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-The Project Gutenberg eBook, The woman of mystery, by Georges Ohnet,
-Translated by Fred Rothwell
-
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
-most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you
-will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
-using this eBook.
-
-
-
-Title: The woman of mystery
-
-
-Author: Georges Ohnet
-
-
-
-Release Date: October 13, 2022  [eBook #69149]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-
-***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOMAN OF MYSTERY***
-
-
-This etext was transcribed by Les Bowler
-
-
-
-
-
-                                   THE
-                             WOMAN OF MYSTERY
-
-
-                                * * * * *
-
-                                    BY
-
-                              GEORGES OHNET
-
-            AUTHOR OF “THE IRONMASTER,” “DOCTOR RAMEAU,” ETC.
-
-                                * * * * *
-
-                    TRANSLATED BY FRED. ROTHWELL, B.A.
-
-                       [Picture: Publisher’s logo]
-
-                              A NEW EDITION
-
-                                * * * * *
-
-                                  LONDON
-                             CHATTO & WINDUS
-
-                                   1904
-
-                                * * * * *
-
-                                PRINTED BY
-                    WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,
-                           LONDON AND BECCLES.
-
-
-
-
-CONTENTS
-
-                  PAGE
-PART I               1
-PART II            135
-PART III           260
-
-
-
-
-PART I
-
-
-CHAPTER I
-
-
-IN his study, situated in the Rue Saint-Dominique, the Minister of War
-was walking to and fro. In furious fashion he twisted his moustache,
-which seemed even redder than usual, as he nervously fingered his
-eyeglass, in a manner which promised anything but a cordial welcome to
-any who entered his presence. Doubtless, his officers were well
-acquainted with the reasons of his ill-humour, for a profound silence
-reigned all around, and the great man’s solitude was undisturbed save by
-the querulous twitterings of the birds in the garden. A minute later, he
-seemed to lose all patience, and, marching to the mantelpiece, he pressed
-an electric bell. An usher, with anxious mien, at once approached.
-
-“Has Colonel Vallenot returned?” exclaimed the Minister, in fierce tones.
-
-The servant shrunk away, as though he would have liked the earth to open
-and swallow him; then he stammered, faintly—
-
-“I do not think so, sir—I will ask—”
-
-The General became purple with rage. An oath burstforth from his lips
-like a bombshell, then a second, the third was useless. The door was
-again closed, the servant had vanished.
-
-“What can Vallenot be doing all the time he has been gone?” muttered the
-Minister, as he resumed his pacing about the room. “Ah! This is the way I
-am served!”
-
-Before he could finish, the usher had opened the door, and announced—
-
-“Colonel Vallenot.”
-
-A man of fifty years of age, tall and thin, with blue eyes and light
-moustache, marched briskly into the room, and, after saluting his
-superior in friendly wise, said—
-
-“You seem to have lost all patience, General. I found an officer waiting
-for me at the very door of the War Office. The fact is, this has been
-anything but a small matter. After all, I have done everything possible—”
-
-“Indeed!” interrupted the Minister, impatiently. “You have just come from
-Vanves?”
-
-“Yes, General.”
-
-“Alone?”
-
-“No; I took with me one of our cleverest detectives. You had not given me
-this authorization, but I took upon myself the responsibility.”
-
-“You have done quite right. But are you sure he is trustworthy?”
-
-“Absolutely. He is a former sub-officer. Besides, I did not reveal to him
-the real object of my researches; he knows nothing important, and
-imagines he has simply been my auxiliary in an inquiry into the causes of
-a catastrophe hitherto ill-explained. We have nothing to fear in this
-direction.”
-
-“Well, what has been the result of your researches?”
-
-“If you will allow me, General, we will divide the inquiry into two
-parts, one consisting of moral circumstances, the other of material
-facts. The affair is more complicated than you at first thought, and when
-I have finished, your embarrassment, instead of having lessened, will
-probably have increased.”
-
-“Impossible!”
-
-He sat down before the desk, leaned over on his elbows, and, motioning to
-the Colonel to take a seat in an armchair by his side, said—
-
-“Now, tell me everything.”
-
-“The house tenanted by General de Trémont is situated above the village
-of Vanves, near the fort. It was the night-watch which gave the alarm,
-and the garrison which organized first aid when the fire broke out.
-Nothing worth mentioning remains of the building. The explosion of the
-combustible matter contained in the laboratory has disorganized the very
-foundations, and the effect has been formidable. Stones hurled into the
-air have been found more than a mile distant, and the surrounding gardens
-belonging to the peasants are covered with _débris_. Had there been
-houses in the neighbourhood, the loss to property would have been
-enormous—”
-
-The Minister interrupted.
-
-“The effects of melinite, probably?”
-
-“No, General, something quite different! Increase a hundred-fold the
-effects of the powder actually employed in charging our bombshells, and
-then perhaps you will have the equivalent of the destructive power
-revealed by the explosion of General de Trémont’s laboratory.”
-
-The Minister shook his head.
-
-“Yes; that is what he told me the last time I saw him at the Artillery
-meeting. He was on the trace of a discovery destined to give to our
-cannons so crushing a superiority that we were to become for long the
-arbiters of victory. The struggle against us would have been marked by
-such massacres, accomplished with such absolute precision, that our
-military supremacy would have been certain once more. Has this had
-anything to do with the discovery?”
-
-“Then you admit, General, that malevolence may not have been entirely
-foreign to this mishap!”
-
-“I admit nothing, Vallenot. I suspect everything. When you have told me
-all you know, we will talk it over. Continue.”
-
-“On reaching the spot, we found a body of troops, who had been ordered by
-the Ministry to proceed there, guarding the approaches of the property.
-There was already collected a crowd of three or four hundred people,
-discussing the matter, without counting a score of journalists, who made
-more noise than all the others together. They were complaining that they
-were not allowed to visit the spot _where_ the explosion had taken place
-among the still smoking ruins of the villa. But there was in command a
-stern little lieutenant, who, in quite military fashion, had maintained
-order. Probably the press will be against us, but in the mean time we
-shall not have been interrupted; and that is something to be thankful
-for. Inside, there was only the secretary of the Prefecture of Police and
-the head of the detective force. My agent and I had come at the right
-moment. The researches were just beginning—”
-
-“_Where_? In the house?”
-
-“On the site of what had been the house, and which now offered to the
-gaze nothing but a gaping hole, at the bottom of which appeared a cellar,
-the vaults of which had been burst open. A staved-in barrel of wine
-formed a red pool on the floor. Not a trace of the staircase remained.
-The very steps had disappeared, and the stones were broken up into
-fragments as large as pigeons’ eggs. Never should I have thought such a
-crumbling possible. Wonderful to relate, one side of a wall which must
-have belonged to a wash-house remained standing, along with a narrow
-window, in the iron bars of which a cloth-rag was waving. We were all
-staring at this solitary vestige of the disaster, when the chief of the
-detective force cautiously approached the spot. Raising his stick, he
-touched the shapeless rag hanging there, picked it up from the ground
-with an exclamation of surprise, and exposed it to our gaze. It was a
-human arm, still covered with both coat and shirt sleeves, cut off at the
-elbow, and covered with blood, the hand quite black.”
-
-“Most extraordinary!” exclaimed the Minister.
-
-“Rather sinister, General,” continued Colonel Vallenot. “I have seen
-hundreds of men killed on the field of battle, and thousands of wounded
-carried off in ambulances. At Gravelotte, I saw the head of the captain
-of my squadron roll at my feet, and the eyes wink repeatedly in the dust.
-It had been carried off by the bursting of a shell. In Tonkin I have
-found soldiers cut in four, their faces still grinning in spite of their
-torture. But never have I been so impressed as I was by this human arm,
-the sole remaining vestige of the drama we were trying to understand. The
-Government agent was the first to regain his _sang froid_, and he said,
-‘Gentlemen, this is an important piece of evidence. This arm has
-evidently been hurled across these bars by the explosion. But to whom did
-it belong? Is it one of the ill-fated General de Trémont’s arms?’ ‘The
-General did not live alone in the villa,’ observed the detective. ‘There
-was a cook and a man-servant. Let us at once eliminate the supposition of
-the cook. This is a man’s arm; accordingly, it belonged either to the
-General or to his valet. Unless—’ There was a silence. The Government
-agent turned towards him and said, ‘Well, finish. Unless it belongs to
-the author of the catastrophe himself.’”
-
-“Ah!” said the Minister; “then he, too, thought the affair might be the
-result of a crime.”
-
-“Yes, General; and, as he spoke, he examined with the most minute
-attention the smutty, blackened hand. Carefully separating the fingers,
-he drew from the fourth finger a ring, which none of us had noticed; and,
-holding it aloft in triumph, said, ‘The question is decided, if this ring
-belongs to the General. If not, we still doubtless possess a valuable
-piece of circumstantial evidence, which will permit us to unravel the
-mystery.’”
