word, and you and I must never meet again. + +"'One last request. I appeal both to your delicacy and generosity of +heart. Make no attempt to induce me to change this resolution. I have +been obliged to choose between my father and you; perhaps if I should +see you again, I might not have the courage to do my duty as a son. My +father's future is, consequently, in your hands. I rely upon your +generosity. Farewell! Grief overpowers me so completely that I can no +longer hold my pen. + +"'Once more, and for ever, farewell. + +"'LOUIS.'" + + * * * * * + +While this note was being read, Mariette might have served as a model +for a statue of grief. Standing motionless beside the scrivener's desk, +with inertly hanging arms, and clasped hands, her downcast eyes swimming +with tears, and her lips agitated by a convulsive trembling, the poor +creature still seemed to be listening, long after the old man had +concluded his reading. + +He was the first to break the long silence that ensued. + +"I felt certain that this letter would pain you terribly, my dear +child," he said, compassionately. + +But Mariette made no reply. + +"Do not tremble so, my child," continued the scrivener. "Sit down; and +here, take a sip of water." + +But Mariette did not even hear him. With her tear-dimmed eyes still +fixed upon vacancy, she murmured, with a heart-broken expression on her +face: + +"So it is all over! There is nothing left for me in the world. It was +too blissful a dream. I am like my godmother, happiness is not for such +as me." + +"My child," pleaded the old man, touched, in spite of himself, by her +despair, "my child, don't give way so, I beg of you." + +The words seemed to recall the girl to herself. She wiped her eyes, +then, gathering up the pieces of the torn letter, she said, in a voice +she did her best to steady: + +"Thank you, monsieur." + +"What are you doing?" asked Father Richard, anxiously. "What is the use +of preserving these fragments of a letter which will awaken such sad +memories?" + +"The grave of a person one has loved also awakens sad memories," replied +Mariette, with a bitter smile, "and yet one does not desert that +grave." + +After she had collected all the scraps of paper in the envelope, +Mariette replaced it in her bosom, and, crossing her little shawl upon +her breast, turned to go, saying, sadly: "I thank you for your kindness, +monsieur;" then, as if bethinking herself, she added, timidly: + +"Though this letter requires no reply, monsieur, after all the trouble I +have given you, I feel that I ought to offer--" + +"My charge is ten sous, exactly the same as for a letter," replied the +old man, promptly, accepting and pocketing the remuneration with +unmistakable eagerness, in spite of the conflicting emotions which had +agitated him ever since the young girl's return. "And now _au revoir_, +my child," he said, in a tone of evident relief; "our next meeting, I +hope, will be under happier circumstances." + +"Heaven grant it, monsieur," replied Mariette, as she walked slowly +away, while Father Richard, evidently anxious to return home, closed the +shutters of his stall, thus concluding his day's work much earlier than +usual. + +Mariette, a prey to the most despairing thoughts, walked on and on +mechanically, wholly unconscious of the route she was following, until +she reached the Pont au Change. At the sight of the river she started +suddenly like one awaking from a dream, and murmured, "It was my evil +genius that brought me here." + +In another moment she was leaning over the parapet gazing down eagerly +into the swift flowing waters below. Gradually, as her eyes followed the +course of the current, a sort of vertigo seized her. Unconsciously, too, +she was slowly yielding to the fascination such a scene often exerts, +and, with her head supported on her hands, she leaned farther and +farther over the stream. + +"I could find forgetfulness there," the poor child said to herself. "The +river is a sure refuge from misery, from hunger, from sickness, or from +a miserable old age, an old age like that of my poor godmother. My +godmother? Why, without me, what would become of her?" + +Just then Mariette felt some one seize her by the arm, at the same time +exclaiming, in a frightened tone: + +"Take care, my child, take care, or you will fall in the river." + +The girl turned her haggard eyes upon the speaker, and saw a stout woman +with a kind and honest face, who continued, almost affectionately: + +"You are very imprudent to lean so far over the parapet, my child. I +expected to see you fall over every minute." + +"I was not noticing, madame--" + +"But you ought to notice, child. Good Heavens! how pale you are! Do you +feel sick?" + +"No, only a little weak, madame. It is nothing. I shall soon be all +right again." + +"Lean on me. You are just recovering from a fit of illness, I judge." + +"Yes, madame," replied Mariette, passing her hand across her forehead. +"Will you tell me where I am, please?" + +"Between the Pont Neuf and the Pont au Change, my dear. You are a +stranger in Paris, perhaps." + +"No, madame, but I had an attack of dizziness just now. It is passing +off, and I see where I am now." + +"Wouldn't you like me to accompany you to your home, child?" asked the +stout woman, kindly. "You are trembling like a leaf. Here, take my arm." + +"I thank you, madame, but it is not necessary. I live only a short +distance from here." + +"Just as you say, child, but I'll do it with pleasure if you wish. No? +Very well, good luck to you, then." + +And the obliging woman continued on her way. + +Mariette, thus restored to consciousness, as it were, realised the +terrible misfortune that had befallen her all the more keenly, and to +this consciousness was now added the fear of being cruelly reproached by +her godmother just at a time when she was so sorely in need of +consolation, or at least of the quiet and solitude that one craves after +such a terrible shock. + +Desiring to evade the bitter reproaches this long absence was almost +sure to bring down upon her devoted head, and remembering the desire her +godmother had expressed that morning, Mariette hoped to gain forgiveness +by gratifying the invalid's whim, so, with the forty sous left of the +amount she had obtained at the Mont de Piete still in her pocket, she +hastened to a _rotisseur's_, and purchased a quarter of a chicken there, +thence to a bakery, where she bought a couple of crisp white rolls, +after which she turned her steps homeward. + +A handsome coupe was standing at the door of the house in which Mariette +lived, though she did not even notice this fact, but when she stopped at +the porter's room as usual, to ask for her key, Madame Justin exclaimed: + +"Your key, Mlle. Mariette? Why, that gentleman called for it a moment +ago." + +"What gentleman?" + +"A decorated gentleman. Yes, I should say he was decorated. Why, the +ribbon in his buttonhole was at least two inches wide. I never saw a +person with such a big decoration." + +"But I am not acquainted with any decorated gentleman," replied the +young girl, much surprised. "He must have made a mistake." + +"Oh, no, child. He asked me if the Widow Lacombe didn't live here with +her goddaughter, a seamstress, so you see there could be no mistake." + +"But didn't you tell the gentleman that my godmother was an invalid and +could not see any one?" + +"Yes, child, but he said he must have a talk with her on a very +important matter, all the same, so I gave him the key, and let him go +up." + +"I will go and see who it is, Madame Justin," responded Mariette. + +Imagine her astonishment, when, on reaching the fifth floor, she saw the +stranger through the half-open door, and heard him address these words +to Madame Lacombe: + +"As your goddaughter has gone out, my good woman, I can state my +business with you very plainly." + +When these words reached her ears, Mariette, yielding to a very natural +feeling of curiosity, concluded to remain on the landing and listen to +the conversation, instead of entering the room. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE VOICE OF THE TEMPTER. + + +The speaker was a man about forty-five years of age, with regular though +rather haggard features and a long moustache, made as black and lustrous +by some cosmetic as his artistically curled locks, which evidently owed +their raven hue to artificial means. The stranger's physiognomy +impressed one as being a peculiar combination of deceitfulness, cunning, +and impertinence. He had large feet and remarkably large hands; in +short, despite his very evident pretensions, it was easy to see that he +was one of those vulgar persons who cannot imitate, but only parody real +elegance. Dressed in execrable taste, with a broad red ribbon in the +buttonhole of his frock coat, he affected a military bearing. With his +hat still on his head, he had seated himself a short distance from the +bed, and as he talked with the invalid he gnawed the jewelled handle of +a small cane that he carried. + +Madame Lacombe was gazing at the stranger with mingled surprise and +distrust. She was conscious, too, of a strong aversion, caused, +doubtless, by his both insolent and patronising air. + +"As your goddaughter is out, my good woman, I can state my business with +you very plainly." + +These were the words that Mariette overheard on reaching the landing. +The conversation that ensued was, in substance, as follows: + +"You asked, monsieur, if I were the Widow Lacombe, Mariette Moreau's +godmother," said the sick woman tartly. "I told you that I was. Now, +what do you want with me? Explain, if you please." + +"In the first place, my good woman--" + +"My name is Lacombe, Madame Lacombe." + +"Oh, very well, Madame Lacombe," said the stranger, with an air of mock +deference, "I will tell you first who I am; afterwards I will tell you +what I want. I am Commandant de la Miraudiere." Then, touching his red +ribbon, he added, "An old soldier as you see--ten campaigns--five +wounds." + +"That is nothing to me." + +"I have many influential acquaintances in Paris, dukes, counts, and +marquises." + +"What do I care about that?" + +"I keep a carriage, and spend at least twenty thousand francs a year." + +"While my goddaughter and I starve on twenty sous a day, when she can +earn them," said the sick woman, bitterly. "That is the way of the +world, however." + +"But it is not fair, my good Mother Lacombe," responded Commandant de la +Miraudiere, "it is not fair, and I have come here to put an end to such +injustice." + +"If you've come here to mock me, I wish you'd take yourself off," +retorted the sick woman, sullenly. + +"Mock you, Mother Lacombe, mock you! Just hear what I have come to offer +you. A comfortable room in a nice apartment, a servant to wait on you, +two good meals a day, coffee every morning, and fifty francs a month for +your snuff, if you take it, or for anything else you choose to fancy, if +you don't,--well, what do you say to all this, Mother Lacombe?" + +"I say--I say you're only making sport of me, that is, unless there is +something behind all this. When one offers such things to a poor old +cripple like me, it is not for the love of God, that is certain." + +"No, Mother Lacombe, but for the love of two beautiful eyes, perhaps." + +"Whose beautiful eyes?" + +"Your goddaughter's, Mother Lacombe," replied Commandant de la +Miraudiere, cynically. "There is no use beating about the bush." + +The invalid made a movement indicative of surprise, then, casting a +searching look at the stranger, inquired: + +"You know Mariette, then?" + +"I have been to Madame Jourdan's several times to order linen, for I am +very particular about my linen," added the stranger, glancing down +complacently at his embroidered shirt-front. "I have consequently often +seen your goddaughter there; I think her charming, adorable, and--" + +"And you have come to buy her of me?" + +"Bravo, Mother Lacombe! You are a clever and sensible woman, I see. You +understand things in the twinkling of an eye. This is the proposition I +have come to make to you: A nice suite of rooms, newly furnished for +Mariette, with whom you are to live, five hundred francs a month to run +the establishment, a maid and a cook who will also wait on you, a +suitable outfit for Mariette, and a purse of fifty louis to start with, +to say nothing of the other presents she will get if she behaves +properly. So much for the substantials. As for the agreeable part, there +will be drives in the park, boxes at the theatre,--I know any number of +actors, and I am also on the best of terms with some very high-toned +ladies who give many balls and card-parties,--in short, your goddaughter +will have a delightful, an enchanted life, Mother Lacombe, the life of a +duchess. Well, how does all this strike you?" + +"Very favourably, of course," responded the sick woman, with a sardonic +smile. "Such cattle as we are, are only fit to be sold when we are +young, or to sell others when we are old." + +"Ah, well, Mother Lacombe, to quiet your scruples, if you have any, you +shall have sixty francs a month for your snuff, and I shall also make +you a present of a handsome shawl, so you can go around respectably with +Mariette, whom you are never to leave for a moment, understand, for I am +as jealous as a tiger, and have no intention of being made a fool of." + +"All this tallies exactly with what I said to Mariette only this +morning. 'You are an honest girl,' I said to her, 'and yet you can +scarcely earn twenty sous a day making three hundred franc chemises for +a kept woman.'" + +"Three hundred franc chemises ordered from Madame Jourdan's? Oh, yes, +Mother Lacombe, I know. They are for Amandine, who is kept by the +Marquis de Saint-Herem, an intimate friend of mine. It was I who induced +her to patronise Madame Jourdan,--a regular bonanza for her, though the +marquis is very poor pay, but he makes all his furnishers as well as all +his mistresses the fashion. This little Amandine was a clerk in a little +perfumery shop on the Rue Colbert six months ago, and Saint-Herem has +made her the rage. There is no woman in Paris half as much talked about +as Amandine. The same thing may happen to Mariette some day, Mother +Lacombe. She may be wearing three hundred franc chemises instead of +making them. Don't it make you proud to think of it?" + +"Unless Mariette has the same fate as another poor girl I knew." + +"What happened to her, Mother Lacombe?" + +"She was robbed." + +"Robbed?" + +"She, too, was promised mountains of gold. The man who promised it +placed her in furnished apartments, and at the end of three months left +her without a penny. Then she killed herself in despair." + +"Really, Mother Lacombe, what kind of a man do you take me for?" +demanded the stranger, indignantly. "Do I look like a scoundrel, like a +Robert Macaire?" + +"I don't know, I am sure." + +"I, an old soldier who have fought in twenty campaigns, and have ten +wounds! I, who am hand and glove with all the lions of Paris! I, who +keep my carriage and spend twenty thousand francs a year! Speak out, +what security do you want? If you say so, the apartment shall be +furnished within a week, the lease made out in your name, and the rent +paid one year in advance; besides, you shall have the twenty-five or +thirty louis I have about me to bind the bargain, if you like." + +And as he spoke, he drew a handful of gold from his pocket and threw it +on the little table by the sick woman's bed, adding: "You see I am not +like you. I am not afraid of being robbed, Mother Lacombe." + +On hearing the chink of coin, the invalid leaned forward, and cast a +greedy, covetous look upon the glittering pile. Never in her life had +she had a gold coin in her possession, and now she could not resist the +temptation to touch the gleaming metal, and let it slip slowly through +her fingers. + +"I can at least say that I have handled gold once in my life," the sick +woman murmured, hoarsely. + +"It is nothing to handle it, Mother Lacombe. Think of the pleasure of +spending it." + +"There is enough here to keep one in comfort five or six months," said +the old woman, carefully arranging the gold in little piles. + +"And remember that you and Mariette can have as much every month if you +like, Mother Lacombe, in good, shining gold, if you wish it." + +After a long silence, the sick woman raised her hollow eyes to the +stranger's face, and said: + +"You think Mariette pretty, monsieur. You are right, and there is not a +better-hearted, more deserving girl in the world. Well, be generous to +her. This money is a mere trifle to a man as rich as you are. Make us a +present of it." + +"Eh?" exclaimed the stranger, in profound astonishment. + +"Monsieur," said the consumptive, clasping her hands imploringly, "be +generous, be charitable. This sum of money is a mere trifle to you, as I +said before, but it would support us for months. We should be able to +pay all we owe. Mariette would not be obliged to work night and day. She +would have time to look around a little, and find employment that paid +her better. We should owe five or six months of peace and happiness to +your bounty. It costs us so little to live! Do this, kind sir, and we +will for ever bless you, and for once in my life I shall have known what +happiness is." + +The sick woman's tone was so sincere, her request so artless, that the +stranger, who could not conceive of any human creature being stupid +enough really to expect such a thing of a man of his stamp, felt even +more hurt than surprised, and said to himself: + +"Really, this is not very flattering to me. The old hag must take me for +a country greenhorn to make such a proposition as that." + +So bursting into a hearty laugh, he said, aloud: + +"You must take me for a philanthropist, or the winner of the Montyon +prize, Mother Lacombe. I am to make you a present of six hundred francs, +and accept your benediction and eternal gratitude in return, eh?" + +The sick woman had yielded to one of those wild and sudden hopes that +sometimes seize the most despondent persons; but irritated by the +contempt with which her proposal had been received, she now retorted, +with a sneer: + +"I hope you will forgive me for having so grossly insulted you, I am +sure, monsieur." + +"Oh, you needn't apologise, Mother Lacombe. I have taken no offence, as +you see. But we may as well settle this little matter without any +further delay. Am I to pocket those shining coins you seem to take so +much pleasure in handling, yes or no?" + +And he stretched out his hand as if to gather up the gold pieces. + +With an almost unconscious movement, the sick woman pushed his hand +away, exclaiming, sullenly: + +"Wait a minute, can't you? You needn't be afraid that anybody is going +to eat your gold." + +"On the contrary, that is exactly what I would like you to do, on +condition, of course--" + +"But I know Mariette, and she would never consent," replied the sick +woman, with her eyes still fixed longingly upon the shining coins. + +"Nonsense!" + +"But she is an honest girl, I tell you. She might listen to a man she +loved, as so many girls do, but to you, never. She would absolutely +refuse. She has her ideas--oh, you needn't laugh." + +"Oh, I know Mariette is a virtuous girl. Madame Jourdan, for whom your +goddaughter has worked for years, has assured me of that fact; but I +know, too, that you have a great deal of influence over her. She is +dreadfully afraid of you, Madame Jourdan says, so I am sure that you +can, if you choose, persuade or, if need be, compel Mariette to +accept--what? Simply an unlooked-for piece of good fortune, for you are +housed like beggars and almost starving, that is evident. Suppose you +refuse, what will be the result? The girl, with all her fine +disinterestedness, will be fooled sooner or later by some scamp in her +own station in life, and--" + +"That is possible, but she will not have sold herself." + +"That is all bosh, as you'll discover some day when her lover deserts +her, and she has to do what so many other girls do to save herself from +starving." + +[Illustration: "'_Go away and let me alone._'" + +Original etching by Adrian Marcel.] + +"That is very possible," groaned the sick woman. "Hunger is an evil +counsellor, I know, when one has one's child as well as one's self to +think of. And with this gold, how many of these poor girls might be +saved! Ah! if Mariette is to end her days like them, after all, what is +the use of struggling?" + +For a minute or two the poor woman's contracted features showed that a +terrible conflict was raging in her breast. The gold seemed to exercise +an almost irresistible fascination over her; she seemed unable to remove +her eyes from it; but at last with a desperate effort she closed them, +as if to shut out the sight of the money, and throwing herself back on +her pillow, cried, angrily: + +"Go away, go away, and let me alone." + +"What! you refuse my offer, Mother Lacombe?" + +"Yes." + +"Positively?" + +"Yes." + +"Then I've got to pocket all this gold again, I suppose," said the +stranger, gathering up the coins, and making them jingle loudly as he +did so. "All these shining yellow boys must go back into my pocket." + +"May the devil take you and your gold!" exclaimed the now thoroughly +exasperated woman. "Keep your money, but clear out. I didn't take +Mariette in to ruin her, or advise her to ruin herself. Rather than eat +bread earned in such way, I would light a brazier of charcoal and end +both the girl's life and my own." + +Madame Lacombe had scarcely uttered these words before Mariette burst +into the room, pale and indignant, and throwing herself upon the sick +woman's neck, exclaimed: + +"Ah, godmother. I knew very well that you loved me as if I were your own +child!" + +Then turning to Commandant de la Miraudiere, whom she recognised as the +man who had stared at her so persistently at Madame Jourdan's, she said +contemptuously: + +"I beg that you will leave at once." + +"But, my dear little dove--" + +"I was there at the door, monsieur, and I heard all." + +"So much the better. You know what I am willing to do, and I assure +you--" + +"Once more, I must request you to leave at once." + +"Very well, very well, my little Lucrece, I will go, but I shall allow +you one week for reflection," said the stranger, preparing to leave the +room. + +But on the threshold he paused and added: + +"You will not forget my name, Commandant de la Miraudiere, my dear. +Madame Jourdan knows my address." + +After which he disappeared. + +"Ah, godmother," exclaimed the girl, returning to the invalid, and +embracing her effusively, "how nobly you defended me!" + +"Yes," responded the sick woman, curtly, freeing herself almost roughly +from her goddaughter's embrace, "and yet with all these virtues, one +perishes of hunger." + +"But, godmother--" + +"Don't talk any more about it, for heaven's sake!" cried the invalid, +angrily. "It is all settled. What is the use of discussing it any +further? I have done my duty; you have done yours. I am an honest woman; +you are an honest girl. Great good it will do you, and me, too; you may +rest assured of that." + +"But, godmother, listen to me--" + +"We shall be found here some fine morning stiff and cold, you and I, +with a pan of charcoal between us. Ah, ha, ha!" + +And with a shrill, mirthless laugh, the poor creature, embittered by +years of misfortune, and chafing against the scruples that had kept her +honest in spite of herself, put an end to the conversation by abruptly +turning her back upon her goddaughter. + +It was nearly night now. + +Mariette went out into the hall where she had left the basket containing +the sick woman's supper. She placed the food on a small table near the +bed, and then went and seated herself silently by the narrow window, +where, drawing the fragments of her lover's letter from her pocket, she +gazed at them with despair in her soul. + + * * * * * + +On leaving Mariette, the commandant said to himself: + +"I'm pretty sure that last shot told in spite of what they said. The +girl will change her mind and so will the old woman. The sight of my +gold seemed to dazzle the eyes of that old hag as much as if she had +been trying to gaze at the noonday sun. Their poverty will prove a much +more eloquent advocate for me than any words of mine. I do not despair, +by any means. Two months of good living will make Mariette one of the +prettiest girls in Paris, and she will do me great credit at very little +expense. But now I must turn my attention to business. A fine little +discovery it is that I have just made, and I think I shall be able to +turn it to very good account." + +Stepping into his carriage, he was driven to the Rue Grenelle St. +Honore. Alighting in front of No. 17, a very unpretentious dwelling, he +said to the porter: + +"Does M. Richard live here?" + +"A father and son of that name both live here, monsieur." + +"I wish to see the son. Is M. Louis Richard in?" + +"Yes, monsieur. He has only just returned from a journey. He is with his +father now." + +"Ah, he is with his father? Well, I would like to see him alone." + +"As they both occupy the same room, there will be some difficulty about +that." + +The commandant reflected a moment, then, taking a visiting card bearing +his address from his pocket, he added these words in pencil: "requests +the honour of a visit from M. Louis Richard to-morrow morning between +nine and ten, as he has a very important communication which will brook +no delay, to make to him." + +"Here are forty sous for you, my friend," said M. de la Miraudiere to +the porter, "and I want you to give this card to M. Louis Richard." + +"That is a very easy way to earn forty sous." + +"But you are not to give the card to him until to-morrow morning as he +goes out, and his father is not to know anything about it. Do you +understand?" + +"Perfectly, monsieur, and there will be no difficulty about it as M. +Louis goes out every morning at seven o'clock, while his father never +leaves before nine." + +"I can rely upon you, then?" + +"Oh, yes, monsieur, you can regard the errand as done." + +Commandant de la Miraudiere reentered his carriage and drove away. + +Soon after his departure a postman brought a letter for Louis Richard. +It was the letter written that same morning in Mariette's presence by +the scrivener, who had addressed it to No. 17 Rue de Grenelle, Paris, +instead of to Dreux as the young girl had requested. + +We will now usher the reader into the room occupied by the scrivener, +Richard, and his son, who had just returned from Dreux. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +FATHER AND SON. + + +The father and son occupied on the fifth floor of this old house a room +that was almost identical in every respect with the abode of Mariette +and her godmother. Both were characterised by the same bareness and lack +of comfort. A small bed for the father, a mattress for the son, a +rickety table, three or four chairs, a chest for their clothing--these +were the only articles of furniture in the room. + +Father Richard, on his way home, had purchased their evening repast, an +appetising slice of ham and a loaf of fresh bread. These he had placed +upon the table with a bottle of water, and a single candle, whose faint +light barely served to render darkness visible. + +Louis Richard, who was twenty-five years of age, had a frank, honest, +kindly, intelligent face, while his shabby, threadbare clothing, worn +white at the seams, only rendered his physical grace and vigour more +noticeable. + +The scrivener's features wore a joyful expression, slightly tempered, +however, by the anxiety he now felt in relation to certain long +cherished projects of his own. + +The young man, after having deposited his shabby valise on the floor, +tenderly embraced his father, to whom he was devoted; and the happiness +of being with him again and the certainty of seeing Mariette on the +morrow made his face radiant, and increased his accustomed good humour. + +"So you had a pleasant journey, my son," remarked the old man, seating +himself at the table. + +"Very." + +"Won't you have some supper? We can talk while we eat." + +"Won't I have some supper, father? I should think I would. I did not +dine at the inn like the other travellers, and for the best of reasons," +added Louis, gaily, slapping his empty pocket. + +"You have little cause to regret the fact, probably," replied the old +man, dividing the slice of ham into two very unequal portions, and +giving the larger to his son. "The dinners one gets at wayside inns are +generally very expensive and very poor." + +As he spoke, he handed Louis a thick slice of bread, and the father and +son began to eat with great apparent zest, washing down their food with +big draughts of cold water. + +"Tell me about your journey, my son," remarked the old man. + +"There is very little to tell, father. My employer gave me a number of +documents to be submitted to M. Ramon. He read and studied them very +carefully, I must say. At least he took plenty of time to do it,--five +whole days, after which he returned the documents with numberless +comments, annotations, and corrections." + +"Then you did not enjoy yourself particularly at Dreux, I judge." + +"I was bored to death, father." + +"What kind of a man is this M. Ramon, that a stay at his house should be +so wearisome?" + +"The worst kind of a person conceivable, my dear father. In other words, +an execrable old miser." + +"Hum! hum!" coughed the old man, as if he had swallowed the wrong way. +"So he is a miser, is he? He must be very rich, then." + +"I don't know about that. One may be stingy with a small fortune as +well as with a big one, I suppose; but if this M. Ramon's wealth is to +be measured by his parsimony, he must be a multi-millionaire. He is a +regular old Harpagon." + +"If you had been reared in luxury and abundance, I could understand the +abuse you heap upon this old Harpagon, as you call him; but we have +always lived in such poverty that, however parsimonious M. Ramon may be, +you certainly cannot be able to see much difference between his life and +ours." + +"Ah, father, you don't know what you're talking about." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Well, M. Ramon keeps two servants; we have none. He occupies an entire +house; we both eat and sleep in this garret room. He has three or four +courses at dinner, we take a bite of anything that comes handy, but for +all that we live a hundred times better than that skinflint does." + +"But I don't understand, my son," said Father Richard, who for some +reason or other seemed to be greatly annoyed at the derogatory opinion +his son expressed. "There can be no comparison between that gentleman's +circumstances and ours." + +"My dear father, we make no attempt to conceal our poverty at all +events. We endure our privations cheerfully, and if I sometimes, in my +ambitious moments, dream of a rather more comfortable existence, you +know it is not on my own account, for I am very well satisfied with my +lot." + +"My dear boy, I know what a kind heart you have, I know, too, how much +you love me, and the only thing that consoles me for our poverty is the +knowledge that you do not repine at your lot." + +"Repine at my lot when you share it? Besides, what we lack is really +only the superfluous. We do not eat capons stuffed with truffles, it is +true, but we eat with a good appetite,--witness the rapid disappearance +of this big loaf of bread; our clothes are threadbare, but warm; we +earn, both together, from seventeen to eighteen hundred francs a year. +Not a colossal amount, by any means, but we owe no man a penny. Ah, my +dear father, if Heaven never sends me any worse trouble than this, I +shall never complain." + +"You have no idea how much pleasure it gives me to see you accept your +lot in life so cheerfully. But tell me, are you really happy?" + +"Very happy." + +"Really and truly?" + +"Why should I wish to deceive you? Do I ever look glum and sour like a +man who is discontented with his lot?" + +"That is only because you have such an uncommonly good disposition, +perhaps." + +"That depends. If I were obliged to live with that abominable old +skinflint Ramon, I should soon become intolerable." + +"Why are you so hard upon that poor man?" + +"The recollection of the torture I endured under his roof, I suppose." + +"Torture?" + +"What else do you call it, father, to live in a big, cold, dilapidated, +cheerless house,--a house so dreary, in fact, that the grave seems a +cheerful abode in comparison? And then to see those two thin, +solemn-faced, famished-looking servants wandering about in that grim +sepulchre! And the meals,--meals at which the master of the house seems +to count each morsel that you eat! And his daughter,--for the man has a +daughter who will perpetuate the breed, I suppose,--and his daughter, +who doles out scanty portions for the domestics, and then carefully +locks up the remains of the meagre meal!" + +"Louis, Louis, how is it that you, who are usually so charitably +inclined, should be so strangely hostile to this poor man and his +daughter?" + +"His daughter! Can you call such a thing as that a daughter, a big, +raw-boned creature, with feet and hands like a man's, a face like a +nutcracker, and a nose,--great Heavens! what a nose,--a nose as long as +that, and of a brick-red colour? But justice compels me to say that this +incomparable creature has yellow hair and black teeth to make up for her +red nose." + +"The portrait is not flattered, evidently, but all women cannot be +pretty, and a kind heart is much better than a pretty face." + +"True, father, but how strange it is that there should be such +remarkable contrasts in some families." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Judge of my surprise on seeing in one of the apartments of that gloomy +house the portrait of a woman with such a charming, refined, +distinguished face that it seemed as if the picture must have been +placed there expressly to spite hateful Miss Red Nose. You shake your +head, father, but I am sure you ought not to censure me very severely. +At first I felt very sorry for the young lady when I saw her so +excessively ugly, and, above all, condemned to live with such an old +skinflint of a father; but afterwards, when I saw her nearly badger the +life out of those two poor servants, scolding them continually for the +merest trifle, and doling out the very smallest amount of food that +would suffice to keep them alive, my compassion changed to aversion and +positive loathing. But to return to the subject of the picture. The +portrait bore such a striking resemblance to one of my old schoolmates +that I asked old Harpagon who the lady was, and greatly to my surprise +he told me that it was a portrait of his sister, the late Madame de +Saint-Herem. 'Then this lady is, doubtless, the mother of the young +Marquis de Saint-Herem?' I asked, and if you could only have seen old +Ramon's face! One would have supposed I had just evoked the very devil +himself. Miss Red Nose, too, made a gesture of pious horror (I forgot to +tell you, to complete the picture, that she is one of the worst of +bigots), whereupon her worthy parent answered that he had the misfortune +to be the uncle of an infernal scoundrel named Saint-Herem." + +"This M. de Saint-Herem must bear a very bad reputation, I judge." + +"What! Florestan? the bravest and most delightful fellow in the world." + +"But his uncle--" + +"Listen, father, and you shall judge for yourself. Saint-Herem and I +were very intimate at college, but I had lost sight of him for a long +time, when about six months ago, as I was walking along the boulevard, I +saw everybody turning to look at a beautiful mail phaeton drawn by two +magnificent horses, and with two tiny footmen perched up behind. And who +do you suppose was driving this exquisite turnout? My old college +friend, Saint-Herem, who looked handsomer than ever; in fact, it would +be impossible to conceive of a more distinguished-looking young man." + +"I should judge that he must be a terrible spendthrift, though." + +"Wait until you hear the end of my story, my dear father. The vehicle +stopped suddenly, the little grooms jumped down and ran to the horses' +heads. Saint-Herem sprang out of the phaeton, rushed up to me, and +positively embraced me in his delight at meeting me again after such a +long separation. I was dressed like the poor devil of a notary's clerk +that I am, and you must admit, my dear father, that most men of fashion +would have shrunk from even recognising such a plebeian-looking +creature, but Florestan did not even seem to notice my plain apparel. As +for me, I was both pleased and embarrassed by this manifestation of +friendly feeling on his part, for we seemed to attract a great deal of +attention. Saint-Herem, too, must have noticed the fact, for he +exclaimed: + +"'Did you ever see such a set of gaping idiots? Where are you going?' + +"'To the office.' + +"'Then get in with me. We can talk as we drive along.' + +"'What! get into that stylish carriage with my clumsy shoes and big +umbrella? What will people think?' I replied. But Florestan only +shrugged his shoulders, and, seizing me by the arm, half led, half +dragged me to the carriage. On our way to the office he made me promise +that I would come and see him, and finally he set me down at the +notary's door with the warmest protestations of friendship and +good-will. Now what do you think of a man who would act like that, +father?" + +"Pooh!" responded the scrivener, with a by no means enthusiastic air, +"he yielded to a kindly impulse, that is all. I always distrust people +who are so inclined to make a display of their friendship; besides, you +are in no position to keep up such an acquaintance." + +"I know that; still, under the circumstances, I felt obliged to keep my +promise to take breakfast with Florestan on the following Sunday. The +kind-hearted fellow treated me as if I were a prince, and begged me to +come again, but I left for Dreux soon afterward, so I have not seen him +since." + +"It is very strange that you never said anything to me about your visit +to him." + +"Shall I tell you why I did not? I said to myself: 'My poor father loves +me so much he may fear that the sight of Florestan's splendour will +excite my envy, and make me dissatisfied with my own humble condition in +life, so I will conceal the fact that I once breakfasted with a +Sardanapalus or a Lucullus.'" + +"My dear, brave boy!" exclaimed the old man, with deep emotion, "I +understand; and the delicacy of your conduct touches me deeply. It is +only one more proof of your kindness and generosity of heart, but I beg +that you will now listen to me attentively for a moment, for it is to +this very generosity of feeling, as well as to your affection for me, +that I am about to appeal. There is an extremely grave and important +matter about which I must speak to you." + +The scrivener's expression had become so serious and even solemn that +the young man gazed at him with surprise; but just then the porter +knocked at the door and said: + +"Here is a letter for you, M. Louis." + +"Very well," replied the young man, abstractedly, too much engaged in +wondering what the important matter to which his father had alluded +could be to pay much attention to the letter, which Father Richard +instantly recognised as the one which he had written to his son that +morning, and which he had addressed to the Rue de Grenelle instead of to +Dreux, as poor Mariette had requested. + +Knowing the contents of the missive, the old scrivener was on the point +of advising his son to read the letter immediately, but, after a +moment's reflection, he adopted the opposite course, and said: + +"My dear boy, you will have plenty of time to read your letter by and +by. Listen to me now, for I repeat there is a matter of great importance +both to you and to me, that I must consult you about." + +"I am at your service, my dear father," replied Louis, laying the letter +which he had been about to open on the table. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +A FATHER'S AMBITION. + + +Father Richard remained silent for a moment, then, turning to his son, +said: + +"I have warned you that I am about to appeal to your generosity as well +as to your affection for me." + +"Then you have only to speak, father." + +"You told me just now that, if you sometimes dreamed of a less humble +existence than ours, it was not on your own account, but mine." + +"And that is perfectly true." + +"Ah, well, my son, it only depends upon yourself to see this desire +realised." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Listen to me. Reverses of fortune which closely followed your mother's +death, while you were but an infant, left me barely property enough to +defray the expenses of your education." + +"Yes, my dear father, and the courage and resignation with which you +have endured this misfortune have only increased my love and respect for +you." + +"Our pecuniary condition seems likely to speedily become worse instead +of better, I regret to say. With old age fast coming on, and my failing +vision, I realise that the day is near at hand when it will be +impossible for me to earn even the pittance needed for my support." + +"But, father, you may be sure--" + +"Of your willing aid, I know that; but your own future is precarious in +the extreme. The most you can hope for is to become chief clerk in a +notary's office, for it takes money to study a profession, and I am +poor." + +"Do not worry, father. I shall always be able to earn money enough for +us two." + +"But what if sickness should come, or some accident should befall either +of us, or you should be thrown out of employment for several months, +what would become of us then?" + +"My dear father, if we poor people stopped to think of the misfortunes +that might befall us, we should lose courage. Let us close our eyes to +the future, and think only of the present. That, thank Heaven! is not +alarming." + +"Yes, I admit that it is better not to think of the future when it is +alarming, but when it may be happy and prosperous, if we choose to make +it so, is it not well to open our eyes instead of closing them?" + +"Certainly." + +"So I repeat, that it depends entirely upon yourself to make our future +both happy and prosperous." + +"You may consider it done, then. Only tell me how I am to do it." + +"I shall surprise you very much, I am sure, when I tell you that this M. +Ramon with whom you have just spent several days, and whom you so +cruelly misjudge, is an old friend of mine, and that the visit you just +paid him was planned by him and me." + +"But the papers my employer--" + +"Your employer kindly consented to assist us by charging you with a +pretended mission to Ramon." + +"But why was it considered necessary to resort to this trick?" + +"Ramon wished to see you and study you; in other words, to become +thoroughly acquainted with you without your suspecting it, and I feel it +my duty to tell you that he is delighted with you. I received a long +letter from him this very morning, in which he speaks of you in the +highest terms." + +"I regret that I am unable to return the compliment; but how can M. +Ramon's good or bad opinion affect me?" + +"It does affect you very seriously, though, my dear boy, for the +prosperous future of which I spoke is entirely dependent upon the +opinion Ramon has of you." + +"You speak in enigmas, father." + +"Ramon, without being what is called rich, possesses a comfortable +fortune, which, by reason of his wise economy, is increasing every day." + +"I can readily believe that, only what you call economy is contemptible +stinginess, father." + +"Don't let us haggle about terms, my son. Call it parsimony or economy, +or what you will, in consequence of it Ramon is sure to leave his +daughter a handsome fortune, though he will give her nothing during his +lifetime." + +"That does not surprise me in the least; but I really cannot imagine +what you are driving at, father?" + +"I rather hesitate to tell you, because, however erroneous first +impressions may be, they are very tenacious, and you have expressed +yourself so harshly in relation to Mlle. Ramon--" + +"Miss Red Nose? On the contrary, I assure you that I have been extremely +lenient." + +"Oh, you will get over your prejudice, I am sure. Believe me, Mlle. +Ramon is one of those persons who have to be known to be appreciated. +She is a young woman of remarkable strength of character as well as of +the most exemplary piety. What more can one ask in the mother of a +family?" + +"The mother of a family?" repeated Louis, who, though he was far from +suspecting the danger that menaced him, began to be conscious of a vague +uneasiness. "And what difference does it make to me whether Mlle. Ramon +proves an admirable mother of a family or not?" + +"It is a matter of vital importance to you." + +"To me?" + +"Yes." + +"And why?" demanded Louis, anxiously. + +"Because it is the one desire of my life to see you Mlle. Ramon's +husband," answered the old man, firmly. + +"Mlle. Ramon's husband!" cried Louis, springing up with a movement of +positive horror; "I marry that woman?" + +"Yes, my son. Marry Mlle. Ramon, and our future is assured. We will go +to Dreux to live. The house is large enough for us all. Ramon will give +his daughter no dowry, but we are to live with him, that is decided, and +he will procure you a lucrative situation. When your father-in-law dies, +you will come into a handsome fortune. Louis, my son, my beloved son," +added the old man, imploringly, seizing his son's hands, "consent to +this marriage, I beg of you. Consent to it, and you will make me the +happiest of men." + +"Ah, father, you do not know what you are asking," replied Louis. + +"You are going to say that you do not love Mlle. Ramon, perhaps; but +mutual respect and esteem are sufficient, and you can give both to Mlle. +Ramon, for she deserves them. As for her father, the parsimony that +shocked you so much at first, will seem less objectionable when you +recollect that, after all, you are the person who will profit by it, +eventually. Ramon is really a most estimable man. The one ambition of +his life is to leave his daughter and the husband of her choice a +handsome fortune; to attain this end, he keeps his expenses down as much +as possible. Is this any crime, I should like to know? Come, Louis, my +dear boy, answer me, give me a word of hope." + +"Father, much as it costs me to thwart your plans, what you ask is +impossible," replied the young man, sadly. + +"Louis, can it be you that answers me in this way when I appeal to your +love for me?" + +"In the first place, you would derive no personal advantage from this +marriage. You are thinking only of my interest when you urge it upon +me." + +"What! is it nothing to be able to live with Ramon without being obliged +to spend a sou? For it is understood that we are to live there for +nothing, I tell you, as he gives his daughter no dowry." + +"So long as I have a drop of blood in my veins, I will accept charity +from no man, father. More than once already I have begged you to abandon +your profession of scrivener, and let me supply our modest wants without +any assistance from you. I can easily do it by working a little harder." + +"But if your health should fail, and old age should prevent me from +earning a livelihood, there would be nothing left for me but to go to +the almshouse." + +"I have faith in my courage. I shall not lose my health, and you will +want for nothing; but, if I had to marry Mlle. Ramon, I should certainly +die of grief and despair." + +"You are not in earnest, Louis?" + +"I certainly am, father. I feel, and I always shall feel, an +unconquerable aversion to Mlle. Ramon; besides, I love a young girl, and +she, and she alone, shall be my wife." + +"I fancied I had your confidence, and yet you have come to such an +important decision as this without my even suspecting it." + +"I have been silent on the subject, because I wished to give convincing +proofs of the permanent nature of this attachment before I confided my +intentions to you. I, and the young girl I love, accordingly agreed to +wait one year in order to see if our natures were really congenial, and +if what we considered real love were only an ephemeral fancy. Our love +has withstood every test, thank God! The year expires to-day, and I +shall see the girl I love to-morrow, in order to decide upon the day +that she will broach the subject to her godmother who reared her. +Forgive me, father," added Louis, interrupting the old man as he was +about to speak; "I wish to say one word more. The girl I love is poor, +and works for her daily bread as I do, but she is the best and noblest +creature I know. Never will you find a more devoted daughter. Her +earnings and mine will suffice for our needs; she is accustomed to even +greater privations than we are. I will toil with redoubled ardour and +diligence, and, believe me, you shall have the rest you so much need. +Any disagreement between you and me is intensely painful to me. This is +the first time, I believe, that we have ever differed in opinion, so +spare me the sorrow of again refusing to comply with your request, I +beseech you. Do not insist further upon the subject of this marriage. I +can never resign myself to it, never! Nor will I ever have any other +woman for my wife than Mariette Moreau!" + +Louis uttered these last words in such a firm, though respectful tone +that the old man, not considering it advisable to insist further, +replied, with a disappointed air: + +"I cannot believe, Louis, that all the reasons I have urged in favour of +this marriage will remain valueless in your eyes. I have more faith in +your heart than you have in mine, and I feel sure that a little +reflection on your part will lead you to reconsider your decision." + +"You must not hope that, father." + +"I will so far comply with your wishes as to insist no further at this +time; I trust to reflection to bring you to a different frame of mind. I +give you twenty-four hours to come to a final decision. I will promise +not to say another word to you on the subject until that time expires; +and I must request you, in turn, to make no further allusion to your +wishes. Day after to-morrow we will talk the matter over again." + +"So be it, father, but I assure you that at the expiration of--" + +"We have agreed not to discuss the matter further at this time," +interrupted the old man, beginning to walk the room in silence, with an +occasional furtive glance at Louis, who, with his head supported on his +hands, still remained seated at the table on which he had placed the +letter a short time before. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THE FORGED LETTER. + + +His eyes having at last chanced to fall upon this letter addressed to +him in a handwriting he did not recognise, Louis broke the seal +mechanically. + +A moment afterward, the old man, who was still silently pacing the +floor, saw his son suddenly turn pale and pass his hand across his +forehead as if to satisfy himself that he was not the victim of an +optical delusion, then re-read with increasing agitation a missive which +he seemed unable to credit. + +This letter, which Father Richard had written in a disguised hand that +morning, ostensibly from Mariette's dictation, far from expressing that +young girl's real sentiments, read as follows: + + * * * * * + +"M. LOUIS:--I take advantage of your absence to write you what I should +not dare to tell you,--what, in fact, I have put off confessing for more +than two months for fear of causing you pain. All idea of a marriage +between us must be abandoned, M. Louis, as well as all idea of ever +seeing each other again. + +"It is impossible for me to tell you the cause of this change in my +feelings, but I assure you that my mind is fully made up. The reason I +did not inform you yesterday, the sixth of May, M. Louis, the sixth of +May, is that I wished to think the matter over once more, and in your +absence, before telling you my decision. + +"Farewell, M. Louis. Do not try to see me again. It would be useless +and would only cause me great pain. If, on the contrary, you make no +attempt to see me, or to induce me to reconsider my determination, my +happiness as well as that of my poor godmother is assured. + +"It is consequently for the sake of the happiness and peace of mind of +both of us, M. Louis, that I implore you not to insist upon another +meeting. + +"You are so kind-hearted that I am sure you would not like to cause me +unnecessary pain, for I solemnly swear that all is over between us. You +will not insist further, I hope, when I tell you that I no longer love +you except as a friend. + +MARIETTE MOREAU. + +"P.S. Instead of addressing this letter to Dreux, as you requested, I +send it to your Paris address, in order that you may find it there on +your return. Augustine, who has written for me heretofore, having gone +home on a visit, I have had recourse to another person. + +"I forgot to say that my godmother's health remains about the same." + + * * * * * + +The perusal of this letter plunged Louis into a profound stupor. The +ingenuous style of composition, the numerous petty details, the +allusion, twice repeated, to the sixth of May, all proved that the +missive must have been dictated by Mariette, so, after vainly asking +himself what could be the cause of this sudden rupture, anger, grief, +and wounded pride, all struggled for the mastery in the young man's +heart, and he murmured: + +"She need not insist so strongly upon my making no attempt to see her +again! Why should I desire to do so?" + +But grief soon overcame anger in the young man's heart. He endeavoured +to recall all the particulars of his last interview with Mariette, but +no indication of the slightest alienation of affection presented itself +to his mind. On the contrary, never had she seemed more loving and +devoted,--never had she seemed so eager to unite her lot with his. And +yet, unless appearances were deceiving him, Mariette, whom he had always +believed so pure and honest, was a monster of dissimulation. + +Louis could not believe that; so, impatient to solve the mystery, and +unable to endure this suspense any longer, he resolved to go to +Mariette's home at once, even at the risk of offending her godmother, +who, like Father Richard, had had no suspicion of the young people's +mutual love up to the present time. + +Not one of the different emotions which had in turn agitated the young +man had escaped the scrivener's watchful eye, as, thinking it quite time +to interfere, he said: + +"Louis, we must leave for Dreux early to-morrow morning, for, if we do +not, Ramon is sure to be here day after to-morrow, as has been agreed +upon." + +"Father!" + +"Such a proceeding on our part does not compromise us in the least, and +if you are determined to oppose the dearest wish of my heart, I only ask +that you will spend a few more days with Ramon and his daughter, as a +favour to me. After that, you will be perfectly free to act as you see +fit." + +Then seeing Louis pick up his hat, as if he intended to go out, Father +Richard exclaimed: + +"What are you doing? Where are you going?" + +"I have a slight headache, father, and I am going out for awhile." + +"Don't, I beg of you," exclaimed the old man, with growing alarm. "You +have looked and acted very strangely ever since you read that letter. +You frighten me." + +"You are mistaken, father. There is nothing the matter with me. I have a +slight headache, that is all. I shall be back soon." + +And Louis left the room abruptly. + +As he passed the porter's lodge, that functionary stopped him, and said, +with a mysterious air: + +"M. Louis, I want to see you alone for a moment. Step inside, if you +please." + +"What is it?" asked Louis, as he complied with the request. + +"Here is a card that a gentleman left for you. He came in a magnificent +carriage, and said that his business was very important." + +Louis took the card, and, approaching the lamp, read: + + * * * * * + +"_Commandant de la Miraudiere, + +17 Rue du Mont-Blanc._ + +"Requests the honour of a visit from M. Louis Richard to-morrow morning +between nine and ten, as he has a very important communication, which +will brook no delay, to make to him." + + * * * * * + +"Commandant de la Miraudiere? I never heard the name before," Louis said +to himself, as he examined the card, then, turning it over mechanically, +he saw, written in pencil on the other side: + +"Mariette Moreau, with Madame Lacombe, Rue des Pretres St. Germain +l'Auxerrois." + +For M. de la Miraudiere, having jotted down Mariette's address on one of +his visiting cards, had, without thinking, written upon the same card +the request for an interview which he had left for Louis. + +That young man, more and more perplexed, endeavoured in vain to discover +what possible connection there could be between Mariette and the +stranger who had left the card. After a moment's silence, he said to the +porter: + +"Did the gentleman leave any other message?" + +"He told me to give you the card when your father was not present." + +"That is strange," thought the young man. + +"What kind of a looking man was he--young or old?" he asked, aloud. + +"A very handsome man, M. Louis, a decorated gentleman, with a moustache +as black as ink, and very elegantly dressed." + +Louis went out with his brain in a whirl. This new revelation increased +his anxiety. The most absurd suspicions and fears immediately assailed +him, and he forthwith began to ask himself if this stranger were not a +rival. + +In her letter Mariette had implored Louis to make no attempt to see her +again. Such a step on his part, would, she said, endanger not only her +own happiness, but that of her godmother as well. Louis knew the trying +position in which the two women were placed, and a terrible suspicion +occurred to him. Perhaps Mariette, impelled as much by poverty as by her +godmother's persistent entreaties, had listened to the proposals of the +man whose card he, Louis, had just received. In that case, what could be +the man's object in requesting an interview? Louis racked his brain in +the hope of solving this mystery, but in vain. + +These suspicions once aroused, the supposition that he had been betrayed +for the sake of a rich rival seemed the only possible explanation of +Mariette's strange conduct. Under these circumstances he abandoned his +intention of going to Mariette's house for the present, or at least +until after his interview with the commandant, from whom he was resolved +to extort an explanation. + +He returned home about midnight, and his father, convinced by the gloomy +expression of his son's countenance that he could not have seen the girl +and discovered the deception that had been practised upon both of them, +again proposed that they should leave for Dreux the next morning, but +Louis replied that he desired more time for reflection before taking +this important step, and threw himself despairingly on his pallet. + +Sleep was an impossibility, and at daybreak he stole out of the room to +escape his father's questions, and after having waited in mortal anxiety +on the boulevard for the hour appointed for his interview with +Commandant de la Miraudiere, he hastened to that gentleman's house. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +A STARTLING DISCOVERY. + + +When Louis presented himself at the house of Commandant de la +Miraudiere, that gentleman was sitting at his desk, enveloped in a +superb dressing-gown, smoking his cigar, and examining a big pile of +notes and bills. + +While he was thus engaged, his servant entered, and announced: + +"M. Richard." + +"Ask M. Richard to wait in the drawing-room a moment. When I ring, show +him in." + +As soon as the servant left the room, M. de la Miraudiere opened a +secret drawer in his desk, and took out twenty-five one thousand franc +notes, and placed them beside a sheet of the stamped paper used for +legal documents of divers kinds, then rang the bell. + +Louis entered, with a gloomy and perturbed air. His heart throbbed +violently at the thought that he was, perhaps, in the presence of a +favoured rival, for this poor fellow, like sincere lovers in general, +greatly exaggerated the advantages which his competitor possessed, so M. +de la Miraudiere, wrapped in a handsome dressing-gown, and occupying an +elegant suite of apartments, seemed a very formidable rival indeed. + +"Is it to M. Louis Richard that I have the honour of speaking?" inquired +M. de la Miraudiere, with his most ingratiating smile. + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"The only son of M. Richard, the scrivener?" + +These last words were uttered with a rather sarcastic air. Louis noted +the fact, and responded, dryly: + +"Yes, monsieur, my father is a scrivener." + +"Excuse me, my dear sir, for having given you so much trouble, but it +was absolutely necessary that I should talk with you alone, and as that +seemed well-nigh impossible at your own home, I was obliged to ask you +to take the trouble to call here." + +"May I ask why you wished to see me, monsieur?" + +"Merely to offer you my services, my dear M. Richard," replied M. de la +Miraudiere in an insinuating tone. "For it would give me great pleasure +to be able to call you my client." + +"Your client? Why, who are you, monsieur?" + +"An old soldier, now on the retired list,--twenty campaigns, ten +wounds,--now a man of affairs, merely to pass away the time. I have a +number of large capitalists as backers, and I often act as an +intermediary between them and young men of prospective wealth." + +"Then I do not know of any service you can render me." + +"You say that, when you are leading a life of drudgery as a notary's +clerk, when you are vegetating--positively vegetating--living in a +miserable attic with your father, and dressed, Heaven knows how!" + +"Monsieur!" exclaimed Louis, fairly purple with indignation. + +"Excuse me, my young friend, but these are, I regret to say, the real +facts of the case, shameful as they appear. Why, a young man like you +ought to be spending twenty-five or thirty thousand francs a year, ought +to have his horses and mistresses and enjoy life generally." + +"Monsieur, if this is intended as a joke, I warn you that I am in no +mood for it," said Louis, angrily. + +"As I have already told you, I am an old soldier who has proved his +valour on many a well-fought field, my young friend, so I can afford not +to take offence at your manner, for which there is plenty of excuse, I +must admit, as what I am saying must seem rather extraordinary to you." + +"Very extraordinary, monsieur." + +"Here is something that may serve to convince you that I am speaking +seriously," added the man of affairs, spreading out the thousand franc +notes on his desk. "Here are twenty-five thousand francs that I should +be delighted to place at your disposal, together with twenty-five +hundred francs a month for the next five years." + +Louis, unable to believe his own ears, gazed at M. de la Miraudiere in +speechless astonishment, but at last, partially recovering from his +stupor, he said: + +"You make this offer to me, monsieur?" + +"Yes, and with very great pleasure." + +"To me, Louis Richard?" + +"To you, Louis Richard." + +"Richard is a very common name, monsieur. You probably mistake me for +some other person." + +"No, no, my young friend, I know what I am talking about, and I also +know who I am talking to. It is to Louis Desire Richard, only son of M. +Alexandre Timoleon Benedict Pamphile Richard, aged sixty-seven, born in +Brie Comte Robert, but now residing at No. 17, Rue de Grenelle St. +Honore, a scrivener by profession. There is no mistake, you see, my +young friend." + +"Then as you know my family so well, you must also know that my poverty +prevents me from contracting any such a loan." + +"Your poverty!" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"It is shameful, it is outrageous, to rear a young man under such a +misapprehension of the real state of affairs," exclaimed the commandant, +indignantly, "to compel him to spend the best years of his life in the +stock, as it were, and to compel him to wear shabby clothes and woollen +stockings and brogans. Fortunately, there is such a thing as +Providence, and you now behold a humble instrument of Providence in the +shape of Commandant de la Miraudiere." + +"I assure you that all this is extremely tiresome, monsieur. If you +cannot explain more clearly, we had better bring this interview to an +immediate conclusion." + +"Very well, then. You believe your father to be a very poor man, do you +not?" + +"I am not ashamed of the fact." + +"Oh, credulous youth that you are! Listen and bless me ever afterward." + +As he spoke, M. de la Miraudiere drew a large leather-bound book +resembling a ledger toward him, and, after a moment's search, read aloud +as follows: + +"'Inventory of Personal Property of M. Alexandre Timoleon Benedict +Pamphile Richard, from information secured by the Committee on Loans of +the Bank of France, May 1, 18----. + + "'1st. Three thousand nine hundred and twenty + shares of the Bank of France, market value, 924,300 fr. + + "'2d. Notes of the Mont de Piete, 875,250 + + "'3d. On Deposit in the Bank of France, 259,130 + _____________ + "'Total, 2,058,680 fr.' + +"You see from these figures, my ingenuous young friend, that the known +personal property of your honoured parent amounted, on the first of this +month, to considerably over two million francs; but it is more than +likely that, after the fashion of most misers who take a vast amount of +pleasure in seeing and handling a part of their wealth, he has a large +amount of money hoarded away in some convenient hiding-place. Even if +this should not be the case, you see that the author of your being +possesses more than two million francs, and as he spends barely twelve +hundred francs out of an income of nearly one hundred thousand, you can +form some idea of the amount of wealth you will enjoy some day, and you +can no longer wonder at the offer I have just made you." + +Louis was petrified with astonishment by this revelation. He could not +utter a word, but merely gazed at the speaker with inexpressible +amazement. + +"You seem to be knocked all in a heap, my young friend. You act as if +you were dazed." + +"I really do not know what to think of all this," stammered Louis. + +"Do as St. Thomas did, then. Touch these bank-notes and perhaps that +will convince you. The capitalists who are backing me are not inclined +to run any risk with their lucre, and they are willing to advance you +this money at seven per cent., with a like commission for my services in +addition. Interest and loan together will scarcely amount to one-half of +your father's yearly income, so you will still be piling up money, even +if you should live as a gentleman ought to live, and spend fifty +thousand francs a year. It will be impossible for you to get along on +less than that, but you can at least wait with patience for the hour of +your honoured parent's demise, you understand. And, by the way, I have +provided for every contingency, as you will see when I tell you about +the little scheme I have invented, for of course your good father will +be astonished at the change in your mode of living, so you are to invest +in a lottery ticket--the prize, a magnificent five hundred louis +diamond; price of tickets, ten francs each. The drawing takes place day +after to-morrow; you will win the prize and sell it again for eight or +nine thousand francs. This money you must allow a friend to invest for +you in a wonderfully successful enterprise, which will yield three +hundred per cent a year. Thanks to this stratagem, you can spend +twenty-five or thirty thousand francs a year under your father's very +nose. Tell me, now, young man, haven't you good cause to regard me in +the light of a guardian angel, or a beneficent Providence? But what on +earth is the matter with you? What is the meaning of this clouded brow, +this solemn air, this gloomy silence, when I expected to see you +half-delirious with joy, and fairly turning somersaults in your delight +at being transformed from a clerk into a millionaire, in less than a +quarter of an hour. Speak, young man, speak! Can it be that joy and +astonishment have bereft him of reason?" + +It is a fact that a revelation which would undoubtedly have filled any +one else with the wildest joy had only aroused a feeling of painful +resentment in Louis Richard's breast. The deception his father had +practised upon him wounded him deeply, but bitterer still was the +thought that, but for Mariette's cruel desertion, he might have shared +this wealth with her some day, and changed the laborious, squalid life +the young girl had always led into one of ease and luxury. + +This reflection, reviving as it did such poignant regrets, dominated him +so completely that, forgetting everything else, he drew out the visiting +card the commandant had left for him, and demanded, abruptly: + +"Will you tell me how it happens that Mlle. Moreau's name and address +are written in pencil on the back of this card?" + +"What!" exclaimed the commandant, amazed at the question, especially at +such a moment. "You wish to know--" + +"How it happens that Mlle. Moreau's address is on this card. When I ask +a question, I expect to have it answered." + +"The devil! My young friend, you are trying to carry things with a high +hand, it strikes me." + +"You are at perfect liberty to take offence at my manner, if you +choose." + +"Really, monsieur!" exclaimed the usurer, straightening himself up and +twirling his black moustache quite ferociously. Then, with a sudden +change of manner, he added: "Oh, nonsense! I have proved my valour +beyond all question. An old soldier, with any number of wounds, I can +afford to let many things pass; so I will merely say, my dear client, +that that young girl's name and address happen to be on the card because +I wrote them there so I would not forget them." + +"You know Mlle. Mariette, then?" + +"I do." + +"You are paying court to her, perhaps?" + +"Rather." + +"With hopes of success?" + +"Decidedly." + +"Very well, I forbid you ever to set foot in her house again." + +"Ah, ha! so I have a rival," the usurer said to himself. "How funny! I +understand the girl's refusal now. I must get ahead of my client, +though. He is young and unsophisticated,--that means he is jealous. He +will be sure to fall into the trap, then I can oust him, for I've set my +heart on the girl, and if I can't get her this young fellow sha'n't. I'm +resolved upon that!" + +After which, he added aloud: + +"My dear friend, when I am forbidden to do anything, I consider it my +bounden duty to do precisely what I am forbidden to do." + +"We will see about that, monsieur." + +"Listen, young man. I have fought fifty-seven duels, so I can easily +dispense with fighting the fifty-eighth with you. I prefer, +consequently, to try to induce you to listen to the voice of reason, if +possible. Permit me, therefore, to ask you one question: You have just +returned from a journey, I believe?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"You were absent several days, I think. May I ask if you have seen +Mariette since your return?" + +"No, monsieur, but--" + +"Ah, well, my young friend, the same thing has happened to you that has +happened to many other lovers. Mariette was not aware that you were the +son of a millionaire; I presented myself in your absence, and offered +her what has never yet failed to turn the head of a half-starved +grisette. Her godmother, who was also dying of hunger, craved the +fleshpots of Egypt, naturally,--and, well, '_les absents ont toujours +tort_,' you know. Ha, ha, you understand!" + +"My God!" groaned Louis, his anger giving place to profound despair. "My +God! it is true, then." + +"If I had known that I was interfering with a prospective client, I +would have abstained, I assure you. Now it is too late. Besides, there +are as good fish in the sea--You know the proverb. Come, my young +friend, don't take it so much to heart. The girl was entirely too young +for you. She needs training. You will find plenty of charming women +already trained and thoroughly trained. I can particularly recommend a +certain Madame----" + +"Wretch!" exclaimed Louis, seizing the man of affairs by the collar, +"wretch!--" + +"Monsieur, you shall answer for this!" exclaimed the commandant, trying +to wrench himself from his rival's iron grasp. + +Just then the door opened suddenly, and, at the sound of a loud laugh, +both men turned simultaneously. + +"Saint-Herem!" exclaimed Louis, recognising his old schoolmate. + +"You here!" exclaimed Florestan de Saint-Herem, while the usurer, +adjusting the collar of his dressing-gown, muttered savagely under his +breath: + +"What the devil brought Saint-Herem here just at this most inopportune +moment, I should like to know!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +COMMANDANT DE LA MIRAUDIERE'S ANTECEDENTS. + + +M. de Saint-Herem was a handsome man, not over thirty years of age, with +a remarkably distinguished manner and bearing. His refined and rather +spirituelle face sometimes wore an expression of extreme +superciliousness, as when he addressed any remark to Commandant de la +Miraudiere, for instance; but at the sight of his old schoolmate he +seemed to experience the liveliest joy. He even embraced him +affectionately, and Louis returned the embrace heartily, spite of the +conflicting emotions that agitated him. + +But this manifestation of surprise and pleasure over, the chief actors +in the scene relapsed into the same mood they had been in when +Saint-Herem so unexpectedly burst in upon them, and Louis, pale with +anger, continued to cast such wrathful glances at the usurer that M. de +Saint-Herem said to that gentleman, with a mocking air: + +"You must admit that I arrived very opportunely. But for my timely +appearance upon the scene of action, it seems to me my friend Louis +would soon have taken all the starch out of you." + +"To dare to lay his hand on me, an old soldier!" exclaimed the +commandant, advancing a step toward Louis. "This matter shall not be +allowed to end here, M. Richard." + +"That is for you to say, M. de la Miraudiere." + +"M. de la Miraudiere? Ha, ha, ha!" roared Florestan. "What! my dear +Louis, you really take that fellow seriously? You believe in his title, +in his cross, in his campaigns, his wounds, his duels, and his +high-sounding name?" + +"Enough of this jesting," said the pretended commandant, colouring with +vexation. "Even friendly raillery has its limits, my dear fellow." + +"M. Jerome Porquin," began Florestan, then, turning to Louis, he added, +pointing to the usurer, "his real name is Porquin, and a very +appropriate name it is, it seems to me." + +Then once more addressing the pretended commandant, Florestan added, in +a tone that admitted of no reply: + +"This is the second time I have been obliged to forbid your calling me +your dear friend, M. Porquin. It is different with me, I have bought and +paid for the right to call you my dear, my enormously, entirely too dear +M. Porquin, for you have swindled me most outrageously--" + +"Really, monsieur, I will not allow--" + +"What is that? Since when has M. Porquin become so terribly sensitive?" +cried Saint-Herem, with an affectation of intense astonishment. "What +has happened? Oh, yes, I understand. It is your presence, my friend +Louis, that makes this much too dear M. Porquin squirm so when I expose +his falsehoods and his absurd pretensions. To settle this vexed question +once for all, I must tell you--and let us see if he will have the +effrontery to contradict me--who M. le Commandant de la Miraudiere +really is. He has never served his country except in the sutler's +department. He went to Madrid in that capacity during the late war, and +as he proved to be too great an expense to the government, he was asked +to take himself off. He did so, and transformed himself into what he +calls a man of affairs, or, in other words, into a usurer, and an +intermediary in all sorts of shady transactions. The decoration he +wears is that of the Golden Spur, a papal order, which one holy man +procured from another holy man as a reward for his assistance in a most +atrocious swindle. He has never fought a duel in his life, in the first +place because he is one of the biggest cowards that ever lived, and in +the second place because he bears such a bad reputation that he knows +perfectly well that no respectable man would condescend to fight with +him, and that if he becomes insolent the only thing to do is to give him +a sound thrashing." + +"When you want to make use of me you do not treat me in this fashion, +monsieur," said the usurer, sullenly. + +"When I need you, I pay you, M. Porquin, and as I know all your tricks, +my too dear M. Porquin, I feel it my duty to warn my friend, M. Richard, +against you. You are doubtless eager to devour him; in fact, it is more +than likely that you have already begun to weave your toils around him, +but--" + +"That is the way some persons reward faithful service!" exclaimed M. +Porquin, bitterly. "I reveal a secret of the highest importance to him, +and--" + +"I understand your motive now," responded Louis Richard, dryly, "so I +owe you no gratitude for the service you have rendered me,--that is, if +it be a service," he added, sadly. + +The usurer had no intention of losing his prey, however, and, deeming it +advisable to ignore the insults M. de Saint-Herem had heaped upon him, +he said to Saint-Herem, with as much assurance as if that gentleman had +not so roughly unmasked him: + +"Your friend, M. Richard is at perfect liberty to tell you the +conditions of the bargain I just proposed to him, and you can then judge +whether my demands are exorbitant or not. As my presence might be a +constraint, gentlemen, will you kindly step into the adjoining room? I +will await M. Richard's decision here; that is, of course, if he +desires to ask your advice on the subject." + +"An admirable suggestion, truly, my too dear M. Porquin," responded +Florestan, promptly. And, taking Louis by the arm, he led him toward the +door, remarking to the usurer, as he did so: + +"On my return, I will tell you the object of my visit, or rather, I will +tell you now. I must have two hundred louis this evening. Here, examine +these securities." + +And M. de Saint-Herem, drawing some papers from his pocket, threw them +to the usurer, then entered the adjoining room, accompanied by his +friend. + +The revelation of M. Porquin's real character was another terrible blow +to Louis Richard. The knowledge that it was for the sake of such a +wretch as this that Mariette had been false to him caused him bitter +sorrow, and, unable to restrain his feelings, as soon as he found +himself alone with his friend, he seized both Saint-Herem's hands, and, +in a voice trembling with emotion, exclaimed: + +"Oh, Florestan, how miserable I am!" + +"I suspected as much, my dear Louis, for it must be worse than death for +a sensible, industrious fellow like you to find yourself in the clutches +of a scoundrel like Porquin. What is the trouble? Your habits have +always been so frugal, how did you manage to get into debt? Tell me +about it. What seems an enormous sum to you may be but a trifle to me. I +just told that rascal in there that he was to let me have two hundred +louis this evening, and I am sure he will. You shall share them with me, +or you can have the whole amount if you want it. Two hundred louis will +certainly pay all the debts any notary's clerk can have contracted. I do +not say this to humiliate you, far from it. If you need more, we will +try to get it elsewhere, but for God's sake don't apply to Porquin. If +you do you are lost. I know the scoundrel so well." + +Saint-Herem's generous offer gave Louis such heart-felt pleasure that he +almost forgot his sorrows for the moment. + +"My dear, kind friend, if you knew how much this proof of your +friendship consoles me," he exclaimed. + +"So much the better. You accept my offer, then." + +"No." + +"What?" + +"I do not need your kind services. This usurer, whom I had never heard +of before, sent for me yesterday to offer to loan me, each year, more +money than I have spent in my whole life." + +"What! He makes you such an offer as that, this usurer who never loans +so much as a sou without the very best security. Men of his stamp set a +very small valuation on honesty, industry, and integrity, and I know +that these are your sole patrimony, my dear Louis." + +"You are mistaken, Florestan. My father is worth over two millions." + +"Your father!" exclaimed Saint-Herem, in profound astonishment. "Your +father?" + +"Yes. In some mysterious way this usurer has managed to discover a +secret, of which even I had not the slightest suspicion, I assure you, +so he sent for me--" + +"To offer you his services, of course. He and others of his ilk are +always on the lookout for hidden fortunes, and when they find them they +offer to the prospective heirs such advances as will enable them to +squander their wealth before they inherit it. So you are rich, my dear +Louis! You need not feel any doubts on the subject. If Porquin has made +you such an offer, he knows it for a certainty." + +"Yes, I think so, too," said Louis, almost sadly. + +"Why do you speak so mournfully, Louis? One would suppose that you had +just made some terrible discovery. What is the matter with you? What is +the meaning of those tears I saw in your eyes a little while ago? And +of that exclamation, 'I am very miserable!' You miserable, and why?" + +"Do not ridicule me, my friend. The truth is, I love, and I have been +deceived." + +"You have a rival, then, I suppose." + +"Yes, and, to crown my misfortunes, this rival--" + +"Go on." + +"Is this rascally usurer." + +"Porquin, that old scoundrel! The girl prefers him to you? Impossible! +But what leads you to suppose--" + +"Several suspicious circumstances; besides, he says so." + +"Fine authority that! He lies, I am certain of it." + +"But, Florestan, he is rich, and the girl I loved, or rather whom I +still love in spite of myself, is terribly poor." + +"The devil!" + +"Besides, she has an invalid connection to take care of. This +scoundrel's offers must have dazzled the poor child, or want may have +induced her to listen to the voice of the tempter, as so many others do. +What does the discovery of this wealth profit me now? I care nothing for +it if I cannot share it with Mariette." + +"Listen, Louis, I know you, and I feel confident that you must have +placed your affections wisely." + +"Yes; and for more than a year Mariette has given every proof of her +faithful attachment to me, but yesterday, without the slightest warning, +came a letter breaking our engagement." + +"A good girl who has loved a man as poor as you were faithfully for a +year would not have been so quickly won over by the promises of an old +villain like Porquin. He lied to you; I haven't a doubt of it." + +Then calling out at the top of his voice, to the great surprise of +Louis, he exclaimed: + +"Commandant de la Miraudiere, come here a minute!" + +"What are you going to do, Florestan?" asked Louis, as the usurer +appeared in the doorway. + +"Keep still and let me manage this affair," replied his friend. Then, +turning to the usurer, he continued: + +"M. de la Miraudiere, I feel sure that you must be labouring under a +misapprehension in relation to a very nice young girl who--according to +your account--has fallen a victim to your charms. Will you do me the +favour to tell me the truth so I may know what action to take in the +matter?" + +Concluding that it would be politic to sacrifice a caprice that he had +little chance of gratifying to the advantage of having Louis Richard for +a client, Porquin replied: + +"I must confess that I deeply deplore a stupid jest that seems to have +annoyed M. Richard so much." + +"I told you so," remarked Florestan, turning to his friend. "And now M. +le commandant must do me the favour to explain how the idea of this +stupid jest, or rather what I should call an atrocious calumny, happened +to occur to him." + +"The explanation is very simple, monsieur. I saw Mlle. Mariette several +times in the establishment where she is employed. Her beauty struck me. +I asked for her address, secured it, and, finding her godmother at home +when I called, I proposed to her that--" + +"Enough, monsieur, enough!" cried Louis, indignantly. + +"Permit me to add, however, that the aforesaid godmother declined my +offer, and that the young lady, herself, chancing to come about that +time, coolly ordered me out of the house. I am making a frank +confession, you see, M. de Saint-Herem. I do it, I admit, in the hope +that it will gain me M. Richard's confidence, and that he will decide to +accept my services. As for you, M. de Saint-Herem," continued the +usurer, in his most ingratiating manner, "I have examined the securities +you submitted to me, and I will bring you the money you want this +evening. And, by the way, when you hear the offer I have made to M. +Richard, I feel confident that you will consider my terms very +reasonable." + +"I do not want your money, monsieur," said Louis, "and I consider it an +insult for you to think me capable of trading upon my father's death, as +it were--" + +"But, my dear client, permit me to say--" + +"Come, Florestan, let us go," Louis said to his friend, without paying +the slightest attention to the usurer's protest. + +"You see, my too dear M. Porquin," said Saint-Herem, as he turned to +depart, "you see there are still a few honest men and women left in the +world. It is useless to hope that this discovery will serve either as an +example or a lesson for you, however. You are too set in your ways ever +to reform; but it is some comfort to know of your double defeat." + +"Ah, my dear Florestan," remarked Louis, as they left the house, "thanks +to you, I am much less miserable. The fact that Mariette treated this +villain with the scorn he deserved is some comfort, even though she has +decided to break her engagement with me." + +"Did she tell you so?" + +"No, she wrote me to that effect, or rather she got some other person to +do it for her." + +"What, she got some other person to write such a thing as that for her!" + +"You will sneer, perhaps, but the poor girl I love can neither read nor +write." + +"How fortunate you are! You will at least escape such epistles as I have +been receiving from a pretty little perfumer I took away from a rich but +miserly old banker. I have been amusing myself by showing her a little +of the world,--it is so pleasant to see people happy,--but I have not +been able to improve her grammar, and such spelling! It is of the +antediluvian type. Mother Eve must have written in much the same +fashion. But if your Mariette can neither read nor write, how do you +know but her secretary may have distorted the facts?" + +"With what object?" + +"I don't know, I am sure. But why don't you have an explanation with +her? You will know exactly how you stand, then." + +"But she implored me, both for the sake of her peace of mind and her +future, to make no attempt to see her again." + +"On the contrary, see her again, and at once, for the sake of her +future, now you are a prospective millionaire." + +"You are right, Florestan, I will see her, and at once; and if this +cruel mystery can be satisfactorily explained, if I find her as loving +and devoted as in the past, I shall be the happiest man in the world. +Poor child, her life up to this time has been one of toil and privation. +She shall know rest and comfort now, for I cannot doubt that my father +will consent. My God!" + +"What is the matter?" + +"All this has made me entirely forget something that will surprise you +very much. My father insists that I shall marry your cousin." + +"What cousin?" + +"Mlle. Ramon. A short time ago I went to Dreux; in fact, I have just +returned from there. I had not the slightest suspicion of my father's +plans, when I first saw the young lady, but, even if I had not been in +love with Mariette, your uncle's daughter impressed me so unfavourably +that nothing in the world--" + +"So my uncle is not ruined, as he pretended he was several years ago," +said Florestan, interrupting his friend. "No, evidently not, for if your +father wishes you to marry my cousin, it is because he thinks such an +alliance would be to your advantage. Doubtless my uncle's pretended +failure was only a subterfuge." + +"My father resorted to the same expedient, I think, though he has always +given me to understand that extreme poverty was the cause of the +parsimonious manner in which we lived." + +"Ah, Uncle Ramon, I knew that you were sulky, ill-tempered, and +detestable generally, but I did not believe you capable of such +cleverness of conception. From this day on I shall admire and revere +you. I am not your heir, it is true, but it is always delightful to know +that one has a millionaire uncle. It is such a comforting thought in +one's financial difficulties; one can indulge in all sorts of delightful +hypotheses, in which apoplexy and even cholera present themselves to the +mind in the guise of guardian angels." + +"Without going quite as far as that, and without wishing for any one's +death," said Louis, smiling, "I must admit that I would much rather see +your uncle's fortune pass into your hands than into those of his odious +daughter. You would at least enjoy the possession of it, and, with all +that wealth, I feel sure that you would--" + +"Contract debts without number," Saint-Herem interrupted, majestically. + +"What, Florestan, with a fortune like that--" + +"I should contract debts without number, I tell you. Yes, of course I +should." + +"What, with a fortune of two or three million francs?" + +"With ten, even twenty millions, I should still contract debts. My +theory is that of the government,--the larger a country's debt, the +better that country's credit is. But I will expound my financial +theories some other time. Don't lose a moment now in hastening to +Mariette, and be sure and tell me what success you meet with. Here it is +nearly noon, and I promised the little perfumer--who amuses me +immensely--that she should try a new saddle-horse to-day, the +handsomest hack in Paris,--it cost me a nice price, by the way,--and +she wrote me this morning to remind me that I had promised to take her +to the Bois. So hasten to your Mariette. I feel confident that your love +affair will end happily after all. But write to me, or else come and see +me as soon as possible, for I shall be so anxious to hear the result of +your interview." + +"You shall hear from me, my dear Florestan, whatever happens." + +"Farewell then, my dear Louis, it is agreed that I shall see or hear +from you before to-morrow." + +As he spoke, M. de Saint-Herem stepped into the handsomely appointed +brougham which was waiting for him at the usurer's door, and Louis +Richard wended his way on foot to Mariette's home. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE MYSTERY EXPLAINED. + + +When Louis Richard entered the room occupied by Mariette and her +godmother, he paused a moment on the threshold, overwhelmed with grief +and despair at the affecting scene that presented itself to his gaze. + +Mariette was lying to all appearance lifeless on a mattress on the +floor. Her features, which were overspread with a death-like pallor, +contracted convulsively from time to time. Her eyes were closed, and +there were still traces of tears on her marble cheeks, while in one of +the clenched hands crossed upon her breast was the envelope containing +the fragments of the letter she had received from Louis. + +Madame Lacombe's usually grim and sardonic face showed that she was a +prey to the most poignant grief and distress. Kneeling beside the +mattress on which her goddaughter was lying, she was supporting +Mariette's head upon her mutilated arm, and holding a glass of water to +the girl's inanimate lips with the other. + +Hearing a sound, Madame Lacombe turned hastily, and her features resumed +their usually hard and irascible expression, as she saw Louis standing +motionless in the doorway. + +"What do you want?" she demanded, brusquely. "Why do you come in without +knocking? I don't know you. Who are you?" + +"My God! in what a terrible condition I find her!" exclaimed Louis. + +And without paying any attention to Madame Lacombe's question, he sprang +forward, and, throwing himself on his knees beside the pallet, +exclaimed, imploringly: + +"What is the matter, Mariette? Answer me, I beseech you." + +Madame Lacombe, who had been as much surprised as annoyed at the young +man's intrusion, now scrutinised his features closely, and, after a +moment's reflection, said, sullenly: + +"You are Louis Richard, I suppose?" + +"Yes, madame, but in Heaven's name what has happened to Mariette?" + +"You have killed her, that is all!" + +"I? Great God! But, madame, something must be done. Let me run for a +doctor. Her hands are like ice. Mariette, Mariette! Oh, my God! my God! +she does not hear me." + +"She has been in this state ever since last night, and it was your +letter that caused it." + +"My letter! What letter?" + +"Oh, you intend to deny it now, I suppose. You needn't, for last night +the poor child couldn't bear it any longer, and told me all." + +"Great Heavens! What did she tell you?" + +"That you never wanted to lay eyes on her again, and that you had +deserted her for another. That is always the way with you men!" + +"On the contrary, I wrote to Mariette that--" + +"You lie!" exclaimed the old woman, more and more incensed. "She told me +what was in the letter. She has it here in her hand. I haven't been able +to get it away from her. Hadn't she enough to bear without your treating +her in this way? Get out of this house, you scoundrel! Mariette was a +fool, and so was I, to refuse the offer made us, and I told her so at +the time. 'See how we shall be rewarded for our honesty,' I said to +her. And my words have come true. She is dying, and I shall be turned +out into the street, for we are behind in our rent, and the little +furniture we have will be taken from us. Fortunately, I have a quarter +of a bushel of charcoal left," she added, with a grim smile, "and +charcoal is the friend and deliverer of the poor." + +"This is horrible!" cried Louis, unable to restrain his tears; "but I +swear to you that we are all the victims of a most deplorable mistake. +Mariette, Mariette, arouse yourself! It is I--I, Louis!" + +"You are determined to kill her, I see!" exclaimed Madame Lacombe, +making a desperate effort to push the young man away. "If she recovers +consciousness, the sight of you will finish her!" + +"Thank God!" exclaimed Louis, resisting Madame Lacombe's efforts, and +again bending over Mariette; "she is moving a little. See! her hands are +relaxing; her eyelids are quivering. Mariette, darling, can't you hear +me? It is Louis who speaks to you." + +The girl was, in fact, gradually recovering consciousness, and her +tear-stained eyes, after having slowly opened and wandered aimlessly +around for a moment, fixed themselves upon Louis. Soon, an expression of +joyful surprise irradiated her features, and she murmured, faintly: + +"Louis, is it really you? Ah, I never expected--" + +Then, the sad reality gradually forcing itself upon her mind, she +averted her face, and, letting her head again fall upon Madame Lacombe's +bosom, she said, with a deep sigh: + +"Ah, godmother, it is for the last time! All is over between us!" + +"Didn't I tell you how it would be?" exclaimed Madame Lacombe. "Go, I +tell you, go! Oh, the misery of being so weak and infirm that one cannot +turn a scoundrel out of one's house!" + +"Mariette," cried Louis, imploringly, "Mariette, in pity, listen to me. +I do not come to bid you farewell; on the contrary, I come to tell you +that I love you better than ever!" + +"Good God!" exclaimed the young girl, starting up as if she had received +an electric shock; "what does he say?" + +"I say that we are both the victims of a terrible mistake, Mariette. I +have never for one moment ceased to love you, no, never! and all the +time I have been away I have had but one thought and desire,--to see you +again and make all the necessary arrangements for our speedy marriage, +as I told you in my letter." + +"Your letter!" exclaimed Mariette, in heart-broken tones, "he has +forgotten. Here, Louis, here is your letter." + +And, as she spoke, she handed the young man the crumpled, tear-blurred +fragments of the letter. + +"He will deny his own writing, see if he don't," muttered Madame +Lacombe, as Louis hastily put the torn pieces together. "And you will be +fool enough to believe him." + +"This is what I wrote, Mariette," said Louis, after he had put the +letter together: + + * * * * * + +"'MY DEAREST MARIETTE:--I shall be with you again the day after you +receive this letter. The short absence, from which I have suffered so +much, has convinced me that it is impossible for me to live separated +from you. Thank God! the day of our union is near at hand. To-morrow +will be the sixth of May, and as soon as I return I shall tell my father +of our intentions, and I do not doubt his consent. + +"'Farewell, then, until day after to-morrow, my beloved Mariette. I love +you madly, or rather wisely, for what greater wisdom could a man show +than in having sought and found happiness in a love like yours. + +"'Yours devotedly, + +LOUIS. + +"'I write only these few lines because I shall reach Paris almost as +soon as my letter, and because it is always painful to me to think that +another must read what I write to you. But for that, how many things I +would say to you. + +Yours for ever. + +"'L.'" + + * * * * * + +Mariette had listened to the letter with such profound astonishment that +she had been unable to utter a word. + +"That, Mariette, is what I wrote," remarked Louis. "What was there in my +letter to make you so wretched?" + +"Is that really what was in the letter, M. Louis?" asked Madame Lacombe. + +"See for yourself, madame," said Louis, handing her the scraps of paper. + +"Do you suppose I know how to read?" was the surly response. "How was it +that the letter was read so differently to Mariette, then?" + +"Who read my letter to you, Mariette?" asked Louis. + +"A scrivener." + +"A scrivener!" repeated Louis, assailed by a sudden suspicion. "Explain, +Mariette, I beg of you." + +"The explanation is very simple, M. Louis. I asked a scrivener on the +Charnier des Innocents to write a letter to you. He wrote it, and just +as he was about to put your address on it he overturned his inkstand on +the letter, and was obliged to write it all over again. On my return +home, I found your letter waiting for me; but having no one to read it +to me in Augustine's absence, I went back to the scrivener, a very kind +and respectable old man, and asked him to read what you had written to +me. He read it, or at least pretended to read it, for, according to him, +you said that we must never meet again, that your future and that of +your father demanded it, and for that reason you entreated me--" + +But the poor girl's emotion overcame her, and she burst into tears. + +Louis understood now that chance had led Mariette to his father for +assistance, that the pretended accident had been merely a stratagem that +enabled the scrivener to write a second letter of an entirely different +import from the first, and to address it, not to Dreux, but to Paris, so +Louis would find it on his arrival in that city. He understood, too, his +father's object in thus deceiving Mariette in regard to the real +contents of the second letter, when she again applied to him. The +discovery of this breach of confidence on the part of his father--the +reason of which was only too apparent--overwhelmed Louis with sorrow and +shame. He dared not confess to his sweetheart the relation that existed +between him and the scrivener, but, wishing to give the two women some +plausible explanation of the deception that had been practised upon +them, he said: + +"In spite of this scrivener's apparent kindness of heart, he must have +taken a malicious pleasure in playing a joke upon you, my poor Mariette, +for he read you the exact opposite of what I had written." + +"How shameful!" cried the girl. "How could he have had the heart to +deceive me so? He had such a benevolent air, and spoke so feelingly of +the sympathy he always felt for those unfortunate persons who, like +myself, could neither read nor write." + +"But you can see for yourself that he did deceive you shamefully? Still, +what does it matter, now?" added Louis, anxious to put an end to such a +painful topic. "We understand each other's feelings now, Mariette, +and--" + +"One moment," interposed Madame Lacombe; "you may feel satisfied and +reassured, Mariette, but I do not." + +"What do you mean, godmother?" + +"I mean that I strongly disapprove of this marriage." + +"But listen, madame," pleaded Louis. + +"As you are the son of a public scrivener, you haven't a sou to your +name. Mariette hasn't, either, and two people in such circumstances as +that have no right to marry. My goddaughter has me to take care of. She +would be sure, too, to have a lot of children, and a nice fix we should +all be in!" + +"But, godmother--" + +"Don't talk to me. I know what you intend to do. The first thing you'll +try for is to get rid of the old woman. There won't be bread enough for +us all, and I shall be turned out into the street to be arrested as a +public vagabond. I shall be sent to the workhouse, so you won't be +troubled with me any more. Oh, yes, I understand your scheme." + +"Oh, godmother, how can you imagine such a thing as that?" + +"Dismiss all such fears from your mind, I beg of you, madame," Louis +made haste to say, "This very day I made a most unexpected discovery. My +father, for reasons which I must respect, has concealed from me the fact +that we are rich, very rich." + +Mariette manifested much more astonishment than delight on hearing this +startling announcement, but turning to Madame Lacombe after a moment, +she said: + +"You see you need be troubled by no more of these terrible misgivings in +regard to my future, godmother." + +"Ha, ha!" laughed Madame Lacombe, sardonically; "so she really believes +it--" + +"But, godmother--" + +"Nonsense, child, can't you see that he has invented this story so I +will consent to your marriage?" + +"But I swear, madame--" + +"I tell you it is all a lie," exclaimed Madame Lacombe; "for if you were +as rich as you say, you wouldn't want Mariette any longer. Would the son +of a rich man be fool enough to marry a poor working girl who can +neither read nor write?" + +Though she did not exactly share her godmother's doubts, Mariette gazed +at Louis a little sadly and uneasily, as she thought of the great change +in his fortunes. + +The young man must have understood the meaning of the look, for he said: + +"You are very much mistaken, Madame Lacombe; the son of a rich man keeps +the promise he made as a poor man when the happiness of his life depends +upon that promise." + +"Bah! that is all talk!" interrupted the invalid, in surly tones; "but +rich or poor, you won't get Mariette without I am sure of a living. I +don't ask much,--six hundred francs a year will do,--but the money must +be deposited in the hands of a reliable notary before the marriage +contract is signed." + +"Oh, godmother, have you no more confidence in Louis than that?" + +"A nice fix you'll find yourself in if you place confidence in any man," +exclaimed the poor creature. "Oh, I know all about it. Before marriage +they'll promise anything you ask; afterward, they'll take the old woman +by the arm, and drag her off to the poorhouse without saying so much as +by your leave. I'm not afraid that Mariette would turn me into the +street. I've been a sad burden to her, and she has had quite enough of +me, I know, but she is a kind-hearted little thing; besides, she's +afraid of me; but once married, she will side with her husband, and out +I shall have to go. No, there sha'n't be any marriage unless I'm sure of +six hundred francs a year." + +While Madame Lacombe was indulging in these recriminations, Mariette and +Louis exchanged sadly significant glances. + +"You hear her, Louis," the girl seemed to say. "Was I not right when I +told you that she had been hopelessly embittered by her many +misfortunes?" + +"Poor Mariette," the young man seemed to say in reply, "how much you +must have suffered! And how hard it is to see such tender and saint-like +devotion as yours rewarded in such a way!" + +"Madame," replied Louis, when the sick woman had ended her tirade, "you +may rest assured that you shall be well provided for. Mariette and I +will never forget that you took her in when she had no other home, and +whether you prefer to live with us, or to live alone, you shall be made +comfortable for life." + +"Oh, thank you, Louis, thank you for sharing my feeling for my poor +godmother, my second mother," exclaimed Mariette, gratefully. + +And the girl bent over Madame Lacombe to embrace her, but the invalid, +pushing her away, said, angrily: + +"Can't you see that he is only amusing himself at our expense? Marry +you? Pension me for life? Was such a thing ever heard of? He wants to +get around me, that is all, and if he is rich, as he says he is, he will +only fool you, and some fine day you'll hear of his marriage with +another girl, so I forbid him ever to set foot in this house again." + +"But you will at least allow me to present myself here in company with +my father to make a formal request for Mariette's hand in marriage?" + +"Oh, yes, when you come for that purpose it will be when two Sundays +come together," answered the old woman, sneeringly. + +"It will be to-morrow, Madame Lacombe." + +Then, turning to the young girl, he added: + +"Farewell, Mariette. I shall come to-morrow, accompanied by my father." + +On hastening to his father's office a few moments afterward, Louis found +it closed, and ascertained upon inquiry that M. Richard had not been +there at all that day. Amazed at this strange change in the old man's +regular habits, Louis hastened to the lodgings they shared in the Rue de +Grenelle. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +HIDDEN TREASURE. + + +As Louis was passing the porter's lodge, that functionary remarked to +him: + +"Your father went out a couple of hours ago, M. Louis. He left this note +for you, which I was to take to the office where you are employed, if +you did not return before two o'clock in the afternoon." + +The young man took the note. It read as follows: + + * * * * * + +"MY DEAR SON:--I am in receipt of a few lines from my friend, Ramon, who +apprises me of his intention of leaving Dreux in company with his +daughter almost simultaneously with his letter. He will, consequently, +reach Paris to-day. As he has never been on a railway in his life, and +is anxious to try that mode of travel, he will stop at Versailles, and +he wishes us to meet him there. We can visit the palace, and afterward +come on to Paris together by one of the late trains. + +"I am to meet Ramon at the Hotel du Reservoir. If we should leave there +to visit the palace before you arrive, you can easily find us. It is +understood that this meeting with Mlle. Ramon is not to compromise you +in the least. I merely desire that you should take advantage of this +opportunity to see the injustice of your prejudice against that young +lady. Besides, whatever your plans may be, you must realise that it +would be very discourteous to Ramon, one of my most particular friends, +to fail to keep the appointment he has made with us. So come, my dear +Louis, if only for appearance's sake. + +"From your father who loves you, and who has but one desire in the +world,--your happiness. + +"A. RICHARD." + + * * * * * + +But Louis, in spite of the deference he usually showed to his father's +wishes, did not go to Versailles, feeling the utter uselessness of +another meeting with Mlle. Ramon, as he was now even more than ever +determined to marry Mariette. + +The discovery of his father's wealth made no change in the industrious +habits of Louis, who hastened to the office to perform his usual duties, +and apologise for his absence during the morning. A desire to atone for +that, as well as the preparation of several important documents, kept +him at the office much later than usual. As he was preparing to leave, +one of his fellow clerks rushed in excitedly, exclaiming: + +"Ah, my friend, such a terrible calamity has occurred!" + +"What has happened?" + +"There has been a frightful accident on the Versailles railroad." + +"Good God!" exclaimed Louis, turning pale. + +"The Paris train was derailed, several cars were telescoped, they took +fire, nearly all the passengers were either crushed or burned to death, +and--" + +Louis could wait to hear no more. Forgetting his hat entirely, he rushed +out of the office, and, running to a neighbouring cab-stand, he sprang +into one of the vehicles, saying to the coachman: + +"Twenty francs _pourboire_ if you take me to the Versailles railway +station at the top of your speed,--and from there, but I don't know +yet,--only start, in Heaven's name start at once!" + +"On the right or left bank of the river, monsieur?" asked the coachman, +gathering up the lines. + +"What?" + +"There are two roads, monsieur, one on the right, the other on the left +bank of the river." + +"I want to go to the road where that terrible accident just occurred." + +"This is the first I have heard of it, monsieur." + +Louis drove back to the office to inquire of the fellow clerk who had +brought the news, but, finding no one there, he ran out and was about to +enter the cab again when the driver said: + +"I have just learned that the accident was on the left line, monsieur." + +Louis accordingly ordered him to drive to that station. Here the sad +news was confirmed. He also learned at what point on the line the +accident had occurred. The main road and then a cross road enabled him +to reach Bas Mendon about nightfall, and, guided by the blaze of the +burning cars, he soon found the scene of the catastrophe. + +The press of the time gave such graphic accounts of this frightful +calamity that is not necessary to enter into further particulars; we +will merely say that all night Louis searched in vain for his father +among the charred, disfigured, and terribly mutilated bodies. About four +o'clock in the morning the young man, overcome with grief and fatigue, +returned to Paris, with a faint hope that his father might have been one +of the few who had escaped injury, and that he might have returned home +during the night. + +The carriage had scarcely reached the house before Louis sprang out and +ran to the porter's lodge. + +"Has my father returned?" he exclaimed. + +"No, M. Louis." + +"Ah! there can be no further doubt, then," murmured Louis. "Dead! +dead!" + +His knees gave way under him, and he was obliged to sit down. After +resting a few moments in the room of the porter, who offered him the +usual condolences, Louis went slowly up to his room. + +On seeing the bare, poorly furnished room so long shared with a father +who had loved him so devotedly, and who had just met with such a +frightful death, Louis's grief became uncontrollable, and he threw +himself down on the bed, and, burying his face in his hands, wept long +and bitterly. + +About half an hour afterward he heard some one knock at the door, and +the porter entered. + +"What do you want?" asked Louis. + +"I am sorry to disturb you at such a time, monsieur, but the coachman--" + +"What coachman?" asked Louis, who in his grief had forgotten all about +the carriage. + +"Why, the coachman you kept all night. He says you promised him twenty +francs drink money, which, with his charge for yesterday afternoon and +last night, makes forty-nine francs in all that you owe him, and he +wants his money." + +"Pay him and let him go!" responded the young man, with sorrowful +impatience. + +"But forty-nine francs is a large sum of money, and I haven't that much, +M. Louis." + +"Good Heavens! what is to be done?" exclaimed Louis, suddenly aroused by +this demand of the material interests of life. "I have no money, +either." + +And he spoke the truth, for he had never had at his disposal one-fourth +of the amount that he owed the coachman. + +"Then why did you keep the carriage so long, and above all, why did you +promise the driver such a large _pourboire_? You must be mad! What are +you going to do? Hadn't you better see if there is any money in your +father's desk?" + +These last words reminded Louis of a fact which, in his grief, he had +entirely forgotten. His father was rich, and thinking that there might +be some money concealed somewhere in the room, but not wishing to +institute a search for it in the porter's presence, he said: + +"I may need the cab again this morning, so tell the man to wait. If I am +not down in half an hour, you can come back again, and I will give you +the money." + +The porter went out, and the young man, thus left alone, experienced a +feeling almost akin to remorse, as he thought of the search he was about +to make,--a search which at such a moment seemed almost sacrilege, but +necessity left him no choice. + +The furniture of the room consisted of a writing-desk, a bureau, and a +big chest similar to those seen in the houses of well-to-do peasants, +and which was divided into two compartments, one above the other. + +Louis examined the desk and bureau, but found no money in either of +them. The keys of the chest were in their respective locks. He opened +both compartments, but saw only a few articles of clothing. A long +drawer separated the two compartments. In this drawer there was nothing +except a few unimportant papers; but the idea that there might be some +secret compartment occurred to Louis, so he took the drawer out of the +chest, and proceeded to examine it. A careful search resulted in the +discovery of a small brass knob in the left side of the drawer. He +pressed this knob, and immediately saw the board which apparently formed +the bottom of the drawer move slowly out, disclosing to view another +opening below, about four inches deep, and extending the entire length +of the drawer. This space was partitioned off into a number of small +compartments, and each of these compartments was filled with piles of +gold pieces of different denominations and nationalities. It was evident +that each coin must have been carefully polished, for they all sparkled +as brilliantly as if they had just come out of the mint. + +Louis, in spite of his profound grief, stood a moment as if dazzled at +the sight of this treasure, the value of which he knew must be very +considerable. On recovering from his surprise a little, he noticed a +paper in the first compartment, and, recognising his father's +handwriting, he read these words: + +"This collection of gold pieces was begun on the 7th of September, 1803. +Its market value is 287,634 francs, 10 centimes. See Clause IV. of my +will, entrusted to the keeping of Master Marainville, No. 28 Rue St. +Anne, with whom is likewise deposited all my title-deeds, mortgages, +stocks, and bonds. See also the sealed envelope under the piles of +Spanish double pistoles, in fifth compartment." + +Louis removed several piles of the large, heavy coins designated, and +found an envelope sealed with black. + +Upon this envelope was written in bold characters: + + "_To My Dearly-beloved Son._" + +Just as Louis picked up the envelope some one knocked at the door, and +remembering that he had told the porter to return, he had barely time to +take out one of the coins and close the chest before that functionary +entered. + +The porter examined the coin which the young man handed to him with +quite as much surprise as curiosity, exclaiming, with a wondering air: + +"What a handsome gold piece! One would suppose it had just been coined. +I never saw one like it before." + +"Go and pay the cabman with it!" + +"But how much is a big gold piece like this worth, monsieur?" + +"More than I owe. Go and get it changed, and pay the coachman." + +"Did your father leave many of these big gold pieces, M. Richard?" +asked the porter, in a mysterious tone. "Who would have supposed that +old man--" + +"Go!" thundered Louis, exasperated at the heartlessness of the question, +"go and pay the coachman, and don't come back." + +The porter beat a hasty retreat, and Louis, to guard against further +intrusion, locked the door and returned to the chest. + +Before opening his father's letter the young man, almost in spite of +himself, gazed for a moment at the glittering treasure, but this time, +though he reproached himself for the thought at such a moment, he +remembered Mariette, and said to himself that one-fourth of the wealth +that was lying there before him would assure his wife's comfort and +independence for life. + +Then he tried to forget the cruel stratagem his father had resorted to, +and even comforted himself with the thought that he should have secured +the old man's consent to his marriage with Mariette eventually, and +that, though he might not have confessed to the wealth he possessed, he +would at least have provided comfortably for the young couple. + +The discovery of this treasure excited in Louis's breast none of that +avaricious or revengeful joy that the heirs of misers often feel when +they think of the cruel privations a parent's avarice has imposed upon +them. + +On the contrary, it was with devout respect that the young man broke the +seal of the letter which doubtless contained his aged father's last +wishes. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +A VOICE FROM THE GRAVE. + + +This communication, dated about two months before, read as follows: + + * * * * * + +"MY BELOVED SON:--When you read these lines I shall have ceased to live. + +"You have always believed me to be poor; on the contrary, I leave you a +large fortune accumulated by avarice. + +"I have been a miser. I do not deny it. On the contrary, I glory in the +fact. + +"And these are my reasons: + +"Up to the time of your birth,--which deprived me of your mother,--I +had, without being extravagant, been indifferent about increasing either +my own patrimony or the dowry my wife had brought me; but as soon as I +had a son, that desire to make ample provision for him which is the +sacred duty of every parent gradually aroused a spirit of economy, then +of parsimony, and finally of avarice, in my breast. + +"Besides, the privations I imposed upon myself did not affect you in +your infancy. Born sturdy and robust, the wholesome simplicity of your +bringing up was rather beneficial than otherwise, tending as it did to +the development of an excellent constitution. + +"When you were old enough to begin your education, I sent you to one of +the best schools open to the poor, at first, I must admit, purely from +motives of economy, but afterward, because I considered such a training +the best preparation for an honest, industrious life. The success of +this plan even exceeded my expectations. Reared with the children of the +poor, you acquired none of those luxurious, extravagant tastes, and felt +none of the bitter envy and jealousy, that so often exert a fatal +influence upon a young man's future. You were thus spared much of the +chagrin which is no less bitter because the victim of it is a child. + +"It is generally supposed that because children of entirely different +conditions in life wear the same uniform, eat at the same table, and +pursue the same studies, a feeling of equality exists between them. + +"This is a great mistake. + +"Social inequality is as keenly felt among children as in the social +world. + +"The son of a wealthy tradesman or a great nobleman generally displays +the same pride and arrogance at ten years of age as at twenty-five. + +"As for you, reared with children of the people, you heard them all talk +of the hard toil of their parents, and the necessity of labour was thus +impressed upon your mind almost from infancy. + +"Other schoolmates told of the privations and poverty which the members +of their households were obliged to endure, and in this way you became +accustomed to our poverty. + +"At the age of fifteen, I made you compete for a scholarship in the +admirable institution in which you completed your studies, and your +early education already began to bear excellent fruits, for, though many +of your schoolmates were wealthy or of noble lineage, contact with them +never impaired your sterling qualities, or made you envious or +discontented. + +"At the age of seventeen you entered the office of a notary, an intimate +friend of mine, who alone knows the secret of my great wealth, and who +has charge of my investments. Up to this time, this friend's discretion +has equalled his devotion, and, thanks to him, you have acquired a fair +knowledge of law, and also of business methods, which will be of immense +service to you in the management of the very handsome property I have +amassed. + +"My conscience does not reproach me in the least, consequently, though +sometimes I admit I fear you may address this reproach to my memory: + +"'While you were amassing all this wealth, father, how could you bear to +see me subjected to such cruel privations?' + +"But the recollection of the many times you have remarked to me that, +though we were poor, you were perfectly contented, and that you craved +wealth only for my sake, always drove this fear from my heart. + +"In fact, your invariable good humour, the evenness of your disposition, +your natural gaiety, and your devoted affection for me have always +convinced me that you were contented with your lot; besides, I shared +it. What I earned as a scrivener, together with your earnings, have +enabled us to live without touching any of the income from my property, +which has consequently been accumulating in prudent hands for the last +twenty years, so at this present writing the fortune I leave to you +amounts to over two millions and a half. + +"I do not know how many more years I have to live, but if I live ten +years longer I shall have reached the allotted age of man. You will be +thirty-five, and I shall have amassed a fortune of four or five +millions, as property doubles itself in ten years. + +"So, in all probability, you will have reached middle age when you come +into possession of this large property, and the sober, frugal, and +laborious habits acquired in infancy will have become second nature with +you; so will you not be in the best possible condition to inherit the +wealth I have amassed for you, and to use it wisely and well? + +"If I had acted differently, what benefit would have accrued to either +of us? + +"If I had been lavish in my expenditures, I should have reduced you to +poverty. + +"If I had contented myself with spending my income only, then, instead +of devoting ourselves to some useful employment, we should probably have +led idle, aimless lives; instead of living frugally, we should have +indulged in luxuries and more or less vain display; in short, we should +have led such a life as nearly all wealthy people of the middle class +lead. + +"And what should we have gained by it? + +"Should we have been better or more useful citizens? I doubt it, and, at +my death, I should have left you a small property, not sufficient for +the realisation of any extensive or generous enterprise. + +"One word more, my dear child, to answer in advance any reproach that +you may in future address to my memory. + +"Rest assured if I kept my wealth a secret from you, it was not from any +desire to deceive you, nor from any distrust on my part. + +"These were my reasons: + +"Ignorant of my wealth, you were resigned to poverty; aware of our +wealth, you might have accepted the humble existence I imposed upon you +without murmuring, but in your secret heart you might have accused me of +cruelty and selfishness. + +"Nor was this all. Forgive, my son, this foolish fear,--this +apprehension so insulting to your affectionate heart,--but during my +lifetime I was loath that you should know that you would profit by my +death. + +"Another, and possibly the most potent reason of all, led me to conceal +my wealth from you. I love you so much that it would have been +impossible for me to see you subjected to the slightest privation had +you known it depended only upon me to give you an easier, broader, and +more luxurious life. + +"In spite of the apparent contradiction between this feeling and my +avaricious conduct toward you, I hope that you will understand me. + +"And now that in thought I place myself face to face with death, which +may strike me down to-morrow, to-day, this very hour, I solemnly declare +that I bless you from the inmost depths of my soul, my beloved son. You +have never given me one moment's pain or sorrow, but only joy and +happiness. + +"God for ever bless you, my good and loving son. If you are as happy as +you deserve to be, the dearest wish of my heart will be gratified. + +"Your father, + +A. RICHARD. + +"_Paris, February 25, 18--._" + + * * * * * + +Deeply touched by this strange letter, Louis fell into a deep, sad +reverie, and the day was nearing a close when the young man heard some +one knock at the door of his garret, and the well-known voice of +Florestan de Saint-Herem greeted his ears. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +THE MISER EXTOLLED. + + +Saint-Herem threw himself in his friend's arms, exclaiming: + +"Louis, my poor friend, I know all. The porter just told me of your +father's death. What a sudden and cruel blow!" + +"Read this, Florestan, and you will understand how bitter my regret must +be!" said Louis, brokenly, handing Saint-Herem the dead man's letter. + +"Now do you think any one can blame my father for his avarice?" Louis +asked, when his friend had finished the letter. "His one thought seems +to have been to enrich me, and to prepare me to make a good use of the +large property he would bequeath to me. It was for my sake that he +hoarded his wealth, and imposed the hardest privations upon himself!" + +"No sacrifice is too great for a miser," replied Florestan. "Misers are +capable of the grandest and most heroic acts. This may seem a paradox to +you, but it is true, nevertheless. The prejudice against misers is +unjust in the extreme. Misers! Why, we ought to erect altars to them!" +added Saint-Herem, with growing enthusiasm. "Is it not wonderful the +ingenuity they display in devising all sorts of ways to save? Is it not +marvellous to see them accumulating, by persistent efforts, a fortune +from the ends of matches and the collecting of lost pins. And people +deny the existence of alchemists, and of discoverers of the +philosopher's stone! Why, the miser has found the philosopher's stone, +for does he not make gold out of what would be worthless to others?" + +"You are right in that respect, Florestan." + +"In that respect and all other respects, for, Louis, observe my simile +closely. It is wonderfully just and worthy of my best rhetorical +efforts. There is a dry and sterile tract of land. Some one digs a well +there. What is the result? The smallest springs, the almost +imperceptible oozings from the earth, the tiniest threads of water, +accumulate drop by drop in this well. Gradually the water deepens, the +reservoir becomes full, then comes a beneficent hand that diffuses the +contents all around, and flowers and verdure spring up as if by +enchantment on this once barren soil. Say, Louis, is not my comparison a +just one? Is not the wealth amassed by the miser almost always spent in +luxuries of every kind? for, as the proverb says: 'An avaricious father, +a spendthrift son.' And let us consider the miser from a religious point +of view." + +"From a religious point of view?" + +"Yes; for it is seen from that standpoint that he is especially worthy +of praise." + +"That is a very difficult assertion to prove, it seems to me." + +"On the contrary, it is extremely easy. Self-abnegation is one of the +greatest of virtues, is it not?" + +"Undoubtedly." + +"Well, my dear Louis, I defy you to mention any monastic order whose +members renounce all earthly pleasures as absolutely as the majority of +misers do. Capuchins renounce champagne, race-horses, dancing girls, +hunting, cards, and the opera. I should think so. Most of them have good +reasons for it. But how different with the miser! There, in his coffers, +under lock and key, are the means of gratifying every wish and indulging +in every luxury and pleasure, and yet he possesses the moral courage +and strength of will to resist all these temptations. In his +disinterestedness, too, the miser is sublime." + +"Disinterestedness, Florestan?" + +"Yes, I repeat that his disinterestedness is sublime. He knows perfectly +well that he is execrated during life, and that his heirs will dance +upon his grave when he is dead. He knows all that, and yet, mention a +single case where a miser has tried to take his treasure with him, +though it would be an easy matter, as it wouldn't take five minutes to +burn two millions in bank-notes. But no, these kind-hearted misers, full +of compassion, practise forgiveness of injuries, and leave their vast +wealth to their heirs in almost every case." + +"But, my friend, it sounds very strangely to hear a person who spends +money as lavishly as you do lauding avarice to the skies." + +"All the more reason that I should." + +"And why?" + +"Who can appreciate the excellence of the armourer's work as well as the +warrior? The excellence of a horse as well as the rider? the excellence +of a musical instrument as well as the person who plays upon it? Pope +Paganini has canonised Stradivarius, the maker of those wonderful +violins the great artist plays so divinely; and I, who could spend +millions so admirably, shall certainly feel like canonising my +uncle--that heroic martyr to avarice--if Fate so wills that the means of +prodigality which he had been accumulating penny by penny ever falls +into my hands." + +"My God!" + +"What is the matter, Louis?" + +"Then you do not know--" + +"What?" + +"I told you of my poor father's desire for a marriage between me and +your cousin." + +"Yes, what of it?" + +"Your uncle, ignorant of my refusal, and anxious to hasten this union +which he desired as ardently as my father, apparently, left Dreux +yesterday, in company with his daughter, and this morning--" + +"Both arrived in Paris, I suppose. Why this hesitation, my dear Louis?" + +"Your uncle and cousin did not come straight through to Paris. They +stopped at Versailles, Florestan, at Versailles, where my poor father +went to--" + +But Louis could not finish the sentence. His emotion overcame him +completely. + +"Courage, my friend," said Saint-Herem, deeply affected, "I understand +your feelings." + +"Florestan," said the young man, drying his tears, after a long silence, +"my father went to Versailles to meet your uncle and cousin." + +"Well?" + +"It was agreed that they were to accompany my father back to Paris. +There is little doubt that they did so, and as it is almost certain that +they were all in the same railway carriage--" + +"They, too! Oh, that would be too horrible!" exclaimed Saint-Herem, +covering his face with his hands. + +The exclamation of horror and the tone of profound pity in Saint-Herem's +voice were so sincere and so spontaneous that Louis was deeply touched +by this proof of noble-heartedness on the part of his friend, who had +manifested only a feeling of generous commiseration, without one +particle of the satisfaction or selfish joy that might have been +considered almost excusable under the circumstances. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +PLANS FOR THE FUTURE. + + +Louis and Saint-Herem remained silent for several minutes. The former +was the first to speak. + +"I cannot tell you how deeply your sensibility touches me, my dear +Florestan," he said, at last "It is so thoroughly in accord with my own +feelings at this sad moment." + +"Why, what else could you expect, my dear friend? I had no affection for +my uncle, as you know, but one must be heartless, indeed, not to feel +deeply grieved and horrified at the mere possibility that my relatives +may have shared your poor father's cruel fate. I retract nothing I have +said in regard to avarice and its far-reaching consequences, though it +would have given my thoughts a much more serious turn had I foreseen +that the question was to affect me personally; but I can at least say, +with truth, that I am not one of those persons who receive an +inheritance with unalloyed delight. Now tell me, Louis,--and forgive the +necessity of a question that is sure to revive your grief,--in your +sorrowful search for your father did you see nothing that would lead you +to hope that my uncle and his daughter might have escaped such a +horrible death?" + +"All I can say, Florestan, is that I remember perfectly having seen +neither your uncle nor cousin among the killed and injured. As for the +unfortunate persons who shared my father's fate, it was impossible to +identify any of them, as they were burned almost to ashes." + +"Then your supposition is probably correct, my poor Louis, as my uncle +and his daughter are almost certain to have been in the same carriage as +your father, and even in the same compartment. In that case, there can +be little doubt that they met with the same fate. I shall write to Dreux +at once, and I shall also have a careful search for their remains +instituted without delay. If you hear anything more, inform me as soon +as possible. But now I think of it, how about Mariette? The sad +announcement you have just made to me almost made me forget the object +of my visit." + +"It was a cruel misunderstanding that caused all the trouble, as I +suspected, Florestan. I found her more loving and devoted than ever." + +"Her love will be a great consolation to you in your deep sorrow. +Courage, my poor Louis, courage! All that has occurred should only serve +to strengthen the bonds of friendship between us." + +"Ah, Florestan, but for this friendship and Mariette's affection, I do +not know how I could endure this crushing blow. Farewell, my friend. +Keep me advised of the progress of your search for your uncle, I beg of +you." + +The two friends separated. Left alone, Louis reflected some time in +regard to the course he should pursue. Finally he placed in his satchel +the hidden gold he had just discovered, then, taking his father's +letter, he repaired to the house of his employer, who was also the +business agent and friend of his deceased parent, as he had just learned +from the letter found with the gold. + +The notary, deeply affected by the harrowing details of his late +patron's terrible fate, tried to console Louis, and also offered to +attend to the necessary legal formalities. + +This arrangement made, Louis said: + +"There is another question I should like to ask. As soon as these +formalities have been complied with, do I come into possession of my +father's property?" + +"Certainly, my dear Louis." + +"Then I will tell you what I intend to do. I have brought you gold coin +to the amount of more than two hundred thousand francs. I found it in a +chest in the room I occupied with my father. Out of this amount, I wish +you to take enough to purchase an annuity of twelve thousand francs for +the godmother of a young girl that I am about to marry." + +"But does this young girl's financial condition--" + +"My dear patron," interrupted Louis, respectfully but firmly, "the young +girl I speak of is a working girl, and supports herself and her +godmother by her daily toil. I have loved her a long time, and no human +power can prevent me from marrying her." + +"So be it," replied the notary, understanding the uselessness of any +further protest. "I will settle the desired amount upon the person +designated." + +"I also desire to take from this sum of money about fifteen thousand +francs to set up housekeeping in a suitable manner." + +"Only fifteen thousand francs!" exclaimed the notary, surprised at the +modesty of this request. "Will that be enough?" + +"My affianced wife is, like myself, accustomed to a frugal and laborious +life, so the income from fifteen thousand francs, together with the +proceeds of our labour, will more than suffice." + +"The proceeds of your labour! What! do you intend--" + +"To remain in your office if you do not consider me unworthy of your +confidence." + +"Remain a notary's clerk when you have an income of more than two +hundred thousand francs a year?" + +"I cannot and will not take possession of this immense fortune for a +long time to come. Even when the death of my father has been legally +established, I shall still feel a vague hope of again seeing the parent +I so deeply mourn." + +"Alas! I fear there is little hope of that, my poor Louis." + +"Still, I shall cherish the hope as long as possible; and so long as I +do, I shall not consider myself at liberty to dispose of my father's +property,--at least only to the extent I have indicated to you. Will you +not, therefore, continue to take charge of the estate exactly as you +have done in the past?" + +"I cannot but admire the course you have decided upon, my dear Louis," +replied the notary, with unfeigned emotion. "Your conduct now conforms +in every respect with that you have always maintained. You could not do +greater honour to your father's memory than by acting thus. It shall be +as you wish. I will remain the custodian of your fortune, and the +annuity you spoke of shall be purchased this very day." + +"There is a detail in relation to that matter, about which I should like +to speak, trivial and almost absurd as it may appear to you." + +"What do you mean?" + +"The poor woman upon whom I desire to settle this annuity has seen so +much trouble during her long life that her character has become +embittered, and she feels no confidence in any one. Any promise would +seem utterly valueless to her, if the promise was not based upon +something tangible; so to convince the poor creature, I want to take her +fifteen thousand francs in gold, which will represent very nearly the +amount that will have to be expended for the annuity. It is the only way +to thoroughly convince the poor creature of my good intentions." + +"Take any amount you please, of course, my dear Louis. The matter shall +be arranged to-morrow." + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +MADAME LACOMBE'S UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER. + + +On leaving the notary's office, Louis hastened to Mariette's home. He +found the young girl sewing by the bedside of her godmother, who seemed +to be sound asleep. + +Her lover's extreme pallor, as well as the sad expression of his face, +struck the young girl at once, and running toward him, she exclaimed, +anxiously: + +"Oh, Louis, something terrible must have happened, I am sure." + +"Yes, Mariette. Have you heard of the frightful accident that occurred +on the Versailles railroad yesterday?" + +"Yes, it was horrible. People say there were nobody knows how many +victims." + +"I can hardly doubt that my father was one of the number." + +Quick as thought, Mariette threw herself, sobbing, on Louis's breast, +and for a long time the two stood clasped in a silent embrace. Louis was +the first to speak. + +"Mariette, you know how devotedly I loved my father, so you can judge of +my despair," he said, sadly. + +"It is a terrible blow to you, I know, Louis." + +"The only consolation I have is your love, Mariette, and I am about to +ask a fresh proof of this love." + +"You have but to speak, Louis." + +"I want you to marry me at once." + +"Can you doubt my consent? Is this the proof of love that you asked?" +inquired the young girl. + +Then, after a moment's reflection, she added: + +"But can we marry before your period of mourning, that only begins +to-day, expires?" + +"I entreat you, Mariette, not to be deterred by that scruple, decent as +it appears." + +"I--I will do whatever you wish." + +"Listen, Mariette, my heart will be torn with regrets for a long, long +time. True mourning is of the soul, and, with me, it will long exceed +the period fixed by custom. I know that I honour my father's memory in +every fibre of my being, and it is for this very reason that I do not +feel it necessary to conform to any purely conventional custom. Believe +me, a marriage contracted at so sad a time as this is of a much more +solemn and sacred nature than if we married under different +circumstances." + +"You are right, perhaps, Louis; nevertheless, custom--" + +"Because you will be my wife, Mariette,--because you will mourn for my +father with me,--because you will share my grief, will he be less deeply +regretted? Besides, Mariette, crushed with grief, as I am, I could not +live on alone, separated from you,--all I have left in the world now. It +would kill me." + +"I am only a poor seamstress who knows little or nothing of the laws of +society, so I can only tell you how I feel about this matter, Louis. +Though a moment ago the idea of marrying you at once seemed almost a +breach of propriety, the reasons you give have made me change my mind. +Possibly I am wrong; possibly it is the desire to please you that +influences me, but now I should not feel the slightest remorse if I +married you at once, and yet it seems to me that I am as susceptible as +any one I know." + +"Yes, and more ungrateful than any one I know," exclaimed Madame +Lacombe, tartly, raising herself up in bed. + +Then, seeing the surprise depicted on the features of her goddaughter +and Louis, she added, in sneering tones: + +"Yes, you thought the old woman asleep, and so took advantage of the +opportunity to decide all about the wedding, but I heard everything you +said, everything--" + +"There was nothing said that we were unwilling for you to hear, madame," +replied Louis, gravely. "Mariette and I have no desire to retract a +single word we have uttered." + +"I am certain of that, for you two think only of yourselves. You seem to +have no other idea in your head except this detestable marriage. As for +me, one might suppose I was already in my coffin. I tell you once for +all that--" + +"Permit me to interrupt you, madame," said Louis, "and to prove to you +that I have not forgotten my promise." + +As he spoke, he took a small box which he had deposited upon the table +at his entrance, and placed it on Madame Lacombe's bed, saying, as he +handed her a key: + +"Will you be kind enough to open this box, madame? The contents belong +to you." + +Madame Lacombe took the key with a suspicious air, opened the box, +looked in, and exclaimed, like one both dazzled and stupefied: + +"Good God! Good God!" + +Recovering from her bewilderment at last, the sick woman emptied the +contents of the box out upon the bed; but it seemed as if she could not +believe her eyes when she saw the big pile of glittering gold coins +before her. + +"Oh, what a pile of gold! What a pile of gold!" she exclaimed, +ecstatically. "And it is real gold--not a counterfeit piece among it. +Great Heavens! What big, handsome coins they are! They must be one +hundred sou pieces at least. What an immense amount of money this must +be! Enough to make two poor women like Mariette and me comfortable for +life," she added, with a sigh. + +"You have about fifteen thousand francs there, madame," replied Louis. +"They are yours." + +"Mine?" cried the sick woman, "mine?" + +Then, shaking her head with an incredulous air, she said, sharply, "Why +do you want to mock an old woman? How can this gold belong to me?" + +"Because this gold is to purchase you an annuity of twelve hundred +francs, so that, after Mariette's marriage, you can live alone or remain +with your goddaughter as you prefer, for to-morrow our marriage contract +will be signed, and, at the same time, you will receive papers assuring +you a yearly income of twelve hundred francs in exchange for this gold. +I brought the money here to convince you of the sincerity of my +promises. Now, madame, as you overheard our conversation, you know my +reasons for entreating Mariette to hasten our marriage. You are +comfortably provided for now. If there is any other obstacle to my union +with Mariette, tell us, I beseech you, madame. Anything that either she +or I can do to satisfy you, we will do. Our happiness will not be +complete if you, too, are not content." + +The words were uttered in a kind, almost affectionate tone, but Mother +Lacombe's only reply was a heavy sigh, as she turned her back upon the +speaker. + +Louis and Mariette gazed at each other in silent astonishment for a +moment; then the girl, kneeling by the invalid's bedside, asked, +tenderly: + +"What is the matter, godmother?" + +Receiving no reply, Mariette leaned over the old woman, and, seeing +tears trickling through her wasted fingers, exclaimed: + +"Good Heavens, Louis, my godmother is weeping. This is the first time in +ten years!" + +"What is the matter, madame? Tell us, in Heaven's name." + +"I appear like a beggar. I seem to be thinking only of money, and I am +ashamed of it," responded the poor creature, sobbing bitterly. "Yes, you +think I care only for money; you think I am selling Mariette to you +exactly as I would have sold her to that villain, if I had been a bad +woman." + +"Do not say that, godmother," exclaimed Mariette, embracing the invalid +tenderly. "Can you suppose for one moment that Louis and I had any +intention of humiliating you by bringing you this money? Louis has done +what you asked, that is all." + +"I know that, but it was the fear of dying in the street, and of seeing +you after marriage far more miserable than you are now, that made me ask +for this money. I knew very well that I had no right to any money, but +think what it must be to be afraid of being turned into the street when +one is old and infirm. I asked for entirely too much, and I did very +wrong. What do I really need? Only a mattress in some corner, and a +morsel to eat now and then, and, above all, that Mariette will not +desert me. I am so used to seeing her around. If she left me I should +feel as lonely as if I were in the grave. Besides, there is nobody else +in the world who would be so kind and so patient with a cross old sick +woman like me. All I ask is to stay with Mariette. To have all this gold +thrown in my face, as it were, humiliates me. One may be a mere worm, +and yet have a little pride left. When that scoundrel came and offered +me gold if I would sell Mariette to him, it made me mad, that is all; +but this time it is very different, it makes me weep,--a thing I haven't +done before for ten years, as you said yourself, child. This cuts me to +the heart." + +"Come, come, my dear Madame Lacombe, you need not give yourself the +slightest uneasiness with regard to the future," said Louis, deeply +touched. "Mariette will not leave you; we will all live, not +luxuriously, but very comfortably together." + +"Are you in earnest? Will you let me live with you, really and truly?" + +At this fresh proof of the unfortunate woman's unconquerable distrust, +Louis and Mariette again exchanged compassionate glances, and taking her +godmother's hand, the girl said, tenderly: + +"Yes, godmother, yes; we will keep you with us, and care for you as if +you were our own mother. You shall see if we do not make you very, very +happy." + +"It will be no fault of ours if we do not, you may be sure of that," +added Louis, earnestly. + +The tone and expression of the two young people would have convinced the +most skeptical, but it was so hard for this unfortunate woman to believe +that such happiness could ever be hers, that, though she tried to +conceal her doubts for fear of wounding Mariette and her lover, it was +with an involuntary sigh that she replied: + +"I believe you, children. Yes, I believe that M. Louis has money, and I +believe you both mean well toward me, but after awhile I am afraid +you'll find me very much in the way. Newly married people like to be +alone, and--" + +"What, godmother, you still doubt us, after all we have said?" + +"Forgive me, children, I don't mean to," sobbed the poor woman; then, +with a heart-broken smile, she added: "Perhaps it is all the better for +me that I do doubt, for if, after fifty years of trouble and poverty, I +should really come to believe that there was such a thing as happiness +for me, I might go mad." + +Then, in accents of inexpressible bitterness, she added: + +"It wouldn't surprise me if I did. It would be just my luck." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +A CAPRICIOUS BEAUTY. + + +Five years have elapsed since the events we have just related, and on +the evening of the 12th of May, 18--the anniversary of the terrible +catastrophe on the Versailles railroad, the following scene was taking +place. + +It was half-past nine in the evening, and a young woman about +twenty-five years of age, a decided brunette, with a perfect figure, and +a remarkably spirituelle and high-bred face, was just completing a +superb evening toilet with the assistance of two maids, one of whom had +just clasped a necklace of diamonds as big as hazelnuts around the neck +of her beautiful mistress, while another adjusted a magnificent diadem +of the same costly gems upon the lady's beautiful black hair. The low +corsage, too, of pale green satin, trimmed with superb lace and bows of +pale pink satin ribbon, also glittered with precious stones. + +The selection of diamonds as ornaments seemed to have been the result of +careful reflection, for on a table close by were several cases +containing complete and no less costly garnitures. Two of them, one +composed of enormous rubies, the other of magnificent pearls of +extraordinary size and lustre, would have excited the admiration of any +jeweller. + +One of the attendants, who was much older than her companion, +seemed--thanks, probably, to her long service--to be on quite familiar +terms with her mistress, who, like herself was a Russian, and the other +maid, a young Frenchwoman, not understanding the Russian language, +consequently heard without understanding the following conversation +between the Comtesse Zomaloff and her trusted maid, Mlle. Katinka: + +"Does madame like the way in which I have adjusted her diadem?" + +"Very well," replied the countess. + +And with a final glance in the glass, she added, as she rose: + +"Where is my bouquet?" + +"Here, madame." + +"What, that horrid withered thing!" cried Madame Zomaloff. + +"It is the one M. le duc sent for madame la comtesse." + +"I recognise his taste," said Madame Zomaloff, shrugging her shoulders. +Then she added, with a mocking air, "It is one he picked up at a +bargain, I'll be bound. Some lover who quarrelled with his sweetheart +yesterday morning failed to send last evening for the bouquet he had +ordered. It takes M. de Riancourt to discover such bargains." + +"Ah, madame cannot suppose M. le duc is as stingy as all that. He is so +rich." + +"All the more reason that he should be." + +Some one rapped at the door of the chamber adjoining the dressing-room, +and the French maid who went to answer the summons returned in a moment +to say: + +"M. le Duc de Riancourt has come, and is awaiting madame's pleasure." + +"Let him wait," replied Madame Zomaloff. "The princess is in the +drawing-room, I suppose." + +"Yes, madame la comtesse." + +"Very well. Here, Katinka, fasten this bracelet," continued the young +woman, holding out her beautiful arm. "What time is it?" + +But as Katinka was about to reply, Madame Zomaloff added, with a mocking +smile: + +"After all, what is the use of asking that question? The duke has just +arrived, consequently it must be exactly half after nine." + +The clock on the mantel interrupted the countess by striking the +half-hour designated, and the lady laughed heartily as she exclaimed: + +"What did I tell you, Katinka? M. de Riancourt is as punctual as the +clock itself." + +"That only proves his ardour and his love." + +"I should prefer a less well-regulated emotion, I think. Persons who +adore you at a stated time always seem to me to have a watch in place of +a heart. Hand me a smelling-bottle,--no, not that one. Yes, this one +will do. I am almost sorry that I am dressed, so I cannot keep the poor +duke waiting longer to punish him for his tiresome punctuality." + +"Why, madame, how unjust you are to him! Why do you marry him if you +feel this way toward him?" + +"Why do I marry M. de Riancourt?" the countess replied, as she took one +more look in the mirror. "You have more curiosity than I have, Katinka. +Does any woman ever know why she marries a second time?" + +"The reason seems apparent to every one. The duke, though he has no gold +mines in the Crimea, and no silver mines in the Ural Mountains--" + +"Spare me this tiresome enumeration of my worldly possessions, Katinka." + +"Well, madame, though M. le duc cannot boast of such immense possessions +as you have, he is one of the wealthiest and most powerful noblemen in +France. He is young and good-looking; he has not led a life of +dissipation like so many other young men; on the contrary, he is very +devout, and--" + +"Oh, yes, he is a paragon of virtue, of course. Bring me a heavy wrap; +the nights are still cool." + +"Has madame any orders to give for the twentieth?" + +"Orders?" + +"Is it possible that madame forgets her marriage is to take place one +week from to-morrow?" + +"What! as soon as that?" + +"Certainly, madame. You decided on the twentieth of May, and this is the +twelfth." + +"If I said the twentieth, it will have to be the twentieth. But how +strange it is. One is leading a delightful life; one is young and free, +and one hates restraint, and yet one cannot give oneself another master +too soon." + +"A master? A man as kind and gentle as M. le duc? Why, you can make +whatever you please of him, madame!" + +"I shall never make a charming man of him, and yet I shall marry him. +Ah, aunt, aunt, you are responsible for all this. There is one good +thing about it, though. One will at least escape the bother of having to +ask oneself what one had better do." + +The countess proceeded in a leisurely fashion to the drawing-room, where +she found her aunt and the Duc de Riancourt awaiting her. + +The Princesse Wileska, Madame Zomaloff's aunt, was a tall, +distinguished-looking woman, with gray hair which she wore slightly +powdered. The Duc de Riancourt was a small man, about thirty years of +age, with a thin, rather crooked neck, long, straight hair parted in the +middle, a somewhat sanctimonious air, and eyes set rather obliquely, +while his slow, precise movements indicated a remarkable amount of +self-control. + +When Madame Zomaloff entered the room, he advanced to meet her, bowed +profoundly, and raised nearly to his lips the pretty hand the countess +carelessly offered him, then, straightening himself up, he gazed at her +a moment as if dazzled, exclaiming: + +"Ah, madame la comtesse, I never saw you arrayed in all your diamonds +before! I do not believe there are any other diamonds like them in the +world. How beautiful they are! Good Heavens! how beautiful they are!" + +"Really, my dear duke, you quite overpower me by your admiration--for my +diamonds; and as my necklace and diadem arouse such tender emotion in +your breast and inspire you with such graceful compliments, I will tell +you, in strict confidence, the name of my jeweller. It is Ezekiel +Rabotautencraff, of Frankfort." + +While M. de Riancourt was trying to find some suitable response to +Madame Zomaloff's raillery, the aunt of that young lady gave the duke a +reproachful look, remarking, with a forced smile: + +"See how this mischievous Fedora delights in teasing you. It is a very +common way of concealing the affection one feels for people, I believe." + +"I humbly admit, my dear princess, that, dazzled by these magnificent +jewels, I failed to render due homage to their wearer," said M. de +Riancourt, in the hope of repairing his blunder. "But--but may not a +person be so dazzled by the sun as to be unable to see even the most +beautiful of flowers?" + +"I am so impressed by this comparison of yours that I am almost tempted +to believe that the same glaring sunshine you speak of must have +withered these poor blossoms," retorted the mischievous young woman with +a gay laugh, holding up for the duke's inspection the rather faded +bouquet he had sent her. + +That gentleman blushed up to his very ears; the princess frowned with an +impatient air, while the countess, perfectly indifferent to these signs +of disapproval, coolly remarked, as she walked toward the door: + +"Give your arm to my aunt, M. de Riancourt. I promised my friend, the +wife of the Russian ambassador, that I would be at her house very early, +as she wishes to present me to one of her relatives, and you know we +have first to inspect that wonderful mansion--that enchanted palace +everybody is talking about." + +After waiting a few seconds in the vestibule, the countess and her aunt +saw a clumsy landau, drawn by two emaciated horses, lumber up to the +door, and the young widow, turning to the duke in evident surprise, +said: + +"Why, this is not your carriage! What has become of that dark blue +berlin drawn by two handsome gray horses that you placed at our disposal +yesterday morning?" + +"Under the circumstances I feel no hesitation about confessing a little +detail of domestic economy to you, my dear countess," replied the duke, +with touching _naivete_. "To save my grays, for which I was obliged to +pay a good round sum, I assure you, I always hire a carriage in the +evening. It is very much more economical than to risk one's own turnout +at night." + +"And you are perfectly right, my dear duke," the princess hastened to +say, fearing another shaft of ridicule from her niece. M. de Riancourt's +footman was in attendance. He opened the door of the antiquated vehicle. +The princess, assisted by the duke, quickly entered it, but as that +gentleman offered his hand to the young widow for the same purpose, the +petulant beauty paused with the tip of her white satin slipper lightly +poised on the carriage step, and said, with an air of the deepest +apprehension: + +"Do examine every nook and corner of the carriage carefully, aunt, I +beseech you, before I get in." + +"But why, my dear?" inquired the princess, naively. "What is the +necessity of this precaution?" + +"I am afraid some red-headed girl or some stout shopkeeper may have been +left in a corner, as it is in vehicles of this description that worthy +shopkeepers drive about all day with their families when they treat +themselves to an outing." + +Laughing heartily, the young widow sprang into the carriage. As she +seated herself, the princess said to her, in a low tone, but with a +deeply pained air: + +"Really, Fedora, I do not understand you. You are strangely sarcastic +toward M. de Riancourt. What can be your object?" + +"I want to cure him of his shameful stinginess. How could I better +manifest my interest in him?" + +Just then the duke took the seat opposite them. He seemed to endure with +Christian meekness the ridicule of this young woman who possessed such +magnificent diamonds, as well as all sorts of gold and silver mines; but +the furtive glance he bestowed on her now and then, and a certain +contraction of his thin lips, indicated that a sullen rage was rankling +in his heart. + +The footman having asked for orders, M. de Riancourt replied: + +"To the Hotel Saint-Ramon." + +"Pardon me, M. le duc," answered the footman, "but I don't know where +the Hotel Saint-Ramon is." + +"At the end of the Cours la Reine," responded M. de Riancourt. + +"Does M. le duc mean that large house on which they have been working +several years?" + +"Yes." + +The footman closed the door, and repeated the instructions to the +coachman who applied the whip vigorously to his bony steeds, and the +landau started in the direction of the Cours la Reine. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +THE HOTEL SAINT-RAMON. + + +M. de Riancourt's clumsy equipage moved so slowly that when it reached +the entrance to the Cours la Reine a pedestrian, who was proceeding in +the same direction, kept pace with it without the slightest difficulty. + +This pedestrian, who was very poorly dressed, did not seem to be very +active, for he leaned heavily on his cane. His long beard, his hair, and +his bushy eyebrows were as white as snow, while the swarthy hue of his +wrinkled face gave him the appearance of an aged mulatto. When M. de +Riancourt's carriage had advanced about half way up the Cours la Reine, +its progress was still further impeded by a long line of vehicles, which +were evidently also on the way to the Hotel Saint-Ramon; so the old man +passed the landau, and walked on until he came to an avenue glittering +with gaily coloured lamps, and filled from end to end with a long +procession of carriages. + +Though the old man seemed deeply absorbed in thought, his attention was +naturally attracted to the large crowd that had assembled near the +handsome gateway that served as an entrance to this brilliantly lighted +avenue, so he paused, and, addressing one of the bystanders, inquired: + +"Can you tell me what all these people are looking at?" + +"They are looking at the guests who are going to the opening of the +famous Saint-Ramon mansion." + +"Saint-Ramon?" murmured the old man, with evident surprise. "How +strange!" + +Then he added aloud: + +"What is this Hotel Saint-Ramon, monsieur?" + +"The eighth wonder of the world, people say. It has taken five years to +build it, and the owner gives a house-warming to-night." + +"To whom does this house belong, monsieur?" + +"To a young man worth several millions." + +"And what is his name?" + +"Saint-Harem, or Saint-Herem, I believe." + +"I thought as much," the old man said to himself. "But, in that case, +why do they call it the Saint-Ramon mansion?" Then, turning to the same +bystander again, he asked aloud: "Will you be kind enough to tell me +what time it is?" + +"Half-past ten, exactly." + +"Thank you, monsieur," responded the old man, getting a little nearer to +the gate. "Half-past ten," he said to himself. "I need not be at +Chaillot until midnight, so I have plenty of time to solve this +mystery." + +After a moment's hesitation, the old man passed through the gateway, and +proceeded up a walk shaded with magnificent elms, to a brilliantly +lighted half-circle in front of the house itself, which was a veritable +palace,--a superb example of the palmiest days of Renaissance +architecture. + +Crossing the half-circle, the old man found himself at the foot of the +imposing perron leading to the peristyle. Through the glass doors that +enclosed the entire front of this peristyle, he saw a long row of tall, +powdered footmen clad in gorgeous liveries, but all the while the +carriages that drew up at the foot of the perron were depositing men, +women, and young girls, whose plain attire contrasted strangely with the +splendour of this fairy palace. + +The old man, to whom allusion has already been made, urged on, +apparently, by an almost irresistible curiosity, followed several of +these newcomers up under the peristyle, where two tall Swiss, halberds +in hand, opened the broad portals of the large glass double door to all, +making their halberds ring noisily on the marble floor as each guest +entered. Still mingling with a party of invited guests, the old man +passed through a double row of footmen in bright blue livery, profusely +trimmed with silver, into a large reception-room, where numerous valets, +clad in bright blue jackets, black satin knee breeches, and white silk +stockings, were in attendance, all manifesting the utmost deference to +these guests whose unpretending appearance seemed so out of harmony with +the princely luxury of the abode. The guests passed from this room into +a large music-room, fitted up for concerts, and from that into an +immense circular hall surmounted by a dome. This hall served as a +nucleus for three other large apartments,--or rather four in all, +including the music-room,--one intended for a ballroom, another for a +banquet-hall and the other for a cardroom. + +It is impossible to describe the splendour, elegance, and sumptuous +furnishings of these large, brilliantly lighted apartments, whose lavish +adornments in the shape of paintings, statuary, and flowers were +multiplied again and again in the enormous mirrors that lined the walls. +The most illustrious artists of the time had assisted in this work of +ornamentation. Masterpieces by Ingres and Delacroix hung side by side +with those of Scheffer and Paul Delaroche; while the future fame of +Couture and Gerome had evidently been divined by the wealthy and +discerning builder of this palace. Among the most magnificent works of +art, we must not forget to mention an immense sideboard in the +banquet-hall, loaded with superb silver, worthy of the master hand of +Benvenuto Cellini, and consisting of candelabra, pitchers, epergnes, +and fruit-dishes, each and every one entitled to an honoured place in a +museum, by reason of its rare beauty of form and exquisite +ornamentation. + +One word more in relation to a peculiar feature of the spacious rotunda. +Directly over a gigantic white marble mantel, a monument to the genius +of David of Angers, the French Michael Angelo, with allegorical figures +in _alto-relievo_, representing the Arts and Sciences at the base, was a +portrait that might with reason have been attributed to Velasquez. It +represented a pale, austere-looking man with strongly marked features, +hollow cheeks, and sunken eyes. A brown robe similar to those worn by +monks imparted to this person the impressive character of those +portraits of saints or martyrs so frequently encountered in the Spanish +school of art,--a resemblance that was heightened by a sort of halo +which shone out brightly against the dark background of the picture, and +seemed to cast a reflected radiance upon the austere and thoughtful +countenance. On the frame below, in German text, were the words: + + SAINT-RAMON. + +The aged stranger, who had continued to advance with the crowd, at last +found himself opposite this fireplace, but, on seeing the portrait, he +paused as if overwhelmed with astonishment. His emotion was so great +that tears rose to his eyes, and he murmured, almost unconsciously: + +"My poor friend, it is indeed he! But why has the word 'saint' been +added to his name? Why has this aureole been placed around his head? And +this strange entertainment, how is it that a person as poorly clad as I +am, and a stranger to the master of the house, besides, should be +allowed to enter here unhindered?" + +Just then a servant, carrying a large waiter loaded with ices, cake, and +similar dainties, paused in front of the old man, and offered him +refreshments. This offer was declined, however, by the stranger, who was +striving, though in vain, to determine the social status of those around +him. The men, who were for the most part plainly but neatly dressed, +some in coats and others in new blouses, while they seemed delighted to +participate in the fete, appeared perfectly at ease, or, in other words, +perfectly at home, and not in the least astonished at the wonders of +this palatial abode; while the women and the young girls, many of whom, +by the way, were extremely pretty, were evidently much more deeply +impressed by the splendour around them. The young girls, particularly, +who were nearly all attired in inexpensive, though perfectly fresh, +white dresses, exchanged many admiring comments in low tones. + +The venerable stranger, more and more anxious to solve this mystery, at +last approached a group composed of several men and women who had paused +in front of the fireplace to gaze at the portrait of Saint-Ramon. + +"You see that picture, Juliette," he heard a sturdy, pleasant-faced +young man say to his wife. "It is only right to call that worthy man +Saint-Ramon. There is many a saint in paradise who is not to be compared +with him, judging from the good he has done." + +"How is that, Michel?" + +"Why, thanks to this worthy saint, I, like most of my fellow workmen +here, have had lucrative employment for the last five years, and we all +owe this good fortune to the original of this portrait, M. Saint-Ramon. +Thanks to him, I have not been out of work for a single day, and my +wages have not only been liberal enough to support us comfortably, but +also to enable us to lay aside a snug little sum for a rainy day." + +"But it was not this worthy man whose portrait we see here that ordered +and paid for all this work. It was M. de Saint-Herem, who is always so +pleasant and kind, and who said so many nice things to us just now when +we came in." + +"Of course, my dear Juliette, it was M. de Saint-Herem who employed us, +but, as he always said to us when he came to see how we were getting on: +'Ah, boys, if it were not for the wealth I inherited from another +person, I could not give you employment or pay you as such industrious +and capable workmen ought to be paid, so always hold in grateful +remembrance the memory of the person who left me all this money. He +accumulated it, penny by penny, by depriving himself of every comfort, +while I have the pleasure of spending his wealth. In fact, it is my +bounden duty to spend it. What is the good of money, if it is not to be +spent? So hold in grateful remembrance, I say, the memory of yonder good +old miser. Bless his avarice, for it gives me the pleasure of +accomplishing wonderful things, and you, liberal wages, richly earned.'" + +"Still, while we are, of course, under great obligations to this worthy +miser, we ought to be equally grateful to M. de Saint-Herem, it seems to +me. So many wealthy people spend little or nothing; or, if they do +employ us, haggle about the price of our work, or keep us waiting a long +time for our money." + +The venerable stranger listened to this conversation with quite as much +interest as astonishment. He also lent an attentive ear to other +conversations that were going on around him, and everywhere he heard a +chorus of praises and benedictions lavished upon Saint-Ramon, while M. +de Saint-Herem's nobility of soul and liberality were lauded to the +skies. + +"Is all this a dream?" the old man said to himself. "Who would ever +believe that these eulogiums and protestations of respect were addressed +to the memory of a miser,--of a person belonging to a class of people +that is almost universally despised and vilified? And it is the +spendthrift heir of this miser who thus eulogises him! But what strange +whim led him to invite all his workmen to his entertainment?" + +The astonishment of the old man increased as he began to note a strange +contrast that was becoming apparent between the guests, for quite a +number of correctly dressed and extremely distinguished-looking +men--many with decorations in their buttonholes--were now moving about +the spacious rooms with exquisitely dressed ladies on their arms. + +Florestan de Saint-Herem, handsomer, gayer, and more brilliant than +ever, seemed to be entirely in his element in this atmosphere of luxury +and splendour. He did the honours of his palace delightfully, receiving +every guest with wonderful grace and perfect courtesy. He had stationed +himself near the door of the large circular hall into which the +reception-room opened, and no woman or young girl entered to whom he did +not address a few of those cordial and affable words which, when they +are sincere, never fail to charm even the most timid, and make them +perfectly at ease. + +Florestan was thus engaged when he saw the Comtesse Zomaloff, +accompanied by the Princesse Wileska and the Duc de Riancourt, enter the +hall. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +A NOVEL ENTERTAINMENT. + + +Saint-Herem had never seen the Comtesse Zomaloff and her aunt before, +but he had known M. de Riancourt a long time, so on seeing him enter, +accompanied by two ladies, Florestan stepped quickly forward to meet +him. + +"My dear Saint-Herem," said the duke, "permit me to introduce to you +Madame la Princesse Wileska and Madame la Comtesse Zomaloff. These +ladies hope they have not been indiscreet in accompanying me here this +evening to see your new house and its wonders." + +"I am delighted to have the honour of receiving the ladies, and shall be +only too glad to show them what you are pleased to call the wonders of +my house." + +"And M. de Riancourt is right, for, on entering here, I must confess +that it is difficult to decide what one should admire most, everything +is so beautiful," remarked the countess. + +"I also feel it my duty to tell you, my dear Saint-Herem, that Madame +Zomaloff's visit is not altogether one of curiosity," remarked the duke, +"for I have told the countess of your intentions in regard to the house, +and as I shall be so fortunate as to have the honour of bestowing my +name on the countess a week from now, you understand, of course, that I +can come to no decision in this matter without consulting her." + +"Really, madame, as M. de Riancourt thus gives himself all the airs of a +married man in advance, don't you think it only fair that he should +submit to the consequences of his revelation?" exclaimed Florestan, +gaily, turning to Madame Zomaloff. "So, as a husband never gives his arm +to his wife, will you not do me the honour to accept mine?" + +In this way Florestan escaped the necessity of offering his arm to the +princess, who seemed likely to prove a much less agreeable companion +than her young and pretty niece, who graciously accepted her host's +proffered arm, while M. de Riancourt, as in duty bound, offered his arm +to the princess. + +"I have travelled a great deal, monsieur," said Madame Zomaloff, "but I +have never seen anything to compare, not with the magnificence, for any +millionaire could compass that,--but with the exquisite taste which has +presided over every detail in the construction of this mansion. It is +really a superb museum. You will pardon me, I trust, but I really cannot +refrain from expressing the admiration the superb decoration of this +ceiling excites." + +"The artist's reward should follow admiration for his work, do you not +think so, madame?" inquired Florestan, smiling. "So it depends upon you +to make the artist who painted that ceiling both proud and happy." + +And as he spoke Saint-Herem pointed out to Madame Zomaloff one of the +most illustrious masters of the modern school of art. + +"I thank you a thousand times, monsieur, for this piece of good +fortune!" exclaimed the young woman, advancing with Florestan toward the +artist. + +"My friend," Saint-Herem said to him, "Madame la Comtesse Zomaloff +wishes to express to you her intense admiration for your work." + +"Not only my admiration, but my gratitude as well," added the lady, +graciously. "The profound pleasure the sight of such a _chef-d'oeuvre_ +excites certainly places the beholder under a deep obligation to the +creator of it." + +"However pleasing and flattering such praise may be to me, I can take +only a part of it to myself," replied the illustrious painter, with +great modesty and good taste. "But leaving my own works out of the +question entirely, so I may be able to express myself more freely, let +me advise you to notice particularly the decorations of the ceiling of +the music-room. They are the work of M. Ingres, our Raphael, and will +furnish pilgrims of art in days to come with as many objects of +adoration as the finest frescoes of Rome, Pisa, or Florence, yet this +_chef-d'oeuvre_ would not be in existence but for my friend +Saint-Herem. Really, madame, in this extravagant but essentially +materialistic age, is it not a delightful phenomenon to meet a Medici, +as in the palmy days of the Italian republics?" + +"That is true, monsieur," replied the countess, quickly, "and history +has been only just in--" + +"Pardon me for interrupting you, madame la comtesse," said Saint-Herem, +smiling, "but I am no less modest than my famous friend here, so for +fear that your enthusiasm may lead you astray, I must point out the real +Medici to you. There he is," added Florestan, pointing to the portrait +of Saint-Ramon, as he spoke. + +"What an austere face!" exclaimed the countess, scrutinising the +portrait with mingled surprise and curiosity; then seeing the name +inscribed upon the frame, she asked, turning to Florestan in evident +astonishment, "Saint-Ramon? What saint is that?" + +"A saint of my own making, madame. He was my uncle, and, though I am not +a pope, I have ventured to canonise this admirable man as a reward for +his long martyrdom and for the miracles he has wrought since his death." + +"His long martyrdom! The miracles he wrought after his death!" Madame +Zomaloff repeated, wonderingly. "You are jesting, monsieur, are you +not?" + +"Far from it, madame. My uncle imposed the severest privations upon +himself during his life, for he was a confirmed miser. That was his +martyrdom. I inherited his wealth; so the artistic achievements you so +much admire really owe their origin indirectly to him. These are the +miracles to which I alluded." + +Madame Zomaloff, more and more impressed by Saint-Herem's originality, +was silent for a moment, but M. de Riancourt, who had been standing a +little distance off, now approached Florestan, and said: + +"There is a question I have been wanting to ask you ever since our +arrival, my dear Saint-Herem. Who are these people? I have recognised +three or four great painters and a celebrated architect among them, but +who are the others? The princess and I have been trying in vain to solve +the mystery." + +"As M. Riancourt has ventured to ask this rather indiscreet question, I +must confess that I share his curiosity, monsieur," added Madame +Zomaloff. + +"You have doubtless noticed, madame, that most of the persons I have +taken such pleasure in welcoming this evening do not belong to the +fashionable world." + +"That is true." + +"Still, you were much pleased just now, were you not, madame, to meet +the great artist whose work you so greatly admired?" + +"Yes, monsieur; I told you how much pleasure the opportunity to meet him +afforded me." + +"You must consequently approve, I think, of my having extended an +invitation to him as well as to a number of his colleagues." + +"It seems to me that such an invitation was almost obligatory upon you, +monsieur." + +"Ah, well, madame, I feel that it was likewise obligatory upon me to +extend the same invitation to all who had assisted in any way in the +construction of this house, from the famous artists to the humblest +mechanic, so they are all here with their families enjoying the +beauties they have created, as they, in my opinion, at least, have an +undoubted right to do." + +"What!" exclaimed M. de Riancourt, "do you mean to say that you have the +carvers, and gilders, and locksmiths, and carpenters, and paper-hangers, +and even the masons, here? Why, this passes my comprehension." + +"Do you know anything about the habits of bees, my dear duke?" + +"Not much, I must admit." + +"You might consider their habits exceedingly reprehensible, my dear +duke, inasmuch as the insolent creatures insist upon occupying the cells +they themselves have constructed; and, what is worse, they even assert +their claim to the delicious honey they have accumulated with so much +skill and labour for their winter's need." + +"And what conclusion do you draw from all this?" + +"That we drones should give the poor and industrious human bees the +innocent satisfaction of enjoying, at least for a day, the gilded cells +they have constructed for us,--for us who subsist upon the honey +gathered by others." + +Madame Zomaloff had dropped Florestan's arm a few moments before. She +now took it again, and walking on a few steps, so as to leave her aunt +and the duke a little way behind her, she said to Saint-Herem, with deep +earnestness: + +"Your idea is charming, monsieur, and I do not wonder at the expression +of contentment I notice on the faces of your guests. Yes, the more I +think of it, the more just and generous the idea seems to me. After all, +as you say, this superb mansion represents the combined labour of +artisans of every degree, high and low; hence, in your eyes, this house +must be much more than a marvel of good taste and luxury, as the +associations connected with its construction will always be unspeakably +precious to you. That being the case--" + +"Go on, madame." + +"I cannot understand how--" + +"You hesitate, madame. Speak, I beg of you." + +"M. de Riancourt has informed you of our intended marriage, monsieur," +said Madame Zomaloff, with some embarrassment, after a moment's silence. +"A couple of days ago, while talking with him about the difficulty of +securing as large and handsomely appointed house as I desired, M. de +Riancourt happened to remember that some one had told him that you might +be willing to dispose of the house you had just completed." + +"Yes, madame, M. de Riancourt wrote, asking to be allowed to go through +the house, and I advised him to wait until this evening, as I intended +to give an entertainment, and he would consequently be much better able +to judge of the arrangement and appearance of the reception-rooms, but I +did not expect to have the honour of receiving you, madame." + +"I have ventured to ask you several questions already, monsieur," +remarked the young woman, with marked hesitation, "and I am going to +hazard one more. How, monsieur, can you have the courage or the +ingratitude to think of abandoning this home which you have created with +so much interest and love, this home with which so many kind and +generous memories are already associated?" + +"Good Heavens! madame," replied Saint-Herem, with the most cheerful air +imaginable, "I am going to sell the house because I am ruined, utterly +ruined! This is my last day as a man of wealth, and you must admit, +madame, that, thanks to your presence here, the day could not have a +happier or more brilliant ending." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +A CHANGE OF OWNERS. + + +Florestan de Saint-herem had uttered the words, "I am ruined, utterly +ruined," with such unruffled good-humour and cheerfulness that Madame +Zomaloff stared at him in amazement, unable to believe her ears; so +after a moment, she exclaimed: + +"What, monsieur, you are--" + +"Ruined, madame, utterly ruined. Five years ago my sainted uncle left me +a fortune of nearly or quite five millions. I have spent that and nearly +eighteen hundred thousand francs more, but the sale of this house and +its contents will pay what I owe and leave me about one hundred thousand +francs, upon which I can live in comfort in some quiet retreat. I shall +turn shepherd, perhaps. That existence would be such a charming contrast +to my past life, when impossibilities and marvellous dreams were changed +into realities for me and my friends by the vast wealth of which I had +so unexpectedly become the possessor, and when all that was beautiful, +elegant, sumptuous, and rare was blended in my dazzling career. Would +you believe it, madame, I was famed for my liberality through all +Europe? Europe? Why! did not a Chandernagor lapidary send me a sabre, +the handle of which was encrusted with precious stones, with the +following note: 'This scimitar belonged to Tippoo-Sahib; it ought now to +belong to M. de Saint-Herem. The price is twenty-five thousand francs, +payable at the house of the Rothschilds in Paris.' Yes, madame, the +rarest and most costly objects of art were sent to me from every part of +the world. The finest English horses were in my stables; the most costly +wines filled my cellar; the finest cooks quarrelled for the honour of +serving me, and the famous Doctor Gasterini--you know him, madame, do +you not?" + +"Who has not heard of the greatest gourmand in the known world?" + +"Ah, well, madame, that famous man declared he dined quite as well at my +table as at his own--and he did not speak in equally flattering terms of +M. de Talleyrand's cuisine, I assure you. Believe me, madame, I have the +consoling consciousness of having spent my fortune generously, nobly, +and discriminately. I have no cause to reproach myself for a single +foolish outlay or unworthy act. It is with a mind filled with delightful +memories and a heart full of serenity that I see my wealth take flight." + +Saint-Herem's tone was so earnest, the sincerity of his sentiments and +his words were so legibly imprinted upon his frank and handsome face, +that Madame Zomaloff, convinced of the truth of what he said, replied: + +"Really, monsieur, such a philosophical way of viewing the subject +amazes me. To think of renouncing a life like that you have been leading +without one word of bitterness!" + +"Bitterness! when I have known so many joys. That would be ungrateful, +indeed!" + +"And you can leave this enchanted palace without one sigh of regret, and +that, too, just as you were about to enjoy it?" + +"I did not know that the hour of my ruin was so close at hand until my +rascally steward showed me the state of my bank account hardly a week +ago, so you see I have lost no time. Besides, in leaving this palace +which I have taken so much pleasure in creating, I am like a poet who +has written the last verse of his poem, like the artist who has just +given the last touch to his picture, after which they have the +imperishable glory of having achieved a masterpiece to console them. In +my case, madame,--excuse my artistic vanity,--this temple of luxury, +art, and pleasure will be a noble monument; so how ungrateful I should +be to complain of my lot! And you, madame, will reign here as the +divinity of this temple, for you will purchase the house, I am sure. It +would suit you so well. Do not let the opportunity to secure it pass. M. +de Riancourt may or may not have told you, but he knows that Lord Wilmot +has made me a handsome offer for it. I should be so sorry to be obliged +to sell to him, for he is so ugly, and so is his wife and his five +daughters as well. Think what presiding spirits they would be for this +splendid temple, which seems somehow to have been built expressly for +you. I have one favour to ask, though, madame. That large painting of my +uncle is a fine work of art, and though the name and face of Saint-Ramon +appear several times in the medallions that adorn the facade, it would +be a pleasure to me to think that this worthy uncle of mine would gaze +down for ages to come upon the pleasures which he denied himself all his +life!" + +The conversation between the countess and Saint-Herem was here +interrupted by M. de Riancourt. The party had been making a tour of the +reception apartments as they talked, and the duke now said to Florestan: + +"The house is superb, and everything is in perfect taste, but eighteen +hundred thousand francs is entirely too much to ask for it, even +including furniture and silver." + +[Illustration: _"'My star has not deserted me.'"_ + +Original etching by Adrian Marcel.] + +"I have no personal interest in the matter, I assure you, my dear duke," +replied Florestan, smiling. "The eighteen hundred thousand francs will +all go to my creditors, so I must needs be unpleasantly tenacious +in regard to price; besides, Lord Wilmot offers me that amount, and +is urging me to accept it." + +"But you will certainly make concessions to me that you would not make +to Lord Wilmot, my dear fellow. Come, Saint-Herem, don't be obdurate. +Make a reasonable reduction--" + +"M. de Saint-Herem," hastily interposed the countess, "the duke must +permit me to interfere with his negotiations, for I will take the house +at the price you have mentioned. I give you my word, and I ask yours in +return." + +"Thank Heaven, madame, my star has not deserted me," said Florestan, +cordially offering his hand to Madame Zomaloff. "The matter is settled." + +"But, madame!" exclaimed M. de Riancourt, greatly surprised and not a +little annoyed at this display of impulsiveness on the part of his +future wife,--for he had hoped to secure a reduction in price from +Saint-Herem,--"really, this is a very important matter, and you ought +not to commit yourself in this way without consulting me." + +"You have my word, M. de Saint-Herem," said Madame Zomaloff, again +interrupting the duke. "This purchase of mine is a purely personal +matter. If convenient to you, my agent will confer with yours +to-morrow." + +"Very well, madame," replied Saint-Herem. Then, turning to M. de +Riancourt, he added, gaily, "You are not offended, I hope, monsieur. It +is all your own fault, though. You should have played the grand +seigneur, not haggled like a shopkeeper." + +Just at that moment the orchestra, which had not been playing for nearly +a quarter of an hour, gave the signal for the dancing to begin. + +"Pardon me for leaving you, countess," remarked Saint-Herem, again +turning to Madame Zomaloff, "but I have invited a young girl to dance +this set with me,--a very pretty girl, the daughter of one of the head +carpenters who built my house, or, rather, your house, madame. It is +pleasant to take this thought, at least, away with me on leaving you." + +And bowing respectfully to Madame Zomaloff, their host went in search of +the charming young girl he had engaged as a partner, and the ball began. + +"My dear Fedora," said the princess, who had watched her niece's long +conversation with Saint-Herem with no little annoyance, "it is getting +late, and we promised our friend that we would be at her house early." + +"You must permit me to say that I think you have acted much too hastily +in this matter," said the duke to his fiancee. "Saint-Herem has got to +sell this house to pay his debts, and, with a little perseverance, we +could have induced him to take at least fifty thousand francs less, +particularly if _you_ had insisted upon it. It is always so hard to +refuse a pretty woman anything," added M. de Riancourt, with his most +insinuating smile. + +"What are you thinking of, my dear Fedora?" asked the princess, touching +the young woman lightly on the arm, for her niece, who was standing with +one elbow resting on a gilded console loaded with flowers, seemed to +have relapsed into a profound reverie, and evidently had not heard a +single word that her aunt and the duke had said to her. "Why don't you +answer? What is the matter with you?" + +"I hardly know. I feel very strangely," replied the countess, dreamily. + +"You need air, probably, my dear countess," said M. de Riancourt. "I am +not at all surprised. Though the apartments are very large, this +plebeian crowd renders the atmosphere suffocating, and--" + +"Are you ill, Fedora?" asked the princess, with increasing uneasiness. + +"Not in the least. On the contrary, the emotion I experience is full of +sweetness and charm, so, my dear aunt, I scarcely know how to express--" + +"Possibly it is the powerful odour of these flowers that affects you so +peculiarly," suggested M. de Riancourt. + +"No, it is not that. I hesitate to tell you and my aunt; you will think +it so strange and absurd." + +"Explain, Fedora, I beg of you." + +"I will, but you will be greatly surprised," responded the young widow +with a half-confidential, half-coquettish air. Then, turning to M. de +Riancourt, she said, in an undertone: + +"It seems to me--" + +"Well, my dear countess?" + +"That--" + +"Go on. I beg of you." + +"That I am dying to marry M. de Saint-Herem." + +"Madame!" exclaimed the astonished duke, turning crimson with anger. +"Madame!" + +"What is the matter, my dear duke?" asked the princess quickly. + +"Madame la comtesse," said the duke, forcing a smile, "your jest is--is +rather unseemly, to say the least, and--" + +"Give me your arm, my dear duke," said Madame Zomaloff, with the most +natural air imaginable, "for it is late. We ought to have been at the +embassy some time ago. It is all your fault, too. How is it that you, +who are punctuality personified, did not strike the hour of eleven long +ago." + +"Ah, madame, I am in no mood for laughing," exclaimed the duke, in his +most sentimental tones. "How your cruel jest pained me just now! It +almost broke my heart." + +"I had no idea your heart was so vulnerable, my poor friend." + +"Ah, madame, you are very unjust, when I would gladly give my life for +you." + +"Would you, really? Ah, well, I shall ask no such heroic sacrifice as +that on your part, my dear duke." + +A few minutes afterward, Madame Zomaloff, her aunt, and the duke left +the Hotel Saint-Ramon. + +Almost at the same instant the stranger who looked so much like an aged +mulatto left the palatial dwelling, bewildered by what he had just seen +and heard. The clock in a neighbouring church was striking the hour as +he descended the steps. + +"Half-past eleven!" the old man murmured. "I have plenty of time to +reach Chaillot before midnight. Ah, what other strange things am I about +to hear?" + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +THE RETURN. + + +The old man climbed the hill leading to the Rue de Chaillot, and soon +reached the church of that poor and densely populated faubourg. + +Contrary to custom at that hour, the church was lighted. Through the +open door the brilliantly illuminated nave and altar could be plainly +seen. Though the edifice was still empty, some solemn ceremony was +evidently about to take place, for though midnight was close at hand, +there were lights in many of the neighbouring houses, and several groups +had assembled on the pavement in front of the church. Approaching one of +these groups, the old man listened attentively, and heard the following +conversation: + +"They will be here soon, now." + +"Yes, for it is almost midnight." + +"It is a strange hour to be married, isn't it?" + +"Yes, but when one gets a dowry, one needn't be too particular about the +hour." + +"Who is to be married at this hour, gentlemen?" inquired the old man. + +"It is very evident that you don't live in this neighbourhood, my +friend." + +"No. I am a stranger here." + +"If you were not, you would know that it was the night for those six +marriages that have taken place here on the night of the twelfth of May, +for the last four years. On the night of the twelfth of May, every +year, six poor young girls are married in this church, and each girl +receives a dowry of ten thousand francs." + +"From whom?" + +"From a worthy man who died five years ago. He left a handsome fund for +this purpose, and his name is consequently wonderfully popular in +Chaillot." + +"And what is the name of the worthy man who dowered these young girls so +generously?" inquired the stranger, with a slight tremor in his voice. + +"They call him Father Richard, monsieur. He has a son, a very fine young +man, who carries out his father's last wishes religiously. And a nobler +man than M. Louis never lived. Everybody knows that he and his wife and +child live on three or four thousand francs a year, and yet they must +have inherited a big fortune from Father Richard, to be able to give six +young girls a dowry of ten thousand francs apiece every year, to say +nothing of the expenses of the school and of Father Richard's Home." + +"Pardon a stranger's curiosity, monsieur, but you speak of a school." + +"Yes, Father Richard's School. Madame Mariette has charge of it." + +"Madame Mariette, who is she?" + +"M. Louis Richard's wife. The school was founded for twenty-five little +boys and as many little girls, who remain there until they are twelve +years old, and are then apprenticed to carefully chosen persons. The +children are well clothed and fed, and each child receives ten sous a +day besides, to encourage them to save their money." + +"And you say it is M. Louis Richard's wife who has charge of this +school?" + +"Yes, monsieur, and she says she takes so much interest in it because +before her marriage she was a poor working girl who could neither read +nor write, and that she herself suffered so cruelly from a lack of +education, that she is glad to be able to prevent others from suffering +what she suffered." + +"But the home--You also spoke of a home, I believe." + +"That was founded for working women who are ill, or no longer able to +work. Madame Lacombe has charge of that." + +"And who is Madame Lacombe?" + +"Madame Mariette's godmother, a good woman who has lost one arm. She is +kindness and patience personified to the poor women under her charge, +and it is not at all to be wondered at, for she too knows what it is to +be poor and infirm; for, as she tells everybody, before her goddaughter +married M. Louis they often went hungry for days at a time. But here +comes the bridal party. Step in here beside me so you can see them +better." + +Louis Richard, with Madame Lacombe on his arm, walked at the head of the +little procession; then came Mariette, holding a handsome little +four-year-old boy by the hand. + +No one would have recognised Madame Lacombe. Her once pallid and +wrinkled face was plump and rosy, and characterised by an expression of +perfect content. She wore a lace bonnet, and a handsome shawl partially +concealed her silk gown. + +Louis Richard's countenance wore a look of quiet happiness. It was +evident that he realised the great responsibility that devolved upon +him. Mariette, who was prettier than ever, had that air of gentle +dignity that suits young mothers so well. In spite of her marriage, she +still clung to the simple garb of her girlhood. Faithful to the +coquettish little cap of the grisette, she had never worn a bonnet, and +she was quite irresistible in her freshness, grace, and beauty, under +her snowy cap with its bows of sky-blue ribbon. + +After Louis, his wife and child, and Mother Lacombe, came, dressed in +white and crowned with orange blossoms, the six young girls who were to +receive dowries that year, attended by the parents or the witnesses of +their betrothed husbands, then the six bridegrooms escorting the +relatives or witnesses of their affianced wives, all evidently belonging +to the labouring class. Following them came the twenty-four couples that +had been married during the four preceding years, then the children of +Father Richard's School, and, finally, such inmates of the home as were +able to attend the ceremony. + +It took nearly a quarter of an hour for the procession to pass into the +church, and the aged stranger watched it sadly and thoughtfully while +such comments as the following were exchanged around him: + +"It is all due to Father Richard that these good, industrious girls can +become happy wives." + +"Yes, and how happy the married couples look!" + +"And they owe it all to Father Richard, too." + +"And to M. Louis, who carries out his father's wishes so faithfully." + +"Yes; but if it were not for the large fortune Father Richard left him, +M. Louis would not have been able to do any of these things." + +"And the schoolchildren. Did you notice how plump and rosy and contented +they looked,--the boys in their comfortable woollen jackets, and the +girls in their warm merino dresses." + +"Think of it, there were nearly one hundred and fifty persons in the +procession, and every one of them has shared Father Richard's benefits!" + +"That is true; and when one remembers that this work has been going on +for four years, it makes between six and seven hundred people who have +been taught or supported or married through Father Richard's bounty." + +"To say nothing of the fact that, if M. Louis lives thirty years longer, +there will be five or six thousand persons who will owe their happy, +respectable lives to Father Richard--for poverty causes the ruin of so +many poor creatures!" + +"Five or six thousand persons, you say; why, there will be many more +than that." + +"How do you make that out?" + +"Why, there will be children in each of these households. These children +will share the advantages that have been bestowed upon their parents. +They will consequently be well brought up and receive a fair education. +Later in life they will receive their share of the small fortune their +thrifty and industrious parents are almost certain to accumulate, for it +is an easy matter to save when one has something to start with." + +"True; and calculating in this way, the number of persons benefited is +increased at least three-fold; while if one thinks of the second and +third generations, the good this worthy man has accomplished becomes +incalculable." + +"And yet it is so easy to do good, and there are so many persons who +have more money than they know what to do with. But what is the matter +with you, my friend?" exclaimed the speaker. "What the devil are you +crying about?" he added, seeing that the stranger beside him was sobbing +violently. + +"What I have heard you say about Father Richard, and the sight of all +these happy people, touches me so deeply--" + +"Oh, if that is the cause of your tears, they do you honour, my friend. +But as all this seems to interest you so much, let us go into the church +and witness the ceremony. You can go to the home, too, afterward, if you +choose; it is open to everybody to-night." + +The crowd in the church was so great that the old man was unable to +secure a place that commanded a view of the altar, but after a moment's +reflection he seemed to become perfectly reconciled to the fact, and +stationed himself by the holy-water font near the door. + +The ceremonies ended, a solemn silence pervaded the edifice, finally +broken by the grave voice of the officiating priest, who addressed the +newly wedded couples as follows: + +"And now that your unions have been consecrated by God, my young +friends, persevere in the honest, industrious, and God-fearing life that +has secured you this good fortune, and never forget that you owe this +just reward of courage in adversity and of dignity in poverty to a man +imbued with the tenderest affection for his brother man; for, faithful +to the spirit of a true Christian, he did not consider himself the +master, but simply as the custodian and almoner of the wealth with which +Heaven had blessed him. Does not Christ tell his followers to love one +another, and bid those who are endowed with this world's goods to give +to those who have none? The Saviour rewarded this good man by giving him +a son worthy of him, and his obedience to the laws of Christian +fraternity makes him deserve to have his name ever cherished and +honoured among men. You, in your just gratitude for benefits conferred, +owe him this remembrance, and Father Richard's name should be for ever +blessed by you, your children, and your children's children." + +An approving murmur from the crowd greeted these words, and drowned the +sobs of the aged stranger, who had dropped upon his knees, apparently +completely overcome with emotion. + +The noise the newly married couples made in leaving the altar aroused +the old man, who hastily rose just in time to see Louis Richard +advancing toward him with Madame Lacombe on his arm. The old man +trembled in every limb, but as Louis was about to pass he hastily caught +up a dipper of holy water and offered it to Mariette's husband. + +"Thank you, my good father," said Louis, kindly. Then noting the shabby +clothing and white hair of the donor, and seeing a request for alms in +the act, the young man slipped a shining gold piece in the extended +hand, saying, almost affectionately: + +"Keep it and pray for Father Richard." + +The old man seized the coin greedily, and, raising it to his lips, +kissed it again and again, while the tears streamed down his wrinkled +cheeks. + +Louis Richard did not notice this strange incident, however, for he had +left the church, and, followed by the bridal party and a large number of +the spectators, was on his way to the home, whither the aged stranger, +leaning heavily on his cane, also followed him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +THE AWAKENING. + + +The home stood upon a high knoll in a location as pleasant as it was +salubrious, and large shady grounds surrounded the spacious building. + +The night was clear and still; spring perfumes filled the air, and when +the old man reached the spot he found the people ranged in a half-circle +around the steps of the building, no room inside being large enough to +hold the crowd. + +Soon Louis Richard, according to his custom each year, came out upon the +perron, and said: + +"My friends, five years ago to-night I lost the best and kindest of +fathers. He died a frightful death in that terrible catastrophe on the +Versailles railway. My father, being the possessor of a handsome +fortune, might have lived in luxury and idleness. On the contrary, he +preferred to lead a frugal and industrious life, so while he denied +himself all comforts, and earned his bread by his daily toil, his wealth +slowly but surely increased day by day; but when the day of his +premature death came, I had to mourn one of the warmest friends of +humanity, for nearly all his wealth was devoted to the accomplishment of +three great and noble works: the amelioration of the condition,-- + +"First, Of poor children deprived of the advantages of an elementary +education. + +"Secondly, Of poor but honest and industrious young girls who are too +often exposed to terrible temptation by reason of ill health, inadequate +wages, and poverty. + +"And lastly, Of aged or infirm women who, after a long life of toil, are +incapacitated for further labour. + +"True, the result accomplished each year is painfully small when one +thinks of the ills of humanity, but he who does all the good he can, +even if he only shares his crust with his starving brother, does his +duty as nobly as the person who gives millions. + +"It is the duty of every right-minded man to make every possible effort +to improve the condition of his fellow men; but in this work I am acting +only as my father's agent, and the accomplishment of this glorious duty +would fill my life with unbounded happiness if I were not obliged to +mourn the loss of the most beloved of parents." + +Louis Richard had scarcely uttered these last words when quite a +commotion became apparent in the crowd, for the aged stranger's strength +seemed suddenly to fail him, and he would have fallen to the ground had +it not been for the friendly support of those near him. + +On hearing the cause of the hubbub, Louis Richard hastened to the old +man's aid, and had him taken into the home in order that he might +receive immediate attention, after which he requested the bridal parties +to adjourn to the immense tent, where supper was to be served, and where +Madame Lacombe and Mariette would do the honours in his absence. + +The old man had been carried in an unconscious condition to Louis's +office, a room on the ground floor. His profound respect for his +father's memory had prevented him from parting with the furniture of the +room he and his father had shared so long. The writing-desk, the old +bureau, the antique chest, as well as the cheap painted bedstead, all +had been kept, and it was on this same bed the unconscious man was laid. + +As soon as he entered the room Louis despatched the servant to a +neighbouring drug store for some spirits, so he was left alone with the +patient, whose features were almost entirely concealed by his long white +hair and beard. + +Louis took the old man's hand to feel his pulse, but as he did so the +patient made a slight movement and uttered a few incoherent words. + +The voice sounded strangely familiar to Louis, and he endeavoured to get +a better look at the stranger's features, but the dim light that +pervaded the room and the patient's long hair and beard rendered the +attempt futile. + +A moment more and Louis Richard's guest languidly raised his head and +gazed around him. His eyes having fallen on the rather peculiarly shaped +gray bedstead, he made a movement of surprise, but when he saw the +old-fashioned chest, he exclaimed, excitedly: + +"Where am I? My God, is this a dream?" + +Again the voice struck Louis as being so familiar that he, too, gave a +slight start, but almost immediately shaking his head and smiling +bitterly, he muttered under his breath: + +"Alas! regret often gives rise to strange illusions." Then addressing +the old man in affectionate tones, he asked: + +"How do you feel now, my good father?" + +On hearing these words, the old man, seizing Louis's hand, covered it +with tears and kisses before the latter could prevent it. + +"Come, come, my good father," said Mariette's husband, surprised and +touched, "I have done nothing to deserve such gratitude on your part. I +may be more fortunate some day, however. But tell me how you feel now. +Was it weakness or overfatigue that caused your fainting fit?" + +The old man made no reply, but pressed Louis's hand convulsively to his +panting breast. The younger man, conscious of a strange and increasing +emotion, felt the tears spring to his eyes. + +"Listen to me, my good father," he began. + +"Oh, say that once more--just once more," murmured the old man, +hoarsely. + +"Ah, well, my good father--" + +But Louis did not finish the sentence, for his guest, unable to restrain +himself any longer, raised himself up in bed, at the same time +exclaiming, in a voice vibrating with tenderness: + +"Louis!" + +That name, uttered with all the passion of a despairing soul, was a +revelation. + +The younger man turned as pale as death, started back, and stood as if +petrified, with fixed, staring eyes. + +The shock was too great, and several seconds elapsed before the thought, +"My father is not dead," could penetrate his brain. + +Does not the sudden transition from intense darkness into bright +sunlight blind us for a time? + +But when the blissful truth dawned upon Louis's mind, he threw himself +on his knees by the old man's bedside, and, putting back his long white +locks with a feverish hand, studied his father's features with eager, +radiant eyes, until, convinced beyond a doubt, he could only murmur in a +sort of ecstasy: "My father, oh, God, my father!" + + * * * * * + +The scene that ensued between father and son beggars description; but +when the first transports of happiness had given place to a momentary +calm, Father Richard said to his son: + +"I will tell you my story in a few words, my dear Louis. I have been +asleep for five years, and woke only forty-eight hours ago." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I was with poor Ramon and his daughter in one of the worst wrecked +carriages. In some providential way my life was saved, though my right +leg was broken, and fright deprived me of reason." + +"You, father?" + +"Yes, I became insane with terror. I lost my reason completely. Removed +from the scene of the catastrophe, my fractured limb was set in the home +of a worthy physician, and after I recovered from that injury I was +taken to an insane asylum near Versailles. My lunacy was of a harmless +type. I talked only of my lost wealth. For nearly four years there was +no change in my condition, but at the end of that time a slight +improvement became apparent. This continued until my recovery became +complete, though I was not allowed to leave the hospital until two days +ago. It would be impossible to describe my feelings on my entire +restoration to reason, when I woke as I told you from my long five +years' sleep. My first thought, I blush to confess, was one of avarice. +What had become of my property? What use had you made of it? When I was +released from the hospital yesterday, the first thing I did was to +hasten to my notary, your former employer, and my friend. You can +imagine his astonishment. He told me that at first it was your intention +to leave the property untouched, that is, except for a small stipend for +your maintenance and that of your wife, until you attained the age of +thirty-six; but after a serious illness, thinking that death might +overtake you before you had accomplished what you considered a sacred +duty, you changed your mind, and came to consult him in regard to +certain plans, to which he gave his unqualified approval. 'What were +these plans?' I asked. 'Have the courage to wait until to-morrow night,' +he replied; 'then, go to the church of Chaillot, and you will know all, +and thank God for having given you such a son.' I did wait, my dear +Louis. My long beard and my white hair changed me a great deal, but I +stained my skin to disguise myself more completely, and to enable me to +approach you without any danger of recognition. Oh, if you knew all I +have seen and heard, my dear, noble child! My name revered and blessed, +thanks to your nobility of soul and the subterfuge prompted by your +filial love! Ah, what a revulsion of feeling this wrought in me. But, +alas! the illusion was of short duration. I had no hand whatever in the +noble deeds attributed to me." + +"How can you say that, father? But for your self-denial and +perseverance, how could I ever have done any good? Did you not leave me +the means of accomplishing it, an all-powerful lever? My only merit +consisted in having made a good use of the immense power bequeathed to +me by you at the cost of so many privations on your part, and in +realising the duties wealth imposed upon me. The terrible poverty and +the lack of education from which my beloved wife had suffered so much, +and the perils to which this poverty and lack of education had exposed +her, her godmother's cruel suffering,--all had served to enlighten me as +to the needs of the poor, and all three of us longed to do everything in +our power to save others from the ills we had suffered. But after all, +it is your work, not mine. I have reaped; it was you who sowed." + +The door suddenly opened, and Florestan Saint-Herem rushed in, and threw +himself into his friend's arms with so much impetuosity that he did not +even see Father Richard. + +"Embrace me, Louis, rejoice with me!" he exclaimed. "You are my best +friend, and you shall be the first to hear the news. I knew I should +find you here, so I did not lose a minute in coming to tell you that +Saint-Ramon has proved a saint indeed, for he has just worked the most +wonderful of miracles." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Why, two hours ago I was utterly ruined, but now I am far richer than +I ever have been. Think of it, Louis, gold mines and silver mines, and +diamonds by the bushel,--fabulous wealth, in short, wealth amounting to +dozens of millions. Oh, Saint-Ramon, Saint-Ramon, blessed be thy name +for ever! I was right to canonise thee, for thou hast not proved +ungrateful, thank Heaven!" + +"For pity's sake, explain, Florestan." + +"An hour ago, just as the entertainment I was giving to those honest +workmen was drawing to a close, one of my servants came to inform me +that a lady wished to see me in private. Who should it be but the +Countess Zomaloff, a young and charming widow, who was to have married +the Duc de Riancourt a week from now. Earlier in the evening she had +come to look at my house, with a view to purchasing it. She had +purchased it, in fact. Astonished to see her again, I stood perfectly +silent for a moment. And what do you suppose she said to me, in the most +natural tone imaginable? + +"'A thousand pardons for disturbing you, M. de Saint-Herem. I can say +all I have to say in a couple of words. I am a widow. I am twenty-eight +years old. I have no idea why I promised Riancourt that I would marry +him, though very possibly I might have made this foolish marriage if I +had not met you. You have a generous heart and a noble soul. The +entertainment you gave this evening proves that. Your wit delights me, +your character charms me, your goodness of heart touches me, and your +personal appearance pleases me. So far as I, myself, am concerned, this +step I am now taking should give you some idea of what kind of a person +I am. + +"'This peculiar and unconventional procedure on my part, you will +understand, I think. If your impression of me is favourable, I shall be +both proud and happy to become Madame de Saint-Herem, and live in the +Hotel Saint-Ramon with you. I have a colossal fortune. It is at your +disposal, for I trust my future to you, unreservedly, blindly. I shall +await your decision anxiously. Good-evening.' And with these words the +fairy disappeared, leaving me intoxicated with happiness at my good +fortune." + +"Florestan," said Louis, with a grave but affectionate air, "the +confidence this young woman has shown in coming to you so frankly and +confidingly throws a weighty responsibility upon you." + +"I understand that," responded Saint-Herem, with undoubted sincerity. "I +may have squandered the fortune that belonged to me, and ruined myself, +but to squander a fortune that does not belong to me, and ruin a woman +who trusts her future so unreservedly to me, would be infamous." + + * * * * * + +Madame Zomaloff married Florestan de Saint-Herem about one month after +these events. Louis Richard, his father, and Mariette attended the +wedding. + +Father Richard, in spite of his resurrection, made no attempt to change +the disposition Louis had made of his property up to the present time. +The old man merely asked to be made steward of the home, and in that +capacity he rendered very valuable assistance. + +Every year, the twelfth of May is doubly celebrated. + +Louis, his father, and Mariette, who are on the most intimate terms with +M. and Madame de Saint-Herem, always attend the magnificent +entertainment which is given at the Hotel Saint-Ramon on the anniversary +of the owner's betrothal, but at midnight Florestan and his wife, who +adore each other, for this marriage became a love match, pure and +simple, come to partake of the bridal supper at Father Richard's Home. + +THE END. + + + + +THE SEVEN CARDINAL SINS + + + + + +ANGER. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE DUEL. + + +About the middle of the carnival season of 1801, a season enlivened by +the news of the treaty of peace signed at Luneville, when Bonaparte was +First Consul of the French republic, the following scene took place in a +secluded spot overshadowed by the partially dismantled ramparts of the +city of Orleans. + +It was seven o'clock in the morning, day was just dawning, and the cold +was intense, as a tall man, enveloped in a big overcoat of a dark +colour, walked to and fro blowing his fingers and stamping his feet, +watching intently all the while a narrow footpath that wound around the +side of the bastion. In about ten minutes another man, wrapped in a +cloak, and heretofore concealed from sight by the projecting wall of the +bastion, appeared in the path and hastily advanced toward the man in the +long coat. + +"I feared I should be late," remarked the man in the cloak. + +"We have a quarter of an hour yet," replied the other. "Have you got the +swords?" + +"Here they are. I had a good deal of trouble in finding them; that was +what detained me. Have you seen Yvon this morning?" + +"No; he told me last night that I need not call for him. He feared that +our going out together so early would excite his wife's suspicions." + +"Well, while we are waiting for him, do enlighten me as to the cause of +this quarrel. He was in too much of a hurry last night to tell me +anything about the trouble." + +"Well, this is about the long and short of it. At the last meeting of +the court, a lawyer, named Laurent, made a rather transparent allusion +to the pretended partiality of our friend, one of the judges before whom +the case was tried." + +"Such an insinuation was unworthy of the slightest notice. Yvon +Cloarek's honesty is above suspicion." + +"Of course; but you know our friend's extreme irascibility of temper, +also, so, springing from his seat and interrupting the advocate in the +middle of his discourse, he exclaimed: 'Monsieur Laurent, you are an +infamous slanderer. I tell you this not as a magistrate, but as a man, +and I will repeat the accusation after the session is over!' You can +imagine the commotion this excited in the court-room. It was an odd +thing for a magistrate to do, I must admit. Well, after the court +adjourned, the other judges tried to appease Yvon, and so did the +numerous members of the bar, but you know how pig-headed our friend is. +Laurent, too, who is a stubborn sort of fellow, not only refused to +apologise himself, but demanded that our friend should. I thought Yvon +would choke with rage." + +"It seems to me that our friend is right in resenting such an +insinuation, but I fear that this duel will prove very detrimental to +his career as a magistrate." + +"I am afraid so, too, particularly as he has had several lively +altercations with the presiding judge of the court, and his violent +temper has already compelled him to change his place of residence +twice." + +"He is a noble fellow at heart, though." + +"Yes, but his obstinacy and his hot temper make him very hard to get +along with." + +"With such a temperament, his choice of a career was very unfortunate, +to say the least." + +"Yes, but his father, who was a magistrate himself, was anxious his son +should adopt the same profession. Yvon adored his father, so he +consented. Afterward, when he lost his father, it was too late for our +friend to change his profession, even if he had desired to do so; +besides, he possesses no fortune, and he has a wife and child, so he has +to make the best of the situation." + +"That is true, but I pity him, nevertheless. But tell me, Yvon is a good +swordsman, is he not?" + +"Capital, for he was passionately fond of all such sports in his youth; +but I am afraid his undoubted bravery and his hot temper will make him +too rash." + +"And his opponent?" + +"Is considered quite skilful in the use of the weapon. I have a cab a +little way off in case of an accident. Yvon lives almost on the edge of +the town, fortunately." + +"I can't bear to think of any such catastrophe. It would be the death of +his wife. You have no idea how much she loves him. She is an angel of +sweetness and goodness, and he, in turn, is perfectly devoted to her. +They adore each other, and if--But there come the others. I am sorry +Yvon did not get here before they did." + +"Doubtless the precautions he was obliged to take on his wife's account +detained him." + +"Probably, but it is very annoying." + +The three men who had just rounded the corner of the bastion proved to +be Yvon's adversary and his two seconds. They all greeted the first +comers with great courtesy, apologising for having kept them waiting, +whereupon M. Cloarek's friends were obliged to reply that that gentleman +had not yet arrived, but would doubtless be there in a minute or two. + +One of the lawyer's seconds then suggested that, to save time while +awaiting M. Cloarek's arrival, they might decide upon the ground, and +the choice had just been made when Yvon made his appearance. His panting +breath and the perspiration that bedewed his forehead showed how he must +have hurried to reach the place even at this late hour, and as he +cordially shook hands with his seconds he remarked to them, in a low +tone: + +"I had no end of trouble in getting off without exciting my wife's +suspicions." + +Then addressing his adversary in a tone he tried his best to make calm +and composed, he added: + +"I beg a thousand pardons, monsieur, for having kept you waiting. I +assure you the delay was wholly unintentional on my part." + +The advocate bowed and proceeded to remove his overcoat, and his example +was promptly followed by Cloarek, while the seconds measured the swords. +In fact, so great was Yvon's alacrity and ardour, that he was ready for +the fray before his opponent, and would have hastily rushed upon him if +his seconds had not seized him by the arm. + +When the signal was at last given, Cloarek attacked his opponent with +such impetuosity that, though the latter tried his best to parry his +adversary's rapid thrusts, his guard was beaten down, and in less than +two minutes he had received a wound in the forearm which compelled him +to drop his weapon. + +"Enough, gentlemen!" exclaimed the seconds, on seeing one of the +combatants disabled. + +But, unfortunately, the Breton had become so frantic with rage, that he +did not hear this "Enough, gentlemen," and was about to renew the +attack, when his opponent, who had conducted himself very creditably up +to that time, being wholly unable to offer any further resistance, made +a sudden spring backwards, and then started to run. The now thoroughly +enraged Breton was starting in pursuit of him, when his seconds rushed +upon him and disarmed him, though not without a fierce struggle and +considerable danger, while one of the advocate's seconds bound up his +slight wound with a handkerchief. Cloarek's second courteously offered +his cab to the wounded man, who accepted it, and the parties separated +amicably. + +"What were you thinking of, Yvon, to rush upon an unarmed enemy?" asked +one of the irascible magistrate's friends, as they wended their way back +to the city. + +"I could not believe it was over so soon," replied Yvon, with a sigh of +regret. + +"The fight couldn't last long at the rate you were going on." + +"If I could only have an hour's fighting, it seems to me I might be +peaceable for a long time," replied Yvon, so naively that his friends +could not help laughing. + +"Well, what of it?" stormed the choleric Breton, with a wrathful glance +at his companions. + +Then, ashamed of this ebullition of temper, he hung his head as one of +his seconds retorted, gaily: + +"You needn't try to pick a quarrel with us, my dear fellow. It wouldn't +be worth your while. We should only be able to furnish you with a couple +of minutes' amusement." + +"Yes, yes, be sensible, my dear fellow," good-naturedly remarked the +other second. "You ought to consider yourself very fortunate that this +affair ended as it did. You are not injured at all, and your adversary's +wound is very slight,--a very fortunate ending, you must admit. How we +should have felt if we had had to carry you home dead! Think of your +wife and your little daughter." + +"My wife and daughter!" exclaimed Cloarek, with a violent start. "Ah, +yes, you are right." + +And the tears rose to his eyes. + +"I am a fool, and worse than a fool," he exclaimed. "But it is not my +fault. A man who has too much blood is always quarrelling, as they used +to say down in Brittany." + +"Then you had better put your feet in mustard water and call in a doctor +to bleed you, my friend, but don't take a sword for a lancet, and, above +all, don't draw blood from others under the pretext that you have too +much yourself." + +"And above all, remember that you are a magistrate, a man of peace," +added the other. + +"That is all very fine," retorted Yvon, with a sigh, "but you don't know +what it is to have a judge's robe on your back and too much blood in +your veins." + +After he had thanked his seconds heartily for their kind offices, +Cloarek was about to separate from them when one of them remarked: "We +shall see each other again at the masquerade ball this evening, of +course. I understand that all you reverend judges are to allow +yourselves considerable license this evening, and disport yourselves +like ordinary mortals." + +"I did not intend to go, as my wife is not as well as usual; but she +insisted so much that I finally consented," replied Yvon. + +As he reentered his house, longing to embrace his wife and child even +more tenderly than usual, he was accosted by a servant, who said: + +"There is a man in your office who wants to see you. His business is +urgent, he says." + +"Very well. My wife did not ask for me after I went out, did she?" + +"No, monsieur, she gave Dame Roberts orders that she was not to be +disturbed until she rang, as she wanted to sleep a little later than +usual this morning." + +"Then take care that she is not disturbed on my account," said Cloarek, +as he entered his office. + +The person who was waiting for him was a tall, stout man about forty +years of age, of herculean stature, with a coarse face, and clad in +countrified garments. Bowing awkwardly to Yvon, he asked: + +"Are you Judge Cloarek?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"I am a friend of Father Leblanc, at Gien. You remember him, don't you?" + +"Yes, and a very worthy man he is. How is his health?" + +"Very good, judge. It was he who said to me: 'If you're in trouble, go +to Judge Cloarek, he is always kind to us poor folks.'" + +"What can I do for you?" + +"I am the father of a young man who is soon to be tried before your +court." + +"To what case do you allude, monsieur?" + +"To the case of Joseph Rateau," said the big man, with a meaning wink, +"charged with forgery--only forgery." + +Cloarek, surprised and displeased at the careless manner in which the +father spoke of the weighty accusation that was hanging over his son, +answered, sternly: + +"Yes, monsieur, a prisoner, Joseph Rateau, who is accused of the crime +of forgery, is soon to be tried." + +"Yes, judge, and as there's no use beating about the bush, I may as well +say that my son did it, and then, like a fool, allowed himself to be +caught." + +"Take care what you say, monsieur. This is a very grave admission on +your part." + +"Oh, well, there is no use denying it, judge. It's as plain as the nose +on your face; but for that, do you suppose I would have come here--" + +"Not another word, monsieur; not another word!" exclaimed Yvon, +crimsoning with indignation and anger. + +"I quite agree with you, judge. What is the use of talking so much, +anyway? Actions speak louder than words." + +And putting his hand in one of the pockets of his long overcoat, he +drew out a roll of money and, holding it up between his thumb and +forefinger, he remarked, with a cunning smile and another knowing wink: + +"There are fifty louis in here, and if you secure my son's acquittal, +you shall have another fifty." + +The austerity and incorruptibility of the early days of the republic had +given place to a deplorable laxness of morals, so the petitioner, +believing his case won, triumphantly deposited his roll of gold on a +corner of a desk near the door. Cloarek, quite beside himself with rage +now, was about to give vent to his wrath and indignation when, his eyes +chancing to fall upon a portrait of his wife that was hanging on the +wall opposite him, he remembered that she might be disturbed and +frightened by the noise, as she occupied the room directly over his +office, so, with an almost superhuman effort, he managed to control +himself and, picking up his hat, said to the countryman: + +"Take your money. We will talk this matter over outside." + +"The countryman, fancying that the judge was influenced solely by +prudential motives, put the money back in his pocket, and, taking his +big stick unsuspectingly, followed Cloarek out of the house. + +"Where are you going, judge?" he asked, as he lumbered along, finding it +difficult to keep up with Cloarek, as the latter strode swiftly on. + +"This way," replied Yvon, in a smothered voice, as he turned the corner +of the next street. + +This street led to the market-place, which was generally crowded with +people at that hour of the day. When Cloarek reached this square, he +suddenly turned upon the countryman, and, seizing him by the cravat, +cried, in tones of thunder: + +"Look, good people, at this scoundrel. Look at him well, and then +witness his chastisement." + +The days of popular agitation were not entirely over, and appeals to +the populace as well as debates and harangues in public places were by +no means rare, so a crowd speedily gathered around the judge and the +countryman, who, in spite of his gigantic stature, had not succeeded in +freeing himself from the iron grasp of Cloarek, who, shaking him +violently, continued in even more vociferous tones: + +"I am judge of the court in this town, and this wretch has offered me +gold to acquit a criminal. That is the indignity he has offered me, and +this is going to be his punishment." + +And this strange magistrate, whose rage and indignation seemed to endow +him with superhuman strength, began to beat the stalwart countryman +unmercifully, but the latter, wrenching himself from his assailant's +grasp, sprang back a foot or two, and, lifting his heavy stick, would +probably have inflicted a mortal blow upon the enraged Breton if the +latter, by one of those adroit manoeuvres well known to his +compatriots, had not avoided the danger by stooping and rushing, with +lowered head, straight upon his adversary with such violence that the +terrible blow, delivered straight in the chest, broke two of his ribs, +and threw him backward upon the ground unconscious; then, taking +advantage of the excitement in the crowd, Cloarek, desirous of escaping +a public ovation if possible, hurried away, and, catching sight of an +empty cab, sprang into it and ordered the driver to take him to the +Palace of Justice, the hour for the court to open having arrived. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +ANOTHER EBULLITION OF TEMPER. + + +We will leave M. Cloarek to make his way to the court-house after +exploits which would have done honour to one of the gladiators of old, +and say a few words in regard to the masquerade ball, to which the +impetuous magistrate's seconds had referred on their way back to town +after the duel. + +This ball, a bold innovation for a provincial town, was to take place +that same evening at the house of M. Bonneval, a wealthy merchant, and +the father-in-law of the presiding judge of the court to which Yvon +Cloarek belonged, and all the members of the court having been invited +to this entertainment, and some disguise being obligatory, it had been +decided to wear either a black domino, or costumes of a sufficiently +grave character not to compromise the dignity of the body. + +Cloarek was one of the invited guests. The account of his duel of the +morning as well as the chastisement he had inflicted upon the +countryman, though noised about the town, had not reached Madame +Cloarek's ears at nightfall, so the magistrate's household was calm, and +occupied, like many others in the town, in preparations for the +evening's festivities, for in those days masquerade parties were rare in +the provinces. The dining-room of the modest home, strewn with fabrics +of divers colours as well as scraps of gold and silver embroidery and +braid, looked very much like a dressmaker's establishment. Three young +sewing-women chattering like magpies were working there under the +superintendence of an honest, pleasant-faced woman about thirty years of +age, whom they called Dame Roberts. This worthy woman, after having +served as a nurse for M. Cloarek's daughter, now acted as maid, or +rather confidential attendant to Madame Cloarek; for, in consequence of +her devotion and faithful service, relations of affectionate familiarity +had been established between her and her mistress. + +"One scallop more, and this embroidered ribbon will be sewed on the +hat," remarked one of the young sewing-women. + +"I have finished hemming the sash," remarked the second girl. + +"I have only two more silver buttons to sew on the waistcoat," added the +third. + +"That is well, girls," said Dame Roberts. "M. Cloarek's costume will be +one of the most effective there, I am sure." + +"It seems very odd to think of a judge in a masquerade costume, all the +same." + +"Nonsense! don't they disguise themselves every day when they put their +robes on?" + +"A judge's robe is not a disguise, but a badge of office, you ought to +understand," said Dame Roberts, severely. + +"Excuse me, Dame Roberts," replied the offender, blushing to the roots +of her hair, "I meant no harm, I am sure." + +"What a pity it is that Madame Cloarek is not going!" remarked one of +the other girls, in the hope of giving a more agreeable turn to the +conversation. + +"Ah, if I were in Madame Cloarek's place, I wouldn't miss such an +opportunity. A masquerade ball! why, it is a piece of good fortune that +may present itself but once in a lifetime. But here comes M. Segoffin. +Good day, M. Segoffin! And how does M. Segoffin find himself to-day?" + +The newcomer was a tall, thin man about forty years of age, with an +immensely long nose, slightly turned up at the end, which imparted a +very peculiar expression to his face. His complexion was so white and +his beardless face so impassible that he looked exactly like a clown, +and the resemblance was heightened by a pair of piercing black eyes, +which gave a mocking expression to his face, and by a small, round black +wig. A long gray overcoat, brown knee-breeches, blue and white striped +stockings, and low shoes with big silver buckles formed the every-day +costume of M. Segoffin, who carried a red umbrella under his arm and an +old cocked hat in his hand. + +After having remained twenty years in the service of M. Cloarek's +father, at that gentleman's death he transferred his allegiance to the +son whom he had known as a child, and whom he served with unwearying +devotion. + +On his entrance, as we have just remarked, he was greeted with mocking +laughs and exclamations of-- + +"Here comes M. Segoffin. Ah, good day, M. Segoffin!" But without losing +his habitual _sang-froid_ in the least, he laid his umbrella and hat +down on a chair, and, seizing the prettiest of his tormentors in his +long arms, kissed her loudly on both cheeks in spite of her shrieks and +spirited resistance. Well satisfied with this beginning, he was +preparing to repeat the offence when Madame Roberts, seizing him by one +of his coat-tails, exclaimed, indignantly: + +"Segoffin, Segoffin! such behaviour is outrageous!" + +"That which is done is done," said Segoffin, sententiously, passing his +long, bony hand across his lips with an air of retrospective enjoyment, +as the young sewing-woman quitted the room with her companions, all +laughing like mad and exclaiming: "Good night, M. Segoffin, good +night." + +Left alone with the delinquent, Dame Roberts exclaimed: + +"Would any one on earth but you coolly commit such enormities in the +respectable household of a magistrate?" + +"What on earth do you mean, I should like to know?" + +"Why, hugging and kissing that girl right under my very nose when you +are persecuting me with your declarations of love all the time." + +"I do believe you're jealous!" + +"Jealous! Get that idea out of your head as soon as possible. If I ever +do marry again,--which God forbid!--it certainly will not be you I +choose for a husband." + +"Are you sure of that?" + +"Perfectly sure." + +"That which is to be, will be, my dear." + +"But--" + +"Nonsense!" exclaimed her phlegmatic companion, interrupting her with +the most positive air imaginable. "You are dying to marry me, and you +will marry me, so it is not worth while to say any more about it." + +"You are right," exclaimed the woman, exasperated by her interlocutor's +overweening conceit. "I think, with you, that we had better drop the +subject. Monsieur's costume is finished. Take it up to his room, for he +will return from court very soon, I am sure." + +"From court," sighed Segoffin, shaking his head sadly. + +A sigh was such a rare thing for this impassive individual to indulge +in, that Dame Roberta's anxiety was aroused, and she asked, quickly: + +"Why are you sighing like a furnace, you who display no emotion at all, +ordinarily?" + +"I expected it," remarked Segoffin, shaking his head dubiously. + +"What has happened? Tell me at once, for Heaven's sake." + +"M. Cloarek has thrown the chief judge of the court out of the window," +responded Segoffin, with another sigh. + +"_Mon Dieu!_" + +"There is no undoing that which is done." + +"But what you say is absurd." + +"It was out of a window on the first floor, so he didn't have far to +fall," said Segoffin, thoughtfully, "and the presiding judge is sure to +have landed on his feet as usual. He's a sharp fellow." + +"Look here, Segoffin, I don't believe a single word you're telling me. +It is only one of those cock-and-bull stories you're so fond of +inventing, and it is really a shame for you to make merry at monsieur's +expense, when he has always been so kind to you." + +"Very well, you may think I am joking, if you want to," replied +Segoffin, coldly, "but you had better give me monsieur's costume. He +told me to take it up to his room, and he will be here before very long +now." + +"It is really true that there has been a scene between monsieur and the +chief judge, then?" exclaimed Suzanne. + +"Of course, as monsieur threw him out of the window." + +"Oh, _mon Dieu_! _mon Dieu!_ Monsieur will lose his place this time, +then." + +"Why?" + +"Why? Why, after such scandalous behaviour on the part of a magistrate +he is sure to lose his office, I tell you, and poor madame! What a shock +it will be to her in her condition. What a life she leads! obliged to be +always on the watch, adoring her husband, but in mortal terror all the +while as to what he may say or do. But tell me how you happened to hear +of this calamity." + +"Well, I went to the palace an hour ago to take monsieur a letter. I +found the whole place in a hubbub. The lawyers and all the rest of the +people in the building were racing to and fro, and asking: 'Have you +heard about it?' 'Is it possible?' It seems that after the court +adjourned, the presiding judge summoned M. Cloarek into his office. He +wanted to see him about his duel, some said." + +"His duel? What duel?" + +"The duel he fought this morning," answered Segoffin, phlegmatically. + +And taking advantage of his companion's speechless consternation, he +continued: + +"Others declared that the chief judge had sent for him to see about a +fracas monsieur had had with a countryman whom he nearly killed." + +"What countryman?" asked Suzanne, with increasing alarm. + +"The last one," answered Segoffin, naively. "Well, it seems, or at least +so they told me at the palace, that monsieur went into the presiding +judge's private office; they got to quarrelling, and one man finally +threw the other man out of the window, and I know monsieur so well," +added Segoffin, with a satisfied smile, "that I said to myself, 'If any +one was thrown out of the window it must have been the other man, not +monsieur,' and I was right. There is no undoing that which has been +done." + +"There is no undoing that which has been done? That tiresome old saying +is for ever in your mouth, it seems to me. Is it possible you cannot see +the consequences of all this?" + +"What is to be, will be." + +"Fine consolation that, is it not? This is the third time monsieur has +run a great risk of losing his place in consequence of giving way to his +temper, and this time he will be put out, sure." + +"Well, if he loses his place, he will lose it." + +"Indeed! But he needs the office on account of his wife and little +daughter, and as there will be still another mouth to feed before many +months have passed, what is to become of him and his family if he loses +his position?" + +"Your question is too much for me. I had better be getting up-stairs +with this toggery, I know that, though." + +"Have you lost your senses completely? Monsieur isn't really thinking of +going to this entertainment to-night, after what has occurred!" + +"He isn't? That shows how much you know about it." + +"But after what has occurred, he surely will not go to this ball, I +say." + +"You see if he doesn't." + +"What, go to a ball given by the presiding judge's father-in-law?" + +"He is all the more likely to on that very account." + +"But it is impossible, I tell you. Monsieur would not dare after all the +scandalous occurrences of this unfortunate day. The whole town will be +up in arms if he does." + +"He is ready for them." + +"He is ready for them?" + +"Most assuredly. He is not the man to draw back, no matter how many +persons league themselves together against him," responded Segoffin, +with a triumphant air. "I saw him after his row with the presiding +judge, and I said to him, 'Aren't you afraid you will be arrested, M. +Yvon?' 