-
-“A ring! The deuce! I never remember seeing Trémont wearing a ring! No! I
-would take my oath on it. He never wore an ornament of any kind in his
-life, much less a ring. It would have been absurd in a man who was in the
-habit of handling acids from morning to night! No metal would have
-resisted the oxidising action of the substances he used in his
-experiments. But what kind of a ring was it?”
-
-“An engagement ring, General. When rubbed with a glove-skin, the gold
-circle shone out, freed from the soot which tarnished it. Our agent
-fingered it a moment, then pressed it with his nail, and the ring
-separated in two. ‘Look here, gentlemen!’ he exclaimed. ‘There are
-letters engraved in the interior. Whatever happens, we now hold a clue.’”
-
-“This fellow has, indeed, proved himself very clever, Vallenot,” said the
-Minister. “Up to the present, I find that he is the only one who has
-shown any initiative. I must remember it.”
-
-“Wait a little, General. I have not yet reached the end. The Government
-agent had taken up the engagement ring, and was examining it. He finally
-placed it coolly in his pocket, with the words, ‘We will look into this
-later on.’ And there we all stood, rather discountenanced by the strange
-intervention of the magistrate in leaving our curiosity thus
-disappointed. On due reflection, perhaps he was right in postponing for a
-more thorough examination the information destined to result from this
-discovery, in not publishing proofs which might be of supreme importance.
-Still, if he wished to keep the secret of his investigations, he was
-disappointed, for at that very moment our agent, pursuing his inquiries,
-had removed the double sleeve, and laid bare the naked arm. This time it
-was no longer possible to conceal what he had found. On the forearm,
-between the wrist and the bleeding end, a blue tattooing appeared,
-representing a heart surrounded with flames, around which could be read
-the words ‘Hans and Minna,’ and beneath the German word ‘Immer,’
-signifying ‘Always.’ ‘Gentlemen,’ said the Government agent, fixing his
-eyeglass, ‘I demand of you the utmost discretion. A single word on what
-we have just discovered might have the most serious consequences. We may
-be in presence of an anarchist plot, or be obliged to suspect foreign
-interference. The affair is assuming quite unexpected proportions. In all
-probability a crime has been committed.’”
-
-“The deuce!” exclaimed the Minister. “I say, Vallenot, this is becoming
-serious! Perhaps we ought at once to inform the President of the Board
-of—”
-
-“The secretary of the Prefect of Police must have done so already. As
-soon as he saw how matters were turning, he did not wait for the end of
-the inquiry, but immediately rode off to the Place Beauvau.”
-
-“The first thing to do is to prevent the press from saying anything
-silly. If we have a crow to pick with foreign agents, for Trémont’s
-investigations were suspected in Europe, it is of the highest importance
-that no suspicions be aroused, so that we may try to seize the authors of
-this guilty attempt.”
-
-“That is what we thought, General, and, consequently, all arrangements
-have at once been taken. It was absolutely necessary to throw public
-opinion on a false scent. Accordingly, the theory of a chance accident
-was inevitable. It was at once decided that all communications made to
-the press should have this object in view. General de Trémont was rather
-eccentric, we must say, engaged in commercial chemical investigations,
-and it was his imprudence which had brought about the accident which has
-now cost him his life.”
-
-“Poor Trémont! So fine a savant as he was! Well! well! State reasons must
-predominate. But it is hard to contribute in heaping calumnies on an old
-comrade!”
-
-“Do not have such thoughts, General,” interrupted Colonel Vallenot, with
-a smile. “There are surprises in store for us which will, doubtless,
-lessen your regret.”
-
-“What do you mean?” said the rough soldier, frowning. “You do not intend
-to utter calumnies against my friend from childhood, my comrade in war?”
-
-“God forbid, General! I shall simply give you the facts on which you
-desired information. If I have the misfortune to displease you, you will
-not be angry with me; you are too just for that.”
-
-“What is the meaning of this silence? Continue right to the end, Colonel;
-speak freely.”
-
-“So I intend to do, General. Well, then, the secretary of the Prefect of
-Police had just undertaken to supply the version arranged by us to the
-numerous reporters waiting there, held in check by the line of troops,
-and to inform the Minister of the Interior, in case the police might have
-to be called in, when a great uproar arose from the direction of the
-village. A tumult of cries and shouts was heard. The lieutenant was
-preparing to go and see what was happening, when a man, breaking through
-the sentinels, ran up to us, bare-headed, with troubled countenance, and
-exclaiming, in tones of despair, ‘My master! O God! What has happened to
-the house? Not one stone left on another!’ Thereupon he halted, sank down
-on the ruins, and began to weep bitterly. We looked at him in silence,
-moved by his grief, and foreseeing some speedy enlightenment on the dark
-situation we were in. ‘Who are you, my friend?’ asked the Government
-agent. The man raised his head, passed his hand over his eyes to brush
-away his tears, and, raising up to us a countenance at once intelligent
-and determined, said, ‘The General’s head servant, sir, for the last
-twenty years. Ah! If I had been there, this disaster might perhaps have
-been avoided! At any rate, I would have died with him!’”
-
-“It was Baudoin!” exclaimed the General. “The brave fellow had escaped!
-Ah! That is fortunate. We shall learn something from him!”
-
-“Yes, General, but not the enlightenment we expected. Rather the
-contrary.”
-
-“In what way the contrary?”
-
-“I will explain. The night before, about six o’clock, the General was in
-his garden, strolling about, after working all day in the laboratory,
-when a telegram reached him from Vanves. He read it, continued his walk
-for a few minutes, with bowed head, as though in profound meditation,
-then he called Baudoin. ‘You must set out for Paris,’ he said to him. ‘I
-have an important order to give to my chemist, who lives in the Place de
-la Sorbonne. Give him this letter, then go to M. Baradier and pay him my
-respects. Then dine, and, if you like to spend the evening at the
-theatre, you may do so; here is a five franc piece. Return to-morrow
-morning with the chemicals.’
-
-“Baudoin, who knew what it all meant, understood that the General wished
-him to leave the house for the whole night. He was anything but pleased
-at this, because, he said, it was not the first time that it had
-happened, and always under the same circumstances: the arrival of a
-telegram, and the dismissal immediately following.
-
-“Still, the General did not give a holiday to the cook, with whom he was
-less cautious, as she was in the habit of going bed very early, which
-fact rendered any surveillance she might have exercised almost null. So
-the General needed to be alone from time to time. And he took care to
-send away the faithful servant, on whom he might have relied for the most
-complete discretion. What reason had he? This was what troubled Baudoin,
-and displeased him. So little was he accustomed to conceal his thoughts
-from his master that the latter noticed his sulky mood, and said to him:
-‘What is the matter? Don’t you want me to send you to Paris? Are you to
-be pitied for the opportunity of going and enjoying yourself?’ ‘I don’t
-care about going to the theatre,’ Baudoin had said, ‘but I do about
-performing my duty.’ ‘Very well, you are doing your duty; you are obeying
-the order I have given you, to fetch for me some chemical products,
-dangerous to handle, but which I must have; besides, you are to call on
-my friend Baradier. Now go. I do not want you before to-morrow morning.’
-‘Very well, sir.’
-
-“But Baudoin was anything but pleased, a secret anxiety troubled him.
-Proceeding to the kitchen, he said to the cook, ‘Last time the General
-sent me to Paris, what happened during the night? Did the General dine as
-usual? Did he shut himself up in his study, or did he go into the garden?
-At what time did he retire for the night? Did nothing happen out of the
-ordinary?’
-
-“The woman said she knew nothing, she had noticed nothing unusual, and
-was very much astonished at his questions. He saw she was a thousand
-leagues from suspecting anything, so he did not press his questions.
-Still, although deeply respecting his master’s wishes, his interest in
-his welfare made him less strictly obedient, and he resolved to feign a
-departure, then take up a post outside, so that he might see what took
-place once the General was sure there was no inconvenient observer to be
-dreaded. The weather was exceedingly mild. Not a breath of air, and the
-gardens, filled with roses, shed forth exquisite odours as night
-approached.
-
-“Baudoin, after dressing himself, went to take leave of his master,
-received from him a list of the chemical products to be purchased, a few
-lines for his friend Baradier, and then took his departure. He went
-straight to the station, dined in a small restaurant close by, and, after
-nightfall, returned towards the house of his master. He dared not enter
-the garden, as he was afraid he would be noticed by the General, so he
-slipped into a cottage garden, the owner of which was his friend, and
-concealed himself in a small hut used for storing tools.
-
-“From this spot he could keep an eye on the approaches of the villa, and,
-along a thick hedge, come right up to the wall adjoining the General’s
-property. He sat down, lit his pipe, and waited. A few minutes before
-eight, the roll of a carriage was heard on the road. Baudoin, in ambush
-behind the hedge, was keeping a sharp look-out. By the light of the
-lantern he saw a brougham, drawn by two horses, pass by. Something told
-him that this carriage contained the persons the General was expecting.
-He ran along, right to the wall of the villa, and reached it the very
-moment the brougham came to a stop before the door. But he was not the
-only one on the look-out, for scarcely had the horses, still panting from
-the steep ascent, come to a halt, than the lofty form of the General
-showed itself through the darkness. At the same time, an impatient hand
-opened the door, and a man’s voice said, in foreign accents, ‘Ah!
-General, so you have come to meet us?’ M. de Trémont simply replied, ‘Is
-the Baroness there?’ ‘Certainly,’ replied the voice of a woman. ‘Could
-you imagine otherwise?’ The man was the first to descend. But the General
-gave him no time to help his companion to descend; he sprang forward with
-the eagerness of a lover, and, almost carrying off the lady in his arms,
-exclaimed, with extraordinary ardour, ‘Come, madame, you have nothing to
-fear—no one can see you.’ The man uttered a brutal laugh, and said, in
-guttural tones, ‘Do not trouble about me, I will follow you,’ and all
-three disappeared into the garden. Baudoin, astonished, had only time to
-place on the wall a ladder which happened to be there. As soon as he
-could look into his master’s garden, the alleys were empty, but the large
-window of the laboratory was shining through the darkness. The faithful
-fellow said to himself, ‘What is to be done? Enter the house? Play the
-spy on the General? Disobey his orders? For what reason? Has he not the
-right to receive any one he pleases? What am I thinking about? Is it
-likely that the people he receives are objects of suspicion? Their
-carriage is waiting at the door, a sign that they will not remain long,
-but will return to Paris immediately. Here I am, troubling my head for
-nothing in all probability! All I can do now is to obey my master.’ He
-descended the ladder, proceeded along the hedge, left the garden, and
-reached the railway. His master’s orders were now literally followed,
-except that the drug store was closed when he arrived there, and he was
-obliged to return the following morning. When he reached Vanves, he found
-the approaches to the General’s property occupied by a guard, the villa
-in ruins, and his master vanished from the scene of the catastrophe.”
-
-Colonel Vallenot had finished. Profound silence, interrupted only by the
-twittering of the birds in the neighbouring trees, reigned in the
-Minister’s study. The old soldier, leaning forward on his desk, his head
-resting on his hand, was buried in reflection. After a short pause, he
-said, with a sigh—
-
-“How surprising all this is! Doubtless here is the key of the whole
-matter. These two unknown characters, one with a foreign accent, coming
-mysteriously by night to see Trémont, and their visit followed by such a
-frightful cataclysm; what does it all mean? Is it an accident or a crime?
-And, if a crime, what motive inspired it?”
-
-Rising, he crossed to the window, with anxious mien, then returned
-mechanically to his desk, resumed his seat, and, again fixing his eyes on
-the Colonel, said—
-
-“Well! Vallenot, what happened after this honest fellow had finished his
-tale? What measures were taken?”
-
-“A squad of soldiers from the fort had been sent for, and the ruins were
-carefully searched, under the supervision of the police. Nothing,
-however, was found. The destruction was too complete. With the exception
-of the side of the wall still standing, not a single piece of anything
-was left whole. Still, after a couple of hours’ examination of the
-_débris_, from which arose a very strong odour of fulminate of mercury,
-the diggers brought to light an iron chest, with broken hinges, the
-bottom of which was curiously pierced with thousands of holes as though
-with an auger.”
-
-“That is one result of the explosion,” interrupted the Minister. “You are
-aware that we have in our shrapnels similar cases of rupture. It is quite
-possible the initial explosion took place in this chest. Has it been
-kept?”
-
-“It was handed over to the Government agent.”
-
-“We may need it again when we undertake an analysis of the substances
-which occasioned the deflagration. Finish your explanations. What became
-of the carriage stationed in front of the door?”
-
-“The carriage must have left before the accident. There was not a trace
-of it on the road near the villa. The customs officers, on being
-interrogated, declared that a brougham, driven by two horses, returned to
-Paris about eleven o’clock. To the question, ‘Have you anything to
-declare?’ a female voice had replied, ‘Nothing.’ As for the explosion,
-the guard at the fort reports that it took place about three o’clock in
-the morning.”
-
-“Then the man with the foreign accent had remained, after the departure
-of the carriage?”
-
-“Most probably.”
-
-“You are not certain?”
-
-“I did not wait for the end of the investigations; I came away to inform
-you of what I had learnt, leaving behind me our agent, with orders to
-return here at once, after the final statement had been made.”
-
-“Perhaps he is here now?”
-
-Colonel Vallenot pressed the electric knob, and the usher appeared.
-
-“Has Laforêt returned?”
-
-“Yes, Colonel, a minute ago.”
-
-“Send him here.”
-
-Closing the door with considerable precaution, the agent, with firm step,
-a sonorous cough, and head raised in military fashion, as he stood at
-attention, appeared before his principals.
-
-The Minister examined for a moment the man’s frank, martial face; then he
-asked briefly—
-
-“Colonel Vallenot has reported all that had taken place up to the time of
-his departure from Vanves. Complete his version by telling us what you
-have learnt since. Take a seat, Vallenot.”
-
-“Monsieur le Ministre,” said the agent, “I will come at once to the most
-important point: the body of General de Trémont has been found.”
-
-“In the ruins?”
-
-“In the garden. At first no one thought of searching beyond the house and
-the _débris_. It was whilst exploring the bushes that the body of the
-General was discovered, close to the entrance gate.”
-
-“What! Had the explosion projected him so far?”
-
-The agent replied—
-
-“The body had not been projected by the explosion. It had remained on the
-very spot where it had been struck by a knife under the left
-shoulder-blade. The General was dead when the explosion took place, and
-certainly the explosion was caused by the assassin.”
-
-“The man with the foreign accent? The companion of the lady the General
-called ‘Baroness’?”
-
-The agent kept his countenance before these bold questions. For a moment
-he appeared to be reflecting; then he said—
-
-“Yes, the one who has left his arm in the ruins of the villa, and who in
-forcing open the chest escaped death only by a miracle. The man named
-Hans, in short.”
-
-“But what makes you say that he escaped death?” asked the Minister.
-
-“Because I found tracks in the garden continued outside on the road he
-followed, leaving his blood behind at every step. The man must be endowed
-with indomitable energy to have had the strength to escape, mutilated as
-he was, to reach the fields, and there, doubtless, find some market cart
-or other to pick him up and carry him to Paris; but this is an additional
-inquiry to be made, and a track to be followed up.”
-
-“In your opinion, then, it is the man who came with the woman who killed
-the General?”
-
-“Yes, Monsieur le Ministre; most likely when the General was conducting
-them back to the carriage. The murder took place close to the gate. The
-sand is trodden down as though a struggle had taken place, and the body
-had been carried off behind the bushes. The traces of the trailing legs
-are quite visible. The woman probably helped. At any rate, once the
-murder accomplished, she must have left, whilst the man stayed behind. He
-robbed the General of his keys, which never left him, and which have not
-been found; in addition, he took his watch and portfolio, so that it
-might be believed that a murder, the motive of which was robbery, had
-been committed; then he entered the villa, and worked in the laboratory.
-It was with the laboratory that he had to do.”
-
-“How do you know this?”
-
-“From what Baudoin, his valet, said. It appears that, one day, whilst
-placing things in order, in the cabinet of the General, the latter
-entered on his way from the laboratory. He took a few paces in the room,
-rubbing his hands together; then he said almost to himself, ‘This time
-our fortune is made! What will Hans say?’ For a week the General had been
-working hard at an experiment, which had hitherto failed, and from which
-he expected great results. On different occasions, formerly, he had
-temporarily dismissed his valet, certainly with the object of receiving
-his mysterious guests at night.”
-
-“Good; we will admit what you say regarding the man,” said the Minister,
-captivated by the explanations of his agent. “But, in your opinion, what
-shall we think of the _rôle_ played by the woman?”