'No one has any business to meddle with what passed between me +and the chief justice so long as he doesn't complain, and he is not +likely to do that, for if the cause of our quarrel should be made public +he would be hopelessly disgraced.' Those were monsieur's very words, +Suzanne. 'Well, will you go to the ball just the same?' I asked. +'Certainly. I intend to be the first to go and the last to leave. +Otherwise people might think I regretted what I had done, or that I was +afraid. If my presence at this fete scandalises anybody, and they show +it in any way, I shall know what to say and do, never fear; so go back +home, and have my costume ready for me when I get there.'" + +"What a man of iron he is!" sighed Suzanne. "Always the same, and poor +madame suspects nothing." + +"I will take the costume up to monsieur's room and wait for him there, +for I am as certain that he will go to this entertainment as I am that +you will marry me some day, remember that." + +"If such a misfortune is ever to befall me, I shall try to keep it out +of my mind as much as possible," retorted Dame Roberts, curtly, as she +hastened off to her mistress. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE WARNING. + + +At first Suzanne felt strongly inclined to inform Madame Cloarek of the +momentous events which had occurred that day, but after reflecting on +the effect this news might have upon the young wife, she abandoned that +idea and resolved to confine herself to an effort to make her mistress +devise some pretext for preventing M. Cloarek from attending the +masquerade ball, realising that such an audacious act on his part might +have the most disastrous consequences. + +Suzanne's position was extremely trying, for it was necessary for her to +conceal the events of the day from her mistress, on the one hand, and +yet implore her to use her influence over her husband to prevent him +from going to this entertainment, on the other. + +She was consequently in a very perplexed frame of mind when she entered +the apartment of her mistress, who, without being really beautiful in +the general acceptation of the word, had a remarkably sweet and +attractive face, though the extreme pallor of her complexion and her +frail appearance generally indicated very delicate health. + +Jenny Cloarek, seated beside a swinging crib, the silken curtains of +which were closely drawn, was occupied with some embroidery, while with +her little foot she occasionally imparted a gentle oscillatory motion to +the little bed in which her five-year-old daughter was reposing. It was +night, and the soft light of a lamp illumined the peaceful picture. + +When Suzanne entered the room, Madame Cloarek held up a finger +warningly, and said to her, in a low tone: + +"Don't make a noise, Suzanne. My little Sabine is just going to sleep." + +And as the maid approached on tiptoe her mistress added: "Has my husband +returned yet?" + +"No, madame." + +"His going out so early this morning upset me for all day, for I was +asleep when he came back, and so long a time seldom elapses without my +seeing him. By the way, is his costume finished, and is it a success? +You know I promised my husband I would make no attempt to see it until I +could see it on him." + +"It is very handsome, madame." + +"And you think it will prove becoming?" + +"Extremely, madame." + +"I am almost sorry now that I made up my mind not to go to this +entertainment. I never attended a masquerade ball in my life, and I +should have enjoyed it immensely; but I shall enjoy Yvon's account of it +almost as much, provided he does not stay too late, for I feel rather +more tired and weak than usual to-day, it seems to me." + +"Madame does not feel as well as usual this evening?" + +"No; still I do not complain, for it is one of those sufferings that +promise me new joys," she added, with a smile of ineffable sweetness. + +As she spoke the young mother leaned forward and cautiously parted the +curtains of the crib, then after a moment of blissful contemplation she +added, as she again settled herself in her armchair: + +"The dear little thing is sleeping very sweetly, now. Ah, my good +Suzanne, with a husband and child like mine, what more could I ask for +in this world, unless it be a little better health so I may be able to +nurse my next child, for do you know, Suzanne, I used to be dreadfully +jealous of you for acting as part mother to my little Sabine? But now my +health is better, it seems to me I have nothing more to ask for. Even my +dear Yvon's impetuosity, which used to cause me so much uneasiness, +seems to have subsided of late. Poor fellow, how often I witnessed his +efforts to overcome, not a fault, but his very nature. Had it been a +fault, with his energy and determination of character, he would have +overcome it years and years ago; but at last, thank Heaven, his +disposition seems to have become much more even." + +"Undoubtedly, madame," replied Suzanne, "monsieur's temper is much more +even now." + +"And when I think how kind and gentle he has always been to me," +continued the young wife, tenderly, "and how I have never been the +object or the cause of any of the terrible ebullitions of temper which I +have witnessed with so much terror, and which have often proved so +disastrous in their consequences to him, I realise how devotedly he must +love me!" + +"He would indeed be a madman to fly in a passion with one as kind and +gentle as you, my poor dear lady." + +"Hush, flatterer," replied Jenny, smiling. "It is not my amiability of +disposition, but his love for me that prevents it, and though I am +almost ashamed to confess it, I cannot help feeling proud sometimes when +I think that I have never excited any feeling but the tenderest +consideration in such an impassioned and indomitable nature." + +"Monsieur is really one of the best-hearted men in the world, madame, +and, as you say, it must be his temperament that carries him away in +spite of himself, for unfortunately with characters like these the +merest trifle may lead to a terrible explosion." + +"What you say is so true, Suzanne, that my poor husband, in order not +to expose himself to dangers of that kind, spends nearly all his +evenings at home with me instead of seeking amusement as so many persons +do in public places where his quick temper might involve him in endless +difficulties." + +"I think, madame, with you, that for your own peace of mind, and +monsieur's as well, it is advisable to avoid all places where there is +any danger of one's anger being aroused, so, madame, if you will take my +advice--" + +"Well, Suzanne, why do you pause so suddenly? What is the matter?" + +"I--I--" + +"Go on, Suzanne." + +"Don't you fear that the masquerade ball this evening--" + +"Well?" + +"Is a rather dangerous place for monsieur to go?" + +"What an absurd idea!" + +"There will be a great many people there." + +"True; but they will be the best people in town, as the ball is given by +the father-in-law of the presiding judge." + +"Undoubtedly, madame, but I think I have heard that people chaff each +other a good deal at these masquerade balls, and if monsieur, being +quick-tempered, should take offence--" + +"You are right, Suzanne. I had not thought of that." + +"I don't like to worry you, madame, still--" + +"On the other hand, my husband is too much of a gentleman, and too used +to the ways of the world, to take offence at any of the liberties +permissible at such an entertainment; besides, his intimate relations +with the court over which M. Bonneval's son-in-law presides make it +almost obligatory upon him to attend this ball, for it having been +agreed that all the members of the court should go, Yvon's absence might +be considered a mark of disrespect to the presiding judge, to whom my +husband is really subordinate." + +"My poor lady! if she but knew how her husband evinces his subordination +to the presiding judge," thought Suzanne. + +"No, you need have no fear, Suzanne," continued the young wife, "the +presiding judge's very presence at this entertainment, the deference +Yvon must feel for him, will necessitate the maintenance of the utmost +decorum on his part; besides, my husband's absence would be sure to +excite remark." + +"Still, madame--" + +"Oh, I shall urge Yvon to be very prudent," added Jenny, smiling, "but I +see no reason why he should not avail himself of an opportunity for +enjoyment that our retired life will make doubly pleasant to him." + +So Suzanne, fearing the consequences of her mistress's blindness, said, +resolutely: + +"Madame, monsieur must not be allowed to attend this fete." + +"I do not understand you, Suzanne." + +"Heed what I say, madame, and for your own sake and the sake of your +child prevent monsieur from attending this entertainment," exclaimed +Suzanne, clasping her hands imploringly. + +"What is the matter, Suzanne? You alarm me." + +"You know how entirely I am devoted to you, madame?" + +"Yes; but explain." + +"You know perfectly well, too, that I would not run any risk of alarming +you if it were not absolutely necessary. Believe me, some terrible +misfortune is likely to happen if monsieur attends this fete." + +Dame Roberts could say no more, for just then the door opened, and Yvon +Cloarek entered his wife's room. Suzanne dared not remain any longer, so +she departed, but not until after she had given her mistress one more +imploring look. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +"THOSE WHOM THE GODS DESTROY THEY FIRST MAKE MAD." + + +Yvon Cloarek was only about thirty years of age, and the Breton costume +in which he had just arrayed himself set off his robust and symmetrical +figure to admirable advantage. + +This severe but elegant costume consisted of a rather long black jacket +elaborately embroidered with yellow on the collar and sleeves, and still +further ornamented with rows of tiny silver buttons set very close +together. The waistcoat, too, was black, and trimmed with embroidery and +buttons to match the jacket. A broad sash of orange silk encircled the +waist. Large trousers of white linen, almost as wide as the floating +skirt of the Greek Palikares, extended to the knee. Below, his shapely +limbs were encased in tight-fitting buckskin leggings. He wore a round, +nearly flat hat, encircled with an orange ribbon embroidered with +silver, the ends of which hung down upon his shoulders. Thanks to this +costume and to his thick golden hair, his eyes blue as the sea itself, +his strong features, and his admirable carriage, Cloarek was an +admirable type of the valiant race of Breton Bretons, of the sturdy sons +of Armorica, as the historians style them. + +When he entered his wife's room, Yvon's face was still a trifle clouded, +and though he made a powerful effort to conceal the feelings which the +exciting events of the day had aroused, his wife, whose apprehensions +had already been awakened by Dame Roberts's warning, was struck by the +expression of his face. He, entirely ignorant of these suspicions on her +part, having done everything possible to conceal the disquieting +occurrences of the day from her, approached very slowly and pausing a +few steps from his wife, asked, smilingly: + +"Well, how do you like my costume, Jenny? I hope I am faithful to the +traditions of my native province, and that I shall represent Brittany +creditably at the fete?" + +"There isn't the slightest doubt that the costume of your native +province is wonderfully becoming," replied the young mother, with some +embarrassment. + +"Really? Well, I am delighted," said Yvon, kissing his wife fondly; "you +know I set great store by your approval even in the most trifling +matters, my dear." + +"Yes," replied Madame Cloarek, with deep feeling, "yes, I know your +tender love for me, your deference to my slightest wish." + +"Great credit I deserve for that! It is so easy and pleasant to defer to +you, my Jenny,--to bow this hard, stiff Breton neck before you, and say: +'I abdicate to you. Command; I will obey.'" + +"Ah, my dear Yvon, if you only knew how happy it makes me to hear you +say that, to-day especially." + +These last words failed to attract Yvon's attention, however, and he +continued: + +"What are the little concessions I make, my dearest, in comparison with +the blissful happiness I owe to you? Think," he added, turning to the +crib, "this little angel that is the joy of my life, who gave her to +me?" And he was about to open the curtains, when his wife said to him, +warningly: + +"Take care, Yvon, she is asleep." + +"Let me just take one peep at her, only one. I have not seen her all +day." + +"The light of the lamp might arouse her, my dear, and the poor little +thing has just had such a trying time." + +"What! has she been ill?" inquired Cloarek, anxiously, leaving the +cradle. "Do you really feel uneasy about her?" + +"Not now, my dear, but you know how extremely nervous and excitable she +is. She resembles me only too much in this respect," added Jenny, with a +melancholy smile. + +"And I, far from regretting that the dear child is so impressionable, +rejoice at it, on the contrary, for I hope she will be endowed with the +same exquisite sensibility of feeling that you are." + +The young woman gently shook her head. + +"This is what happened. Our big Newfoundland dog came into the room, and +frightened the poor little thing so that I had great difficulty in +quieting her afterward." + +"I am thankful it was nothing serious. But how have you passed the day? +You were asleep this morning, and I would not wake you. You know how +much solicitude I always feel about your health, but it is even more +precious to me than ever now," he added, smiling tenderly upon her. + +Jenny slipped her little frail white hand into her husband's. + +"What courage your love gives me," she murmured, softly. "Thanks to +that, I can even bear suffering bravely." + +"Then you have not been feeling as well as usual to-day?" exclaimed +Yvon, anxiously. "Tell me, Jenny, why didn't you send for the doctor?" + +"I did not need to, for have I not a great and learned physician in whom +I have perfect confidence, and who I am sure will not refuse me any +attention I ask?" + +"Yes, I understand. I am that great and learned physician, I suppose." + +"And could I select a more careful and devoted one?" + +"No, certainly not; so go on and consult me, Jenny." + +"My dear Yvon, though I have not undergone any very severe suffering +to-day, I have experienced and I still experience a sort of vague +uneasiness, as well as an unusual depression of spirits. Oh, don't be +alarmed, it is nothing serious; besides, you can cure me completely if +you will, my beloved doctor." + +"How? Tell me at once." + +"But will you do it?" + +"Why, Jenny,--what a question!" + +"I repeat that my cure depends absolutely and entirely upon you." + +"So much the better, then, for, in that case, you are cured. Go on; +explain, my charming invalid." + +"Remain with me, then." + +"Have I any intention of leaving you?" + +"But the entertainment this evening?" ventured the young wife, +hesitatingly. + +"I dressed early, you see, so as to be able to remain with you until the +very last moment." + +"Don't leave me this evening, Yvon." + +"What?" + +"Give up this fete for my sake." + +"You cannot mean it, surely." + +"Stay at home with me." + +"But, Jenny, you yourself insisted that--" + +"That you should accept the invitation. That is true. This very morning +I was rejoicing that you were going to have this diversion,--you who +lead such an extremely quiet life." + +"Then why have you changed your mind so suddenly?" + +"How can I tell?" responded the young wife, much embarrassed. "It is +only an absurd and senseless whim on my part, doubtless. All I know is +that you would make me happy, oh, very happy, if you would do what I +ask, absurd and ridiculous as it may appear to you." + +"My poor darling," Yvon said, tenderly, after a moment's reflection, +"in your condition, and nervous as you are, I can easily understand why +you should, in spite of your good sense, be beset with all sorts of +contradictory notions, and that you should be averse in the evening to +what you most wished for in the morning. Do you suppose I should think +of such a thing as blaming you for that?" + +"You are the best and most kind-hearted man in the world, Yvon!" +exclaimed the young wife, her eyes filling with tears of joy, for she +felt sure now that her husband was going to accede to her wishes. "There +are not many men who would be so patient with the whims of a poor woman +who knows neither what she wants nor why she wants it." + +"But in my character of physician I do, you see," replied Yvon, kissing +his wife's brow tenderly. "Look," he added, glancing at the clock, "it +is now nine o'clock; ten minutes to go, ten to return, and a quarter of +an hour to remain at the ball,--it is a matter of three-quarters of an +hour at most. I will be back here by ten o'clock, I promise you." + +"What, Yvon, you persist in your determination to attend this +entertainment?" + +"Just to show myself there, that is all." + +"I beg you will not, Yvon." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Don't go." + +"What! not even for a few moments?" + +"Do not leave me this evening, I entreat you." + +"But, be reasonable, Jenny." + +"Make this slight sacrifice for my sake, I implore you." + +"But, Jenny, this is childish." + +"Call it childishness, idiocy, what you will, but don't leave me this +evening." + +"Jenny, love, it breaks my heart to see you so unreasonable, for I am +obliged to refuse you." + +"Yvon--" + +"It is absolutely necessary for me to show myself at this entertainment, +though I need remain only a few moments." + +"But, my dear Yvon--" + +A flush of impatience mounted to Cloarek's brow, nevertheless he +controlled himself, and said to his wife in the same affectionate though +slightly reproachful tone: + +"Such persistency on your part surprises me, Jenny. You know I am not in +the habit of having to be begged. On the contrary, I have always +endeavoured to anticipate your wishes, so spare me the annoyance of +being obliged to say 'no' to you for the first time in my life." + +"Great Heavens!" exclaimed the now thoroughly distressed woman, "to +think of your attaching so much importance to a mere pleasure--" + +"Pleasure!" exclaimed Yvon, bitterly, his eyes kindling. Then +restraining himself, he added: + +"If it were a question of pleasure, you would not have been obliged to +ask me but once, Jenny." + +"But if you are not going for pleasure, why do you go at all?" + +"I am going for appearance's sake," replied Yvon, promptly. + +"In that case, can't you let appearances go, just this once, for my +sake?" + +"I must attend this entertainment, Jenny," said Yvon, whose face had +become purple now; "I must and shall, so say no more about it." + +"And I say that you shall not," exclaimed the young woman, unable to +conceal her alarm any longer; "for there must be some grave reason that +you are concealing from me to make you persist in refusing, when you are +always so kind and affectionate to me." + +"Jenny!" exclaimed Cloarek, stamping his foot, angrily, for this +opposition was intensely exasperating to a person of his irascible +nature, "not another word! Do you hear me? Not another word!" + +"Listen to me, Yvon," said his wife, with dignity. "I shall resort to +subterfuge no longer. It is unworthy of us both. I am afraid, yes, +afraid for you to go to this fete, for I have been told that your +presence there might cause trouble." + +"Who told you that? who said that? Answer me!" cried Cloarek, in a more +and more angry tone, and so loudly that the child in the crib woke. "Why +should you feel afraid? You have heard something, then, I suppose." + +"There is something, then, Yvon," cried the poor woman, more and more +alarmed. "There is some terrible thing that you are keeping from me!" + +Yvon remained silent and motionless for a moment, for a violent struggle +was going on in his breast, but calmness and reason finally conquered, +and approaching his wife to kiss her before going out, he said: + +"I shall return almost immediately, Jenny. You will not have to wait for +me long." + +But the young woman hastily sprang up, and, before her husband could +make a movement to prevent it, she had run to the door, locked it, and +removed the key; then turning to Yvon, she said, with all the energy of +despair: + +"You shall not leave this room. We will see if you dare to come and take +this key from me." + +Utterly stupefied at first, then exasperated beyond expression by +Jenny's determined action, he gave way to his anger to such an extent +that his features became unrecognisable. The flush that had suffused his +face was succeeded by a livid pallor, his eyes became bloodshot, and, +advancing threateningly toward his wife, he exclaimed, in a terrible +voice: + +"The key! give me the key!" + +"No, I will save you in spite of yourself," replied Jenny, intrepidly. + +"Wretch!" cried Cloarek, now completely beside himself. + +The young woman had never been the object of her husband's anger before +in her life, so it is impossible to convey any idea of the horror she +experienced on seeing him ready to rush upon her. Terrified by his +ferocious, bloodthirsty look, in which there seemed to be not even the +slightest gleam of recognition, she remained for a moment trembling and +motionless, feeling as if she were about to swoon. Suddenly the little +girl, who had been awakened several minutes before by the loud talking, +parted the curtains of her crib and looked out. Not recognising her +father, and mistaking him for a stranger, as she had never before seen +him in such a costume, she uttered a shrill cry of terror, and +exclaimed: + +"Oh, mamma, the black man! the black man!" + +"The key! give me the key!" repeated Cloarek, in thunder tones, taking +another step toward his wife, who, slipping the key in her bosom, ran to +the crib and caught her child in her arms, while the little girl, more +and more terrified, hid her face on her mother's breast, sobbing: + +"Oh, that black man, that black man, he means to kill mamma!" + +"To take this key from me, you will have to tear my child from my arms," +said the frail but courageous woman. + +"You don't know that I am capable of anything when I am angry," +exclaimed the unfortunate man, aroused to such a pitch of fury as to be +blind and deaf to the most sacred sentiments. As he spoke, he rushed +toward his wife in such a frenzied, menacing manner that the unfortunate +woman, believing herself lost, strained her little daughter to her +breast, and, bowing her head, cried: + +"Spare, oh, spare my child!" + +This cry of agony and of maternal despair penetrated to the innermost +depths of Yvon's soul. He stopped short, then quicker than thought he +turned, and, with a strength that his fury rendered irresistible, dashed +himself against the door with such impetuosity that it gave way. + +On hearing the sound, Madame Cloarek raised her head in even greater +terror, for her child was in convulsions, caused by fright, and seemed +likely to die in her arms. + +"Help!" faltered Jenny, faintly. "Help, Yvon, our child is dying!" + +A despairing cry answered these panting words uttered by Jenny, who felt +that she, too, was dying, for in this delicate woman's critical +condition such a shock was almost certain to prove fatal. + +"Yvon, our child is dying!" + +Cloarek, who was still only a few yards off, heard these lamentable +words. The horror of the thought that his child was dying dispelled his +anger as if by magic, and, rushing wildly back into his wife's room, he +saw her still standing by the crib, but already as livid as a spectre. + +With a supreme effort Jenny extended her arms to place her child in her +husband's hands, faltering: + +"Take her, I am dying," and without another word fell heavily at the +feet of Cloarek, who, with his child strained to his breast, stood as if +dazed, hearing nothing, seeing nothing. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +DEADLY ENMITY. + + +Twelve years after the events we have just related, late in the month of +March, 1812, about two o'clock in the afternoon a traveller walked into +the inn known as the Imperial Eagle, the only tavern in the town of +Sorville, which was then the second station on the post-road between +Dieppe and Paris. + +This traveller, who was a man in the prime of life, wore a tarpaulin hat +and a thick blue reefer jacket, and looked like a petty officer or a +sailing master in the merchant service. His hair and whiskers were red, +his complexion light, his expression stern and impassible, and he spoke +French without the slightest accent though he was an Englishman. + +Walking straight up to the landlord, he said: "Can you tell me if a +dark-complexioned man dressed about as I am, but very dark-complexioned +and with a strong Italian accent, did not come here this morning? His +name is Pietri." + +"I have seen no one answering either to that name or description, +monsieur." + +"Are you sure?" + +"Perfectly sure." + +"Is there any other inn in the town?" + +"No, thank Heaven! monsieur, so parties travelling either by diligence +or post patronise me, as the post-station is only a few yards from my +door." + +"So there is a relay station near here." + +"On the other side of the street, almost directly opposite." + +"Can you give me a room and have a breakfast prepared for two persons? I +am expecting some one who will call and inquire for Master Dupont, for +that is my name." + +"Very well, monsieur." + +"As soon as this person comes, you will serve breakfast in my room." + +"Very well, and monsieur's baggage, shall I send for that?" + +"I have no baggage. Have many post-carriages passed to-day?" + +"Not a single one, monsieur." + +"Neither from Paris nor Dieppe?" + +"No, monsieur, neither from Paris nor Dieppe. But, by the way, as you +came from the last named place, you must have seen those wonderful men +everybody is talking about." + +"What wonderful men?" + +"Why, that famous corsair who is death to the English, the brave Captain +l'Endurci (a good name for a privateer, isn't it?). With his brig _The +Hell-hound_ (another appropriate name by the way), that goes through the +water like a fish, not a single English ship seems to escape him. He +gobbles them all up, his last haul being a number of vessels loaded with +wheat, that he captured after a terrible fight. A wonderful piece of +good luck, for wheat is so scarce now! They say the people of Dieppe +have gone wild over him! He must have been born under a lucky star, for +though it is said that he fights like a tiger, he has never been +wounded. Is that true? Do you know him? What kind of a looking man is +he? He must be terribly ferocious-looking, and people say he dresses +very strangely. You, being a sailor, have probably seen him." + +"Never," dryly replied the stranger, who did not appear to share the +innkeeper's admiration for the privateer. + +Then he added: + +"Show me to my room, and when the person who inquires for Master Dupont +comes, bring him to me at once. Do you understand?" + +"Perfectly, monsieur." + +"And as soon as the person comes you are to serve breakfast." + +"Very well, monsieur. I will show you to your room now." + +"Is it a front room?" + +"Yes, monsieur, with two large windows." + +"I want some of your best wine, remember." + +"Give yourself no uneasiness; you will be perfectly satisfied, I think," +replied the innkeeper. + +About a quarter of an hour afterward a second guest entered the inn. +This man also wore a heavy pea-jacket, and his swarthy skin, jet-black +hair, and hard, almost repulsive features gave him a decidedly sinister +appearance. After casting a quick glance around, the newcomer said, in +bad French, and with an Italian accent, for he was a native of the +island of Malta: + +"Is there a man named Dupont here?" + +"Yes, monsieur, and I will take you to his room at once if you will +follow me." + +Subsequently, when the host had placed breakfast on the table, he +received orders to retire and not return until he was summoned. + +As soon as the two strangers found themselves alone together, the +Maltese, striking the table a terrible blow with his clenched fist, +exclaimed in English: + +"That dog of a smuggler has backed out; all is lost!" + +"What are you saying?" + +"The truth, as surely as I would take delight in burying this knife in +the heart of the coward who betrayed us," and as he spoke he plunged his +knife into the table. + +"Damnation!" exclaimed the Englishman, startled out of his usual phlegm, +"and the captain is to pass through the town about nightfall." + +"Are you sure?" + +"This morning just as I was leaving Dieppe our friend told me that the +captain had ordered post-horses for four o'clock this afternoon, so he +will arrive here between five and six." + +"_Mille tonnerres!_ everything seemed to favour our plans, and but for +this miserable smuggler--" + +"Pietri, the case is not so desperate as you think, perhaps, after all. +At all events this violence will avail nothing, so let us talk the +matter over calmly." + +"Calmly, when rage fairly blinds me!" + +"A blind man can not see his road." + +"If you can be calm, you do not hate this man as I do." + +"I do not?" + +It is impossible to give the reader any adequate conception of the tone +in which the Englishman uttered these words. + +After a pause, he resumed, in a tone of concentrated hatred: + +"I must hate him worse than you hate him, Pietri, as I do not wish to +kill him." + +"A dead serpent bites no more." + +"Yes, but a dead serpent suffers no more, and I want to see this man +suffer a thousand worse tortures than death. He must atone for the evil +he has done my country; he must atone for the bloody victories which +have demoralised our cruisers; he must atone for the recent insult +offered to me. D--n him! Am I such an insignificant enemy that I can be +released simply upon parole after the combat that cost us so much +treasure and blood, but without one drop of his being shed, for he +really seems to be invulnerable as they say. As surely as there is a +hell my disgrace and England's shall be avenged." + +"And yet a moment ago Captain Russell was reproaching me for the foolish +violence of my words," retorted the Maltese, with a sardonic smile. + +"You are right," replied Russell, controlling himself. "Such an outburst +is foolish in the extreme. Besides, we must not despair. What passed +between you and the smuggler?" + +"Leaving Dieppe in a fishing-smack last night, I reached Hosey this +morning and made my way to the man's hut, which stands some distance +farther down the beach. 'Is your name Bezelek?' I asked. 'Yes.' 'I was +sent here by Master Keller.' 'What is the countersign?' +'_Passe-partout_.' 'Good! I have been expecting you. My boat is at your +service. It is high tide at ten o'clock to-night, and the wind, if it +doesn't change, will take you to England before morning.' 'Master Keller +told you what is to be done?' 'Yes, some one is to be transported to +England, willy-nilly, but safe and sound, understand. I am a smuggler, +but no murderer. So bring your passenger along to-night and I promise +you he shall be in England before sunrise.' 'Did Keller tell you that I +must have four or five of your most determined men at my disposal?' +'What for?' 'To assist me in capturing the man on the highway a few +miles from here.' 'Keller told me nothing of the kind, and you need not +expect me or my men to mix ourselves up in any such affair. Bring your +man here, and I will see that he is put aboard my boat. That is all. If +he resists, I can suppose he is drunk, and that it is for his good we +are putting him aboard, but to assist in the abduction of a man on the +public highway is a very different thing, and I have no notion of doing +anything of the kind.' That was what he said, and he stuck to it. I soon +discovered there wasn't the slightest chance of moving him, for neither +threats nor bribes had the slightest effect upon him." + +"This is too bad! too bad!" + +"So you see, Russell, we shall have to resort to other means, for even +if the postilion remains neutral, it would be impossible for us two to +do the job without assistance, especially as the captain has a devoted +and intrepid companion in the shape of his head gunner, who never leaves +him either on land or sea, so if we resort to force we shall only make +fools of ourselves, it seems to me." + +"That is true," muttered the Englishman, gloomily. + +"So as there is no chance of succeeding by violence we shall have to +resort to stratagem," continued the Maltese. + +"Explain." + +"On my way here I noticed that about two miles from the town, at a place +marked by a stone cross, there is a steep hill, followed by a no less +abrupt descent." + +"Well, what of it?" + +"We will lie in wait for the carriage about half-way up the hill. It +will be moving very slowly as the hill is so steep, and we will suddenly +rush out from our hiding-place, and, pretending that we are sailors on +our way back to our vessel, ask the captain for aid, you at one door and +I at the other. Both of us will have our pistols loaded and our knives +in our belts and--" + +"Never!" exclaimed Russell, "I am no assassin nor do I desire this man's +death. The murder would be a disgrace to England; besides, it would only +half avenge me. No, what I want is to enjoy this indomitable man's rage +and humiliation when, as our prisoner, he is exposed to the abuse and +derision and insults of the multitudes whom his name has so often +terrified. No caged tiger ever roared and chafed against confinement +more wildly and yet more impotently than he will. Imprisonment in the +hulks will be a thousand times more terrible than death to such a man. +But the obstinacy of this smuggler ruins all my plans. As they have +become impossibilities, what shall we do?" + +"Adopt mine," urged the Maltese. "Death may be less cruel than +vengeance, but it is much more certain; besides, vengeance is impossible +now, but we hold this man's life in our hands. Besides, what difference +does it really make about the means we employ so long as England is +delivered from one of her most dangerous enemies?" + +"Say no more." + +"But think of the vessels this man has captured and burned, and of the +bloody combats from which he has emerged safe and sound and victorious, +too, in spite of greatly inferior numbers!" + +"Be silent, I tell you." + +"Think of the terror his name inspires in English sailors--the best +seamen in the world; haven't you even heard them say in their +superstitious fear that the success of this invincible and invulnerable +man seems to indicate the swift decadence of England's maritime +supremacy, and that the sea is to have its Napoleon as well as the land? +Think what a disastrous effect such a superstition will have if the time +ever comes when England makes an attempt to overthrow Bonaparte and +crush France." + +"But a murder,--a cowardly assassination!" + +"An assassination? No, England and France are at war, and to take +advantage of an ambuscade to surprise and destroy an enemy is one of the +recognised laws of warfare." + +Russell made no reply, but sat with his head bowed upon his breast for +some time apparently absorbed in thought. + +The Maltese seemed to be equally absorbed in thought. As they sat there +in silence, the sound of carriage wheels was heard in the distance, +followed by the cracking of the postilion's whip and the ring of horses' +hoofs. + +"Five o'clock! It must be he!" exclaimed the Englishman as he glanced at +his watch. + +Both men darted to the window and saw a dusty cabriolet drawn by two +horses stop in front of the post-house on the other side of the street, +opposite the inn, and in another instant the Englishman turned livid +with rage and cast a look of implacable hatred on the unsuspecting +traveller. + +"It is he! It is really he!" + +"And he is alone," added the Maltese, quickly. + +"He is entering this very inn." + +"Everything favours us. He must have left his friend and companion in +Dieppe. He is alone; there are two of us!" + +"Can we still count upon the smuggler's boat and assistance to-night?" +suddenly inquired Russell. A new idea seemed to have struck him. A +slight flush suffused his pale, cold face, and a spark of diabolical joy +glittered in his eye, as he asked the question. + +"Yes; for desiring to reserve a means of flight in case of need, I told +him he might expect us." + +"Courage, then," exclaimed Russell, ringing the bell, violently. + +"What do you mean?" inquired the Maltese. "What do you intend to do?" + +"You shall know, presently. Hush! here comes somebody." + +It was the innkeeper that had answered the summons. + +"The breakfast was excellent, my friend," said Russell. "How much do I +owe you?" + +"Six francs, including the room." + +"Here it is, and a present for the waiter, besides." + +"You are very honest, monsieur. I hope to be honoured with your +patronage again." + +"You certainly will be. But tell me, I thought I heard post-horses just +now. Has there been another arrival?" + +"Yes, monsieur, another gentleman just came. I put him in the blue room +overlooking the garden." + +"He is one of your old patrons, probably, as a person who has been here +once is sure to come back." + +"Monsieur is very kind, I am sure, but it is the first time this +traveller has ever stopped here." + +"Is he travelling in style with a retinue of servants and all that, and +is he going to remain long?" + +"No, monsieur, only long enough to take a slight lunch. This is no rich +nobleman. He is travelling alone, and looks and acts like a well-to-do +tradesman. He hums tunes and drums upon the window-panes, and seems as +gay as a peacock. He must be a very pleasant man." + +"You seem to be a great physiognomist, mine host," responded the +Englishman, with a sarcastic smile. + +Then making a sign to his companion, he rose, remarking to the innkeeper +as he did so: + +"_Au revoir_, my friend. We are going to take a stroll around the town, +and then return to Dieppe." + +"If you would like to wait for the Paris diligence, it will pass through +the town about eight o'clock this evening." + +"Thanks, but though we are sailors, we are good walkers, and it is such +a fine evening I think we won't wait for it." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +A CUNNING SCHEME. + + +After leaving the inn, the two strangers took themselves off for a +quarter of an hour to decide upon their plans, then strolled like a +couple of inquisitive idlers toward the post-station in front of which +the traveller's carriage stood, nearly ready for departure, as the +postilion was already putting fresh horses to it. + +Captain Russell and his companion approached the vehicle, and, seating +themselves upon one of the benches in front of the post-house, pretended +to be examining the animals that were being harnessed, with a knowing +eye. + +"You have a horse there that seems to be as willing as he is handsome," +Russell remarked to the postilion, after a few minutes' scrutiny. + +"And he is as good as he looks, my friend," replied the postilion, +pleased by the well-deserved praise bestowed upon his steed, "so I call +him the Friar, and he is worthy of his name." + +"He's a fine animal, there's no doubt of that. What a broad chest he +has, and what powerful withers and flanks!" + +"And what a beautiful head he has!" chimed in Pietri. "It is as delicate +and intelligent as that of any Arabian steed." + +"It is evident that you are both good judges of horse flesh, gentlemen, +so you won't doubt my word when I tell you that I can get over a mile +or two of ground in the twinkling of an eye with the Friar and +Sans-Culotte, as I call his mate." + +"Yes, it must be a real pleasure to have a horse like that between one's +legs, my worthy fellow. Though I'm a sailor, I've ridden horseback a +good deal, but I never had the good fortune to bestride an animal like +that." + +"I can very readily believe that, monsieur; but this I know, you will +never bestride a finer one." + +"And it is too bad!" + +"I don't see what you are going to do about it." + +"Would you like to make forty francs, my friend?" inquired the +Englishman, after a brief silence. + +"Forty francs, I?" exclaimed the astonished postilion. + +"Yes." + +"But how the devil could I?" + +"In the easiest way imaginable." + +"Let me hear it." + +Just as the Englishman was about to make known his proposition, a waiter +from the inn crossed the street to tell the postilion that he need not +be in a hurry, for the traveller would not be ready for some time. + +"What is he doing? and why did he order his horses so long ahead, then?" + +"I don't know anything about that, but I do know he's a queer one. What +do you think he dined on? He drank milk instead of wine, and ate some +poached eggs and panada." + +"Panada? Well, he must be a queer one!" said Jean Pierre, scornfully. +Then turning to Russell, "Come, friend, what were you going to tell me a +few minutes ago about--" + +"Step into the stable-yard, my good fellow, I want to say a few words to +you." + +"I can't leave the Friar; he would be sure to cut up some caper. He's +always fussing with Sans-Culotte. Whoa, you rascal! See, he's beginning +his antics now. Whoa, there! if you break away, you brigand, I'll give +you a beating you'll remember." + +"Listen, then," said the Englishman, whispering a few words in the +postilion's ear. + +"What a funny idea!" exclaimed that young man, laughing. + +"Will you accept my offer?" + +"Really--" + +"If you will, here are twenty francs. You shall have the rest when you +get to the appointed place. After all, what risk do you run? There is no +harm in it." + +"None in the world, but it is such a funny idea. It isn't the first time +I've heard of the like, though. What do you think I saw in Dieppe the +other day? Those privateersmen--my! how they make their money fly!--did +the queerest things! I saw some of them offer twenty-five napoleons to +an old sacristan to dress himself up like a woman in a furbelowed dress +and a plumed hat and then drive about the town in a cab with them." + +"What else could you expect, my good fellow? Sailors are on shore too +seldom not to amuse themselves according to their fancy, provided it +doesn't injure anybody. You agree, don't you?" + +"Oh, well, it isn't worth while to have any scruples when one has to +deal with a passenger who eats panada and doesn't drink wine, I admit, +so--" + +"So here are twenty francs," added Russell, slipping a gold piece into +the postilion's hand. "You shall have as much more presently." + +"All right, but make haste, for the place is a good league from here. +Take the first road to the left." + +A moment afterward the two strangers had disappeared. + + * * * * * + +About a quarter of an hour afterward, while the postilion was doing his +best to restrain the gambols of the Friar and his mate, the proprietor +of the Imperial Eagle appeared in the doorway and cried: + +"Mount, my boy, mount! Here comes the gentleman!" + +"The devil!" muttered Jean Pierre, climbing slowly into the saddle. "My +milk-drinker is in a dreadful hurry all of a sudden. I sha'n't be able +to get my horses there fast enough, now, I suppose." + +As he spoke, he guided his horses up to the door of the inn, and the +traveller stepped into the vehicle. The landlord bowed respectfully to +his patron, and as he closed the carriage door called out to the +postilion: + +"Drive along, Jean Pierre, monsieur is in a hurry." + +"You shall just fly along, monsieur," replied Jean Pierre, cracking his +whip noisily. + +They traversed the town at a gallop and soon reached the highway, but +they had gone only a couple of hundred yards when the postilion checked +his horses abruptly, and, turning in his saddle, seemed to be waiting +for something. + +The traveller, surprised at this sudden stop, lowered one of the +windows, and asked: + +"Well, what's the matter?" + +"What's the matter?" + +"Yes." + +"I've no idea, I'm sure." + +"You don't know?" + +"I'm sure I don't." + +"But why did you stop?" + +"Because you called to me to stop." + +"I did?" + +"Yes, and so I stopped." + +"You are mistaken, I didn't call you." + +"Yes, you did, monsieur." + +"But I tell you I didn't. So go on, and try to make up for the time you +have lost." + +"You needn't worry about that. I'll drive like mad now. I don't mean +there shall be a piece of the carriage left when we get to the next +station." + +And he again started his horses off at a gallop. But at the end of two +hundred yards there was another sudden pause. + +"What's the matter now?" demanded the traveller. "Is anything the matter +with your harness?" he reiterated, seeing the postilion busying himself +with his saddle-girth, uttering the most frightful oaths all the while. + +There was no reply but another long string of furious imprecations, +however. + +"Is your horse disabled?" + +Another string of oaths was the only answer. + +"At least tell me what is the matter, my boy." + +"Oh, never mind, monsieur, I've fixed everything all right now." + +"Well, try to keep it all right, then." + +"We shall fly along the road like birds, now, never fear, bourgeois," +responded the youth, springing into the saddle and cracking his whip +furiously. + +The shades of night were falling, a few stars were already visible in +the western horizon, but in the distance one could still dimly discern, +by reason of the chalky character of the soil, a steep hill bordered by +tall elm-trees. + +The post-chaise flew swiftly along for about ten minutes, then the pace +slackened, a trot succeeded the gallop, a walk succeeded the trot, and +then the vehicle stopped short again. + +This time Jean Pierre jumped down and examined one of the Friar's feet +with great apparent solicitude. + +"_Mille tonnerres!_ one of my horses has gone lame!" he cried. + +"Gone lame?" repeated the traveller, with unruffled calmness, though +these numerous delays were certainly enough to try the patience of a +saint. "Gone lame, did you say?" + +"Yes, frightfully lame," answered Jean Pierre, still holding up the +horse's foot. + +"But how did he happen to go lame so suddenly, my boy?" + +"The devil take me if I know." + +"Shall we have to stay here?" + +"No, bourgeois, there's no danger of that. If I could only see what has +made the horse go lame, but it is getting so dark--" + +"Yes, and you must be sure not to forget to light the lanterns at our +next stopping-place." + +"Ah! I can feel what it is with my finger. There is a stone crowded in +between the shoe and the frog. If I can only loosen it everything will +be all right again." + +"Try then, my boy, for really this is getting very tiresome," replied +the still calm voice of the traveller. + +Inwardly chuckling over the success of his ruse, the postilion continued +to loudly curse the stone he was ostensibly endeavouring to remove, +until he thought the two strangers must have had plenty of time to reach +the appointed spot, after which he uttered a cry of triumph. "The +accursed stone is out at last!" he exclaimed. "Now we shall just fly +along again." + +And again the vehicle started off at a rapid trot. Though night had +really come now, thanks to the clearness of the air and the innumerable +stars, it was not very dark. On reaching the foot of the hill the +postilion stopped his panting horses, and, after springing to the +ground, approached the carriage door, and said: + +"This is such a steep hill, bourgeois, that I always walk up to make it +easier for my horses." + +"Very well, my boy," replied the occupant of the vehicle, tranquilly. + +The postilion walked along beside his horses for a few seconds, then +gradually slackened his pace, thus allowing them to get a short distance +ahead of him. Just then, Russell and Pietri emerged from behind a clump +of bushes on the roadside, and approached the postilion. The latter, as +he walked along, had removed his braided jacket, red waistcoat, and +top-boots. The Englishman, who had likewise divested himself of his +outer apparel, slipped on the jacket, plunged his feet into the high +boots, and seized the hat, after which the postilion, smiling at what he +considered an excellent joke, handed his whip to Russell, remarking: + +"It is too dark for the gentleman to see anything, so when you mount my +horse I'll get up on the rack behind, with your companion." + +"Yes, and when we reach the next station I will get down, and you can +put on your own clothes again, and I mine. And now here is the twenty +francs I promised you." + +And slipping a gold piece in Jean Pierre's hand, Russell quickened his +pace, and, overtaking the horses about twenty yards from the top of the +hill, began to walk along beside them. + +It was now too dark for the traveller to perceive the substitution that +had just been effected, but as the carriage reached the summit of the +hill the occupant leaned out and said to the supposed postilion: + +"Don't forget to put on the brake, my lad." + +"I am going to do that now," answered the pretended postilion, in a +disguised voice. + +Then slipping behind the vehicle, he said in a low tone to the Maltese +and to Jean Pierre: + +"Get up behind and hold on tight. I'm going to put on the brake." + +The two men obeyed, while Russell rattled the chain of the brake, as if +he were applying it to the wheel, but this was really only a pretence on +his part; then vaulting into the saddle, he dug his spurs into his +horse's flanks, and sent the carriage flying down the hill with +frightful rapidity. + +"Good God! we are lost, and the milk drinker in the bargain," exclaimed +Jean Pierre hearing the chain of the brake dragging along on the ground. +"Your friend failed to put the brake on, after all." + +The Maltese, instead of answering the postilion, struck him such a +violent blow on the head with the butt end of a pistol that Jean Pierre +let go his hold on the rack and fell to the ground, while the carriage +flew down the hill enveloped in a cloud of dust. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +HOME PLEASURES. + + +Several days have passed since the traveller fell into the trap Captain +Russell and his companion had set for him, and we must beg the reader to +accompany us to a pretty cottage in the little village of Lionville, +about four miles from Havre. + +A bracing and salubrious climate, a country which is at the same time +fertile and picturesque, fine trees, luxuriant turf, and a superb view +of the ocean, make Lionville a veritable paradise to persons who love +peace and quiet and opportunities for solitary meditation. + +At that time, as in many other towns and villages, great and small, the +absence of young men was particularly noticeable, the last wars of the +Empire having summoned to the defence of the flag nearly all who were +young and able-bodied, until a young man of twenty-five who had remained +a civilian, unless he was a hunchback, or crippled, was almost as rare a +phenomenon as the phoenix or a white crow. + +Lionville possessed one of these rarities in the shape of a handsome +young man not over twenty-four years of age, but we must make haste to +say that he did not seem in the least inclined to take advantage of his +position, for he led a very retired life, quite as much from preference +as from any other reason. + +This young man was one of the inmates of the pleasant, cheerful home to +which we have already alluded, and several days after the traveller had +been victimised by the pretended postilion a middle-aged woman, a young +girl, and this young man (the phoenix referred to) were assembled one +evening in a pretty, comfortably furnished drawing-room. A good fire was +blazing on the hearth, for the evenings were still cool, and a shaded +lamp diffused a soft light through the apartment, while the tea-kettle, +standing in front of the fire, bubbled softly. + +A close observer would perhaps have noticed that most of the ornaments +and articles of luxury were of English origin, in spite of the stern +prohibition against the importation of English goods which then +prevailed on the continent. The same might be said of the handsome +silver tea-service, no two pieces of which were alike, however, a ducal +coronet surmounting the massive hot-water urn and a knight's crest +adorning the teapot, while an unpretending initial was engraved upon the +sugar-bowl, though it was none the less brilliant on that account. + +The middle-aged woman had a frank, intelligent, cheerful face. She was +at least forty-two years old, but her hair was still black, her +complexion fresh, her teeth white, and her eyes bright; in short, this +worthy dame still attracted plenty of admiring glances when, arrayed in +a handsome bonnet of English lace, a gown of English tissue, and a +Paisley shawl of the finest texture, she accompanied her youthful charge +to the village church. + +The young girl in question was seventeen, tall, slender, extremely +delicate in appearance, and endowed or rather afflicted with an +extremely nervous and impressionable temperament. This extreme +sensibility or susceptibility was at least partially due to, or perhaps +we should say, had been greatly aggravated by a terrible event which +occurred many years before, and which had had the effect of rendering +her excessively timid. It would be difficult to find a more pleasing and +attractive face than hers, however, and when, yielding to the +uncontrollable fear which the most trivial incident sometimes excited, +she arched her slender neck, and listened pantingly, breathlessly, with +her graceful attitude and large wondering, frightened eyes, she reminded +one of a startled gazelle. By reason of this nervous and extremely +sensitive temperament, probably, the young girl had not the brilliant +colouring of sturdy health, but was usually very pale, though every +passing emotion brought a delicate rose tint to her cheek, and then her +charming face, framed in a wealth of bright chestnut hair, seemed +radiant with the glowing beauty of youth. True, with a more vivid +colouring and fuller contour, she might have been much more attractive +to many persons, but much of the charm of her expressive features and +delicate loveliness would have been lost. + +The last of the three persons assembled in the cosy parlour was the +phoenix to whom allusion has been made, that is to say, a handsome +young man who had not been summoned to the defence of the flag. + +This phoenix was twenty-five years old, of medium height, slender, but +admirably formed, with a frank expression and regular features, though a +tinge of slightly deprecating embarrassment was apparent both in his +face and manner, the result of the infirmity which had exempted him from +military service. In short, the young man's sight was very poor, so +poor, indeed, that he could scarcely see to move about; besides, by +reason of some organic peculiarity, he could derive no assistance from +glasses, and though his large brown eyes were clear and well-shaped, +there was something vague and uncertain in their gaze, and sometimes +when the poor myope, after having turned quickly, as if to look at you, +remembered, alas! with bitter sadness, that three yards from him every +person and object became unrecognisable, the expression of his face was +almost heartrending. + +Still, it must be admitted that the consequences of the young man's +infirmity were sometimes so amusing as to excite mirth rather than +compassion; and it is needless to say that the middle-aged lady was +keenly alive to all that was ludicrous in her youthful relative's +blunders--for the relationship existing between them was that of nephew +and aunt,--while the young girl, on the contrary, seemed to sympathise +deeply with the oftentimes painful position of the half-blind man. + +The young girl was embroidering, and her governess or housekeeper +knitting, while the young man, with the last issue of the _Journal of +the Empire_ held close to his eyes, was reading the latest news aloud, +and informing his readers of the Duc de Reggio's departure to take +command of the army. + +The housekeeper, hearing a brisk bubbling sound accompanied with several +little jets of steam from the kettle, said to her nephew: + +"The water is boiling, Onesime. Pour some into the urn, but pray be +careful." + +Onesime laid his paper on the table, rose, and started toward the hearth +with dire misgivings which were more than justified. He knew, alas! that +his path was full of snares and pitfalls, for there was an armchair +standing on his left to be avoided, then a small round table to the +right of him, and this Scylla and Charybdis avoided, he had to step over +a small footstool near the hearth before he could seize the boiling +kettle. Consequently, one can easily understand the extreme prudence +with which Onesime started on his mission. One outstretched hand warning +him of the close proximity of the armchair on his left, he avoided that +obstacle, but he was almost on the point of running against the table +before his other hand discovered danger of a second shipwreck, and he +was inwardly rejoicing at having reached the fireplace without mishap, +when he stumbled over the footstool. In his efforts to regain his +equilibrium he took a step or two backwards, and, coming in violent +contact with the table, overturned it with a loud crash. + +For several minutes the young girl had been absorbed in a profound +reverie. Rudely awakened from it by the noise made by the falling table, +ignorant of the cause of the commotion, and unable to overcome her fear, +she uttered a cry of terror and sank back in her chair, trembling like a +leaf. + +"Don't be frightened, my dear," cried the housekeeper. "It is another of +Onesime's escapades, that is all. Calm yourself, my child." + +The young girl, on discovering the cause of the commotion, deeply +regretted having increased her unfortunate friend's embarrassment, so, +striving to overcome the nervous trembling that had seized her, she +said: + +"Forgive me, my dear friend. How silly I am, but you know I never seem +to be able to conquer this absurd nervousness." + +"Poor child, it is no fault of yours! Are you not the one who suffers +most from it? Surely there is no necessity for apologising to us, +especially as but for my nephew's awkwardness--" + +"No, no, I am the culprit," interrupted the young girl. "To be so +childish at my age is disgraceful." + +The unfortunate young man, distressed beyond measure at his mishap, +stammered a few incoherent words of apology, then set the table on its +feet again, shoved the footstool aside, and, seizing the tea-kettle, +started to pour the water into the urn, when his aunt exclaimed: + +"Don't attempt that, for Heaven's sake! You are so awkward, you will be +sure to make a mess of it." + +Onesime, deeply mortified and anxious to atone for his former blunder, +persisted, nevertheless, and, lifting the cover of the urn, began to +pour the water from the kettle with his right hand, while his left +rested on the edge of the table. But unfortunately his eyes played him +false as usual, and he began pouring the contents of the tea-kettle +down one side of the urn, instead of into the opening, covering his left +hand with boiling water and burning it frightfully. + +He manifested a truly heroic stoicism, however. But for the slight start +caused by the sudden and intense suffering, he gave no sign, and, +conscious now of the mistake he had made, finally managed to fill the +urn, after which he said, gently: + +"The urn is filled, aunt. Shall I make the tea? Mademoiselle will take a +cup, perhaps." + +"What! you have actually filled the urn without any fresh catastrophe? +You really ought to have a leather medal, my dear," laughed his aunt. + +"Don't pay any attention to what she says, M. Onesime," interposed the +young girl. "Your aunt takes such delight in teasing you that I feel it +my duty to come to your assistance. And now will you be kind enough to +give me a cup of tea?" + +"No, no, don't you dare to think of such a thing!" exclaimed the +housekeeper, laughing. "You will be sure to break one of these pretty +pink and white cups monsieur brought us the last time he came home." + +But Onesime gave the lie to his aunt's gloomy prognostications, by +bringing the cup of tea to the young girl without spilling a drop, and +was rewarded by a gentle "Thank you, M. Onesime," accompanied with her +sweetest smile. But the sad, almost imploring expression in the young +man's eyes, as he turned toward her, touched her deeply. + +"Alas!" she said to herself, "he does not even see that I am smiling at +him. He always seems to be asking you to have patience with his +infirmity." + +This thought grieved her so much that the older woman noticed the fact, +and asked: + +"What is the matter, my child? You look sad." + +Hearing his aunt's words, Onesime turned anxiously to the young girl, as +if trying to read the expression of her face, while she, embarrassed by +the housekeeper's remark, answered: + +"You are mistaken, I am not in the least sad; but just now when you +spoke of my father it reminded me that he ought to have reached home +several days ago." + +"Surely you are not going to torment yourself about that, my child. Is +this the first time your father has failed to arrive at the appointed +time?" + +"It worries me, nevertheless." + +"Dear me! There isn't the slightest doubt that business has detained +him. Do you suppose that a man who acts as the business agent of a +number of big factories can tell the exact hour at which he will be able +to return home? An opportunity to make a large sale sometimes presents +itself just as he is about to start, and he is obliged to remain. Only a +couple of months ago, just before he went away, he said to me: 'I am +determined my daughter shall be rich. A couple more trips like the last, +and I will never leave the dear child again.'" + +"Heaven grant that time may soon come," sighed the girl. "I should be +tranquil and happy if my kind and loving father were always with me. You +are tormented by so many fears when one you love is absent from you." + +"Fears! fears about what, I should like to know! What risk can a quiet +merchant like monsieur run? A merchant who doesn't meddle with other +people's affairs, but travels about from town to town in a post-chaise, +to sell his goods. What risk does a man like that run? Besides, he +travels only in the daytime, and always has his clerk with him, and you +know he would go through fire and water for your father, though he +really does seem to be the most unfortunate of mortals." + +"That is true. Poor man! some accident seems to befall him every time he +travels with my father." + +"Yes, and why? Simply because he is the most meddlesome old creature +that ever lived, and the awkwardest. Still, that doesn't prevent him +from being a great protection to monsieur if any one should attempt to +molest him. So what have you to fear, my child?" + +"Nothing." + +"Think how you would feel if you had a father in the army as so many +girls have." + +"I could never stand such a terrible strain as that. Why, to be always +thinking that my father was exposed to danger, to death,--why, the mere +idea of such a thing is appalling." + +"Yes, my poor child, the mere idea of such a thing makes you as pale as +a ghost, and sets you to trembling like a leaf. It does not surprise me, +though, for I know how devoted you are to your father. But drive these +dreadful thoughts from your mind, and, by the way, suppose Onesime +finishes reading the paper to us." + +"Certainly, if M. Onesime is not too tired." + +"No, mademoiselle," replied the young man, making almost superhuman +efforts to conceal his suffering, which was becoming more and more +intolerable. + +And getting the paper as close to his eyes as possible, he was preparing +to resume the reading, when he remarked: + +"I think this is an article which is likely to interest mademoiselle." + +"What is it about?" + +"It describes the exploits of that famous Dieppe privateer, of whom +everybody is talking." + +"I fear the article will be too exciting for you to-day, my dear, you +seem to be so nervous," remarked the housekeeper. + +"Is it such a very blood-curdling story, M. Onesime?" inquired the girl, +smiling. + +"I think not, mademoiselle, judging from the title. The article is +headed: 'Remarkable Escape of the Brave Captain l'Endurci, Who Was +Abducted from French Soil by English Emissaries.'" + +"It must be very interesting. Pray read it, monsieur." + +So the young man at once began to read the following account of the +brave captain's escape. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE CAPTAIN'S NARRATIVE. + + +"All France is familiar with the name and heroic valour of Captain +l'Endurci, commander of the privateer _Hell-hound_, as well as the large +number of prizes which the gallant captain has recently captured from +the English. + +"Only a few days ago Captain l'Endurci returned to Dieppe, with a large +three-master belonging to the East India Company, and armed with thirty +guns, in tow, while the _Hell-hound_ can boast of only sixteen. This +three-master, which was convoying several merchant vessels loaded with +wheat, had, together with her convoy, been captured by the intrepid +captain, after a desperate fight of three hours, in which nearly or +quite one-half of the French crew had been killed or wounded. + +"The gallant captain's entrance into the port of Dieppe was a veritable +triumph. The entire population of the town assembled upon the piers, and +when the brig, black with powder and riddled with shot, sailed slowly in +with her prizes, shouts of the wildest enthusiasm rent the air, but the +brave captain's triumph became an ovation when the people learned that +the vessels which the three-master was convoying were laden with wheat. +At a time when grain is so appallingly scarce in France, such a capture +is a national benefaction, and when the people discovered that Captain +l'Endurci, being aware of the speedy arrival of these vessels, had spent +several days lying in wait for them, allowing richer and less dangerous +prizes to pass unmolested, all Dieppe went wild." + +"How grand!" exclaimed the housekeeper, enthusiastically. "Ah, I would +give ten years of my life to be the mother or sister of such a hero." + +"And I, my friend, deem myself a thousand times more fortunate in being +the daughter of an honest merchant, instead of having some bloodthirsty +hero for a father," remarked Sabine. + +"What a strange child you are! Wouldn't you feel proud to be able to +say: 'That famous man is my father?'" + +"Not by any means. If he were absent, I should be always trembling to +think of the danger he might be in; if he were with me, I should always +be imagining I saw blood on his hands." + +"Such ideas seem very strange to me, for I love heroes, myself," said +the older woman, gaily. "But go on, Onesime, I am anxious to hear how +this valiant captain could have been kidnapped on French soil." Then, +noticing that her nephew was unusually pale, and that big drops of +perspiration were standing on his brow, she asked: + +"What is the matter, Onesime? You seem to be suffering." + +"No, indeed, aunt," replied the young man, enraged at himself for not +being able to conceal the agony his burn was causing him. "Now listen to +the rest of the story. + +"Captain l'Endurci, after a three day's sojourn in Dieppe, started for +Paris, unfortunately leaving his head gunner, one of his oldest +comrades-in-arms, who was seriously wounded in the last engagement, in +Dieppe to attend to some business matters. + +"It was between the second and the third post-stations on his route that +this audacious attack was made upon the captain, evidently by English +emissaries who had been lying in wait for him. It seems that these +emissaries had taken advantage of the postilion's credulity to persuade +him to allow one of them to take his place and drive the vehicle for +awhile. This change of drivers was made while ascending a steep hill, +where the progress of the vehicle was necessarily slow, but the +Englishman was scarcely in the saddle before he started the horses off +at a frightful pace, while the postilion was hurled half-dead upon the +ground by the other Englishman, who was clinging to the back of the +post-chaise. + +"The captain astonished at the terrific speed with which the horses were +tearing down the steep descent, thought that the postilion had neglected +to put on the brake, and had lost all control of the horses; but soon +the rate of speed diminished perceptibly, though the vehicle continued +to fly swiftly along. + +"The night having become very dark, the captain could not see that the +carriage, instead of following the main road, was going in an entirely +different direction. Not having the slightest suspicion of this fact, +and ignorant of the change of postilions, the captain rode on in this +way about an hour and a half, and finally fell asleep. + +"The sudden stopping of the carriage woke him, and supposing that he had +reached the next relay station, and seeing two or three lanterns +flitting about, he was unsuspectingly alighting from the vehicle, when +several men suddenly rushed upon him, and, before he had time to offer +the slightest resistance, he was securely bound and gagged, and dragged +down to the beach on the outskirts of the little seaport town of Hosey, +about fifteen miles from Dieppe, and known as the headquarters of a +daring gang of smugglers. Here, the captain, who was unable to make the +slightest movement or utter a word, was hustled aboard a fishing-smack, +and a few minutes afterward, wind and tide both being favourable, the +little vessel set sail for England. + +[Illustration: _"Several men rushed upon him."_ + +Original etching by Adrian Marcel.] + +"But Captain l'Endurci is not the man to tamely submit to defeat, as +the following extract from that gentleman's letter to a friend in this +city conclusively proves. + +"He writes as follows: + +"'When I found myself a prisoner in the hold, my rage at the cowardly +trick which had been played upon me became ungovernable. I had been +thrown upon a few pieces of old sail in the hold, with my legs securely +bound together with a long piece of rope as big as my thumb, and with my +hands tied behind my back. I tried by stooping to reach with my teeth +the rope that bound my legs, but found it impossible. I knew by the +motion of the boat that a strong wind was blowing, and that we were +heading straight for the shores of England. + +"'I knew the fate that awaited me there. A few words that had passed +between my captors had enlightened me. Instead of killing me outright, +they wanted to see me lead a life of torture in the hulks. One of them +had even spoken of exposing me to the jeers and insults of the populace +for several days. + +"'The mere thought of such a thing nearly drove me mad, and in a +paroxysm of fury I sank back on the old sails, foaming with rage. This +ebullition over, anger as usual gave me new strength. My blood boiled in +my veins, then, mounting to my brain, gave birth to a thousand projects, +each one more audacious than the other, and I felt both my physical and +mental vigour increased a hundred-fold by this effervescent condition of +all my vital powers. + +"'I finally decided upon one of the plans that this paroxysm of rage had +suggested to me. In any other frame of mind, it would have seemed +utterly impracticable to me, and I believe it would have seemed so to +any man who was not half frenzied by a spirit of anger,--anger, that +dread and powerful divinity, as the Indian poet says.'" + +For some time the young girl who sat listening had seemed to be a prey +to a painful preoccupation; several times she had started impatiently +as if anxious to escape from some harrowing thought, and now suddenly +interrupting the reading in spite of herself, as it were, she exclaimed: + +"That man makes me shudder!" + +"And why?" demanded the housekeeper. "This brave sailor seems to me as +brave as a lion." + +"But what a man of iron!" exclaimed the girl, more and more excitedly. +"How violent he is! And to think that any person should dare to excuse +and even glorify anger when it is so horrible--so unspeakably horrible!" + +The housekeeper, without attaching much importance to the girl's +protest, however, replied: + +"Nonsense, my child! You say that anger is so terrible. That +depends,--for if anger suggested to the captain a way and means of +escape from these treacherous Englishmen, he is perfectly right to +glorify it, and I, in his place--But good Heavens!" she exclaimed, +seeing the girl turn alarmingly pale and close her eyes as if she were +about to swoon. "Good Heavens, what is the matter with you? Your lips +are quivering. You are crying. You do not answer me,--speak, what is the +matter?" + +But the words failed to reach the ears of the poor child. With her large +eyes distended with terror and bewilderment, she indicated with a +gesture some apparition which existed only in her disordered +imagination, and murmured, wildly: + +"The man in black! Oh, the man in black! There he is now! Don't you see +him?" + +"Calm yourself! Don't allow yourself to think any more about that, in +Heaven's name. Don't you know how hurtful such thoughts are to you?" + +"Oh, that man! He was equally terrible in his rage, when--It was years +and years ago, and I was little more than a baby, but I can see him yet, +in his strange, sombre costume of black and white like the livery of +the dead. It was night, and my father was absent from home when this +man gained an entrance into our house, I know not how. I had never seen +him before. He threatened my mother, who was holding me in her arms. 'At +least spare my child!' she sobbed. I remember it well. But he only +exclaimed, still advancing threateningly upon my mother, 'Don't you know +that I am capable of anything in my anger?' And then he rushed out of +the room. Oh, my mother, my mother dead, and I--" + +The girl could say no more, for she was relapsing into one of the +nervous spasms which this terrible recollection almost always +caused,--this recollection of a deplorable occurrence from which her +condition of morbid susceptibility seemed to have dated. + +This crisis soon abated, thanks to the judicious attentions of the +housekeeper, who was, alas! only too used to rendering them. When she +was herself again, the young girl, whose character was a singular +compound of weakness and firmness, thought with shame and regret of the +lack of self-control she had displayed while this account of the +corsair's escape was being read, an account which, strange to say, had +an inexplicable fascination for her, inspiring her at the same time with +horror and a sort of morbid curiosity; so, in spite of Onesime's +entreaties, she insisted that he should continue the reading so +unfortunately interrupted. + +The housekeeper, noting this insistence, and fearing that any opposition +might react very dangerously upon the girl's excitable nature just at +this time, also requested Onesime to continue the account of Captain +l'Endurci's escape. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +CONCLUSION OF THE CAPTAIN'S NARRATIVE. + + +The rest of the captain's letter read as follows: + +"'In order to carry out my plan, the first thing I had to do was to free +myself from my bonds. Being unable to reach them with my mouth so I +could gnaw them in two with my teeth, I devised another means. By +crawling about on my stomach and feeling around with my face--as I had +no use of my hands--I finally succeeded in discovering a large iron +hook, doubtless intended for holding the ballast in place. Approaching +this hook, I leaned my back against it and began to rub the ropes that +bound me across the iron and upon the sharp end of the hook. Two hours +afterward I had worn the ropes sufficiently thin to be able to sever +them by a powerful wrench, anger having endowed me with almost +supernatural strength. + +"'My hands free, the rest was only child's play. + +"'I had my tinder-box, my pipe, a package of tobacco, and a long +whaling-knife in my pocket. In the twinkling of an eye I had cut the +ropes that bound my legs and started on a tour of inspection through the +hold on my hands and knees, as it was too low to admit of my standing +upright. + +"'I could find nothing but some scraps of old sail and a few pieces of +rope. The only means of egress was a square hatchway. The boards of +which this was made had separated a little in one place, and I could see +the moonlight through the opening. Placing my hands upon my knees and +making my body into a bow, I tried to force open the hatchway with my +shoulders, but in vain. It was evidently secured--as it should have +been--with two strong iron bars. + +"'Taking some of the ends of rope, I cut them into small pieces, +untwisted the strands, and in this way soon collected a small pile of +tow. Afterward I cut some of the old canvas on which I had been lying +into narrow strips and laid them on the little pile of tow, which I had +placed directly under the hatchway; after which I emptied my little bag +of tobacco on it to make it more combustible, and set fire to it, +blowing it vigorously all the while. + +"'The tow took fire, communicated it to the pieces of old sail, and an +instant afterward the hold was filled with a dense smoke, part of which +filtered through the opening in the hatchway, while I yelled "Fire!" +with all my might. My cries and the strong smell of smoke that escaped +through the hatchway frightened the men on deck. I heard a great +commotion up there, the hatchway was raised almost immediately, and the +thick cloud of smoke that poured out through the opening was so blinding +that I was able to make my way through it, unseen, to the deck, with a +single bound, knife in hand. I found myself face to face with a tall, +swarthy man. I plunged my knife into his heart. He fell backward into +the sea. Leaping for the axe which is always kept near the bitt, so the +rigging can be quickly cut away if need be, I struck down another man; +then, with a back stroke, nearly cut off the arm of a man who was +rushing upon me, sabre in hand. All this occurred almost in the +twinkling of an eye. Taking advantage of the sort of stupor that had +seized the crew, and feeling much calmer after this explosion of +long-suppressed rage, I could see better where I was, or take my +bearings a little, as the saying is. + +"'It was a magnificent moonlight night; a strong breeze was blowing; an +old, white-haired sailor was at the helm; a cabin-boy and three +terrified sailors had taken refuge in the bow, separated from me by the +open hatchway. The man I had struck down with the axe did not move; the +one I had wounded was on his knees, holding his right arm in his left +hand. + +"'I still had three able-bodied men, a boy, and an old man to contend +with, but they, all seemed to be demoralised by my sudden attack. + +"'Just then I caught sight of a pair of pistols near the rudder, and +before either of the three sailors could make the slightest movement, I +jumped for these weapons. In another moment my two bullets had struck +down a man apiece. With me at the helm, and the old sailor and the boy +to assist me, the boat could be handled with little or no difficulty, +for the weather was superb, and we could not be more than fourteen or +fifteen miles from the shores of France. + +"'My situation thus promptly defined, I loaded my pistols again and +advanced toward the three men, who were gradually recovering from their +surprise. + +"'"Go down into the hold, all three of you," I thundered. "If you don't, +I'll shoot two of you, and hew down the other." + +"'There was only the length of the hatchway--about four feet--between me +and these men, so I could easily blow their brains out. They instantly +jumped into the hold, where the small quantity of combustible material I +had lighted was now nearly burned out. The wounded man, too, staggered +down as best he could; I replaced the hatchway, securing it with the +iron bars as before; then I walked to the stern of the boat. + +"'"Give me the helm," I said to the old sailor; "you and the boy are to +manage the sail, and manage it right, or I'll blow your brains out." + +"'As I took the rudder out of his hand, he recoiled a step and +exclaimed: + +"'"It is Captain l'Endurci, as I live!" + +"'"You know me, then?" + +"'"Know you, captain! I made two voyages with you on the _Hell-hound_." + +"'"And your name?" + +"'"Simon from Dunkirk." + +"'"I remember you now. So you intended to deliver me, your old captain, +into the hands of the English, did you?" + +"'"May I be shot if I suspected for a single instant that it was you, +captain." + +"'"So this smack belongs to you, I suppose." + +"'"No, captain, to Bezelek." + +"'"And where is he?" + +"'"At the bottom of the sea. He was the man that you killed first and +that fell overboard." + +"'"But how does it happen that you consented to have a hand in my +abduction?" + +"'"Well, captain, we've been doing a little smuggling." + +"'"That is very apparent." + +"'"And night before last two men came to us,--that is one of them lying +there now." + +"'He pointed to the dead man in the bow as he spoke. + +"'"Throw him into the sea," I said, curtly. + +"'"And the other man?" I inquired, as soon as this order had been +obeyed. + +"'"He is down in the hold. He is the man you wounded in the arm." + +"'"And how did these men induce you and Bezelek to become their +accomplices?" + +"'"They said: 'Bezelek, there are fifty guineas ready for you if you +will consent to take a man we will bring to you to England. We do not +intend to injure him in any way; but if he resists, you and your men +will be expected to lend a hand in gagging and binding him, and placing +him in the hold of your fishing-smack. You will be paid twenty-five +guineas in advance, and twenty-five more on your arrival at +Folkestone.' As there seemed to be no great harm in the proceeding, the +offer tempted Bezelek and he agreed to do what the men asked. But I +swear that I had no idea it was you. If I had, I would never have had +anything to do with the affair." + +"'Four hours after I escaped from the hold we were within sight of the +port of Mora, where I landed safe and sound.' + + * * * * * + +"Our readers will, we are sure, feel grateful to us," added the _Journal +of the Empire_, "for having given them this extract from the brave +privateer's letter. Thanks be to God, Captain l'Endurci, by his coolness +and courage, succeeded in escaping this most infamous conspiracy against +him. Let us hope that his name will long remain a terror to the enemies +of France." + +The article concluded, Onesime laid the paper on the table. + +"What a wonderful man this corsair must be!" exclaimed the housekeeper, +admiringly. "Alone, bound and gagged, he nevertheless found a way to +escape his imminent danger." + +"But what a quantity of blood he had to shed!" exclaimed the girl, +shuddering. "And not a single word of regret or of pity for his victims. +With what cruel indifference he speaks of the men he killed in cold +blood; for thus taken by surprise, the poor creatures could offer no +resistance." + +"That is true," murmured Onesime. + +But his aunt did not even hear him, for, turning to the girl, she +exclaimed, warmly: + +"It is very easy to talk, my child, but in such a position one certainly +has a right--" + +"Ah, yes, my dear, you are probably going to say that this man was the +victim of the vilest treachery,--that he had an undoubted right to +recover his liberty at any cost, and that his ferocious disregard of +the lives of others is what people call courage and heroism. All this is +very possible. I am a poor judge, perhaps. I only tell you how it +impresses me. This account of his exploits excites only horror and +aversion in me." + +"But a corsair is a corsair, my child. You certainly don't expect him to +be a saint. Each man according to his trade." + +"It is an executioner's business to behead people, aunt, but that makes +his trade none the less horrible," exclaimed Onesime. + +"Ah, I felt sure M. Onesime would feel as I do about it," said the girl, +quickly. + +"He? oh, yes, I don't doubt it! He is a regular sissy. When did you ever +hear of his doing any fighting?" + +"I admit that I am no hero, aunt," replied Onesime, smiling, "I don't +doubt in the least that if I were a prisoner, and obliged to kill +somebody to regain my liberty, I should remain a prisoner." + +"Yours is the truest, noblest kind of courage, after all," responded the +young girl, warmly, for her dislike of warriors in general was perhaps +due in a great measure to the fact that Onesime, both by reason of his +temperament and his infirmity, was never likely to be a man of that +kind. + +"Onesime courageous!" retorted the housekeeper. "You must be jesting!" +Then, turning to her nephew, she cried: "Don't you see that mademoiselle +is making fun of you, my poor boy? Oh, well, put my knitting on the +table for me, my brave hero, and hand me my work-box without dropping it +if you can." + +The young man was consequently obliged to hold out both his hands in +turn, one to present the work-box, the other to take the knitting, and +as the light from the lamp fell full on the table, the pitiless aunt +instantly discovered the terrible burn he had received. + +"Good Heavens! what is the matter with your hand?" she exclaimed. + +"Nothing of any consequence, aunt," he replied, hastily drawing back his +hand, while the young girl, whose attention had been attracted by the +housekeeper's exclamation, turned toward him anxiously. + +But the aunt sprang up, and, seizing her nephew's hand in spite of his +efforts to hide it, examined it carefully. + +"It is frightfully burned, frightfully!" she cried. "Why, you must be +suffering agony with it. It was just done. How did it happen? I know. It +was when you poured the boiling water in the urn, and, for fear we would +laugh at you, you endured the terrible pain without a word. You even had +the courage to go on reading all this time just as if nothing had +happened." + +"Ah, I told you that he was brave," exclaimed the young girl. "His is +the true courage, after all,--not the ferocious courage born of anger, +that seeks only to destroy, but the courage of noble hearts who, for +fear of alarming those whom they love, endure the most intense suffering +without so much as a sign." + +The girl's emotion repaid the young man a thousand-fold for his +suffering; he even had the happiness of seeing the touching expression +of her features, too, this time, as she would insist upon assisting the +housekeeper in dressing Onesime's hand. + +This work had just been completed, and Onesime was regretting that he +had only one burn, when the door of the little parlour was suddenly +thrown open, and a servant rushed in, exclaiming: + +"Dame Roberts, Dame Roberts, M. Segoffin has come!" + +"And my father,--my father has come too, has he not?" exclaimed the +girl, her face radiant with joy. + +"No, mademoiselle, M. Segoffin says monsieur was detained at the +post-office by some letters, but that he will be here almost +immediately." + +The girl hastened out of the room to prepare to meet her father. As the +door closed behind her, Dame Roberts turned to her nephew and said: + +"Go up to your room now, Onesime. I will see you before I go to bed and +tell you what M. Cloarek says in relation to you, for he must know why I +took you into his house in his absence, though I know his kindness of +heart well enough to feel sure that he will approve of what I have +done." + +So Onesime went up to his room oppressed by a vague uneasiness. He had +scarcely left the parlour, when M. Segoffin entered it. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +SEGOFFIN'S DISSIMULATION. + + +It would be far from complimentary to the reader's penetration to +suppose that he had not long since recognised in Onesime's defender +Mlle. Cloarek, who lost her mother at the age of five years, in +consequence of a nervous shock. We trust, too, that the reader's +penetration has served him equally well in the case of Suzanne Roberts, +Sabine's former nurse, and Madame Cloarek's confidential attendant and +housekeeper, and likewise in the case of Captain l'Endurci and his brave +head gunner. + +Twelve years have elapsed since we last saw Segoffin, and he is little +changed in appearance. He looks as much like a clown as ever, the only +modifications which time, or rather events, have made in his grotesquely +grave features being, first, a deep scar beginning at the left temple, +and extending to the bottom of the cheek (a wound caused, as he +affirmed, by an unfortunate fall upon a piece of broken glass). + +Second, the recent loss of an eye, an unfortunate loss indicated by a +large black patch, and caused, no doubt, by some similar mishap. + +In spite of these rather grave injuries to his personal charms, M. +Segoffin held his head as high as ever. A long white cravat, decorated +with bright red polka dots, encircled his throat; his long redingote and +knee-breeches were of the finest brown broadcloth, and his black +stockings were of silk. In his right hand, from which two fingers were +missing,--two fingers carelessly lost, as he declared, from having been +caught in a piece of machinery,--he carried a heavy cane, for he was +quite lame now, in consequence of another accident,--at least, so he +said. + +On seeing Segoffin, Dame Roberts, in spite of the taunts with which she +had pursued him for so many years, made no attempt to conceal her +pleasure. In the delight his return caused her, she did not notice, at +first, that Segoffin was all the while endeavouring to present only his +profile, or as nearly a three-quarter view of his face as possible, to +the object of his affections. The fact is, he wished to defer the +explanation of the recent loss of his eye until the latest possible +moment, but the lady, on going a little closer to him, noticed the +disfiguring patch, and exclaimed: + +"Good Heavens! what is the matter with your eye, Segoffin?" + +"Which eye?" + +"Why, your right eye." + +"My right eye?" + +"Yes. Why do you wear that big black patch over it?" + +"I know." + +"I should suppose that you did. As for me, I am afraid to guess what the +matter is." + +"Nonsense! guess away." + +"You have lost an eye." + +"There is no undoing that which is done." + +"I declare, since monsieur went into business and took you for his +clerk, there is many a soldier at the Invalides that isn't half as much +battered up as you are. How on earth did you lose your eye?" + +"The fact is, my sight has been failing for some time past, so I decided +to put on spectacles. I went to purchase a pair. It was at Lyons. Ah, +that rascally optician!" exclaimed Segoffin, shaking his fist in a sort +of retrospective rage. + +"Calm yourself, Segoffin, and go on with your story." + +"It was a splendid day, and the optician's shop stood in a blaze of +sunlight on the Quai du Rhone, my dear,--in a blaze of sunlight, +remember that." + +"What difference does that make?" + +"A vast amount of difference. I asked to try some spectacles. The +scoundrel handed me a pair. I put them on my nose. Just at that moment +loud screams were heard on the quay, and curiosity naturally caused me +to run to the door." + +"Of course." + +"I ran to the door, I say, with the spectacles still on my nose, and I +was looking all around, first to the right, then to the left, to see +where the cries came from, when, happening to look up, I had very much +the same feeling in my right eye as if the ball had been pierced by a +red-hot iron." + +"Good Heavens! what caused it?" + +"One of the glasses in the pair which the optician had given me was of +great magnifying power," replied Segoffin, "and when I looked up and the +noonday sun shone full on my glasses, it converted the lens I speak of +into a sort of burning-glass. My eye was burned out. You could +positively hear it sizzle." + +"Is it possible?" exclaimed Dame Roberts. "Did you really lose your eye +in that way?" + +"There is no undoing that which is done. But I will say this much, since +I have had but one eye that one has been doing the work of two in the +most remarkable manner. I have the eyes or rather the eye of fifteen, so +to me you look as handsome, as handsome as if you were fifteen, my +dear." + +"I have no such juvenile eyes, my poor Segoffin, so I see you exactly as +you are. I certainly regret the accident exceedingly, and I truly hope +this will be the last. Did monsieur have a satisfactory trip, and is he +well?" + +"Perfectly." + +"And his fits of despondency when he thinks of madame's death?" + +"He has them still. He shuts himself up alone for several hours, and +when he appears again one can see that he has been weeping." + +"And his disposition?" + +"I am a regular firebrand in comparison." + +"Then he evinces no more temper while travelling than he does here?" + +"Not a bit more." + +"And really when one remembers what monsieur was a dozen years ago, +Segoffin!" + +"There is as much difference as there is between day and night." + +"That reminds me that Mlle. Sabine had another of her nervous attacks +to-day, when something reminded her of her poor mother's death. How +fortunate it is that she did not recognise monsieur in his Breton +costume on that terrible night. The poor child still believes that it +was a stranger who killed her mother." + +"And she must never be allowed to suspect anything to the contrary." + +"The complete change in monsieur's character makes that a comparatively +easy matter." + +"All the effect of a business career. When monsieur lost his position +after poor madame's death, he said to himself: 'I have barely enough to +support my daughter for a few years. I was evidently not intended for a +judicial career. I have a taste for commerce, so I will try commerce.' +And a very wise decision it has proved on his part, for he has not only +accumulated a handsome fortune for his daughter, but transformed himself +into the most lamb-like of men, and you have commerce to thank for it +all; for you must see for yourself that if a merchant went about beating +his customers over the head and kicking them in the stomach, he wouldn't +make many sales." + +"You are and always will be the same exasperating creature, Segoffin!" +exclaimed the housekeeper, impatiently. "Years of travel and business +have made no change in you, mentally, understand; physically--it is +different--" + +"Hold, my ungrateful friend," said Segoffin, drawing a peculiarly shaped +box from his pocket, and gallantly offering it to Suzanne. "This is the +way in which I avenge myself for your abuse." + +"What is it, Segoffin?" + +"Some little tokens of friendly regard, for you know that in your secret +heart you are really very fond of me." + +But as the housekeeper opened the box, and unfolded a piece of paper in +which the present was wrapped, she recoiled almost in terror. + +"The paper is burnt at one end, and stained with blood at the other," +she exclaimed, in dismay. + +"Oh, yes," replied M. Cloarek's clerk, imperturbably, "it is a piece +of--no matter what, that I used to light my candle with, and when I was +wrapping the pin and the earrings up, I pricked my finger,--awkward as +usual, you see." + +The housekeeper took out a pair of enormous gold earrings, and a large +gold pin ornamented with an anchor surmounted by a crown. We will here +add, for the information of the reader, that in those days sailors in +the royal navy of England still wore earrings, and fastened their +woollen shirts with large gold or silver pins. + +The housekeeper, more grateful for the kindly feeling than for the +present itself, as she had no intention of dragging down her ears with +these rings, fastened the pin in her dress. + +"Really, you are too kind," she said. "These earrings and this pin, +especially, are in perfect taste, and as we live so near the sea the +selection of a pin surmounted with an anchor is extremely appropriate. +But here, M. Traveller," continued Suzanne, taking the red worsted +comforter she had been knitting from the table, "you see you are not the +only person who thinks of the absent." + +"What, Suzanne, this comforter--" + +"Is intended to keep you warm and comfortable in the winter." + +"Ah, Suzanne, Suzanne, I shall never forget--" + +But Segoffin's protestations of gratitude were, unfortunately, +interrupted by the entrance of M. Cloarek and his daughter, arm in arm. + +Yvon, who was now forty-two years of age, had changed very little in +appearance. His hair was beginning to turn gray, and his skin was much +sunburned; but he seemed to have gained in strength and vigour, his face +was radiant, and his eyes were full of joyful tears. + +"Come and let me take a good look at you, my child," he exclaimed, as he +led his daughter to the light, and gazed at her with anxious tenderness, +as if to satisfy himself that the health of this idolised child had +improved since they parted; then, again enfolding her tenderly in his +arms, he added: + +"Ah, my beloved child, I can embrace you with a thankful heart, for I +can see that you are much stronger than when I went away." + +Then, addressing Dame Roberts for the first time, he said, with a +friendly shake of the hand: + +"I thank you with all my heart for your care and attentions, Suzanne, +for I know how much you must have aided in Sabine's restoration to +health." + +And again turning to his daughter, Cloarek held out his arms. + +"One more embrace, my child, one more!" he cried. + +"Fathers and daughters as well as lovers like to be alone together after +a long absence, my dear," Segoffin whispered to the housekeeper. + +"You are right, Segoffin," replied Suzanne, starting toward the door. + +"Ah, Suzanne, what a fine opportunity this would be for a tender +interview if we wanted one," said M. Cloarek's clerk as he followed Dame +Roberts into the adjoining room. + +"Unfortunately love is blind, my poor Segoffin, and you are only half +blind yet." + +"That will not prevent you from becoming Madame Segoffin," responded our +friend, in tones of the most profound conviction. "That which is to be, +will be." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +SABINE'S CONFESSION. + + +When Yvon found himself alone with his daughter, he embraced her again +even more passionately than before, as if Dame Roberts's presence had +been rather a constraint upon the transports of paternal tenderness +hitherto; then making Sabine seat herself on an ottoman near him and +taking both her hands in his, he asked: + +"And now, how have you been feeling during the last three months, months +which have seemed well-nigh interminable to me?" + +"Remarkably well, father." + +"You look much stronger, I think. Besides--" + +"What, my dear father?" + +"It may be only a doting father's fancy, fathers have so many of them, +but--" + +"Let me hear what it is, father." + +"It seems to me that you are even prettier than when I went away." + +"That must be a doting father's fancy, especially as it implies that I +was pretty before you left." + +"And who ever doubted it, mademoiselle?" + +"I, myself, in the first place." + +"Then you never see yourself, or your mirror is a poor one. The more I +look at you, the more convinced I am that you look less childish, +somehow, and that you have quite a grown-up air." + +"How absurd, father! In what does this change consist?" + +"I can hardly explain, for your features have not changed, thank Heaven! +but there is an air of sweet and gentle dignity about you that I never +noticed before, and an expression of serene happiness on your features." + +"How could it be otherwise when you have returned, father? It is +something better than joy, it is happiness I feel on seeing you again, +and happiness inclines one to be rather quiet and serious, you know." + +"If you go on talking in this way my eyes will be so full of tears I +shall not be able to see you at all, so let us change the subject. You +have been well, you say; that is the main thing, of course, but have you +not been lonely and dull here, my poor child? The winter months are so +gloomy in the country." + +"I have not been lonely a single moment, father. Haven't I my books, and +my piano, and my embroidery, and my walks to occupy me?" + +"And Suzanne, I scarcely need ask if she has been kind to you?" + +"As you know her so well you must know that she has been kindness +itself." + +"And--" + +But Yvon stopped short. + +He was on the point of asking Sabine if her nervousness was abating, and +if the attacks to which she had been subject from childhood were +becoming less frequent, but he feared he might sadden his daughter, and +decided it would be better to question the housekeeper on the subject. + +So, to cover his sudden pause, he said: + +"So you really enjoy yourself here in the country, you say? You have but +to express a wish, you know, my dearest. The sea air has been +recommended for you, it is true, but the coasts of France are extensive +and there is abundant room for choice, and if you prefer any other +place--" + +"No, father, this place suits me perfectly. The surroundings are +delightful, and I feel so much at home here that it would be ungrateful +in me to leave the place unless you desire it." + +"You know very well that I only desire what you desire." + +"That sounds very fine, father." + +"What do you mean, my child?" + +"I mean that your actions do not always correspond with your words." + +"What actions?" + +"You say that you only desire what I desire. Yet how often I have begged +you to give up the journeys that keep you away from me so much of the +time." + +"That is different. It is really for your sake, my darling child. I have +my reasons." + +"Yes, I know, my poor, dear father. It is to enrich me that you devote +so much time to your business. But what is the use of so much money? But +you have told me nothing about yourself! What kind of a trip did you +have this time?" + +"A remarkably successful one." + +"The roads were better this time, then, and you did not take cold? I am +so glad, we had so many snow-storms last month. I used to say to Suzanne +again and again while we were sitting by the fire warm and comfortable, +'I am afraid my poor dear father is shivering with cold and making only +a couple of miles an hour on account of the snow.'" + +"Don't worry any more, my dear child. The trip is over now, and it was +not only less fatiguing than usual, but unusually profitable." + +"Is that really so? Then why was your return so long delayed, father?" + +"A complication of business interests, that is all." + +"If you knew how uneasy I always am during your absence! It is foolish, +I know, but I shall be spared all these fears hereafter, for you intend +to keep your promise, do you not?" + +"What promise?" + +"Not to travel, or, rather, not to leave me any more." + +"I promised you on condition that no unforeseen circumstance--" + +"No excuses, now. You will remain with me?" + +"Always." + +"Will you swear it?" + +"By a father's love." + +"Ah, I know what happiness is now," cried Sabine, throwing herself on +her father's neck, "and yet, I have no words to tell you how happy I am, +so, to reward you--" + +"Well," said Cloarek, smiling, but deeply moved by the touching +expression of his daughter's features, "so, to reward me--" + +"I am going to ask a favour of you, as you are always reproaching me for +never asking for anything." + +"You could not please me more, my dear child. Well, let me hear what it +is. What have you to ask of me?" + +"Your protection and aid." + +"For whom?" + +"For a person who is worthy of it, and of whom Suzanne, too, intends to +speak to you. But you see how jealous I am, I wish to be the first to +recommend my protege." + +"The protege of both of you, then?" + +"Yes, both of us." + +"Then you are tolerably certain of having your request granted. But what +does the person desire?" + +"Oh, he doesn't dare to ask or even desire anything. He is so timid. +That is the reason Suzanne and I both resolved to ask for him. His +position is so interesting and so trying!" + +"My poor, tender-hearted child, how deeply in earnest you are, and how +you are blushing! I am sure the person you have in mind must be both +very deserving and very unfortunate." + +"Yes, father, and when one sees a person every day, and thus learns to +know and appreciate him, one's interest naturally increases." + +"But of whom are you speaking, my child?" + +"Of M. Onesime." + +"And who is M. Onesime? Onesime, Onesime,--I have heard the name before, +it seems to me." + +"M. Onesime is Suzanne's nephew." + +"Ah, yes, I recollect now. She has often spoken of him. He is the son of +the sister she lost a couple of years ago." + +"Yes, my dear father, he is an orphan. He had a government clerkship at +Lille, but he was obliged to give that up, and as he could not secure +any other situation there, Suzanne sent for him to come here and stay +until he could find something to do." + +"What, he is here?" + +"Yes, father." + +"He is living here in this house?" + +"He has been living here for the last two months." + +"Why are you blushing again?" + +"But I am not blushing, father, I assure you." + +"Surely, my dear child, you cannot suppose that I would be displeased +because our friend Suzanne, to whom we owe so much, has entertained her +nephew here, especially as he must be a well-behaved boy, or Suzanne +would not have kept him with her." + +"You must see him, father, and then you can judge for yourself." + +"But how did he happen to lose his place?" + +"He was a copyist, but his sight is so bad that it interfered with his +work, and they dismissed him. You can imagine, my dear father, how +painful his present position is to him, for he has a good education, +and cannot bear to be idle. His defective vision will make it very +difficult for him to secure any position, I fear; so, father, I have +been counting, that is to say, Suzanne and I have been counting on you +to assist and advise M. Onesime. I am sure when you see him and know +him, you will do anything in the world for him, he is so kind and good, +and you will pity him and love him so much." + +It is impossible to describe the naive and touching manner in which +Sabine uttered these last words, her changing colour and gently heaving +breast betraying the lively interest she felt in her protege. + +Cloarek stood silent and thoughtful for a moment. He was beginning to +understand the change he had noticed in his daughter's manner and +expression. At last the young girl, surprised and somewhat alarmed by +Yvon's silence, asked: + +"Why do you not answer me, my dear father?" + +"Tell me, my child, since Suzanne's nephew has been living here, what +has he done? What kind of a life has he led?" + +"The same life we have led, father. When we go out to walk, he goes with +us; if we remain at home, he remains. We make him read to us a good +deal,--he reads so well and with so much expression. Sometimes we play +duets together, for he is an excellent musician. He is very well up, +too, in history, and it is very pleasant and instructive to hear him +talk on such subjects, and lastly, he is always trying to do us some +little service, though he doesn't always succeed, for his poor sight +makes him very awkward. But that is his only fault, my dear father," +added Sabine, with charming ingenuousness, "and though he surely cannot +be held accountable for it, Suzanne is pitiless toward it, for she is +always making fun of him." + +"You do not make fun of him, I am sure." + +"It would be cruel in me to do that, father, for he tries to be the +first to laugh at his mishaps, though they worry him terribly. It is so +sad to be almost blind. And this very evening--you can judge from that +how courageous he is--he scalded his hand nearly to the bone with +boiling water. You will see, father, what a dreadful burn it was. Well, +for all that, M. Onesime had self-control and courage enough not only to +make no ado about it, but also to go on with his reading as if nothing +had happened, so it was only by the merest chance that we discovered the +accident nearly an hour afterward." + +"Really, M. Onesime seems to be quite a hero." + +"A hero; no, father, for, as we were saying this evening, only persons +who kill and spill blood are called heroes, while M. Onesime--" + +"Spills boiling water." + +"Why, father!" + +"Why do you look at me so reproachfully?" + +"It seems strange that you, too, who are always so just--" + +"Why, what great injustice have I been guilty of, my child?" + +"You are making light of a very serious matter, father, for even Suzanne +turned pale with fright when she saw his burn, though she is always +ridiculing him in the most merciless manner. And why? Because he has +such a horror of everything that is cruel and bloodthirsty. Only this +evening we had quite a discussion with Suzanne, and M. Onesime was on my +side, and he is on my side only when I am right, so I feel sure in +advance that you will agree with us." + +"What was the subject of this discussion, my child?" + +"M. Onesime was reading, in that newspaper you see over there on the +table, an account of the escape of a famous privateer named Captain +l'Endurci. You have read it too, perhaps, father." + +"No," replied Cloarek, repressing an involuntary movement of surprise +and alarm; "no, my child. Well, what do you and M. Onesime think of the +corsair?" + +"His cruelty shocked us, dear father; for would you believe it? to +regain his liberty he killed two men and severely wounded a third. +Suzanne approved his conduct, claiming that he had behaved in a very +brave and heroic manner, but M. Onesime said, and this proves the +generosity of his heart--" + +"Well, what did M. Onesime say?" + +"That he would rather remain a prisoner all his life than owe his +freedom to the death of another person. Don't you think that M. Onesime +and I are right?" + +"I hardly know what to say, my child. A humdrum merchant like myself is +not a very good judge of such matters. Still, it seems to me that you +and M. Onesime are rather hard on the poor privateer." + +"But, father, read the frightful story, and you will see--" + +"But listen, this privateer had a family, perhaps, that he tenderly +loved, and that he was hoping soon to see again, and in his despair at +finding himself a prisoner--" + +"A family! Men who live in the midst of carnage have families that they +love tenderly? Is that possible, father?" + +"Why, do not even wolves love their young?" + +"I don't know anything about that; but if they do love them, they love +them after the manner of wolves, I suppose, bringing them a piece of +their bleeding prey when they are little, and leading them out to attack +and devour the poor lambs when they get older." + +A bitter expression flitted over Cloarek's face; then he answered, +smiling: + +"After all, you and M. Onesime may be right. If you would talk to me +about silks and merino I might hold my own, but I am not much of a judge +of privateers and privateering." + +"I was sure you would agree with us. How could a person who is as +generous, compassionate, and affectionate as you are think otherwise? +or, rather, I could not think differently from what you do, my dear +father, for if I have a horror of everything that is cruel and wicked, +if I love everything that is good and beautiful, is it not to you and +your example I owe it, as well as to the precepts of my poor mother whom +you loved so devotedly? for not a day passes that Suzanne does not +relate some instance of your deep affection for her." + +The conversation was here interrupted by the entrance of the +housekeeper, candle in hand, who, to Yvon's great surprise, announced: + +"I am very sorry, but it is ten o'clock, monsieur." + +"Well, what of it, Suzanne?" + +"It is the hour the doctor said mademoiselle must go to bed, you know." + +"Give me just a quarter of an hour more, Suzanne?" + +"Not a single minute, mademoiselle." + +"On the evening of my return, you might permit this slight dissipation, +it seems to me, Suzanne." + +"Heaven be thanked, mademoiselle will have plenty of opportunity to see +you now, but allowing her to sit up later than ten o'clock is not to be +thought of. She would be sure to be tired out, if not ill, to-morrow." + +"In that case, I have nothing to say except good night, my dear child," +said Cloarek, taking his daughter's face in his two hands, and kissing +her tenderly on the forehead. "Sleep well, my dearest, and may the +morning find you well and happy." + +"You need feel no anxiety on that score, my dear father. Now I know that +you are here beside me, and that you will be with me, not only to-morrow +but always, I shall go to sleep with that blissful thought on my mind, +and I shall sleep on and on and on like a dormouse--that is the word, +isn't it, Suzanne? So good night, my dear father, good night, good +night." + +Then she whispered: + +"I am sure Suzanne is going to speak to you about M. Onesime. How glad I +am I got ahead of her. Good night, dearest father, good night." + +"Good night, and pleasant dreams!" + +"It will be the best night I have passed for many a month. Good night, +my beloved father, good night." + +"Good night, my child." + +Then turning to the housekeeper, Cloarek added: + +"Come back presently, Suzanne, I want to talk with you." + +"Very well, monsieur; I have something I wish to speak to you about, +too." + +When he was left alone, Cloarek began to walk the room. As he passed the +table, the _Journal of the Empire_ attracted his attention. He picked it +up and glanced over the article to which his daughter had alluded. + +"How indiscreet in Verduron to make a strictly confidential letter +public, and without warning me!" he exclaimed, evidently much annoyed. +"I have always feared that man's stupidity and greed would cause me +trouble sooner or later. Fortunately, I have concealed my place of abode +from him. To think of this happening now, when my child's feelings and +mental condition make dissimulation more imperative than ever. Poor +child, such a discovery would kill her!" + +At that very instant the housekeeper reentered the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +SUZANNE'S ENLIGHTENMENT. + + +"My dear Suzanne," said M. Cloarek, "first of all, I want to thank you +for the excellent care you have taken of my daughter." + +"Poor Mlle. Sabine, didn't I nurse her when she was a baby, and isn't +she almost like my own child to me?" + +"You have been a second mother to my child, I know. And it is on account +of the tender affection you have always manifested toward her that I +wish to talk with you on a very important matter." + +"What is it, monsieur?" + +"You sent for your nephew in my absence. He has been here nearly two +months, I understand." + +"Yes, and it is in regard to the poor fellow that I wish to talk with +you this evening, monsieur. I will explain--" + +"Sabine has told me all about it." + +"Great Heavens! you are not angry, I hope." + +"Not angry, Suzanne, but greatly worried and alarmed." + +"Alarmed! Alarmed about what?" + +"The effect of your nephew's presence in this house." + +"Had I foreseen that it would be disagreeable to you, I would not have +sent for the poor boy; but he was so unhappy, and I knew your kindness +of heart so well, that I thought I might take the liberty--" + +"You have rendered too valuable service to each and every member of my +family, Suzanne, for your relatives not to have a right to my interest +and assistance. What I reproach you for is a great imprudence." + +"Excuse me, monsieur, but I do not understand." + +"Your nephew is young?" + +"Twenty-five." + +"He is well educated?" + +"Too well for his position, monsieur. My poor sister and her husband +made great sacrifices for him. His sight being so poor, they gave him an +excellent education in the hope he might enter the clergy, but Onesime +felt that he had no calling that way, so there was nothing for him to do +but secure a clerkship." + +"I know the rest, but how about his personal appearance? What kind of a +looking young man is he?" + +"The poor fellow is neither handsome nor ugly, monsieur. He has a very +kind and gentle manner, but his extreme near-sightedness gives him a +rather scared look. He is really the best-hearted boy that ever lived. +Ask mademoiselle, and see what she will tell you." + +"Really, Suzanne, such blindness on your part amazes me." + +"Such blindness, monsieur?" + +"Is it possible, Suzanne, that you, who are a person of so much +experience and good sense, have not felt, I will not say the +impropriety, but the grave imprudence there is in having your nephew +under the same roof with my daughter, and allowing them to live in the +extremely intimate relations of such a secluded existence as you lead +here?" + +"I know that I am only a servant, monsieur, and that my nephew--" + +"That is not the question at all. Have not I and my daughter always +striven to prove that we regarded you as a friend, and not as a +servant?" + +"Then I do not understand the cause of your reproaches." + +"And that is very unfortunate, for if you had been more clear-sighted, +you would long since have discovered what has happened." + +"Good Heavens! what has happened, monsieur?" + +"Sabine loves your nephew." + +"Mademoiselle!" + +"She loves him, I tell you." + +"Mademoiselle loves Onesime! Monsieur cannot be in earnest. It is +impossible." + +"Impossible, and why?" + +"Because the poor boy is as timid as a girl; because he is not at all +good-looking; because he sees very badly, a defect that makes him commit +twenty blunders a day, at which mademoiselle is not unfrequently the +first to laugh. He does not resemble a hero of romance in the least. Oh, +no, monsieur, you need feel no anxiety on that score. Mademoiselle has +always been very kind and considerate to Onesime, because he is my +nephew, and she pitied him, but--" + +"Ah, blind woman that you are, not to have foreseen that, in a person of +Sabine's character, in a person of her extreme sensibility and angelic +kindness of heart, pity was almost certain to lead to a more tender +sentiment,--as it has!" + +"Can it be possible that mademoiselle would condescend to look at a poor +fellow like Onesime?" + +"It is precisely because he is poor and helpless and timid, and because +his infirmity places him in such an exceptional and painful position, +that Sabine was almost certain to love him, and you, who know her as +well as I do, should have foreseen this. I hope to Heaven that your +blindness may not prove disastrous in its consequences." + +"Ah, monsieur," responded the housekeeper, contritely, "your words +enlighten me, now, when it is too late. But no, I cannot believe what +you have just told me. Mlle. Sabine has not admitted that she loves +Onesime, has she?" + +"Oh, no; she has not admitted it, but I am satisfied of the fact. She is +so candid and so sincere that one can read her heart as one reads an +open book. She does love him, I tell you, and this destroys all the +plans I had formed. But what is the matter? Why are you sobbing so? +Suzanne, Suzanne, get up," cried Cloarek, seeing the housekeeper throw +herself at his feet. + +"I have such a dreadful fear." + +"Explain." + +"Good Heavens, monsieur, what if you should suppose that in asking my +nephew here I was actuated by a desire to interest mademoiselle in him, +and so bring about a marriage between them!" + +"Suzanne, you do me a gross injustice by supposing me capable of such a +suspicion." + +"Tell me, oh, tell me that you do not believe me capable of such a +thing." + +"I repeat that you have been thoughtless and imprudent. That is all, and +that is enough; but as for accusing you of any such shameful plotting, +that would be utterly absurd on my part. I understand, too, how certain +peculiarities in your nephew's character seemed a sufficient guarantee +against any such possibility, and that you never suspected that any such +danger could threaten my daughter." + +"Alas! that is the truth, monsieur. I didn't consider Onesime any more +dangerous than an infant." + +"I believe you, but the evil is done, nevertheless." + +"But it can be repaired. Onesime shall leave the house at daybreak, +to-morrow morning, and never set foot in it again." + +"And Sabine? His sudden departure would grieve her terribly, it might +even kill her, weak and nervous as she is,--for she is her poor dear +mother over again, in her sensitiveness and extreme susceptibility." + +"_Mon Dieu_, I see, I see! How culpable I have been!" sobbed the +governess. "What are we to do, monsieur? What are we to do?" + +"I have no idea myself." + +"Cloarek paced the room in silence several minutes, then he asked, +suddenly: + +"Where is your nephew?" + +"In the Blue Boom, monsieur. I told him to wait there until I could let +him know the result of my interview with you." + +"Send him to me." + +"Here, monsieur?" + +"Yes." + +"Oh, monsieur, have pity on him, have pity on him, I beseech you!" cried +Suzanne, clasping her hands imploringly. "I swear to you that it was not +his fault. The poor boy is innocent of any wrong-doing, even in thought. +He hasn't the slightest suspicion of all this, I am sure. Have pity on +him, I implore you!" + +"Send him to me, I say." + +"He shall leave the house this very night, monsieur, I swear it!" + +"And my daughter! You want her to die of grief, perhaps!" + +"One word, monsieur. It may be that mademoiselle's affection for Onesime +is only a youthful fancy that time and absence will soon cause her to +forget." + +"But what if she does not forget it? What if this love is really deep +and true, as it must be, if it has once really taken root in a heart +like Sabine's? No, no, it would be an insult to the poor child to +believe her capable of loving in that way. She is her mother over again, +I tell you." + +"Alas! monsieur, what you say nearly breaks my heart, and yet I am +forced to admit that you are right. I never realised, until this very +moment, all the possible consequences of this deplorable intimacy; for, +unfortunately, this is not the only thing that must be considered." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Monsieur--" + +"Speak, speak, I say." + +"What if,--and it would not be his fault, remember, monsieur,--what if +he should not share the affection he has inspired in mademoiselle--" + +"Damnation!" exclaimed Cloarek. + +Then after a moment's silence he said, sternly: + +"Send your nephew here." + +"Do not ask me to do that, monsieur!" pleaded Suzanne, in terror. + +"Obey me, do you hear?" + +"Not if you kill me, monsieur," replied Suzanne, resolutely; "no, he +shall not come. I will make him leave the house. I will not expose him +to--" + +"To what? To my violence, my anger, I suppose you mean. Don't you see +that my daughter's love for him renders him sacred in my eyes?" + +"But if he does not love her, monsieur?" + +"If he does not love her?" exclaimed Cloarek, becoming frightfully pale; +then, without adding a word, and before the housekeeper, overcome with +consternation, could make so much as a movement to prevent it, he rushed +out of the parlour and into the room where Onesime was waiting to hear +the result of his aunt's interview with the master of the house. + +To open the door of this room, and close and lock it behind him, to +prevent Suzanne from entering and Onesime from leaving it, was only the +work of an instant, and he thus found himself alone with Suzanne's +nephew. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +ONESIME'S CONQUEST. + + +On hearing the violent opening and closing of the door, Onesime sprang +up surprised and alarmed, for he was expecting to see only his aunt, and +the heavy tread of the person who had just entered so boisterously +indicated the presence of a stranger. + +Cloarek, who had recovered the composure which had momentarily deserted +him, scrutinised Onesime with anxious curiosity. At the first glance the +countenance of the young man seemed gentle and prepossessing, but soon, +forgetting the infirmity that prevented him from gaining more than a +vague idea of objects a few feet from him, and seeing him gaze at him +intently without giving any sign of recognition, he began to consider +Onesime's manner extremely insolent, even audacious. + +Suzanne's nephew, surprised at the prolonged silence, advanced a step or +two in the hope of recognising the intruder, and at last asked, +hesitatingly: + +"Who is it?" + +Cloarek, still forgetting the young man's infirmity, thought the +question impertinent, and replied: + +"Who is it! It is the master of the house, I would have you know." + +"M. Cloarek!" exclaimed Onesime, recoiling a little, for the speaker's +manner and tone indicated only too plainly that his, Onesime's, presence +in the house was unwelcome to Sabine's father, so after a moment he +said, in a trembling, almost timid voice: + +"In complying with the wishes of my aunt, I believed, monsieur, that her +request was made with your approval, or at least that you would not +disapprove her kindness to me. But for that, I should not have thought +of accepting her invitation." + +"I hope so, indeed." + +"I must therefore beg you to excuse an indiscretion of which I have been +the involuntary accomplice, monsieur. I will leave your house +to-morrow." + +"And where will you go? What will you do?" demanded Cloarek, abruptly. +"What will become of you afterward?" + +"Not understanding the feeling that prompts these questions, you cannot +be surprised that I hesitate to answer them," responded Onesime, with +gentle dignity. + +"My feeling may be kindly, and it may be the opposite,--that depends +upon circumstances. I shall know presently, however." + +"You seem to constitute yourself the sole arbiter of my destiny, +monsieur!" exclaimed Onesime, with respectful firmness. "By what right, +may I ask?" + +"On the contrary, you seem to have made yourself the arbiter of my +destiny," exclaimed Cloarek, impetuously. + +"I do not understand you, monsieur." + +"Do you dare to look me in the face and answer me in that way?" + +"Look you in the face, monsieur? I wish that I could, but alas! at this +distance I am utterly unable to distinguish your features." + +"True, monsieur," replied Cloarek, with much less brusqueness, "I had +forgotten your infirmity. But though you cannot see, you may rest +assured that I have an eye that nothing escapes. It is one advantage +that I have over you, and one that I shall profit by, I assure you." + +"I assure you that this advantage will be of very little service to you +so far as I am concerned. I have never had anything to conceal in my +life." + +This odd mixture of frankness and gentleness, of melancholy and dignity, +touched Cloarek; nevertheless he tried to resist its softening +influence. + +"I am blessed with a very small amount of penetration, monsieur," +continued Onesime, "but your questions and the tone in which they are +asked, as well as some of your remarks, lead me to suppose that you have +a grievance against me, though I am unfortunately ignorant of the +cause." + +"You love my daughter?" said Cloarek, gazing searchingly at the youth as +if resolved to read his inmost thoughts. + +Onetime turned red and pale by turns, and felt so much like falling that +he was obliged to reseat himself at a small table and bury his face in +his hands. + +In his attempt to cover his face the handkerchief that was bound around +his hand fell off, disclosing to view the terrible burn he had received, +and though Cloarek was accustomed to seeing all sorts of hurts, the +grave nature of this one made him shudder and say to himself: + +"Poor wretch, how he must suffer! A person must have a good deal of +courage to endure such torture uncomplainingly. Such courage, combined +with such amiability of character, as well as quiet dignity, at least +indicates nobility of heart." + +Seeing how completely overcome Onesime seemed to be, Yvon asked, in +rather more friendly tones: + +"How am I to interpret your silence? You do not answer me." + +"What can I say, monsieur?" + +"You confess it, then?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"And is my daughter ignorant of this love?" + +"Ignorant of it! Why, monsieur, I would rather die than reveal it to +her. I thought I had concealed my secret in the depths of my innermost +soul, so I have no idea how you can have discovered what I have almost +succeeded in hiding from myself." + +"Why did you not endeavour to overcome a feeling that could only make +you unhappy?" + +"Believing every one ignorant of it, I abandoned myself to it with +delight. Up to this time I have only known misfortune. This love is the +first happiness of my life, as it will be the only consolation of the +dreary destiny that awaits me." + +"You would be separated from my daughter sooner or later. Did that +thought never occur to you?" + +"No, monsieur, I did not stop to reflect. I think I loved merely for the +happiness of loving. I loved without hope, but also without fear and +without remorse." + +"So you were not even deterred by a fear that I would find out about +this love some day or other?" + +"I did not reflect at all, as I told you just now. I loved only for the +pleasure of loving. Ah, monsieur, when one is as I am, almost entirely +isolated from external objects and the diversion of mind they cause, it +is easy to yield oneself entirely to the solitary enjoyment of a single, +all-absorbing passion." + +"But if your sight is so bad, you can scarcely know how my daughter +looks." + +"During all the weeks I have been living in this house, I never saw +Mlle. Sabine distinctly until this evening." + +"And why this evening rather than any other evening?" + +"Because she insisted on aiding my aunt in dressing a severe burn on my +hand, and, while she was doing this, she came near enough for me to be +able to distinguish her features perfectly." + +"In that case, how did you come to love her?" + +"How did I come to love her? Why, what I love in her," exclaimed +Onesime, "is her noble and generous heart, the sweetness of her +disposition, the charms of her mind. What do I love in her? Why, her +sweet and soothing presence and her voice,--her voice, so gentle and +touching when she utters words of friendly interest or consolation." + +"Then the thought that you might become Sabine's husband some day has +never occurred to you?" + +"I love her too much for that, monsieur." + +"What do you mean?" + +"You forget, monsieur, that I am half blind, and that, by reason of this +infirmity, I am doomed to ridicule, to poverty, or a humiliating +idleness. I, who can never be anything but a burden to those who feel an +interest in me, the idea that I should have the audacity--No, no, I +repeat it, I even swear, that I have loved and still love Mlle. Sabine +as one loves the good and the beautiful, without any other hope than of +the heavenly felicity the love of the good and the beautiful inspires. +This, monsieur, is what I have felt and still feel. If my frankness is +convincing, deign to promise me, monsieur, that I shall at least take +your esteem with me when I leave this house." + +"You have won this esteem; you deserve it, Onesime," replied Cloarek, +earnestly; "and after this assurance on my part, you will permit me to +ask what you intend to do after leaving here." + +"I shall endeavour to find some employment similar to that I was engaged +in before; but, however modest and laborious my situation in life may +be, if it enables me to earn my living, it is all I ask." + +"But are you not afraid you will lose this situation for the same +reasons you did before?" + +"Alas! monsieur, if I allowed myself to think of all the trials and +disappointments that are, undoubtedly, in store for me, I should become +utterly disheartened," answered Onesime, sadly. + +"It was not to discourage you that I ventured this reminder. On the +contrary, I wish, and certainly hope to find the means of helping you to +escape from a position which must be unspeakably trying." + +"Ah, monsieur, how kind you are! How have I deserved--" + +The conversation was here interrupted by several hurried knocks at the +door, and Suzanne's voice was heard, crying: + +"Open the door, monsieur, for pity's sake!" + +Cloarek instantly complied with the request. + +"What is the matter?" he exclaimed, seeing Suzanne standing there, pale +and terrified. + +"Therese was just closing the windows in the dining-room, when she saw, +in the moonlight, two men peering over the garden wall." + +"Therese is a coward, afraid of her own shadow, I expect." + +"Oh, no, monsieur, Therese did see the two men distinctly. They were +evidently about to enter the garden, when the noise she made in opening +the window frightened them away." + +"These fears seem to me greatly exaggerated," replied Cloarek; "still, +take good care not to say anything about this to Sabine to-morrow. It +will only make the poor child terribly uneasy. It is a splendid +moonlight night, and I will go out into the garden and satisfy myself +that everything is all right." + +"Go out into the garden!" cried Suzanne, in great alarm. "Don't think of +such a thing. It would be very dangerous, I am sure." + +"That is all nonsense, my dear Suzanne," said Cloarek, turning toward +the door. "You are as great a coward as Therese." + +"First, let me go and wake Segoffin, monsieur," pleaded Suzanne. "I +tried before I came to you, but this time I will knock so loud that he +can't help hearing me." + +"And at the same time wake my daughter and frighten her nearly to death +by all this hubbub in the house." + +"You are right, monsieur, and yet you ought not to venture out entirely +alone." + +"What are you doing, Onesime?" asked Cloarek, seeing the younger man +making his way toward the door. "Where are you going?" + +"I am going with you, monsieur." + +"And what for?" + +"My aunt thinks there may be some danger, monsieur." + +"And of what assistance could you be?" asked Yvon, not curtly or +scornfully this time, for Onesime's devotion touched him. + +"It is true that I can be of very little assistance," sighed the +unfortunate youth, "but if there is any danger, I can at least share it, +and, though my sight is poor, perhaps, as a sort of compensation, I can +hear remarkably well, so I may be able to find out which way the men +went if they are still prowling around the house." + +This artless offer was made with such evident sincerity, that Cloarek, +exchanging a compassionate look with Suzanne, said, kindly: + +"I thank you for your offer, my young friend, and I would accept it very +gratefully if your hand did not require attention. The burn is evidently +a deep one, and must pain you very much, so you had better attend to it +without further delay, Suzanne," he added, turning to the housekeeper. + +Cloarek went out into the garden. The moon was shining brightly on the +sleeping waves. A profound stillness pervaded the scene, and no other +human being was visible. Climbing upon the wall, he gazed into the +depths below, for the garden wall on the side next the sea was built +upon the brow of a steep cliff. Cloarek tried to discover if the grass +and shrubbery on the side of the cliff had been broken or trampled, but +the investigation revealed no trace of any recent visitor. He listened +attentively, but heard only the murmur of the waves as they broke upon +the beach, and, concluding that there was no cause for alarm as such a +thing as a robbery had not been heard of since Sabine had lived there, +he was about to leave the terrace and reenter the house when he saw one +of those rockets that are used in the navy as signals at night suddenly +dart up from behind a clump of bushes half-way up the beach. + +The rocket swiftly described a curve, its stream of light gleaming +brightly against the dark blue heavens for an instant, then died out. +This occurrence seemed so remarkable to Cloarek, that he hastily +retraced his steps to see if there were any vessel in sight to respond +to this signal from the shore, but no vessel of any sort or kind was +visible,--only the broad expanse of ocean shimmering in the moonlight +met his gaze. + +After vainly endeavouring to explain this singular occurrence for some +time, but finally deciding that the rocket must have been fired by +smugglers as a signal, he returned to the house. + +This occurrence, which ought, perhaps, to have furnished the captain +with abundant food for thought, closely following as it did the bold +abduction of which he had been the victim, was speedily forgotten in the +grave reflections that his conversation with Onesime had awakened. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +ARGUMENTS FOR AND AGAINST. + + +When Cloarek rapped at the door of his daughter's room the next morning, +she promptly responded to the summons, smiling and happy. + +"Well, my child, did you rest well?" he inquired. + +"Splendidly, father. I had the most delightful dreams, for you bring me +happiness even in my sleep." + +"Tell me about these delightful dreams. I am always anxious to hear +about everything that makes you happy, whether it be an illusion or +reality," he responded, anxious to bring the conversation around +naturally to the subject of Onesime. "Come, I am listening. What +brilliant castles in Spain did you behold in your slumbers?" + +"Oh, I am not ambitious, father, even in my dreams." + +"Is that really so, my child?" + +"It is indeed, father. My desires are very modest. Luxury and display +have no charms for me. I dreamed last night that I was spending my life +with you,--with you and dear Suzanne, and with Segoffin, who is so +warmly attached to you." + +"And who else?" + +"Oh, yes, I forgot." + +"Therese, I suppose?" + +"No, not Therese." + +"Who was it, then?" + +"M. Onesime." + +"M. Onesime? I do not understand that. How did M. Onesime happen to be +living with us?" + +"We were married." + +The words were uttered in such a frank and ingenuous manner that Cloarek +could not doubt the perfect truthfulness of his daughter's account; and +rather in doubt as to whether he ought to congratulate himself on this +singular dream or not, he asked, a little anxiously: + +"So you and M. Onesime were married, you say?" + +"Yes, father." + +"And I had consented to the marriage?" + +"You must have done so, as we were married. I don't mean that we were +just married,--we seemed to have been married a long time. We were all +in the parlour. Three of us, you and Onesime and I, were sitting on the +big sofa. Suzanne was crocheting by the window, and Segoffin was on his +knees fixing the fire. You had been silent for several minutes, father, +when, suddenly taking M. Onesime's hand and mine,--you were sitting +between us,--you said: 'Do you know what I have been thinking?' 'No, +father,' M. Onesime and I answered (for naturally he, too, called you +father). 'Well,' you continued, 'I have been thinking that there is not +a happier man in the world than I am. To have two children who adore +each other, and two faithful old servants, or rather two tried friends, +and spend one's life in peace and plenty with them, surely this is +enough and more than enough to thank the good God for now and always, my +children.' And as you spoke, father, your eyes filled with tears." + +"Waking as well as dreaming, you are, and ever will be, the best and +most affectionate of daughters," said Cloarek, deeply touched. "But +there is one thing about your dream that surprises me very much." + +"And what is that?" + +"Your marriage with Onesime." + +"Really?" + +"Yes." + +"How strange. It seemed so perfectly natural to me that I wasn't at all +surprised at it." + +"But in the first place, though this is not the greatest objection, by +any means, M. Onesime has no fortune." + +"But how often you have told me that all these business trips, and all +these frequent absences that grieve me so much, have been made solely +for the purpose of amassing a handsome dowry for me." + +"That is true." + +"Then, in that case, M. Onesime does not need any fortune." + +"Nevertheless, though it is not absolutely indispensable that M. Onesime +should possess a fortune, it is certainly very desirable. There is +another objection." + +"Another?" + +"M. Onesime has no profession and consequently no assured social +position." + +"He is not to blame for that, poor fellow! Who could possibly consider +his enforced idleness a crime? Will, education, capability, none of +these are lacking. It is his terrible infirmity that proves such an +obstacle to everything he undertakes." + +"You are right, my child; this infirmity is an insuperable obstacle that +will unfortunately prevent him from achieving success in any career; +from creating any position for himself, and even from marrying, except +in dreams, understand." + +"I don't understand you at all, my dear father. I really don't." + +"What! my child, don't you understand that it would be folly in any +woman to marry a half-blind man who cannot see ten feet in front of him? +don't you understand that in such a case the roles would be entirely +reversed, and that, instead of protecting his wife, as every man ought +to do, M. Onesime will have to be protected by the woman who would be +foolish enough to marry him?" + +"It seems to me only right that the person who is able to protect the +other should do so." + +"Certainly; but this duty devolves upon the man." + +"Yes, when he is able to fulfil this duty; when he is not, it devolves +upon the wife." + +"If she is foolish enough, I repeat, to accept such a life of +self-sacrifice and weighty responsibility." + +"Foolish?" + +"Idiotic, rather. Don't look at me so indignantly." + +"Listen to me, father." + +"I am listening." + +"You have reared me with the utmost kindness and devotion; you have +anticipated my every wish; you have surrounded me with every comfort; +and for my sake you have exposed yourself to all the fatigue and +discomfort of long business trips. Am I not right?" + +"It was not only a pleasure, but my duty to do these things for you, my +dear child." + +"A duty?" + +"The most sacred of all duties." + +"To protect me--to be my guide and my support, you mean, do you not?" + +"Precisely. It is the duty of every parent." + +"That is exactly what I was coming at," said Sabine, with amusing +_naivete_. "It is a father's duty to protect his child, you say?" + +"Certainly." + +"But, father, suppose that you should meet with an accident during one +of your journeys; suppose, for instance, that you should lose your +sight, would I be foolish or idiotic if I did everything in my power to +repay you for all you have done for me, and to act, in my turn, the part +of guide, support, and protector? Our roles would be reversed, as you +say. Still, what daughter would not be proud and happy to do for her +father what I would do for you? Ah, well, why should not a wife manifest +the same devotion toward her husband that a daughter manifests toward +her father? I am sure you will not be able to refute that argument, my +dear father." + +"But your comparison, though extremely touching, is by no means just. In +consequence of some misfortune, or some deplorable accident, a girl +might find herself obliged to become the support and protector of her +father. In such a case, it is very grand and noble in her to devote her +life and energies to him; but she has not deliberately chosen her +father, so she is performing a sacred duty, while the woman who is free +to choose would, I repeat,--don't glare at me so,--be a fool, yes, an +idiot, to select for a husband--" + +"An unfortunate man who needs to be surrounded with the tenderest +solicitude," cried Sabine, interrupting her father. "So you really +believe that a woman would be committing an act of folly if she made +such a choice. Say that again, father, if you want me to believe +it,--you, who have so generously devoted your life to your child, who +have been so lenient to her many weaknesses, who have made every +sacrifice for her,--tell me that it would be arrant folly to devote +one's life to an unfortunate creature to whom Fate has been most unkind; +tell me that it would be arrant folly to cling to him because an +infirmity kept everybody else aloof from him; tell me this, father, and +I will believe you." + +"No, my generous, noble-hearted child, I do not say that. I should be +lying if I did," exclaimed Cloarek, quite carried away by Sabine's +generous enthusiasm; "no, I cannot doubt the divine happiness that one +finds in devoting oneself to a person one loves; no, I cannot doubt the +attraction that courage and resignation under suffering exert over all +superior natures." + +"So you see that my dream is not as extraordinary as you thought, after +all," replied the girl, smiling. + +"You are a doughty antagonist, and I will admit that I am beaten, or +rather convinced, if you can answer one more objection as successfully." + +"And what is that?" + +"When a man loves, he loves body and soul; you must admit that. The +contemplation of the charming face of a beloved wife is as sweet to a +man as the realisation of her merits and virtues. Now, in a long +conversation that I had last evening with M. Onesime, at your +recommendation, remember, I asked him if he could see a person a few +feet off, distinctly. He replied that he could not, and remarked in this +connection that he had seen you plainly but once, and that was yesterday +when you were assisting Suzanne in binding up his hand. The most +inconceivable thing in your dream-marriage, after all, is a husband who +spends his life near his wife without ever seeing her except by +accident, as it were." + +"Ah, well, father, I, for my part, think such a state of affairs is not +without its advantages, after all." + +"Really, that is going a little too far, I think." + +"I will prove it to you if you wish." + +"I defy you to do it." + +"But, father, I have read somewhere that nothing could be more +sacrilegious than to leave always exposed to view the portraits of one's +loved ones; for the eye finally becomes so accustomed to these +lineaments that the effect is perceptibly impaired." + +"There may be some truth in this remark, but I do not perceive any +special advantage to be derived from it so far as you are concerned." + +"But if, on the contrary, these portraits are in a case that is opened +only when one desires to contemplate the beloved features, the +impression produced upon you is powerful in proportion to the rarity of +the treat." + +"Your reasoning is fairly good, to say the least; but how about the +other party, the person that can see? She will be obliged to close her +eyes, I suppose, and keep them closed, to prevent her husband's +features from losing their charm." + +"Are you really in earnest in making this objection?" + +"Certainly I am." + +"Then I will merely say in reply that, though I put myself in M. +Onesime's place for a moment, that is no reason why I should renounce my +own excellent eye-sight, for I am not in the least afraid that I should +ever tire of looking at my husband any more than I tire of looking at +you, my dear father, and I know I could gaze at your face a hundred +years without growing weary of reading on your noble features all your +devoted tenderness for me," added Sabine, kissing her father fondly. + +"My dear, dear child," murmured Cloarek, responding to his daughter's +fervent caress, "how can I hope to contend successfully with your heart +and reason. I must acknowledge myself beaten, I suppose, and confess +that your dream is not so unreasonable, perhaps, after all, and that a +woman might perhaps marry such a terribly near-sighted man if she really +loved him. Nevertheless, in spite of your romantic way of regarding poor +Onesime's infirmity, I should infinitely prefer--But, now I think of +it--" + +"Well, father?" + +"During my travels I have heard a good deal about a young and +wonderfully skilful surgeon,--a terrible gourmand, too, they say he is, +by the way. It is his only fault, I understand. This young surgeon +established himself in Paris a few years ago, and his fame has grown, +until he is now considered one of the greatest celebrities of the +scientific world. It is possible that he may be able to restore this +poor fellow's sight." + +"Do you really suppose there is any hope of that?" cried Sabine. + +"I cannot say, my child, but I know several wonderful cures that Doctor +Gasterini has effected, and I will write to him this very day. I am +going out for a little while, but I shall be back in an hour, and as I +shall want to see you as soon as I return, you had better wait for me +here." + +On leaving Sabine, Cloarek went up to Onesime's room, and, desiring that +their conversation should be of the most secret character and free from +any possibility of interruption, he asked that young man to accompany +him on a promenade he intended to take on the beach before dinner. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +AN UNWELCOME VISITOR. + + +Soon after M. Cloarek left the house in company with Onesime, Segoffin +might have been seen standing on the garden terrace with an old +spy-glass levelled on an object that seemed to be absorbing his +attention and exciting his surprise and curiosity to the highest pitch. + +The object was a vessel that he had just discovered in the offing and +that elicited the following comments as he watched its evolutions. + +"It seems preposterous! Am I dreaming, or is that really our brig? It +must be! That rigging, that mast, those lines, are certainly hers, and +yet it cannot be. That is not her hull. With her barbette guns she sat +as low in the water as a whaler. I don't see a single gun poking its +nose out of this craft, though. No, no, it is not, of course it is not. +This vessel is painted a dark gray, while the _Hell-hound_ was black +with scarlet stripes. And yet that big sail perched so rakishly over the +stem, that rigging fine as a spider's web, there never was a vessel +built except the _Hell-hound_ that could carry such a stretch of canvas +as that. But what an ass I am! She is putting about, so there's a sure +way of satisfying myself of the identity I wish to verify, as M. Yvon +used to say when he wore the robes of office and amused himself by +throwing chief justices out of the window,--that is to read the name on +her stern, as I shall be able to do in a minute or two, and--" + +But Segoffin's soliloquy was here interrupted by a familiar tap on the +shoulder, and, turning quickly, he found himself face to face with +Suzanne. + +"That which is done can not be undone, but the devil take you, my dear, +for disturbing me just at this time!" exclaimed M. Cloarek's head +gunner, raising his glass to his eye again. + +But unfortunately he was too late. The brig had completed the evolution, +and the name on her stern was no longer visible, so the verification of +her identity which Segoffin contemplated had become impossible. + +"So the devil may have me and welcome, may he?" responded Suzanne, +tartly. "You are very polite, I must say." + +"Frankness is a duty between old friends like ourselves," said Segoffin, +casting a regretful glance seaward. "I came here to amuse myself by +watching the passing ships, and you had to come and interrupt me." + +"You are right; frankness is a duty between us, Segoffin, so I may as +well tell you, here and now, that no stone-deaf person was ever harder +to wake than you." + +"How do you know? Unfortunately for me and for you, Suzanne, you have +never had a chance to see how I sleep," responded the head gunner, with +a roguish smile. + +"You are very much mistaken, for I rapped at your door last night." + +"Ah!" exclaimed Segoffin, winking his only remaining eye with a +triumphant air, "I have often told you that you would come to it sooner +or later, and you have." + +"Come to what?" inquired the housekeeper, without the slightest +suspicion of her companion's real meaning. + +"To stealing alone and on tiptoe to my room to--" + +"You are an abominably impertinent creature, M. Segoffin. I rapped at +your door to ask your aid and protection." + +"Against whom?" + +"But you are such a coward that you just lay there pretending to be +asleep and taking good care not to answer me." + +"Tell me seriously, Suzanne,--what occurred last night? Did you really +think you needed me?" + +"Hear that, will you! They might have set fire to the house and murdered +us, it wouldn't have made the slightest difference to you. M. Segoffin +was snug in bed and there he remained." + +"Set fire to the house and murdered you! What on earth do you mean?" + +"I mean that two men tried to break into this house last night." + +"They were two of your lovers, doubtless." + +"Segoffin!" + +"You had probably made a mistake in the date--" + +But the head gunner never finished the unseemly jest. His usually +impassive features suddenly assumed an expression of profound +astonishment, succeeded by one of fear and anxiety. The change, in fact, +was so sudden and so striking that Dame Roberts, forgetting her +companion's impertinent remarks, exclaimed: + +"Good Heavens, Segoffin, what is the matter with you? What are you +looking at in that way?" + +And following the direction of Segoffin's gaze, she saw a stranger, +preceded by Therese, advancing toward them. The newcomer was a short, +stout man with a very prominent abdomen. He wore a handsome blue coat, +brown cassimere knee-breeches, high top-boots, and a long white +waistcoat, across which dangled a double watch-chain lavishly decorated +with a number of charms. In one hand he held a light cane with which he +gaily switched the dust from his boots, and in the other he held his +hat, which he had gallantly removed at the first sight of Dame Roberts. +This newcomer was Floridor Verduron, the owner of the brig _Hell-hound_, +usually commanded by Captain l'Endurci. + +Up to this time Cloarek had concealed from Verduron his real name as +well as the motives which had led him to take up privateering. He had +also taken special pains to keep his place of abode a secret from the +owner of the privateer, a mutual friend having always served as an +intermediary between the captain and the owner. Consequently, the dismay +of the head gunner can be readily imagined when he reflected that, as +the captain's real name and address had been discovered by M. Verduron, +and that gentleman was wholly ignorant of the double part M. Cloarek was +playing, his very first words were likely to unwittingly reveal a secret +of the gravest importance. M. Verduron's presence also explained, at +least in part, the arrival of the brig Segoffin had seen a short time +before, and which he fancied he recognised under the sort of disguise he +could not yet understand. + +Meanwhile, M. Floridor Verduron was coming nearer and nearer. Suzanne +noted this fact, and remarked: + +"Who can this gentleman be? What a red face he has! I never saw him +before. Why don't you answer me, Segoffin? Good Heavens, how strangely +you look! And you are pale, very much paler than usual." + +"It is the redness of this man's face that makes me look pale by +contrast, I suppose," replied Segoffin, seeing himself confronted by a +danger he was powerless to avert. + +The servant, who was a few steps in advance of the visitor, now said to +Suzanne: + +"Dame Roberts, here is a gentleman who wishes to see the master on very +important business, he says." + +"You know very well that monsieur has gone out." + +"That is what I told the gentleman, but he said he would wait for his +return, as he must see monsieur." + +As Therese finished her explanation of the intrusion, M. Verduron, who +prided himself upon his good manners, and who had won fame in his +earlier days as a skilful dancer of the minuet, paused about five yards +from Dame Roberts and made her a very low bow, with his elbows +gracefully rounded, his heels touching each other, and his feet forming +the letter V. + +Dame Roberts, flattered by the homage rendered to her sex, responded +with a ceremonious curtsey, saying _sotto voce_ to Segoffin the while, +with a sarcastically reproachful air: + +"Notice how a polite gentleman ought to accost a lady." + +M. Floridor Verduron, advancing a couple of steps, made another profound +bow, to which Suzanne responded with equal deference, murmuring to +Segoffin as if to pique him or arouse his emulation: + +"These are certainly the manners of a grandee,--of an ambassador, in +fact." + +The head gunner, instead of replying, however, tried to get as much out +of sight as possible behind an ever-green. M. Verduron's third and last +salute (he considered three bows obligatory) was too much like the +others to deserve any especial mention, and he was about to address +Suzanne when he caught sight of the head gunner. + +"What! you here?" he exclaimed, with a friendly nod. "I didn't see you, +you old sea-wolf. And how is your eye getting along?" + +"I have no use of it, as you see, M. Verduron, but don't let's talk +about that, I beg of you. I have my reasons." + +"I should think so, my poor fellow, for it would be rather making light +of misfortune, wouldn't it, madame?" asked the visitor, turning to +Suzanne, who bowed her assent with great dignity, and then said: + +"The servant tells me you wish to see M. Cloarek on pressing business, +monsieur." + +"Yes, my dear madame, very pressing," replied the ship owner, gallantly. +"It is doubtless to monsieur's wife I have the honour of speaking, and +in that case, I--" + +"Pardon me, monsieur, I am only the housekeeper." + +"What! the cap--" + +But the first syllable of the word captain had not left the ship owner's +lips before the head gunner shouted at the top of his voice, at the same +time seizing Suzanne suddenly by the arm: + +"In Heaven's name, look! See there!" + +The housekeeper was so startled that she uttered a shrill cry and did +not even hear the dread syllable the visitor had uttered, but when she +had partially recovered from her alarm, she exclaimed, sharply: + +"Really, this is intolerable, Segoffin. You gave me such a scare I am +all of a tremble now." + +"But look over there," insisted the head gunner, pointing toward the +cliffs; "upon my word of honour, one can hardly believe one's eyes." + +"What is it? What do you see?" asked the ship owner, gazing intently in +the direction indicated. + +"It seems impossible, I admit. I wouldn't have believed it myself if +anybody had told me." + +"What is it? What are you talking about?" demanded Suzanne, her +curiosity now aroused, in spite of her ill-humour. + +"It is unaccountable," mused the head gunner, to all appearance lost in +a sort of admiring wonder. "It is enough to make one wonder whether one +is awake or only dreaming." + +"But what is it you see?" cried the ship owner, no less impatiently than +the housekeeper. "What are you talking about? Where must we look?" + +"You see that cliff there to the left, don't you?" + +"To the left?" asked the ship owner, ingenuously, "to the left of what?" + +"To the left of the other, of course." + +"What other?" demanded Suzanne, in her turn. + +"What other? Why, don't you see that big white cliff that looks like a +dome?" + +"Yes," answered the ship owner. + +"Well, what of it?" snapped Suzanne. + +"Look, high up." + +"High up, Segoffin?" + +"Yes, on the side." + +"On the side?" + +"Yes, don't you see that bluish light playing on it?" + +"Bluish light?" repeated the ship owner, squinting up his eyes and +arching his hand over them to form a sort of shade. + +"Yes, high up, near the top! The deuce take me if it isn't turning red +now! Look, will you! Isn't it amazing? But come, M. Verduron, come, +let's get a closer look at it," added Segoffin, seizing the ship owner +by the arm and trying to drag him away. + +"One moment," exclaimed M. Verduron, releasing himself from the head +gunner's grasp, "to take a closer look at anything one must first have +seen it at a distance, and the devil take me if I can see anything at +all. And you, madame?" + +"I don't, I am sure, monsieur." + +Segoffin would perhaps have attempted to prolong the illusion by +endowing the light with all the other colours of the rainbow, but the +approach of another and even greater danger extinguished his inventive +genius. + +He heard Sabine's voice only a few feet from him, exclaiming: + +"What are you all looking at, my dear Suzanne?" + +"Mlle. Sabine!" Segoffin mentally exclaimed. "All is lost! Poor child! +Such a revelation will kill her, I fear." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +SEGOFFIN'S RUSE. + + +On seeing Sabine, M. Floridor Verduron began his reverential evolutions +all over again, and the girl returned his bows blushingly, for she had +not expected to meet a stranger in the garden. + +Segoffin, terrified at the thought that Cloarek's secret might be +revealed at any moment, resolved to get the visitor away at any cost; +so, interrupting him in the midst of his genuflections, he said: + +"And now, M. Verduron, if you will come with me I will take you to +monsieur at once." + +"But my father has gone out, Segoffin," said Sabine. + +"Never mind, mademoiselle, I know where to find him." + +"But it would be much better for monsieur to wait for my father here, I +think," insisted the girl. "He said he would soon be back, and if you go +out in search of him you run a great risk of missing him, Segoffin, and +of giving this gentleman a long walk for nothing, perhaps." + +"No, no, mademoiselle, it is such a delightful day monsieur will enjoy a +little walk, and I know a very pleasant road your father is sure to +return by." + +"But he might not return that way, Segoffin," interposed Suzanne, +favourably disposed toward the visitor, by reason of his extreme +politeness, and consequently anxious to enjoy his society as long as +possible. + +"But I tell you that--" + +"My good friend," interrupted M. Verduron, "I must admit that I am too +gallant, or rather not sufficiently unselfish, to debar myself of the +pleasure of waiting here for the return of--" + +"Very well, very well," interposed Segoffin, quickly, "we won't say any +more about it. I thought mine would be the better plan; but it doesn't +matter in the least, in fact, now I think of it, there is something +particular that I want to speak to you about. I only ask two minutes of +your time--" + +"Two minutes, fair ladies!" exclaimed the visitor, laughing, "as if two +minutes spent out of such delightful society was not two centuries of +time." + +"Ah, monsieur, you are really too kind," exclaimed Suzanne, bridling +coquettishly in her delight at this new compliment. + +"You will have to make up your mind to it, Segoffin," said Sabine, who +was beginning to find M. Verduron very amusing. + +"But I really must speak to you in private, monsieur, and at once," +exclaimed the head gunner, greatly alarmed now. + +"Come, come, my worthy friend, don't speak in such thunder tones, you +will frighten these fair ladies," said M. Verduron, too anxious to +exercise his fascinations upon the ladies to comply with Segoffin's +request. "I will promise you a private audience after they have deprived +us of the light of their presence, but not until then." + +"But at least listen to what I have to say," insisted poor Segoffin, +desperate now, and trying to get near enough to the visitor to whisper a +few words in his ear. + +But that gentleman hastily drew back with a loud laugh. + +"No whispering in the presence of ladies, man! What do you take me for, +a savage, a cannibal? This indiscreet friend of mine seems to be +resolved to ruin me in your estimation, my dear ladies." + +"Oh, you have no idea how obstinate M. Segoffin is," remarked Suzanne. +"When he once gets anything into his head there is no moving him." + +The head gunner made no reply. Foiled in his efforts to get the visitor +away, he now came a little closer to the trio, with the expression of a +person who is prepared for the worst. + +"So it is to Mlle. Cloarek that I have the honour of speaking," said the +ship owner, gallantly, turning to Sabine. + +"Yes, monsieur, and you, I understand, are one of my father's friends." + +"He has no more devoted friend and admirer, I assure you, mademoiselle. +I should be very ungrateful if I were not; I am under such great +obligations to him." + +"My father has been fortunate enough to render you some service, then, +monsieur." + +"Some service, mademoiselle? He has made my fortune for me." + +"Your fortune, and how?" asked Sabine, much surprised. + +"Why, mademoiselle," interrupted Segoffin, hastily, "it is in this +gentleman's interest that your father has made so many--so many trips." + +"That is true, mademoiselle," replied the ship owner, "and every one, +almost without exception, has yielded rich returns." + +"Yes, he is a great manufacturer," whispered Segoffin, edging in between +Sabine and Suzanne. "We sell lots of goods for him during our trips." + +"Then you are at least partially accountable for the anxiety which my +father's frequent absences cause me, monsieur," remarked Sabine. + +"And you have no idea how unreasonable mademoiselle is, monsieur," +chimed in Suzanne. "She frets just as much as if her father were really +in some danger--" + +"Some danger! Ah, my dear lady, you may well say--" + +"Yes, it is astonishing how people deceive themselves," interrupted +Segoffin, with great volubility. "Everybody thinks that everybody else +has an easy time of it, and because a person makes a good deal of money, +other people think he has only to stop and rake it up." + +"Appearances are, indeed, very deceitful, my dear young lady," remarked +the ship owner, "and though your father makes so light of the danger he +incurs, I assure you that in the last fight--" + +"Fight?" exclaimed the young girl, in astonishment; "fight?" + +"What fight are you speaking of, monsieur?" asked Suzanne, in her turn, +no less amazed. + +"Why, a desperate fight, a fight to the death," whispered Segoffin, +"with a merchant who didn't find our goods to his taste, but M. Cloarek +and I finally succeeded so well in bringing him around to our way of +thinking that he ended by taking a hundred pieces from us--" + +"What on earth is the fellow talking about, my dear ladies?" cried M. +Verduron, who had tried several times to interrupt Segoffin, but in +vain. "Has my worthy friend gone stark, staring mad?" + +"Mad!" exclaimed Segoffin, in a voice of thunder. Then advancing toward +M. Verduron, he said, in threatening tones: + +"You call me a madman, do you, you old rascal!" + +For the fact is the head gunner, finding himself at the end of his +resources, and despairing of averting the evil moment much longer, had +resolved upon heroic measures; so, taking advantage of the amazement of +the ship owner, who was very naturally stupefied by this sudden change +of manner, Segoffin continued, in still more violent tones: + +"Yes, you are an insolent old rascal, and if you try any more of your +impudence on me, I'll shake you out of your boots." + +"Segoffin, what are you saying, in Heaven's name?" cried Sabine, all of +a tremble. + +"What! you have the audacity to speak to me in this way, and in the +presence of ladies, too!" exclaimed the ship owner. + +"Take mademoiselle away from here at once," Segoffin said to Suzanne, +_sotto voce_. "We are going to have a row, and it will be sure to throw +her into a spasm. Get her away, get her away at once, I say." + +Then, rushing upon the ship owner, and seizing him by the collar, he +shouted: + +"I've a great mind to hurl you down the cliff through that gap in the +wall, you old bergamot-scented fop." + +"Why, this poor man has gone stark, staring mad. Did any one ever see +the like of it? What has happened to him?" stammered the amazed visitor. + +"In God's name, take mademoiselle away!" thundered Segoffin, again +turning to the housekeeper. + +That lady, seeing Sabine turn pale and tremble like a leaf, had not +waited to hear this injunction repeated before trying to lead Sabine to +the house, but the young girl, in spite of her terror and the +housekeeper's entreaties, could not be induced to leave the spot, +deeming it cowardly to desert her father's friend under such +circumstances; so, releasing herself from Suzanne's grasp, she +approached the two men and cried, indignantly: + +"Segoffin, your conduct is outrageous. In my father's name I command you +to stop such scandalous behaviour at once." + +"Help, help, he is strangling me!" murmured M. Verduron, feebly. "Ah, +when the captain--" + +The word captain sealed the ship owner's fate. In the twinkling of an +eye Segoffin had seized M. Verduron around the waist, and had sprung +with him over the low parapet on to the grassy slope below, where, +still locked in each other's arms, they rolled unharmed to the bottom of +the cliff, while Sabine, unable to control the terror which this last +incident had excited, swooned in Suzanne's arms. + +"Help, Therese, help! Mademoiselle has fainted; help!" cried the +housekeeper. The servant came running in answer to the summons, and with +her assistance Sabine was carried to the house. + +This call was heard by Segoffin, who at once said to himself: "There is +no farther cause for fear; our secret is safe!" + +So he released his hold upon M. Floridor Verduron, who staggered to his +feet, panting and dishevelled, and so angry that he was unable to utter +a word, though his eyes spoke volumes. Segoffin, profiting by this +silence, said to the ship owner, with the most good-humoured air +imaginable, quite as if they were continuing a friendly conversation, in +fact: + +"Now, my dear M. Verduron, I will explain why I was obliged to force you +to follow me to this rather lonely retreat." + +"Wretch, how dare you insult me in this fashion?" yelled the ship owner, +exasperated beyond endurance by the head gunner's coolness. + +"It was all your fault, M. Verduron." + +"My fault? How outrageous!" + +"I asked you to give me a moment's conversation in private, but you +wouldn't do it, so I was obliged to resort to this little manoeuvre to +secure it." + +"Very well, very well, we will see what the captain says about all this. +To place me in such a position, and in the presence of ladies!" + +"I really ask your pardon for the liberty I took, M. Verduron," said +Segoffin, seriously enough this time, "but upon my honour I was +absolutely compelled to do it." + +"What! you dare--" + +"Listen to me. For several very important reasons M. Cloarek has +carefully concealed from his daughter the fact that he has been engaged +in privateering." + +"Is that really so?" exclaimed the ship owner, his wrath giving place to +profound astonishment. "Possibly that is the reason he took such pains +to conceal his real name and address from me, then." + +"Yes, and in order to explain his frequent absences he has given his +daughter to understand that he sells dry goods on a commission, so you +can understand my embarrassment when I saw you drop down upon us from +the clouds." + +"But why didn't you ask me to keep the secret?" + +"That was what I wanted to speak to you in private about. After you +refused, it was like treading on live coals to continue the +conversation, and when I saw you were certain to let the cat out of the +bag there was nothing for me to do but tumble you down the cliff to get +you away from Mlle. Sabine and the housekeeper. It was pretty rough +treatment, I admit, but I could see no other way out of the difficulty." + +"I forgive you, Segoffin," said M. Verduron, magnanimously. "I must even +admit that it was very clever of you to--" + +"Where are they? Where are they?" shouted M. Cloarek's voice high above +their heads. + +"They both fell over the cliff, monsieur," replied the voice of Therese. + +Almost immediately Yvon's head appeared above the parapet. + +On seeing the ship owner, he stood a moment as if stupefied, then +remembering that M. Verduron's presence imperilled the secret he was so +anxious to guard, he exclaimed: + +"Damnation! You here, monsieur! How dare you--" + +But with three bounds Segoffin had reached the brow of the cliff. + +"Don't be alarmed; Mlle. Sabine and Suzanne know nothing," he cried. + +"Thank God! I can breathe again!" murmured Cloarek, relieved of a +terrible apprehension. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +THE VOICE OF THE TEMPTER. + + +Cloarek, reassured in regard to the probable consequences of the ship +owner's visit, was anxious to ascertain the object of his coming, but it +was first necessary to devise some way of helping him up the cliff, so +Segoffin went in search of a rope. They threw one end of it to M. +Verduron, and he soon made the ascent, thanks to its aid. + +"Come in the house," said Cloarek, without making any attempt to conceal +his annoyance. "I want to know why you ventured to come and search me +out when I had taken such pains to conceal my identity." + +"Well, to make a long story short, I came to hold a council of war with +you." + +"A council of war? Are you mad?" + +"By no means, my brave captain, as you will profit by it to the extent +of at least four or five hundred thousand francs." + +"In other words, you want me to put to sea again, I suppose. But one +question, here and now: What right had you to make a confidential letter +that I wrote to you--what right, I say, had you to make such a letter +public?" + +"I thought it would give such pleasure to the many readers of the +_Journal_, all of whom are hungering for news of the bravest and most +renowned of privateers." + +"You are very complimentary, I am sure, but this indiscretion on your +part has annoyed me greatly." + +"In that case your modesty will certainly suffer very much from the +article in to-day's paper." + +"What article? Let me tell you once for all--" + +"Don't be alarmed, my dear captain. It merely described how the brave +Captain l'Endurci conducted an attack, how like a tiger he fought, etc. +It said nothing in relation to his private life." + +"This is unbearable," said Cloarek, impatiently, though he was in +reality greatly relieved. + +"I was certainly actuated by no evil motive, in any event; besides, as +Segoffin says, there is no undoing that which is done, or words to that +effect." + +"It is useless to discuss the matter further. You came here to ask me to +put to sea again. I shall do nothing of the kind. That is the end of +it." + +"But it is not the end of it by any means, my dear captain. Just give me +your attention for a moment. A three-master belonging to the East India +Company, with two million francs in bullion, will soon be along. Two +million francs, do you hear?" + +"If she had ten millions aboard it would make no difference to me. I +shall not put to sea again. I have said it, and I mean it." + +"It is true that you have said so, my dear captain, but you will change +your mind--for many reasons." + +"I never go back on my word, monsieur." + +"No more do I; but often, and in spite of ourselves, circumstances +force--" + +"Once again I tell you that I said no, and no it is." + +"You said no, I admit! You will say yes, too, my dear captain," +responded the ship owner, with an air of profound conviction. + +"Enough, M. Verduron, enough!" cried Cloarek, stamping his foot, +angrily. + +"Don't irritate M. Yvon," Segoffin remarked to the ship owner, _sotto +voce_. "I know him. You'll only bring down a terrific storm upon your +head." + +"All I ask, my dear captain," persisted M. Verduron, "is that you will +give me your attention for five minutes, that is all." + +"Go on, then." + +"You will see by this clipping from an English newspaper,--and the +sources of information seem to be perfectly trustworthy, by the +way,--you will see that the British cruiser _Vanguard_ which is +convoying the richly laden vessel is commanded by Captain Blake." + +"Captain Blake?" + +"The same," replied the ship owner. "He is, as you know, one of the most +daring officers in the British navy, and, unfortunately for us, he has +always come off victorious in his encounters with our vessels." + +"Oh, if I could only have been lucky enough to get a shot at him!" +muttered Segoffin. + +"You will, never fear, you old sea-wolf. As for you, my dear captain, +your silence means consent, I am sure. Think of the honour, as well as +the profit, to be derived from the operation: four or five hundred +thousand francs and the _Vanguard_ in tow of the _Hell-hound_, all in +forty-eight hours." + +Segoffin, who had been accustomed for years to make a profound study of +his employer's physiognomy, and who had been carefully noting the effect +of these proposals, said in a low tone to the ship owner, shaking his +head the while: + +"The bait is tempting, but he isn't going to swallow it this time." + +His prognostications proved correct; the flush of anger gradually faded +from Cloarek's face; his contracted features relaxed, and it was calmly, +half-smilingly, that he at last said to M. Verduron: + +"You are a clever tempter, but I have a talisman against you. It is the +promise I have made to my daughter not to leave her again. You have seen +her, and you must feel that I shall keep my word." + +"Mlle. Cloarek is a charming girl. There is not the slightest doubt of +that, my dear captain, but you would be very foolish to miss such a fine +opportunity as this." + +"It is impossible, I tell you." + +"Help me persuade him, Segoffin, and then you will get your wished-for +shot at Captain Blake, I promise you." + +"Segoffin knows that I never break my word, M. Verduron. I said no, and +no it is." + +"_Sacre bleu!_ it is amazing how atrociously selfish some people are!" +exclaimed the ship owner, highly incensed by Cloarek's refusal. + +"You must be jesting, M. Verduron," responded Cloarek, who could not +help smiling at this outbreak. "It is all very easy for you to talk +about stirring conflicts. I, for my part, should like to know which is +the most selfish, you who remain safe and comfortable in your office at +Dieppe, or the sailor who mans your ship, and exposes himself to all the +perils of deadly combats." + +"You talk as if I had to run no risk whatever," exclaimed Verduron. "You +forget to say anything about the bullets I receive." + +"Well, upon my word! I never knew before that you, too, were in the +habit of exposing yourself to a shower of bullets!" cried Segoffin. + +"Isn't my vessel under fire if I am not? And how about all the repairs, +and all the damages your humble servant has to pay for? And the wounds, +and the legs and arms, you have forgotten what they cost me, I suppose. +Didn't I have to pay for five legs and three arms lost in that last +fight of yours? Reckon them up at the rate of fifty crowns a limb, and +see what they come to." + +"But you must remember that you don't have to pay a sou when a man loses +his head," retorted Segoffin. + +"This is no subject for jesting, I want you to understand," snapped the +ship owner, who was evidently becoming more and more excited, "for am I +not doing everything on earth to secure you the best of crews? For don't +you think, yourself, captain, that the prospect of a small pension in +case of serious injuries encourages our sailors and makes regular devils +of them under fire? And yet when I am bleeding myself in this fashion, I +am repaid by the blackest ingratitude." + +"What you say is absurd," replied Cloarek, shrugging his shoulders. "I +have quadrupled your fortune." + +"And because Captain l'Endurci has made all the money he wants, he +doesn't care in the least whether other persons have or not," persisted +the ship owner. + +"There is not the slightest need of your working yourself into such a +passion, Verduron," replied Cloarek. "There are plenty of brave +sea-captains in Dieppe, thank Heaven! quite as capable of commanding the +_Hell-hound_ and contending successfully with Captain Blake as I am." + +"Then you refuse, captain?" + +"For the tenth time, yes." + +"Positively?" + +"Positively." + +"Very well, then, captain," responded the ship owner, resolutely. "What +I have been unable to obtain by persuasion and entreaties, I shall +obtain in some other way." + +"What does he mean?" asked Cloarek, turning to Segoffin. + +"I mean that it is not easy to resign oneself to the loss of at least +half a million, captain," responded Verduron, threateningly; "so, though +I had no idea that you would persist in your refusal, I was prudent +enough to take my precautions." + +"Your precautions?" + +"The _Hell-hound_ is now in Havre, where she arrived this morning." + +"Then it was the _Hell-hound_ I saw!" cried Segoffin. "I thought I +couldn't be mistaken." + +"The brig is at Havre?" exclaimed Cloarek. + +"Yes, M. Yvon, but disguised beyond any possibility of recognition. She +has been painted gray with a broad yellow band, and not a sign of a gun +is visible." + +"And now will you be kind enough to tell me what all this signifies?" +demanded Cloarek. + +"It means that I have changed the appearance of the brig as much as +possible, because all the British cruisers are on the lookout for her, +and now, thanks to this disguise, you will be able to reach Jersey with +little or no trouble." + +"You are persistent, I must say," said Cloarek, restraining himself only +by a powerful effort. + +"Yes, captain, and what is more, I've got you, and I mean to keep you. +The crew are wild with enthusiasm; the prospect of another voyage under +you has made them frantic with delight. They expect to see you this +evening, and I warn you that if you are not in Havre within an hour, +they will be here in two hours." + +"What! You will dare--" began Cloarek, in a voice choked with anger. + +"I? Why, I have nothing to do with it, captain. It is your sailors that +you will have to deal with, and you have had a chance to find out +whether they are milk-sops or not. If you persist in your refusal, you +will see one hundred and fifty of those dare-devils here with drums and +fifes, and resolved to have their brave captain, whether or no. I am +afraid those drums and fifes will destroy your _incognito_ effectually +this time." + +"Wretch!" roared Cloarek, realising how entirely feasible the ship +owner's plan was, and he would have precipitated himself upon his +tormentor if Segoffin had not suddenly interposed his own body between +the two men and said to Cloarek: + +"Remember that there are white hairs under his musk-scented powder, M. +Yvon." + +"Oh, knock me down! Kill me, if you like! that will not prevent the +crew from coming for you, nor you from going with them," snarled the +ship owner. + +"Don't talk so loud, gentlemen, I beg of you. I hear somebody coming +now." + +In another instant Suzanne appeared, pale and terrified. + +"Oh, monsieur,--come,--come quick!" she cried. + +"What is the matter?" + +"Mademoiselle--" + +"Is my daughter worse?" + +"Oh, monsieur, I am so frightened,--come, come!" + +Cloarek, forgetting everything else in his alarm, rushed off, leaving +Segoffin and the ship owner alone together. + +"M. Verduron, I tell you very plainly, you have had a narrow escape," +said the head gunner. "I have only one piece of advice to give you. Get +away from here as soon as possible." + +"You may be right," replied the visitor, hastily picking up his hat and +cane. + +"I am right." + +"Well, listen to me. You know I mean well, and I must admit now that I +am sorry I tried to carry things with such a high hand, for I had no +idea that the captain had a daughter, or that he was so anxious to +conceal the fact that he was a privateer; but no power on earth now, not +even that of the captain himself, can prevent those devilish sailors +from coming here in search of him if he does not go to them, so you had +better tell him, in any case, that the ship's officers and a part of the +crew are waiting for him at the tavern known as The Golden Anchor on the +quay." + +The ship owner hastened off and Segoffin darted into the house to +inquire if there was any improvement in Sabine's condition. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +"MY MOTHER'S MURDERER STILL LIVES." + + +Segoffin had been pacing the hall out of which Sabine's sitting-room +opened for about half an hour with ever-increasing anxiety before +Suzanne came out. + +"Well, how is mademoiselle?" he asked, anxiously. "Tell me, Suzanne, how +is she?" + +"A nice question to ask, truly, when your brutality toward that +estimable gentleman this morning threw mademoiselle into a frightful +nervous spasm." + +"I admit that I did very wrong, but she had got over that. M. Yvon told +me so when he came out into the garden. What happened afterward to upset +her so again?" + +"Alas! the one great sorrow of her life has been recalled to her +remembrance more vividly than ever!" + +"You refer to her poor mother's death, of course." + +"Yes, and she has just been talking to M. Yvon about it. You can judge +how painful the conversation must have been to him." + +"What do you mean?" cried Segoffin, in alarm. "Is it possible that Mlle. +Sabine knows that terrible secret?" + +"No, thank Heaven! she does not, and I sincerely hope she never will." + +"I do not understand you then, Suzanne." + +"This is what caused all the trouble," said the housekeeper, drawing a +paper from her pocket. + +"What is that?" + +"The morning paper. It contains further details in relation to that +famous privateer, Captain l'Endurci. Listen to what it says, and you +will then understand the situation." + +And opening the paper, Suzanne read the following extract from an +article headed, "Further Particulars in Relation to the Famous Corsair, +Captain l'Endurci:" + +"'The captain's personal appearance is well calculated to increase his +prestige, and each and every one of his men would willingly follow him +to the death. + +"'This intrepid corsair is about forty years of age. Though only of +medium height, he is remarkably agile and robust; his physiognomy is +both virile and expressive; his eagle eye, the imperious carriage of his +head, and his resolute bearing all show him to be a man born to command. +His real name and origin is shrouded in mystery, but many persons are of +the opinion that he is a native of Brittany, basing the supposition upon +the costume he always wears on shipboard. Others think the captain came +from some southern province, and that he adopted the Breton costume +merely from motives of convenience. + +"'However that may be, we are sure our readers will peruse with interest +a description of the costume this famous corsair always wears on +shipboard; in fact, it is even said that he attaches a superstitious +importance to the wearing of this garb, which consists of a long black +jacket and waistcoat trimmed with small silver buttons, a broad orange +sash into which his weapons are thrust, wide white linen trousers +similar to the _morphs_ worn by the fishermen of Holland and the pilots +of the island of Batz, high leggings, and a low, broad-brimmed felt +hat.'" + +After having read this extract the housekeeper remarked: "You see, +Segoffin, that this corsair wears a costume which is identical in every +respect with that worn by M. Cloarek on the night of madame's deplorable +death." + +"Yes; it makes me shudder to think of it," exclaimed Segoffin, +interrupting her, "and on reading it, I suppose Mlle. Cloarek fancied +she saw in this corsair the mysterious personage who was the cause of +her mother's death." + +"Alas! yes, Segoffin, and she said to monsieur, in a sort of frenzy: +'Father, my mother's murderer still lives. Will you not avenge her?' You +can imagine M. Cloarek's feelings. To undeceive his daughter he would +have to accuse himself." + +"Mademoiselle must have read the papers after M. Yvon's return, then, I +suppose." + +"Yes, monsieur came in about eleven o'clock. He looked radiant; my +nephew, who was with him, also seemed to be in the best of spirits. 'Is +my daughter in her room?' asked monsieur, gaily. 'I have some good news +for her.' Though I am no talebearer, there was nothing for me to do but +tell him about the altercation you and the worthy merchant had had in +the garden, and how much it had terrified mademoiselle." + +"Of course, but go on." + +"Monsieur ran up to his daughter's room and found that she had almost +entirely recovered from her attack. Soon afterward, Therese brought up +the paper as usual, and I, unfortunately, thinking it would divert +mademoiselle, gave it to her to read. When she came to the passage in +which the privateer's peculiar costume was described, she uttered a +terrible cry--But hush! here comes monsieur," exclaimed Suzanne, +hastily. + +Cloarek, with an expression of the gloomiest despair imprinted on his +features, and as pale as death, had just come out of his daughter's +room. + +"Go to her, Suzanne, she is asking for you," he said, hoarsely. "Come +with me, Segoffin." + +Segoffin silently followed his employer into his bedroom, where Cloarek, +throwing himself into an armchair, buried his face in his hands and +groaned aloud. + +On beholding this poignant grief, Segoffin felt his own eyes grow moist +as he stood silent and motionless beside his master. + +"I can not understand how the recollection of that terrible night +impressed itself so deeply on that unfortunate child's memory," +exclaimed Cloarek, at last. "I shudder still as I think with what an +expression of horror she exclaimed, 'Father, father, my mother's +murderer still lives.' And as I gazed at her in a sort of stupor without +replying, she added, with all the energy of intense hatred, 'Father, I +tell you that the man who killed my mother, the man who killed your +wife, still lives. Her murder cries for vengeance, and this man still +lives.' And for the first time I saw an expression of hatred on my +daughter's gentle face, and I was the object of that hatred. This +terrible scene has reopened the wound again and revived my remorse, and +yet you know how much I have suffered, and how bitterly I have expiated +that momentary madness." + +"But the worst thing, after all, is this scheme of Verduron's, M. Yvon," +responded Segoffin, after a moment's silence. + +"Yes, it is enough to drive one mad, for if I remain with my daughter +the crew is sure to come here." + +"That is absolutely certain. You know our men." + +"Yes, and Sabine will then learn that her father, Captain l'Endurci, and +her mother's murderer are all one and the same person, and this child, +upon whom I have concentrated all my affection for years,--this child +who is my only hope and joy and consolation in life,--will feel for me +henceforth only aversion and loathing." + +Then, after a few moments of gloomy reflection, he murmured, his eyes +wild, his lips contracted in a sardonic smile: + +"But nonsense! she is rich; she loves an honourable man, who loves her +in return. She will still have Suzanne and Segoffin. Instead of loathing +me, she shall mourn for me, and, so far as she is concerned, my death +shall be enshrouded in the same mystery as my life." + +As he spoke Cloarek stepped toward a table on which a pair of pistols +were lying; but Segoffin, who had not once taken his eyes off his +employer, sprang forward and, seizing the pistols before the captain +could reach them, removed the charge and coolly replaced the weapons. + +"Wretch!" exclaimed Cloarek, seizing Segoffin by the collar, and shaking +him violently, "you shall pay dearly for your audacity." + +"Time presses, M. Yvon, and you have more important business on hand +than shaking poor old Segoffin. Your time is too precious for that!" + +The head gunner's coolness restored Cloarek to himself, and sinking +despondently into a chair, he said, gloomily: + +"You are right, I am a fool. What shall I do? My brain seems to be on +fire." + +"Do you really want to know what I think you had better do?" + +"Yes." + +"I think you had better go to Havre immediately." + +"Leave Sabine in this condition? Increase her alarm by a hasty departure +and an incomprehensible absence after all my promises to her? Abandon +her when she needs my care and affection more than ever before,--at the +time she is about to marry, in short?" + +"Mlle. Sabine?" + +"Yes, the idea of this marriage was not at all pleasing to me at first, +but now I feel confident that my daughter's future will prove a happy +one; still, I ought to guide these children and surround them with the +tenderest paternal solicitude, and it is at a time like this that I must +put to sea again, and again risk my life now that it has become more +necessary than ever to Sabine. I have recovered my senses now, and +realise how mad I was to think of killing myself just now. Thanks to +you, my tried and faithful friend, I have been saved from that crime." + +"I wish I could save you from the visit of our ship's crew as well, M. +Yvon. You must not forget that danger. If you do not go to them, they +will surely come to you." + +"Then I will go to them," exclaimed Cloarek, as if a way out of the +difficulty had suddenly presented itself to his mind. "Yes, I will go to +Havre at once, and tell my men that I have abandoned the sea, and that +it will be useless for them to attempt to coerce me. You know how +determined I am, and how little likelihood there is that I shall yield +to overpersuasion. You shall accompany me. You have considerable +influence over them, and you must exert it in my behalf. It is the only +means of averting the danger that threatens me. It is now two o'clock, +by three we shall be in Havre, and back home again by five. My daughter +is lying down, and will not even suspect my absence. To avert suspicion, +we will take a carriage at the inn." + +Cloarek had already started toward the door, when the head gunner +checked him by saying: + +"You are making a great mistake in one respect, M. Yvon." + +"What do you mean?" + +"If you go to Havre you will not return here until after the cruise is +ended." + +"You are mad." + +"No, I am not mad." + +"You think my crew will carry me away by force, do you?" + +"It is very probable. Besides, when you are with the sailors again, you +will not have the strength to resist them." + +"I will not?" + +"No." + +"Not after the reasons I have just stated to you? I shall be back here +by five o'clock, I tell you, and before my daughter has even discovered +my absence. Your fears are absurd. Come, I say." + +"You insist?" + +"Yes, I do." + +"That which is to be, will be," said Segoffin, shaking his head +dubiously, but following his employer for all that. + +After inquiring how Sabine was feeling, and learning that she had fallen +asleep, Cloarek started for Havre in company with his head gunner. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +AFTER THE STORM. + + +Three days have elapsed since Yvon Cloarek left his home without +notifying his daughter of his intended departure, and this once pleasant +and tranquil abode shows traces of recent devastation almost everywhere. + +One of the out-buildings have been almost entirely destroyed by fire, +and pieces of blackened rubbish and half-burned rafters cover a part of +the garden. + +The door and several windows on the ground floor, which have been +shattered by an axe, have been replaced by boards; several large red +stains disfigure the walls, and several of the sashes in the second +story have been riddled with shot. + +It is midnight. + +By the light of a shaded lamp burning in one of the sleeping apartments, +one can dimly discern the form of Onesime, and the sheets of the bed on +which he is lying are stained with blood in several places. + +Suzanne's nephew seems to be asleep. His face is death-like in its +pallor, and a melancholy smile is playing upon his parted lips. + +An elderly woman in peasant garb is sitting by his bedside, watching him +with evident solicitude. + +The profound silence that pervades the room is broken by the cautious +opening and shutting of the door, and Dame Roberts steals on tiptoe up +to the bed, and, drawing one of the curtains a little aside, gazes in +upon her nephew with great anxiety. + +In three days Suzanne's features have become almost +unrecognisable,--sorrow, anxiety, and tears have wrought such ravages in +them. + +After gazing at Onesime in silence for several seconds, Suzanne stepped +back, and, beckoning the attendant to come closer, said to her, in a +whisper: + +"How has he been since I went out?" + +"He hasn't seemed to suffer quite as much, I think." + +"Has he complained at all?" + +"Very little. He has tried to question me several times, but I +remembered your orders and would tell him nothing." + +"He has recovered consciousness, then?" + +"Entirely, madame. It is very evident that he would be glad enough to +talk, if he could get any one to answer his questions." + +"Has he asked for me?" + +"Oh, yes, madame, he said to me several times: 'My aunt will be in soon, +won't she?' I told him that you came in almost every half-hour. He made +a slight movement of the head to indicate that he thanked me, and then +he fell asleep, but only to wake with a start a few minutes afterward." + +"He doesn't seem to suffer much from his wound now, does he?" + +"No, madame, only he has had considerable difficulty in breathing once +or twice." + +"Heaven grant that his wound may not prove fatal!" exclaimed Suzanne, +clasping her hands imploringly, and raising her tearful eyes heavenward. + +"The surgeon assured you to the contrary, you know, madame." + +"He told me that he had hopes of his recovery, that is all, alas!" + +"I think he is waking, madame," whispered the peasant woman, for Onesime +had just made a slight movement and uttered a deep sigh. + +Suzanne peeped in again, and, seeing that Onesime was not asleep, she +said to the peasant: + +"Go down and get your dinner. I will ring for you when I want you." + +The nurse left the room, and Suzanne seated herself in the chair the +woman had just vacated. + +On hearing his aunt's voice, Onesime looked greatly relieved; and when +he saw her seat herself near him, he exclaimed: + +"So you have come at last! How glad I am!" + +"I heard you sigh just now, my dear boy, so you must still be suffering +just as much or more, I fear." + +"No; I feel much better." + +"You are not saying that merely to reassure me, I hope." + +"Take hold of my hand. You know how hot it was awhile ago." + +"Yes, it is much cooler now, I see. And your wound, does it still +trouble you much?" + +"I have a little difficulty in breathing, that is all. The wound itself +doesn't amount to much." + +"Good Heavens! so a wound in the breast from a dagger is nothing, is +it?" + +"My dear aunt--" + +"What do you want?" + +"How is Mlle. Sabine?" + +"Everybody is well, very well, as I've told you before." + +"And M. Cloarek?" + +"There is no use in asking me so many questions. I sha'n't answer them. +By and by, when you are really better, it will be different." + +"Listen, aunt. You refuse to answer me for fear of agitating me too +much, but I swear to you that the uncertainty I am in concerning Mlle. +Sabine and M. Cloarek makes me miserable." + +"Everybody is getting on very well, I tell you." + +"No, aunt, no, that is impossible, after the terrible and still +inexplicable occurrence that--" + +"But, my dear nephew, I assure you--Come, come, don't be so impatient. +Can't you be a little more reasonable? Calm yourself, Onesime, I beg of +you!" + +"Is it my fault? Why will you persist in keeping me in such a state of +suspense?" + +"Don't I keep telling you that everybody is well?" + +"But I tell you that is impossible," exclaimed the young man, excitedly. +"What! do you mean to tell me that Mlle. Sabine, who starts and trembles +at the slightest sound, could see her home invaded by a furious band of +armed men, without sustaining a terrible, perhaps fatal, shock?" + +"But, Onesime, listen to me--" + +"Who knows but she may be dead, dead, and you are concealing it from me? +You think you are acting for the best, aunt, but you are mistaken. The +truth, no matter how terrible it may be, will do me much less harm than +this state of frightful uncertainty. Sleeping and waking, I am a prey to +the most terrible fears. I would a hundred times rather be dead than +live in this state of suspense." + +"Listen, then, but promise to be reasonable and have courage." + +"Courage? Ah, I knew that some terrible calamity had occurred." + +"Dear me! I knew it would be just this way whatever I said or did!" +cried poor Suzanne. "You see yourself that at the very first word I say +to you--" + +"Oh, my God! I had a presentiment of it. She is dead!" + +"No, no, she is living, she is living. I swear it! She has suffered +terribly,--she has been alarmingly ill, but her life is no longer in +danger." + +"It has been in danger, then?" + +"Yes, for two days, but I have just seen her and talked with her, and +there is no longer cause for the slightest anxiety." + +"God be thanked!" exclaimed Onesime, fervently. "And how much I thank +you, too, my dear aunt. Ah, if you knew how much good you have done me, +and how relieved I feel. Is M. Cloarek here?" + +"No." + +"Where is he?" + +"We do not know." + +"But that fatal night--" + +"He came home, and was slightly wounded in the fray, but no one has seen +him since." + +"And that strange attack upon the house, those frightful but +incomprehensible words which were uttered by Mlle. Sabine, and which I +seemed to hear as in a dream after I was hurt. These things puzzle me +so. Explain them, I beg of you." + +"In your present state of mind I can see that a refusal on my part might +prove dangerous." + +"Yes, very dangerous." + +"But I repeat that you must have courage, for--" + +"I will, aunt, I will." + +"You remember, do you not, that on the afternoon of that memorable day, +M. Cloarek, who had left for Havre without our knowing it, sent a +message to his daughter from that city telling her that she must not be +anxious about him, as some business matters might detain him until late +that night? You recollect that, do you not?" + +"Yes." + +"You remember, too, the fright we had the very evening of M. Cloarek's +arrival?" + +"Yes, about those two men Therese thought she saw." + +"The poor girl saw them only too plainly, as subsequent events have +proved, for two men, as we afterward learned, did effect an entrance +into the garden, not to break into the house, but to reconnoitre." + +"The two men belonged to this armed band, then, I suppose." + +"One of them was the leader of it." + +Just then the nurse reentered the room and motioned to Suzanne that she +wished to speak to her. + +"What is it?" inquired Suzanne, in a low tone. + +"M. Segoffin has come." + +"And M. Cloarek?" + +"M. Segoffin is alone and wants to see Mlle. Sabine at once. Therese +went up to tell her, and she sent word for him to come right up to her +room." + +"Tell mademoiselle that I will come at once if she needs me." + +The nurse left the room again, and Suzanne returned to her nephew's +bedside to continue her conversation with him. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +THE MIDNIGHT ATTACK. + + +"IT was no bad news that they came to tell you just now, was it, aunt?" +inquired Onesime, as Suzanne reseated herself near him. + +"Oh, no; I will tell you what it was presently. Let me go on with my +story. You recollect Therese running in to tell us that the stable was +on fire, and that a band of armed men were attacking the house?" + +"Yes, yes; what a terrible night it was!" + +"I shall never forget the mingled terror and admiration I felt at the +courage you displayed. I can hear you saying now: 'Flight is impossible; +I cannot preserve you from danger, my infirmity, alas! prevents that, +but I can at least make a rampart of my body for your protection;' and, +arming yourself with an iron bar wrenched from one of the shutters, you +rushed to the door, and alone and unaided guarded the entrance to the +room with truly supernatural courage and strength." + +"Don't speak of that, my dear aunt. Really, I--" + +"What! not speak of it when the recollection of your bravery and +devotion is the only consolation I have when I see you lying here. No, +the most determined resistance I ever read of paled beside yours. +Entrenched in the doorway, the iron bar became a formidable weapon in +your hands, and though your defective vision prevented you from aiming +your blows very accurately, those who came within reach of your arm fell +at your feet, one by one." + +"How terrified Mlle. Sabine must have been! Timid as she is, she must +have died a thousand deaths during that brief struggle." + +"You are very much mistaken, my friend. The courage and strength of +character she displayed in that trying hour amazed me. I can see her now +standing there pale but resolute. Her first words were: 'Thank God, I +shall die alone, my father is absent.' Then, pointing to you, she said, +exultantly: 'Do you admit that he is brave now? He is confronting death +unflinchingly for our sakes, but we shall at least perish with him.' And +when, overpowered, by numbers, you were at last struck down, and four of +the men, the leader with his arm in a sling, burst into the room, she +showed even greater heroism. 'Onesime is dead!' she exclaimed. 'It is +our turn now! Farewell, Suzanne,' she added, clasping me in her arms, +and murmuring, softly, 'Farewell, dear father, farewell.'" + +"Loving and courageous to the last!" exclaimed Onesime, with tears both +in his voice and eyes. + +"I felt much less resigned. I had just seen you fall bleeding across the +threshold, and I threw myself at the feet of the leader, begging for +mercy. With a gesture he commanded the men to pause, and then, turning +to me, demanded, in a threatening voice: 'Where is Captain l'Endurci?'" + +"Captain l'Endurci?" repeated Onesime, in great surprise. "Why did they +come here to look for Captain l'Endurci? Besides, these men were +Englishmen. I remember now." + +"I will explain presently. When the leader of the party asked where +Captain l'Endurci was, I replied: 'This house belongs to M. Cloarek. He +is absent from home. This is his daughter. Have pity on her.' + +"'His daughter!' exclaimed the man, with a ferocious laugh. 'So this is +his daughter, is it? So much the better! And you,--are you his wife?' + +"'No, I am only the housekeeper.' + +"'So this is his daughter,' he repeated again, approaching poor +mademoiselle, whose courage seemed to increase with the danger, for, +with both hands crossed upon her breast, like a saint, she looked the +leader of the bandits straight in the eye. + +"'Where is your father?' he demanded. + +"'A long way from here, thank God!' replied the poor child, bravely. + +"'Your father arrived here yesterday. He can hardly have gone away again +so soon. He must be somewhere about the house. Where is he? Where is he, +I say?' + +"And as Sabine remained silent, he continued, with a sardonic smile: + +"'I have missed your father, it seems, but, by taking you, I shall get +him sooner or later. You shall write to him from England, telling him +where you are, and he will incur any risk to release you. I shall be +waiting for him, and so capture him sooner or later. Come with me.' + +"'Go with you? I would rather die,' exclaimed Sabine. + +"'No one has any intention of killing you, but you have got to come, so +you had better do so peaceably, and not compel us to resort to force.' + +"'Never!' cried the poor girl. + +"The scoundrel turned to his men, and said a few words to them, +whereupon they sprung upon Sabine. I tried to defend her, but they +dragged me away, and, in spite of her tears and cries, she was soon +securely bound. They had scarcely done this before the report of +fire-arms and loud shouts were heard outside. Two men came rushing in, +and said a few words to their leader, who quickly followed them out of +the room. All the men except those who were holding Sabine hurried out +after him. Then, and not until then, was I able to approach you. I +thought at first that you were dead, so, forgetting Sabine and +everything else, I was sobbing over you, when, suddenly--" Suzanne +paused for a moment overcome with emotion. + +"Go on! Oh, go on, I beg of you!" exclaimed Onesime. + +"Never shall I forget that scene. At the farther end of the room two of +the wretches were trying to drag Sabine along, in spite of her +despairing cries. The other two men, evidently frightened by the +increasing uproar outside, darted to the door, but just as they reached +it both were struck down in turn by a terrific blow from an axe. A +moment afterward Sabine's captors shared the same fate." + +"But who struck them down?" + +"Who?" exclaimed Suzanne, with a shudder, and lowering her voice. "A man +clad in a strange costume. He wore a long, black jacket and waistcoat, a +broad-brimmed hat, and full, white trousers. Axe in hand, he had just +burst into the room, followed by several sailors." + +"It seems to me that I have heard Mlle. Sabine speak of some other man +dressed in a similar manner who, she said, was her mother's murderer." + +"Alas! this recollection was only too vivid in her mind," said Suzanne, +sadly. + +"But who was the man that came to Mlle. Sabine's assistance, clad in +this way?" + +"This man was the famous privateer, Captain l'Endurci,--this man was M. +Cloarek!" + +"M. Cloarek! Impossible!" exclaimed Onesime, raising himself up in bed, +in spite of his weakness. + +"Yes, he had an axe in his hand. His garments were covered with blood; +his face, never, oh, never, have I beheld a face so terrible. When he +came in, Sabine, not distinguishing his features at first, uttered a cry +of horror, and exclaimed, 'The black man! The black man!' and when M. +Cloarek ran to his daughter, she recoiled in terror, crying, 'Father, +ah, father, then it was you who killed my mother!' and fell apparently +lifeless upon the floor." + +"Yes, yes, those words, 'Father, then it was you who killed my mother,' +I heard them vaguely, as life seemed to be deserting me. Oh, this is +frightful, frightful! What a horrible discovery! What misery it entails! +Such a tender father and loving daughter to have such a gulf between +them for ever! You were right, aunt, you were right! It does indeed +require courage to bear such a revelation. And Mlle. Sabine, how has she +been since that time?" + +"The unfortunate child lay between life and death for two whole days, as +I told you." + +"And M. Cloarek?" + +"Alas! we know nothing about him. On hearing his daughter reproach him +for her mother's death, he uttered a loud cry, and rushed out of the +room like one demented, and nothing has been seen of him since." + +"How unfortunate! Great Heavens, how unfortunate! But how did M. Cloarek +hear of this intended attack?" + +"It seems this party had made two or three similar descents at different +points along the coast; but this attack was unquestionably made in the +hope of capturing M. Cloarek, who, under the name of Captain l'Endurci, +had inflicted such injury upon the British navy." + +The nurse, reentering the room at that moment, said to Suzanne: + +"Madame Roberts, M. Segoffin wishes to speak to you, as well as to M. +Onesime, if he feels able to see him." + +"Certainly," responded the young man, promptly. + +Segoffin entered the room almost immediately. Dame Roberts did not +receive him with ironical words and looks, as she had been wont to do, +however. On the contrary, she advanced to meet him with affectionate +eagerness. + +"Well, my dear Segoffin, is your news good or bad?" she exclaimed. + +"I hardly know, my dear Suzanne. It will all depend upon this," he +sighed, drawing a bulky envelope from his pocket as he spoke. + +"What is that?" + +"A letter from M. Cloarek." + +"He is alive, then, thank Heaven!" + +"Yes, and his only remaining hope is in this letter, and I am to give +the letter to you, M. Onesime." + +"To me?" + +"And I am to tell you what you are to do with it. But first let me ask +if you feel able to get up?" + +"Yes, oh, yes!" exclaimed the young man, making a quick movement. + +"And I say you are not. It would be exceedingly imprudent in you, +Onesime," cried his aunt. + +"Excuse me, Suzanne," interposed Segoffin. "I am as much opposed to +anything like imprudence as you can possibly be, but (I can confess it +now, you see) as I have had considerable experience in injuries of this +kind during the last twelve years, I am probably much better able to +judge than you are, so I am going to feel your nephew's pulse and note +his symptoms carefully, and if I find him able to go down to the parlour +where Mlle. Sabine is, I--No, no, not so fast!" added Segoffin, laying a +restraining hand on Onesime, who, upon hearing Sabine's name, had +evinced an evident intention of springing out of bed. "I have not made +my diagnosis yet. Do me the favour to keep quiet. If you don't, I will +take the letter away, and lock you up here in your room." + +Onesime sighed, but submitted with breathless impatience to Segoffin's +careful examination, made with the aid of a lamp held by Suzanne, an +examination which satisfied him that the young man could sit up an hour +or two without the slightest danger. + +"You are positive there is no danger, Segoffin?" asked Dame Roberts, +anxiously. + +"None whatever." + +"But why not postpone this conference for awhile?" + +"Because there is a person counting the hours, nay, the very minutes, +until he hears from us." + +"You mean M. Cloarek, do you not?" + +"I tell you there is some one not far from here to whom this decision +means life or death," said Segoffin, without answering the question. + +"Life or death!" cried Suzanne. + +"Or rather hope or despair," added Segoffin, gravely, "and that is why, +Suzanne, I ask your nephew to make the effort to go down-stairs. Now, if +you will go to mademoiselle, I will help M. Onesime dress." + +Ten minutes afterward Onesime, leaning on Segoffin's arm, entered the +little parlour where Sabine was awaiting him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +A LAST APPEAL. + + +THE poor girl was as pale as death, and so weak that she was obliged to +half recline in a large easy-chair. + +"Will you sit down, M. Onesime, and you too, my dear Suzanne and +Segoffin," she said, with gentle dignity. + +They all seated themselves in silence. + +"Before beginning this conversation," said Sabine, with a melancholy +smile, "I must tell you that I am greatly changed. The vague and often +senseless fears which have haunted me from infancy seem to have +vanished. The terrible reality seems to have dispelled these phantoms. I +tell you this, my friends, so you may understand that it is no longer +necessary to manifest so much caution and consideration in your +treatment of me, and that you can tell me the entire truth with safety, +no matter how terrible it may be. One word more: I adjure you, Suzanne, +and you too, Segoffin, in the name of your devotion to me and to--other +members of my family, to answer all my questions fully and truthfully. +Will you promise to do this?" + +"I promise," replied Suzanne. + +"I promise," said Segoffin. + +A brief silence followed. + +All present, and more especially Onesime, were struck by the firm and +resolute manner in which Sabine expressed herself, and felt that, +whatever her decision might be, it would unquestionably prove +unalterable. + +"You saw me born, Suzanne," continued the young girl, after a moment, +"and by your untiring care and faithful devotion you made yourself my +mother's valued friend. It is in the name of this friendship that I +adjure you to tell me if the memories of my infancy have deceived me, +and if it was not my father who, twelve years ago, dressed as I saw him +three days ago, caused--caused my mother's death." + +"Alas! mademoiselle--" + +"In the name of my sainted mother, I adjure you to tell me the truth, +Suzanne." + +"The truth is, mademoiselle," replied the housekeeper, in a trembling +voice, "the truth is, that, after a stormy scene between your parents, +madame died; but--" + +"Enough, my dear Suzanne," said Sabine, interrupting her. Then, passing +her hand across her burning brow, she relapsed into a gloomy silence +that no one dared to break. + +"Segoffin," she said, at last, "you were my grandfather's faithful +servant and trusted friend. You watched over my father in childhood; at +all times, and under all circumstances, you have been blindly devoted to +him. Is it true that my father, instead of being engaged in business as +he said, has been privateering under the name of Captain l'Endurci?" + +"Yes, mademoiselle, it is true," Segoffin answered, smothering a sigh. + +After another brief silence, Sabine said: + +"M. Onesime, I owe it to myself and I owe it to you to inform you of my +determination. In happier days there was some talk of a marriage between +us, but after what has occurred, after what you know and have just +heard, you will not be surprised, I think, to hear me say that this +world is no longer any place for me." + +"Good Heavens! what do you mean, mademoiselle?" cried Onesime, in +dismay. + +"I have decided to retire to a convent, where I intend to end my days." + +Onesime did not utter a word, but sat with his head bowed upon his +breast, while quick, heavy sobs shook his frame. + +"No, mademoiselle, no! That is impossible," sobbed Suzanne. "No, surely +you will not thus bury yourself alive." + +"My mind is made up," answered Sabine, firmly; "but if such a sojourn +does not seem too gloomy to you, my dear Suzanne, I should be glad to +have you accompany me." + +"I shall never leave you. You know that very well, mademoiselle, but you +will not do this, you will not--" + +"Suzanne, for two days I have been reflecting upon the course I ought to +pursue. There is nothing else for me to do, so my resolution is +irrevocable." + +"And your father, mademoiselle," interposed Segoffin, "before you +separate yourself from him for ever you will surely see him once more." + +"No." + +"Then, from this day on, you are dead to him and he is dead to you." + +It was evidently with a violent effort at self-control that Sabine at +last replied: + +"It will be better for me not to see my father again until we are +reunited with my mother." + +"Ah, mademoiselle, how can you be so cruel?" murmured Segoffin, +despairingly. "If you knew how wretched he is--" + +"No, I am not cruel," replied the girl; "at least I do not mean to be. I +can only repeat what I said to Suzanne just now. For two days I have +been reflecting on the course I ought to pursue, and my decision is +irrevocable." + +A gloomy silence greeted this announcement. Segoffin was the first to +speak. + +"You surely will not refuse to hear a letter from M. Cloarek read, +mademoiselle," he said, at last. "It is the only request he makes of +you, for he foresaw the aversion you would feel for him." + +"Aversion!" cried Sabine, like one in mortal agony. Then controlling +herself, she added: + +"There seems to have been a strange and cruel fatality about all this." + +"Yes," answered the old servant, sighing; "but as M. Cloarek is never to +see you again, will you not at least listen to the letter I brought to +M. Onesime?" + +"It is undoubtedly my duty to comply with my father's wishes, so I am +ready to listen, M. Onesime." + +The young man opened the envelope Segoffin handed him. The letter which +Cloarek had written to his daughter was accompanied with the following +brief note: + +"I implore you to read the enclosed letter to Sabine, my dear Onesime. +It is a last proof of esteem and affection I desire to give you. + +"May this truthful account written by a despairing parent, and read by a +beloved voice, reach his daughter's heart. Yours affectionately, + +"Y. CLOAREK." + +After telling Sabine the contents of this note the young man read the +following aloud: + +"'TO MY DAUGHTER:--Fate seems to decree that I am to be separated from +you for ever, my child, for now I know you can no longer bear the sight +of me. + +"'A strange and unforeseen event has revealed a terrible and jealously +guarded secret to you. + +"'Yes, that man in the strange costume, whom you have always remembered +as your mother's murderer, was I, your father. + +"'The privateer whose deeds inspired you with such horror was I. + +"'Your mother was _enceinte_. We had a quarrel,--the first in our whole +married life, I swear it! I gave way to my temper, and my anger became +so terrible that, in your mother's nervous condition, her fright killed +her. + +"'Mine was a double crime, for the terror that proved fatal to your +mother also had a lasting effect upon you, for the unfortunate +impression made upon you at that tender age had a most deplorable +influence, not only upon your health, but upon your whole life. + +"'You know my crime, now let me tell you how I have expiated it. + +"'When I saw you motherless, I asked myself what would become of you. + +"'The small fortune that your mother and I possessed had been almost +entirely lost in consequence of the political agitations of the day and +a ruinous lawsuit. I had lost my position as a magistrate in consequence +of the scandal which my ebullitions of temper caused. + +"'I sold the small amount of property I had left, and realised about six +thousand francs from the sale. Suzanne, who had gained your poor +mother's affectionate esteem by her virtues and her faithfulness, was +devoted to you. I said to her: + +"'"Here are five thousand francs; enough, with economy, to supply my +daughter's wants and yours for five years. I entrust my child to your +care. If you have seen or heard nothing from me at the expiration of +these five years, you will send a letter which I will leave with you to +the person to whom it is addressed." + +"'The person to whom this letter was written was a man of noble lineage +whose life I had saved during the revolution, and who had taken up his +abode in Germany; and I felt sure that this man, who was still wealthy, +would treat you as an adopted child; but I did not intend you to eat the +bitter bread of dependence if I could help it. + +"'These arrangements made, I kissed you while you were peacefully +sleeping, and departed with one thousand francs as my only dependence. +Segoffin, my tried and trusted friend, insisted upon sharing my +fortunes, so he accompanied me. + +"'I had devoted the days which immediately preceded my departure to +sorrowful meditations upon the future and the past, during which I had +questioned, studied, and judged myself with inexorable severity. + +"'My misfortunes and my crime toward your mother were due to the +impetuosity of my character. Anything that wounded my feelings, anything +contradictory to my convictions, anything in the way of opposition to my +wishes, made my blood boil and excited me almost to frenzy; and this +exuberance and impetuosity vented themselves in fury and violence. + +"'In short, my only capital was anger. + +"'While thus studying myself I recollected the wonderful mental and +physical power with which I seemed to be endowed when I yielded to these +transports of rage. + +"'Often when I had revolted against certain iniquitous facts or acts of +cruel oppression, the very intensity of my anger had given me almost +superhuman power to defend the weak and chastise the oppressor. For +instance, one day when I found three ruffians attacking a poor +defenceless woman, I nearly killed all three of them, though in my +normal condition I could not have coped successfully with any one of +them single-handed. + +"'But alas! my child, on continuing this inexorable study of myself, I +was also obliged to admit that I had not always had just cause for my +anger, by any means, for not unfrequently the slightest contradiction +infuriated me almost to madness. Your poor mother's death was a terrible +example of this idiosyncrasy on my part. + +"'After this long and careful examination of myself, I summed up the +result as follows: + +"'Anger is a passion of such intensity in me, that it increases my +mental and physical powers a hundred-fold. In other words, it is a +force. + +"'When this force is brought into action by generous motives, it leads +to acts of which I have every reason to be proud. + +"'When, on the contrary, it is brought into action by unworthy motives, +it causes me to commit culpable or even criminal acts, which I shall +never cease to regret. + +"'Anger has been the cause of my ruin and of my despair. It killed my +wife. Now, anger shall be my salvation and the salvation of my daughter. + +"'These words may seem incomprehensible to you, my child, but listen. + +"'In my position of magistrate, my proneness to anger and violence was +most prejudicial to me. It caused people to regard me with derision, +even with contempt, and destroyed every prospect of my advancement in my +judicial career. In other words, my mind, character, and temperament did +not harmonise with my functions. + +"'It was consequently advisable for me to adopt a profession in which +the vice, or rather, the radical force of my nature could be utilised to +the best advantage of myself and of others. + +"'I soon found such a profession. + +"'My grandfather had been a sea-faring man, like nearly all Bretons who +live on the coast; but my father's rather delicate health led him to +enter the judiciary. But I had been reared on the coast, and the sight +of the sea, and the daring, adventurous, and independent life of the +fishermen had made a deep impression upon my mind. + +"'A privateer! to be a privateer! When this idea presented itself to my +mind my heart bounded with hope. + +"'It seemed to amount to a revelation. + +"'It offered an outlet for the feverish ardour that was devouring me. + +"'My one object in life now was to save you from poverty, and ensure you +the comforts of life, both now and in years to come,--to secure +sufficient wealth to make it possible for you to marry the man of your +choice, some day. This, and to find a career in which my powers could be +best utilised. + +"'How could I do this more effectually than by becoming a privateer? + +"'The prize-money gained by privateers often amounts to large sums, so +it was quite possible that I might succeed in amassing a very +comfortable little fortune for you; besides, where could I hope to find +a life that would suit me better, or even as well as the daring, +exciting, adventurous life of a corsair? + +"'Contention and strife were like the breath of life to me. Resistance +exasperated me to frenzy; peril only incited me to greater efforts; the +presence of danger set my blood to boiling. Madness seized me, and my +capabilities seemed to increase in power in proportion to the number of +my enemies. + +"'Nor was this all, my child. As I have remarked before, cruelty, or +oppression, or treachery, enraged me well-nigh to madness, and against +whom should I fight if I became a corsair? Against a country I +abhorred,--against a country that, impelled by hatred, greed, or +ambition, as the case might be, had pursued France with the utmost +vindictiveness for years, hesitating at nothing,--now trying to ruin us +by flooding our country with counterfeit assignats, now torturing our +brave soldiers to madness, even to death, in her horrible prison +hulks,--in short, _England_! + +"'_England_! In spite of the despair that overwhelms me as I write, the +mere name of that country (which I hate with an even more mortal hatred +since the dastardly attempt of which you so narrowly escaped becoming +the victim) brings a hot flush of anger to my cheek; my wrath kindles +again, and-- + +"'But forgive me, forgive me, my poor child, forgive me for thus +grieving your tender and ingenuous heart, which is incapable of aught +like hatred. + +"'I did feel it necessary, however, to explain all the reasons that +actuated me in entering upon the only career that seemed open to me. + +"'My decision made, I kissed you farewell while you were sleeping, and +departed in company with Segoffin.'" + + * * * * * + +Onesime's reading was here interrupted by a despairing sob that Sabine +could no longer repress. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +CONCLUSION. + + +Sabine had been deeply touched by the opening paragraphs of her father's +letter. + +Cloarek's simple and straightforward confession, his deep remorse at the +ebullition of temper which had been the cause of his wife's death, his +resolve to expiate his faults, or, rather, to make them assist in +ensuring his daughter's future happiness, the paternal love which +dominated every word and deed, all combined to arouse a feeling of +tender commiseration for misfortunes which had been due, in a great +measure, at least, to peculiarities of temperament; and seeing the +strong impression that had been made on the young girl, the others saw a +ray of hope. + +Segoffin and the housekeeper exchanged inquiring glances, but seemed to +silently agree that it would be advisable to make no comment, but leave +Sabine to the influence of her own reflections. + +But after a few moments, Suzanne, leaning toward her nephew, whispered +in his ear: + +"All is not lost yet. Go on, go on, my dear Onesime." So Onesime +continued as follows: + + * * * * * + +"'Segoffin and I went to Dieppe, where we shipped as common sailors on a +privateer, for we realised that we must both serve an apprenticeship at +our new trade. We made several voyages in that capacity. In my leisure +moments I studied mathematics and the art of navigation assiduously, so +I should be able to command a vessel myself when the necessary practical +knowledge had been acquired. + +"'My apprenticeship lasted two years, during which we were engaged in a +number of bloody conflicts. At the end of that time I was offered the +position of mate aboard a well-known privateer. After eighteen months +spent in this way, I had become so well known that a ship owner offered +me the command of a vessel called the _Hell-hound_, that he was fitting +out. + +"'Strange to say, I was never wounded, though I took part in so many +desperate conflicts. I received my first wound on coming to your +assistance the other night. + +"'I dare not tell you the cause to which I attribute this singular +immunity from danger. I should be obliged to mention your mother's name, +and that would revive your grief, and possibly it is only a +superstitious fancy, after all. + +"'Fate has not been equally kind to Segoffin, unfortunately. He has +received several wounds, and, in boarding a vessel during our last +fight, he lost an eye by a blow from a pike. No words could do justice +to this worthy man's wonderful devotion. I no longer regard him as a +servant, but as a friend. + +"'One more brief explanation, my child. + +"'I knew your affection for me. I knew, too, that your nervous system +had received a severe shock at the time of your poor mother's death, so +I resolved to save you from constant anxiety by concealing my real +occupation from you. So it was agreed between Segoffin and me that we +should explain our frequent absences by pretending that we were +travelling around the country selling dry goods. I also arranged that +the letters you sent to the different towns agreed upon should be +forwarded to Dieppe. + +"'When I returned after a cruise, I got these letters, and dated my +replies from different towns, where I had previously arranged to have +them mailed. + +"'Such were some of the many precautions that I was obliged to take to +conceal the truth from you and allay any suspicions that might be +excited in your mind. + +"'Forgive these deceptions. They seemed to me necessary. That excuse +will, I am sure, avail me. + +"'Two years ago the doctors assured me that the sea air would be very +beneficial to you, so I purchased our present home and established you +in it. Our home being a long way from Dieppe, the port from which I +usually sail, my secret has been carefully guarded, up to this time, +thanks to my assumed name, Captain l'Endurci, and neither you nor +Suzanne have ever suspected that the famous corsair, whose bloody +exploits so excited your horror, was your father, Yvon Cloarek. + +"'And now, my darling child, you know all. I have not made this +confession with any hope of changing your resolution; I can see that my +presence will henceforth be extremely painful to you, but I could not +leave you for ever without removing the veil of mystery that has +enshrouded my conduct up to the present time. + +"'And now, farewell, and for ever, my beloved daughter. + +"'My only consolation is the thought that your future happiness is +well-nigh certain. You love, and you are loved in return by a generous +and noble-hearted man; Suzanne will be another mother to you, and I +leave you my good and faithful Segoffin. + +"'My notary has received full instructions in relation to your marriage +contract. I wish your marriage to take place on the first of next month, +so I may be with you in thought on that happy day. + +"'Once more farewell, my idolised daughter. The tears are falling so +fast, that I cannot see to write any more. + +"'Your father, who loves you as he has always loved you, + +YVON CLOAREK. + +"'Segoffin will tell you the cause of my hasty departure for Havre, and +how I happened to return in time to rescue you from the wretches who +were dragging you away." + + * * * * * + +When the reading of this letter was concluded, Sabine, who was very pale +and who seemed to be deeply moved, buried her face in her hands, and +sobbed softly. + +Segoffin exchanged another meaning look with Suzanne, and then, +reconquering his own emotion, said: + +"Now, mademoiselle, with your permission, I will tell you how M. Yvon +got here in time to save you." + +And Sabine making no reply, the head gunner continued: + +"That powdered gentleman, who was here the other day, Mlle. Sabine, was +the owner of our vessel. He came to try to persuade M. Yvon to make +another voyage. He had heard of a vessel laden with two millions in +gold, that would soon be along, and offered us a chance of a stirring +fight besides; but M. Yvon had promised you he would not leave you +again, so he refused, whereupon the ship owner told your father that the +ship's crew would certainly come for him, and take him away with them, +whether or no. In order to prevent any such proceeding as that, which +would have let the cat out of the bag, so far as you were concerned, we +hurried off to Havre. Most of the crew were at a tavern there. They +greeted M. Yvon with the wildest enthusiasm and delight, for he is as +tenderly loved by these rough corsairs as he is by the members of his +own family; for though he can be severe, if need be, he is also just and +humane. There is more than one English captain, mademoiselle, whom M. +Yvon has captured and then set free with all his personal belongings. +And do you know why? Because the first question your father always +asked a prisoner was, 'Have you a daughter?' + +"If he answered in the affirmative," continued Segoffin, "he was all +right, for, as M. Yvon often said to me, 'I love my little Sabine too +much to hold a man who has a daughter, a prisoner.' + +"So Mlle. Sabine, you have made many a father and daughter happy in +England, without even suspecting it. But excuse me, I had almost +forgotten what I started to tell you. Well, though the sailors were so +glad to see your father again, they got very angry when they found out +that he had no intention of going to sea again, and there was no such +thing as inducing them to listen to reason. I have seen M. Yvon in a +great peril many a time, but never did I see him show such courage as he +did the other day, when he refused what would have been the crowning +glory of his maritime career, and why? 'Because I have given my daughter +my word,' he said. But this was not all. His refusal so infuriated the +crew that some of them even went so far as to hint that if your father +refused, it was because he was afraid to fight the famous English +captain. He, M. Yvon, afraid! After that, Mlle. Sabine, he said to me, +in a low tone, and with a melancholy smile that I shall never forget: + +"'My affection for my daughter has been really put to the test for the +first time in my life, and now I know that there is not a father in the +world who loves his child more than I do.'" + +"Go on, go on, Segoffin," pleaded Sabine, evidently deeply moved. + +"When they ventured to accuse M. Yvon of cowardice, he coldly replied +that his mind was made up, and that it was useless for them to insist +further. A scene of the wildest excitement followed, and some of the men +shouted: 'Let us take the captain, whether or no. The first mate can +navigate the vessel, and when the captain sees the enemy, he'll change +his mind fast enough.' + +"They were all so excited that I don't know how the affair would have +ended, had not an officer of the fort, who knew that the captain of the +_Hell-hound_ was at the tavern, come rushing in to tell M. Yvon that a +fishing-smack had just come in and reported that a suspicious-looking +schooner had been sighted from the cliffs, and that appearances seemed +to indicate her intention of making a landing, as had been done at +several other points along the coast. There being no war-ship in the +harbour the officer came to implore the captain of the _Hell-hound_ to +go out and attack the schooner if she made any attempt to land. M. Yvon +could not refuse, as it was in defence of his country that he was +requested to give his services. We were soon aboard the brig; the wind +was favourable, we weighed anchor, and were soon flying along in search +of the schooner. Right here, Mlle. Sabine, I must tell you something +that M. Yvon dared not confess in his letter. He speaks, you know, of a +superstitious idea he had in connection with his never having been +wounded. You must understand, Mlle. Sabine, that your poor father's life +has been divided as it were into two parts,--one supremely happy, the +part spent at home or in talking with me about you; the other desolation +itself, the hours spent in thinking of your poor dear mother, whom he +loved even more tenderly than he loves you, as Suzanne has told you a +hundred times. The night she died, it so happened that he had dressed +himself in Breton costume to attend a fancy dress ball. Being very young +at the time, you did not recognise him. After this calamity, when we +shipped as common sailors on a privateer where every one dressed as he +pleased, M. Yvon said to me: 'As I am here to expiate a crime I shall +regret all my life, I intend always to wear the costume of my native +province at sea. It has become sacred to me, as I wore it on the fatal +night when I held my poor dying wife in my arms for the last time.' + +"M. Yvon has kept his word ever since, in spite of my entreaties, for it +having been reported in England that the famous corsair, Captain +l'Endurci, wore the Breton costume, it was at M. Yvon that every one +aimed. But though your father exposed himself so much more than any of +the rest of us, he was never wounded, and as there is a superstitious +streak in the composition of every human being, M. Yvon finally began to +think that there must be a protecting charm attached to our national +costume. The sailors, too, imagined that this costume brought the ship +good luck. At least, they would have felt much less confident of success +if M. Yvon had commanded them in any other garb, so that is why M. Yvon, +when he went aboard to go out and fight the schooner, put on the costume +of his native province exactly as he would have put on a uniform, not +supposing for an instant that there was any likelihood of his going to +his own home. + +"We had been sailing around about three-quarters of an hour, when all at +once we saw a bright light stream up on the coast above the cliffs. A +careful scrutiny convinced the captain that the house where we lived was +on fire; and almost at the same moment, the first mate, with the aid of +a night telescope, discovered the schooner riding at anchor, with all +her boats at the foot of the cliff where the English had doubtless +landed. The captain ordered the long-boat lowered, and sprang into it in +company with me and twenty picked men. We reached the scene of action in +a quarter of an hour. M. Yvon received his first wound while striking +down the leader of the bandits, a Captain Russell, who figured so +prominently in the abduction of M. Yvon a short time ago. Wounded by +your father and left a prisoner at Dieppe, he had nevertheless managed +to make his escape and concoct this new conspiracy. This, Mlle. Sabine, +is the whole truth with regard to M. Yvon. He has suffered, oh, how he +has suffered these three last days! and this is nothing to what he will +suffer up to the time of your marriage; but after that, when he knows +you are happy, I fear that he can endure it no longer. No human being +could and--" + +"My father, where is my father?" cried Sabine, trembling with grief, +anxiety, and long repressed tenderness. + +"Really, mademoiselle, I do not know that I ought--" + +"My father, is he here?" repeated the girl breathlessly. + +"He is not very far off, perhaps," replied Segoffin, nearly wild with +joy; "but if he returns, it must be never to leave you again." + +"Oh, can he ever forgive me for having doubted his love and his nobility +of soul for one moment? If he will, all the rest of my life shall be +devoted to him. My God! you are silent, you are all weeping--you are all +looking toward that room as if my father were there. Thank Heaven! my +father is there!" cried Sabine, her face radiant with inexpressible joy +as she ran toward the door leading into the next room. + +The door suddenly opened, and in another instant father and daughter +were locked in each other's arms. + + * * * * * + +One month afterward, a double marriage united Suzanne and Segoffin, +Sabine and Onesime. + +The famous Doctor Gasterini, equally celebrated as a gourmand and as a +physician, had restored Onesime's sight. + +On returning from the church, Segoffin remarked to Suzanne with a +triumphant air: + +"Ah, well, my dear, was I not right in telling you that, 'what is to be, +will be?' Haven't I always predicted that you would be Madame Segoffin +some day? Are you, or are you not?" + +"Oh, well, I suppose one must make the best of it," responded Madame +Segoffin, with a pretended sigh, though she really felt as proud of her +husband as if he had been one of the heroes of the _Grande Armee_ she +was so fond of raving about. "There's no help for it, I suppose, as +'that which is done cannot be undone.'" + + +THE END. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Avarice-Anger, by Eugene Sue + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AVARICE-ANGER *** + +***** This file should be named 34308.txt or 34308.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/3/0/34308/ + +Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Google Print project.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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