-
-“That is much more evident, Monsieur le Ministre; both indications and
-proofs abound. The General de Trémont has been the victim of a too tender
-disposition. I know nothing of the General’s secrets or researches,
-though the journals have on different occasions spoken of his
-investigations. He was a member of the Academy of Science, and his
-reputation as a savant was fully established. Suppose for a moment that
-M. de Trémont had made a discovery of interest to the future of European
-armies, and that some one Power wished to obtain information as to the
-value of his invention—obtain possession of it, perhaps. Do we not know
-that women have been, only too often, the best political agents employed
-in our country? In spite of his age, the General remained very
-susceptible. A young woman, beautiful and intelligent, is placed in his
-path. He meets her by chance, falls in love with her. But the fair one is
-guarded; she is obliged to take great precautions. A complaisant friend,
-relation, perhaps, under the cover of science, facilitates the interviews
-by accompanying the lady, so as to throw some imaginary rival off the
-track. Whilst the old lover is paying his court, the benevolent
-companion, observes, takes his measures, skilfully questions, and obtains
-the confidence of the one to whom he is rendering a service. Passion
-lulls all fear, and a sweet smile and caressing eyes drive one to acts of
-folly. Then, one fine night, the General de Trémont, who has, doubtless,
-finished his discovery, is visited by the unknown couple. The woman tries
-to obtain the secret. She does not succeed. Then the man, as a last
-extremity, decides to strike. The General falls under the dagger; his
-accomplice takes to flight. The assassin returns with the keys, searches
-the laboratory, and tries to open the chest containing the precious
-products. But the dreaded powder, unskilfully handled, avenges its maker,
-and, in a terrible explosion, annihilates at the same time both formula
-and the one trying to steal it. This is how it is possible, Monsieur le
-Ministre, to make a guess at the events now occupying our attention.
-But—I do not wish to deceive myself—this is only conjecture. There may be
-other versions, more certain, if not more likely. What is an absolute
-fact is that General de Trémont has been assassinated, that the murderer
-was one of the two persons received that night at the villa, and that the
-explosion following on the crime has been caused by the imprudence of the
-man we may name Hans, who has been grievously wounded.”
-
-The Minister and Colonel Vallenot looked at one another for a moment in
-silence. Then the Minister said to the agent—
-
-“I thank you for your report, but do not trouble any further in the
-matter, which is in the hands of the police. If we have any additional
-investigations to make, I will send for you. Now go, and do not say a
-word to any one on the matter.”
-
-Laforêt bowed, gave a military salute, and, with the same tranquil
-precision, left the room. The two principals sat there absorbed by what
-they had heard, going over once more all the details of this drama, which
-was becoming materially so clear, but remained morally so obscure. The
-precautions taken by the two accomplices appeared so perfect, that it was
-doubtful whether the truth could be learned concerning them. One hope
-remained—the wounded man, with his arm cut off, might be found, half-dead
-with exhaustion on the road. By questioning the inhabitants of the
-neighbourhood, the man might be discovered; doubtless the police were
-already on the track, and the most adroit detectives as well.
-
-“You know, Vallenot, Trémont was my senior. He retired before the age
-limit, the more easily to devote his time to scientific research; as he
-had serious money difficulties.”
-
-“And now,” said Colonel Vallenot, “we have reached the point I wished to
-come to, when I said, at the beginning of my report, that, after
-examining the material facts, we should deal with the moral
-considerations of this affair. The examination of facts is over. There
-has been the death of a man, probably an attempt at robbery, and finally,
-the complete destruction of an inhabited house. But under what conditions
-have all these criminal acts been accomplished?”
-
-“I understand what you mean. You see in this affair something other than
-a criminal attempt. You suspect a plot of a special order, something very
-delicate, fastidious, dangerous even.”
-
-“Yes, General, because in this case, we have not our hands quite free in
-the search of the causes, hindered as we are by diplomacy, by politics,
-and often even by such unexpected complicities that we are first obliged
-to beat about the bush, then to withdraw, and finally, give up all idea
-of proceeding with rigour. Shall I enumerate the affairs in which we have
-come to no certain issue for several years?”
-
-“It is unnecessary, I am sufficiently well informed on the situation, and
-have a tolerably good idea of what you possess in the archives. How long
-have you been in the Ministry, Vallenot?”
-
-“Ten years, occupying different positions, with intervals of service in
-the regiments. We have never ceased being exploited by other nations,
-with a skill, an audacity, and a perseverance, against which all our
-efforts have been in vain. The most important captures have always been
-effected by women. Accordingly, when the servant of General de Trémont
-spoke of this nocturnal lady-visitor, my suspicions were immediately
-aroused.”
-
-“Explain yourself.”
-
-“It is not the first time, General, that we have had to deal with this
-mysterious woman, who comes and passes away, leaving ruin and bloodshed
-in her train. Her manner of procedure is always the same: she fixes her
-mind on some one whom she knows to be in a position to give up to her
-some important secret or other, then she seduces him, until, in the end,
-he betrays it. Then, she casts him off, like useless _débris_. A creature
-to be dreaded, if I may judge by the results she has already obtained,
-and a powerful corruptress. No heart is proof against her alluring
-temptations. She artfully graduates the doses of her love-philtre; and
-the noblest minds, the most upright consciences, and the staunchest
-courage bend and capitulate at a sign from her. Do you remember the
-ill-fated Commandant Cominges, who blew out his brains, without anything
-being publicly known as to the reason? The woman had come along. Cominges
-had become her slave. A part of our mobilization had become known. Before
-killing himself, Cominges swore that the documents had been stolen from
-his dwelling, whilst he was absent with this woman. He had made the grave
-mistake of taking them from the office to work on them, and the still
-graver one of saying that they were in his possession. But the poor
-fellow had confidence in her. He was a man of honour, a gallant soldier.
-A pistol-shot settled the whole matter.”
-
-“What was the woman’s name?”
-
-“Madame Ferranti. She took most careful precautions in seeing Cominges,
-presumably on account of her family. One of our agents, however, was
-acquainted with her. Within six months he died by an accident. He was,
-one evening, travelling by rail from Auteuil. They found him dead under a
-tunnel. Doubtless he had leaned out too far from the carriage.”
-
-“The deuce!”
-
-“The following year the young Captain Fontenailles, a fine young fellow
-we were all fond of, was induced by a woman, whom his comrades called the
-‘Ténébreuse,’ because no one of them ever saw her, to disclose certain
-confidences. Understanding the gravity of his conduct, he went to his
-superior and confessed everything. The latter succeeded in repairing the
-damage done by changing the key to the secret writings. Captain
-Fontenailles left for Tonkin, where he fell, fighting bravely, at the
-attack of Bae-Ninh. His fault was atoned for.”
-
-“And the woman is always the same?”
-
-“According to all these gentlemen. The Ferranti of Cominges was the
-Ténébreuse of Fontenailles. Then there was the Madame Gibson of the
-Aerostat affair, without speaking of several other cases only partially
-revealed. Always the same Ténébreuse, with the same method of procedure,
-corruption. In her train, ruin, tears, and blood.”
-
-“How long has she been engaged in this work of intrigue?”
-
-“Ten years, certainly, General; and under all these impersonations we
-have not been able to lay our hands on her. She is only known by her
-professional names.”
-
-“What a deep-dyed scoundrel! We must try to cut short her career.”
-
-“Nothing more difficult. Once the _coup_ accomplished, she disappears, as
-does an eel, gliding about in the mud, in which it remains hidden until
-the water again becomes clear. She arranges in such a way as to cut off
-all communications behind her; that is her method. For instance, in this
-new affair, we shall have to struggle in the dark. Search will be made
-for some time, but no clue will be found. The accomplices, as well as the
-principal instigator of the crime, will now have got to earth. By degrees
-the search will calm down, and something else will be on the tapis. At
-any rate, it is in this way that the majority of these cases end,
-unless—”
-
-“Unless? Ah! You still hope something may happen?”
-
-“Unless this time the wounded accomplice affords us a trace. Let us
-merely hold one end of the conducting wire, and I promise you, General,
-we will arrive at some result or other, if only to avenge our poor
-comrades.”
-
-“And to prevent the repetition of similar accidents. For, after all,
-Vallenot, you will agree with me that it is rather too much for foreign
-Powers to become acquainted with our most secret affairs, as though they
-were matter of discussion on the public thoroughfares.”
-
-“We are as well acquainted with foreign affairs, General, as they are
-with ours,” said the Colonel with less sullen mien. “To sum up, there are
-always two at the game; it has ever been so. Ay, the very time, in 1812,
-when Russia was procuring information as to the efficiency of the
-Emperor’s troops, Caulaincourt sent to Napoleon the engraved copper
-plates of the map of Russia. I quote this fact of days gone by without
-alluding to contemporary events. But, taking everything into
-consideration, General, our secrets are scarcely secrets at all. If, in
-war, reliance were placed on nothing beyond mysterious preparations—”
-
-“Then we should have to start by abolishing the press,” muttered the
-Minister.
-
-“And that is impossible!” said Vallenot. “Still, in this special case
-before us, we must undertake the task of clearing the moral atmosphere,
-and employ every means possible, if we would succeed.”
-
-“That concerns the legal authorities now.”
-
-“Officially, General; but we also, on our side, may investigate, in a
-quiet way, and I have no doubt—”
-
-“The lesson to be learned is that our officers are becoming too gallant!”
-
-“If you know any means, General,” said Vallenot, with a laugh, “of
-suppressing that, please tell me.”
-
-“To think of this old General! Sixty years old, too! True, he did not
-appear more than fifty! In what position does he leave his daughter?”
-
-“General de Trémont was a widower?”
-
-“Yes, that is his excuse! But he has a daughter, still at school. She is
-eighteen years old, and without dowry. Luckily, Baradier is there.”
-
-“You mean Baradier and Graff, the bankers?”
-
-“Certainly. Baradier fought in the war of 1870; he is a true patriot, and
-his son, Marcel, a fine young fellow, just out of the Central School, has
-been working with General de Trémont. Marcel Baradier was principally
-occupied in investigating vegetable dyes, connected with the woollen
-weaving manufactures his father owns in the Aube. But the General opened
-his laboratory to him, and probably informed him of his own
-investigations. We may learn a great deal from this young man, I think.”
-
-“Is the Baradier family in good circumstances?”
-
-“Very wealthy; their fortune daily increases from industrial and from
-banking operations. It is Graff, Baradier’s step-brother, who deals more
-specially with finance, whilst Baradier manages the works. Both, however,
-are busily employed all day long, and the millions roll in,
-notwithstanding the rivalry of the firm of Lichtenbach, who is a mortal
-enemy of Baradier and Graff.”
-
-“Business rivalry?”
-
-“More than that. Personal hatred, dating from long back, and madly
-fomented. They say that Lichtenbach formerly wished to marry Mademoiselle
-Graff, and that he has never been able to swallow the insult Graff
-inflicted on him by refusing the proposal and bestowing his sister’s hand
-on his friend Baradier. Between these two families there is a whole
-series of differences and grievances, which makes them implacable
-enemies.”
-
-“Still, General, you see no relation between this hostility and the death
-of General de Trémont?”
-
-“Not at all. Lichtenbach is a fervent Catholic, in close touch with the
-Orleanist party, and, in my opinion, incapable of a dishonourable action.
-Besides, what could it matter to him whether Trémont lived or died?”
-
-“Might not the General’s investigations have a serious interest for the
-Lichtenbach firm?”
-
-“Doubtless! But we are well aware that Trémont has been specially
-occupied within the last few weeks with the manufacture of a war powder,
-the formidable effects of which we have seen in the Vanves explosion.
-True, the powder in question might become a source of great profit by its
-possible application to industry in modified proportions. In mines, for
-instance, or the blasting of quarries, it would certainly have replaced
-dynamite. There would have been a fortune in such an application of the
-powder, and this Trémont was well aware of. Now it is all vanished in
-smoke, and the General has taken his secret with him.”
-
-“Unless he had communicated it to the son of M. Baradier.”
-
-“Ah! that would indeed be strange!”
-
-Three o’clock struck; the Minister arose, and took up his hat, gloves,
-and stick.
-
-“You are going, General?”
-
-“Yes, I am going to speak to Baradier on the whole matter. Madame
-Baradier was particularly interested in Mademoiselle de Trémont. I intend
-to pay a visit of condolence, in person, to this young lady. Her father
-and myself were great friends, we made campaigns in Mexico and on the
-Loire together, whilst, on the retreat from Mans, Trémont saved all our
-lives, by an admirable battery arrangement in the rear of the army, which
-cut short the pursuit of the Prussians. A fine soldier! One who deserved
-to fall on the field of battle! But Fate decides such things. Everybody
-does not die the death he wishes! Well, I will see you to-morrow,
-Vallenot. And if you hear of anything fresh, ring me up on the
-telephone.”
-
-The Colonel accompanied his principal right to the large staircase,
-saluted, and returned to the office.
-
-
-
-CHAPTER II
-
-
-IN an old hotel situated at the end of a large courtyard, in the Rue de
-Provènce, has been established, for more than fifty years, the banking
-firm of Baradier and Graff. Following on the war of 1870, it was usual in
-business to designate this establishment under the company name of
-Alsace-Lorraine. They are ardent patriots, and never since the annexation
-have they returned to Metz. Still, they have never been willing to sell
-any of their land property in the lost provinces. They have kept a foot
-on the soil torn from France, as though they had no doubt they would
-return to it some day, like masters after a long and sorrowful absence.
-Baradier is a man of fifty-five years of age, stout and short, with
-ruddy, pleasant face lit up by light blue eyes. Graff is tall and thin,
-dark-complexioned, and of stern forbidding mien and glabrous countenance,
-the complete opposite of his ally, both physically and morally. For
-Baradier, with his engaging exterior, is an influential and practical
-man; whilst Graff, with his cold and reserved aspect, possesses the fancy
-and sensitiveness of a poet.
-
-In other respects, admirably equipped, the imagination of the one
-moderated by the prudence of the other, and all rough points in the
-determination of the former being mitigated by the benevolent gentleness
-of the latter. In financial circles this fortunate want of similarity of
-disposition was well known. Never did a customer, after failing with
-Baradier, leave the house without calling at Graff’s office to appeal for
-his intervention, and obtaining a “just leave the matter to me, I will
-arrange it all” preliminary balm on the sore of displeasure, followed, in
-the majority of instances, by an arrangement profitable to both parties.
-For, in the long run, the two partners had reached such a point that they
-profited by the differences in their dispositions, and Baradier pretended
-to be altogether irreconcilable, well knowing that Graff would come in
-afterwards, and have the pleasure of arranging everything to suit all
-concerned.
-
-Baradier, hearty and happy-looking, had two children, a son aged
-twenty-six and a daughter of eighteen, both admirably brought up by their
-mother. Graff, solemn and sentimental, had remained a bachelor. As Marcel
-Baradier said jokingly, he would be the best uncle in France in point of
-inheritance. In fact, Madame Baradier’s brother loves the two children as
-though they were his own, and every time Marcel commits some grave act of
-folly he always appeals to Uncle Graff to settle things, as his father is
-rather strict with him. Father and son, unfortunately, have often been on
-anything but good terms, for Marcel, reared in the lap of luxury, and
-early discovering the mercantile value of his name, has not always given
-his family all the satisfaction that might have been desired. “Nothing
-important,” said Uncle Graff; “merely money difficulties!”
-
-It was so that the taciturn and modest banker, who would not have spent a
-farthing outside of his daily expenses on anything else than charity,
-called the debts which young Marcel periodically gave him the opportunity
-of paying. When his nephew comes for him at night, after dinner, before
-leaving for the club, where he goes to indulge in a game of cards, Uncle
-Graff knows at once his errand. He assumes his most gloomy aspect, sinks
-into his armchair, casts a veiled glance at his rather embarrassed heir,
-and, in sepulchral tones, demands—
-
-“Well, what is it this time?”
-
-Then, as Marcel develops his usual request—terribly bad luck at the
-races, or at baccarat, or some love difficulty—Graff looks at his
-sister’s son, and, without listening to a word, says to himself, What a
-handsome fellow! How could one with such a figure help getting into a
-scrape? He is popular everywhere by reason of his graciousness and
-amiability. He is only twenty-six, and is it not quite natural that he
-should enjoy himself while he is young? Why do Baradier and Graff engage
-in banking operations all day long, anxious as to what is happening at
-the London and Berlin Exchanges, as well as keeping an eye on the Bourse
-of Paris, if not for this charming and agreeable young fellow to enjoy
-himself whilst they are working? Well! Marcel, take your pleasure, and
-take my share as well, for am I not your steward? Off to the races in a
-fine turn-out, drawn by prancing horses, and take your place in the most
-exclusive society; your means, those of the firm of Baradier, will permit
-of all this. All the same, do not squander too much in gambling; do not
-wager in too extravagant a fashion, for this is an evil passion, and very
-harmful to those who recklessly give themselves up to it. In all things
-else do as you wish, and then come back and give your old uncle the
-pleasure of asking a service of him.
-
-All these reflections, however, crowding into his mind, and giving him
-the most perfect satisfaction, Uncle Graff kept wisely to himself. Aloud,
-he said, in that Lorraine accent he had never succeeded in abandoning—
-
-“How stupid you are, Marcel, to be swindled by a crowd of adventurers! A
-member of the firm of Baradier and Graff ought not to behave in this way.
-If your father knew he would be furious. What reply can I give him when
-he accuses me of encouraging your bad conduct? He is quite right, and I
-am wrong to give you money when you make such bad use of it. I shall
-finish by cutting off your allowance. Do you know how much you have
-received from me since the beginning of the year?”
-
-And as the old bachelor pretended to turn the leaves of his cash-book,
-Marcel, terrified, exclaimed—
-
-“Oh, Uncle Graff, it shall be the last time!”
-
-“It is always the last time!” replied the old uncle. “Well, tell me all
-about it.”
-
-And Marcel would enflame the old bachelor’s tender soul with his
-enthusiasm, and end by obtaining all he wanted.
-
-Still, Uncle Graff had some excuse. Marcel did not neglect his work.
-Admirably endowed by nature, the young man, as though they were a mere
-pastime, had advanced considerably in his studies. He had opposed the
-General de Trémont, who wished him to enter the Polytechnic School, and
-afterwards the Artillery. He had preferred the Central and the General’s
-chemical laboratory. Under the supervision of his father’s friend, he had
-made interesting researches into mineral colouring matters, and given
-Baradier the pleasure of saying: “We employ in our works dyeing
-processes, invented by my son, and which are absolutely unique.”
-
-It was one of Uncle Graff’s grand arguments when defending Marcel—
-
-“You know very well that your son is a remarkable man, and that our
-manufactures owe much to him!” Whereupon Baradier would reply, furiously—
-
-“Ah! If only he would be serious! He has every quality necessary, but he
-will not make use of his gifts. Our fine young fellow will work a month a
-year, and spend the other eleven in reckless folly!”
-
-For all that, for some time past, Marcel seemed to have sobered down, or,
-rather, his mind was occupied in investigations of more than usual
-interest. He no longer appeared at the club, scarcely ever went out at
-nights, and, but for the fact that he still went to the races on Sundays,
-one might have imagined he had entirely changed his life. Both Baradier
-and Graff were equally surprised at this transformation; the father was
-pleased, the uncle uneasy at it. They had spoken on the matter to the
-General, who had said to them—
-
-“He is an extraordinary young man; you will continually have surprises
-with him, but do not be anxious, he will turn out a fine man in the end.
-He has great gifts. Just now he is trying to discover some process of
-colour photography. Surprising results have already been obtained. Let
-him alone, do not hinder him, and you will see!”
-
-Graff’s triumph was a brilliant, Baradier’s a quiet one. Marcel had not
-even noticed the effect caused on his family. He had almost completely
-quitted Paris. For three weeks he had been living at Troyes, at the Ars
-manufactory, shut up in his laboratory, only returning to embrace his
-mother, and give the General an account of the progress of his work. The
-old chemist and the young inventor then spent delightful days in
-verifying prescriptions and practising experiments. The one communicated
-his calculations in the dosings of powders, the other explained his
-superpositions of plates to obtain the perfect stereotypes he sought.
-Then they would lunch together, and the General, as warmhearted as the
-young man, would relate his former escapades, and envy the youth, whilst
-admiring the strength and intelligence of this fine young fellow before
-him, who combined so perfectly the capacity for study and pleasure at the
-same time.
-
-In spite of the storms caused by Marcel’s caprices, life for Baradier and
-Graff would have flown along pleasantly enough had not destiny brought
-them in touch with Lichtenbach. Moses, the chief of the firm, son of a
-Jew marine-store dealer of Passy-sur-Moselle, had in past times been at
-school with Graff at Metz. Old Graff, who was a brewer, had dealings with
-Lichtenbach, “the rabbit-skin dealer,” as he called him jokingly, and
-sold him all his broken glasses and used-up barrels. He imagined him to
-be poor, and liked to give him the chance of earning a little money.
-Moses Lichtenbach might have been seen in the streets of Metz driving an
-old grey horse, harnessed to a waggon, in which the marine-store dealer
-piled up all kinds of goods and rubbish. He was a kind of wholesale
-rag-picker, who helped house-wives to get rid of utensils which were no
-longer of any use, and were becoming an encumbrance. He bought them
-cheap, but not for nothing. Sometimes, almost ashamed of loading him with
-corroded stove-pipes, broken shovels, worn-out carpets, and even old
-straw, or shavings, they would say to him, “Take it, Moses, for the
-trouble of carting it away.” He would reply, “No! no! Everything has some
-value or other; I pay little, but I pay.”
-
-It was a point of honour with him to pay. Several people shrugged their
-shoulders, with a smile, as they said to themselves, “The old madman that
-he is! What use will he make of all that rubbish?” They were in the
-wrong. Everything had a value, as Moses affirmed, and this was proved
-when, after the war, the old man left Metz, and settled in Paris, in the
-rue de la Chaussee d’Antin, in a small shop, above the door of which he
-had painted the sign: “Lichtenbach, money-changer.” It was in this modest
-counter that the Passy dealer, leaving Lorraine, which had become part of
-the Empire, had commenced his new business, ceasing to buy and sell old
-iron in order to buy and sell money. But one grave event had happened,
-which had in no slight degree contributed to the exodus of the
-Lichtenbach family from Passy to Paris, and to the change of business.
-
-The first cannon-shots of the war, fired at Forbach, had been, for the
-majority of the inhabitants of Metz and its environs, the signal for
-departure. The farmers and peasants strictly bound down to the land were
-the only ones to remain in the villages. All who were free of action had
-loaded the waggons with their trunks, and reached the towns, to shelter
-themselves from the enemy, whose approach was announced by defeats and
-disasters. The highways in the direction of Thionville, Metz, and Verdun
-were covered with carts and flocks. The majority of the fugitives made
-their way towards the interior, making forced marches, to escape the
-invasion, which, according to them, must, of necessity, halt, crushed
-before the strongholds of the East. Contrary to the general impulse,
-Moses, decided on leaving Passy, had not bent his steps towards the
-centre of France. Instead of moving away from the invader he had marched
-towards him, and leaving behind in the shop everything cumbersome and
-worthless, had reached Metz with six baggage waggons, carefully covered,
-and had settled in a small street near the cathedral, with his wife and
-son, Elias.
-
-Moses had been well received. Through seeing him, along with his waggon
-and old horse, all over the town, everybody knew him. Some, more cunning
-than others, said, “Old Moses is a sly fellow. If Metz is besieged he
-will buy the broken fragments of German shells as old iron, and continue
-his business.” But they were wrong. Old iron was not now the end of
-Lichtenbach’s ambition. He had guessed that a stout siege and an
-energetic defence would take place, that victuals would soon become
-scarce for the town population, and that whoever had the disposal, at a
-given time, of special food products, might, by selling them at a high
-price, make a considerable profit.
-
-Accordingly he had entered the town with his six waggons, whilst in his
-cellar were carefully stored quantities of brandy, coffee, sugar, ham,
-and a dozen barrels of salt. He had spent a portion of the ready money he
-possessed in procuring these stores, and had awaited results. Meanwhile,
-all the Lorraine youth left. The male population which had not become
-enrolled in the army, as being under age, undertook to resist the
-invaders. The old martial blood boiled in French hearts, and the young
-Graff, returned from the town hall, a cockade in his hat, when he met on
-the square Elias Lichtenbach, walking about smoking a pipe.
-
-Scores of times, extending over long years, whilst old Moses was
-stationed at Graff’s door loading old iron, or buying the skins of goats
-or hares killed by the brewer the previous Sunday, had the two boys
-played together. Antoine carried off young Elias into the garden, and,
-between them, to the great wrath of Madame Graff, they would climb the
-wall and steal the fruit, still unripe. They often played at marbles, but
-in spite of Elias’s utmost efforts, he could never succeed in
-transferring his glass ones for Antoine’s agate ones. He was the only boy
-in the town he had not succeeded in exploiting. One day even Antoine
-proved himself the more cunning, and succeeded in getting Elias to take
-an old broken sword in exchange for six enormous marbles quite new. Moses
-was obliged to confess, with a feeling of humiliation, that the young
-Graff had proved himself more shrewd than the young Lichtenbach.
-
-It must be stated that, on that occasion, Catherine Graff was present,
-and, with the object of dazzling his friend’s sister, Elias had shown
-unwonted generosity. This young girl had even then the power of troubling
-the young boy.
-
-As he saw his former companion pass by, proud of his patriotic
-determination, Elias had taken the pipe from his mouth, and said—
-
-“Where are you going, Antoine?”
-
-“To join the 27th line regiment at Chalons.”
-
-“What! Have you enlisted?”
-
-“Yes, like every one else of my age. Are not you going to do the same?”
-
-“I don’t know; my father has said nothing to me about it.”
-
-“Are you to wait for your father’s orders before doing your duty?”
-
-Elias scratched his head, whilst his whole face expressed uncertainty and
-embarrassment.
-
-“But he needs me for the business.”
-
-“France also needs you, and more urgently than your father.”
-
-“I am only nineteen years old.”
-
-“And I, not yet twenty.”
-
-“Yes, you are right, I will go and speak to my father about it.”
-
-“If I do not see you again, good-bye.”
-
-“Good-bye, and good luck.”
-
-Elias, in greater trouble than he had ever been before, made his way to
-his father’s shop, and found old Moses in the cellar in the act of
-bottling brandy. The son was warmly received by his father, and
-Lichtenbach, filling a goblet, held it out to his son and heir.
-
-“Taste this cognac, it is very palatable! In a short time it will fetch
-twenty francs a litre; there will be only ourselves who will drink it for
-nothing, my son!”
-
-“You will drink of it, perhaps, father,” said Elias, troubled. “But I—”
-
-“What! You? What is the meaning of this?”
-
-“Shall I be by your side when the cost of this good liquor has mounted to
-that price?”
-
-“Well! Where will you be?”
-
-“Where all the youths of the village are—in the army.”
-
-“You in the army, Elias; what will you do there?”
-
-“Fight, like the others.”
-
-Old Moses, by the light of the candle, which lit the cellar, looked at
-his son in utter bewilderment. He could not believe his own ears. Still
-he said—
-
-“Fight? Why fight?”
-
-“To defend the country.”
-
-“What country?”
-
-“France, where I have lived and been brought up, whose language I speak,
-and where all our clients and friends are.”
-
-Old Lichtenbach shook his head, and remained a moment without speaking.
-Then, in trenchant tones, he said—
-
-“My son, we do business in this country, but we have not been born here.
-I was in Switzerland, with your mother, in Geneva, when you came into the
-world. My birthplace is Hanover, your mother’s Baden. Your name appears
-on no official register, and you are free to do what you like. We are
-German by birth, French by habit and everyday relations; we belong no
-more to one side than to the other. The best thing we can do is to keep
-out of the quarrel. What could we gain by fighting? Blows for you, pain
-and suffering for both of us. And how would it benefit any one, if Elias
-Lichtenbach were killed in battle, and old Moses were left to finish his
-life all alone? Does any one even know why all these people are fighting?
-Do they even know themselves? They have quarrelled, like tipplers on
-leaving the grog-shop after having absorbed more than is good for them.
-And now they fly at one another’s throats. What have the Germans done to
-you to make you want to fight them? What advantage will you gain from
-having defended the French?”
-
-“But all the young men are off, father. Antoine Graff, whom I have just
-met, has received his papers.”
-
-“He is a fool!”
-
-“But the son of Rabbi Zacharias is also going.”
-
-“Great good may he get from it!”
-
-“To-morrow there will only be left in the town the aged and infirm. I
-shall be the only one remaining, and everybody will laugh me to scorn.”
-
-Old Moses sighed as he said, “Yes, you have your full share of
-self-respect; you have been brought up in the schools of France, in which
-a great deal is related on the subject of honour. Listen, Elias, and
-remember all your life long, all this teaching is sheer nonsense. Honour
-consists in paying what one owes, and in meeting one’s bills when they
-fall due. Outside of that, believe me, everything is false. Patriotic
-legends have been invented to lead men to butchery and slaughter to the
-strains of the ‘Marseillaise.’ They consist merely of sounding words,
-with which mankind is deceived in the interests of rulers and states. One
-ought not to let one’s self be the dupe of such tricks and artifices.
-When it is all over, none of the sly rascals who have persuaded the rest
-to fight, and carefully kept out of the way themselves, will give you
-even a single word of pity for your misfortunes. I have seen the world,
-and I know life. Beware of enthusiasm, it is the most false and dangerous
-thing on earth.”
-
-There was a moment’s silence in the dark cellar, where the countenances
-of the two men showed red in the flickering flames of the candle. The
-dripping of the brandy, as it fell into the tub beneath the barrel tap,
-was the only sound audible. The dark, cold air which enveloped Elias
-began to calm the ardour, with which he was burning a few minutes before.
-The old man continued after a moment’s silence—
-
-“Besides, I well understand that you do not care to remain alone here
-when all your acquaintances are leaving the town. You shall leave, too.
-But there are other things for you to do than risk your skin, or try to
-endanger the lives of others. Great profits may now be made in food
-supplies. In a short time the whole of Alsace and Lorraine will be
-invaded. The armies will have to live—the French armies, I mean, for the
-Germans, who are the conquerors, will lack nothing. We must make it our
-duty to collect provisions on the side of Chalons, towards Paris. You are
-not yet of age, you owe nothing to any one; besides, the services you may
-render are a thousand times more important than those of these
-simpletons, who are intending to shoulder muskets. I will prove my
-confidence in you by giving you the means to show what you are worth.
-Come here; bring me the light.”
-
-Moses went to one corner of the cellar. Removing a couple of barrels, he
-took up a spade, and, digging a hole in the ground, laid bare an
-iron-bound box. Raising it with considerable difficulty, he took from his
-pocket a bunch of keys, opened the lock, and showed his son the interior
-full of carefully arranged rolls. Tearing away the paper envelope of one
-of these rolls, he poured the contents into his son’s hands. They were
-twenty-franc gold pieces.
-
-“Here,” said Moses, “are forty thousand francs in gold. You are strong
-enough to carry off the box. Early to-morrow morning you will take the
-train for Troyes. Deposit this money with Baradier, the banker, but do
-not accept either bank-notes or drafts. Before long gold will be at a
-premium, and you will benefit by the exchange. With the capital I now
-place at your disposal buy sheep and cattle, and offer to supply the
-management with beef and mutton. Owing to the disorder in which the
-invasion will throw agriculture, cattle will be sold at a loss of
-seventy-five per cent. In the embarrassment in which the army will find
-itself for victuals, the contractors will sell again at a profit of cent.
-per cent. Do you understand the affair? Then act according to these data.
-If you do, by contributing to feed the troops you will be of far more
-service than marching in red trousers, under the orders of a stupid
-corporal. You, too, will be defending your country. And do not forget to
-betake yourself to the drug-store to-night to proclaim it aloud.”
-
-“But suppose some one asks me in what corps I am to serve, what reply
-shall I give?”
-
-“You will say, ‘I am going to Rhetel. It will be settled there.’”
-
-“Very well, father.”
-
-“Take hold of one of the handles of the box, and help me to mount it to
-the shop.”
-
-“Leave it to me, father.”
-
-Whereupon, seizing in both his arms the heavy box, filled with gold, he
-raised it on his stout shoulder, and, preceded by Moses, who held aloft
-his candle to light the staircase, he bore away without flinching all his
-father’s fortune.
-
-The double combination conceived by Lichtenbach succeeded, as all simple
-ideas do. Within Metz, besieged and filled with troops, stored provisions
-were not long in coming to a premium. The salt Moses thought of selling
-at a moderate price gave him a great surprise. It proved more valuable
-than sugar. The want of salt caused keen suffering to the soldiers, who
-had become disgusted with horseflesh. The brandy, largely adulterated,
-also sold well. Still the old man’s profits did not recompense him for
-lack of news of his heir. Elias’s last letter, delivered on the evening
-of the Battle of Borny, announced the young man’s arrival in Paris. He
-had left thirty thousand francs in gold with the firm of Baradier, at
-Troyes, and was preparing to make for Orleans, as he did not consider
-himself in safety in Paris, which would infallibly soon be blockaded.
-
-He had introduced five thousand sheep into the town. But he did not
-consider it necessary to continue business with the Government, which was
-too economical and avaricious. After the 14th of August not a word did
-the old man receive. During those long, sleepless nights, whilst
-listening to the cannon of Saint Julien or of Plappeville thundering away
-at long intervals, the old man reflected bitterly that his son was very
-young and inexperienced, that he might be robbed, and that the sum he had
-entrusted to him represented twenty years’ wanderings along the roads of
-Lorraine, buying up all the old iron in the province. Still, he had the
-consolation of thinking that Elias was not taking part in the terrible
-and bloody battles, doleful and desperate tidings of which came across
-the outposts right to the besieged town. He saw his neighbours and
-clients pass along with bowed heads, wondering uneasily, and asking one
-another—
-
-“What news? Have you heard anything of your son? Where is he? If only all
-our boys are not dead!”
-
-He at least could reply, “I do not know,” with comparative assurance. But
-the others? Old Graff especially was an object of pity. He seemed as
-though he would go mad. One evening he had gone out bareheaded into the
-streets, when the weather was icy cold, saying to all he met, “If Antoine
-does not come back, I shall have been his murderer. Why did I send him to
-the war; he was not even of age? He ought to be here by my side. All this
-time they have been fighting around Paris. A presentiment comes to me
-that my son is dead!” and he wept bitterly. They were obliged to take him
-back home by force, whilst little Catherine hid herself behind her
-mother’s skirts. Moses congratulated himself for the prudent resolution
-he had imposed on Elias, though he did his best to lament with the rest
-on the dangers run by this brave and valiant band of youth gone out in
-defence of their country.
-
-One evening, on returning homey the inhabitants of the district around
-the cathedral found ambulance carriages in the streets and assistants
-carrying wounded men into private houses. No more beds were to be had at
-the hospitals. All the untenanted houses had been requisitioned, and now
-the military authorities appealed to the patriotism of the inhabitants of
-Metz for lodging the victims of the last sortie. A captain of light
-infantry belonging to the Guards had just been carried to the house of
-Moses, and Graff had taken in a captain of artillery, named M. de
-Trémont. As he was bringing back his battery from the hills of Servigny,
-the young officer had received a ball in the thigh.
-
-Anxiety for the health of his patient, the remedies he needed, and other
-little attentions, caused a happy diversion to the ever-present anxiety
-of Antoine’s father. As he saw this handsome young officer, who had
-fought so heroically, and who under such solicitous care, was about to
-recover his health under his roof, Graff began to hope once more. He said
-to himself, “If my own son is wounded, why should not he also be so
-fortunate as Captain de Trémont? He has been brought a long distance,
-with his wounded thigh, but he will be quite well again in less than a
-couple of months. They do not all die who are wounded in war. I feel sure
-Antoine will come back now.” And his spirits returned with renewed hope.
-The captain, well cared for by Graff and his wife, was soon able to leave
-his bed, and after dinner, at night, he would relate to them his
-campaigns in Algeria and Mexico. He explained to his hosts the reasons
-why France was coming off the worst in this disastrous campaign,
-attributing all the advantages of the Germans to their remarkable
-organizing capacity, and the perfection of their artillery.
-
-“You see, the whole future of war consists in war material. We have to
-give way before breech-loading cannons, which have, from the very first,
-given proof of a marked superiority over our grooved arms. The moral
-effect on our troops has been decisive. The first thing to be done after
-the war, will be to investigate a new kind of cannon and explosives of a
-terribly destructive power. The question of explosives will be of capital
-importance. This ought to be the main end of our efforts in the
-artillery.”
-
-With remarkable clearness he explained all that modern chemistry offered
-in cunning combinations, such as would guarantee victory to that
-adversary which could most scientifically assure massacre and death. So,
-in the evening silence in that large town, besieged by the conquering
-enemy, the conquered were already engaged in thinking of preparations for
-revenge.
-
-The siege came to an end, and all the brave soldiers who would have
-defended Metz to the death were surrendered alive to the enemy. The
-flags, a prey to famine, were carried off to form trophies of victory in
-Germany. Paris fell in her turn, then the final armies of France, driven
-back across the snow, stained with blood, not so tired of death as
-exhausted with the fight, stopped at the country’s call. And on that
-immense battlefield, two hundred leagues square, the victors’ shout of
-triumph mingled with the despairing cry of the vanquished. By degrees
-news arrived, bringing sorrow to some and joy to others. Among the brave
-young fellows who had gone forth to fight, so ardent and proud, many
-never returned, whilst the numbers of prisoners and wounded will never be
-known.
-
-One morning, Graff, in the dining-room, was taking breakfast with his
-family and Captain de Trémont, who was still a convalescent in Metz, when
-the outside door was opened, a rapid step was heard on the staircase, and
-father, mother, and little Catherine, looked at one another with pale
-faces. Not a word was uttered as they listened tremblingly to this quick,
-seemingly joyful ascent. They had all been struck by the same thought; he
-who comes hastening to us in this way, without asking any questions, who
-enters as though he were master of the house, and mounts the well-known
-steps four at a time, must be Antoine! Before they had time to give
-expression to their thoughts the door opened, and a tall, bearded young
-man, so thin and terrible that they did not recognize him, but whose eyes
-were instantly flooded with tears, appeared before them.
-
-“Father! Catherine! Mother!”
-
-They all rose to their feet, mad with joy, for they could not mistake the
-voice, and the long-expected child for whom so many tears had been shed,
-was taken in their arms and covered with kisses, amid the cries and sobs,
-questions and exclamations, of parents and servants, whilst the Captain
-looked on with a smile at this family scene. Finally, Antoine escaped
-from their arms, and his first words were the following—
-
-“Good heavens! How hungry I am!”
-
-As he spoke he cast hungry looks on the coffee and cake with which the
-table was spread. In a trice he was seated there, and served and fed so
-well, that he was obliged to beg them to desist. Then explanations began,
-and long accounts of events, interspersed with questions as to the fate
-of such and such a one. He himself, after fighting at Sedan, had escaped
-by Mézières, reached the North, where, with Faidherbe, he had passed the
-whole campaign. He had not slept in a bed for three months. But he had
-fought at Pont-Noyelles, Bapaume, and Saint Quentin, and had been lucky
-enough to come out without a scratch, with the grade of sergeant-major;
-disgusted all the same, with the soldier’s profession for the rest of his
-life. His father said to him—
-
-“Well, it is all over now! You shall never begin again. Our unhappy
-country is crushed. It will take a score of years to bring things to
-their former condition. Ah, my poor Antoine, how ill I have slept the
-last six months! I may say, with truth, I have not had a single hour’s
-peace of mind since you left. But here you are back again once more, and
-all is forgotten.”
-
-Then the incidents of the campaign would begin again. Captain de Trémont
-questioned the young soldier on the details of the campaign in the North,
-and Antoine could not dwell too long on the valour of the calm and
-indefatigable Faidherbe, the bravery of his companions, and the services
-rendered by François Baradier, a volunteer like himself, the son of a
-banker of Troyes, who had saved his life, snatching him away from the
-hands of the Prussians of Manteufel on the evening of the battle of
-Bapaume, within a farm which the shells had set on fire, and where he was
-surrounded by a dozen of the enemy.
-
-“He will come and see you—he promised me so—and you will appreciate such
-a fine brave fellow as he is.”
-
-“Your rescuer? Certainly, he shall be welcome. But let me look at you, my
-poor child. Who would have recognized you? You look like a brigand! Had I
-met you in the street, I should have been afraid!”
-
-All day long the Graffs were visited by whole lines of relations and
-friends, who had called to congratulate them, to admire the returned
-soldier, and to listen to the hundredth account of the episode of the
-Battle of Bapaume, whilst tumblers of beer and glasses of kirsch-wasser
-were served, bringing to their height the overwrought feelings of Graff,
-who was usually sober enough, though, on this occasion, he had completely
-lost his bearings.
-
-The following morning fresh stirrings in the quarter. Elias Lichtenbach
-made his appearance in a cab. He looked well and hearty, and, after
-greeting his family, immediately entered into conference with the German
-authorities. The rumour soon spread that young Lichtenbach had been sent
-by the authorities of Bordeaux, and had become a person of importance
-during the war. In reality, his mission concerned the re-victualling of
-the army on the frontiers of the East. The delegate to the war, who
-appreciated the services rendered by Elias, his skill as an intermediary,
-and his facility in avoiding difficulties, had sent his agent to the
-enemy’s headquarters. He was now full of self-importance, and proudly
-looked down upon his compatriots, worn out by privation and hunger,
-though furious at defeat.
-
-After the first few hours of astonishment full fling was given to
-curiosity. Where had Elias come from, looking so strong and well? Of all
-who had left at the same time as himself, he was the only one who had
-returned looking better than when he left. All the rest were pale and
-savage-looking. Inquiries were set afoot. At the very first question the
-representatives of the authorities replied, with circumspection, that M.
-Lichtenbach had rendered eminent service to the country, and that the
-delegate for the war considered him with the most benevolent esteem. What
-kind of service? It was young Baradier who, on reaching Metz, on a visit
-to Antoine and his family, began to throw light on the obscure conduct of
-the boasting Elias.
-
-Sergeant Baradier, ruddy of complexion, full of life and vigour, was as
-firm in disposition as Antoine was gentle. His open frankness pleased
-everybody, and amongst all these good people he was immediately at his
-ease. Twenty-four hours had not passed before he was on very good terms
-with Captain de Trémont, and had grouped together all the volunteers of
-Metz to a banquet to celebrate their return. Elias had had the calm
-audacity to give in his name, like the rest, and had put in an appearance
-at the Hotel de l’Ours, to take part in the banquet. But his reception
-had been a cold one. All who were present, though in civil dress, as the
-German authorities had forbidden the uniform, knew in what regiments they
-had served, in what battles they had been wounded. Elias alone lost
-himself in vague explanations. He pretended to have been everywhere—with
-the armies at Chanzy and Bourbaki, at the camp of Conlie, and near
-Garibaldi. This gift of ubiquity astonished everybody. Sergeant Baradier
-undertook to give an explanation clearer than all those behind which
-Elias had sheltered himself.
-
-“Are you not the Lichtenbach who did business with the firm of Baradier
-at Troyes?” he asked old Moses’ son, point-blank. “Is it not you who
-bought sheep in the Ardennes, and drove them through Belgium into
-France?”
-
-“Yes, it is myself,” replied Elias, cautiously.
-
-“Well! No wonder you have been everywhere during the war, since you were
-buying meat from every available spot, on behalf of the management.”
-
-As Elias became agitated and turned pale, Baradier continued—
-
-“Oh, I am not reproaching you, I am simply stating a fact. These
-gentlemen just now did not appear to understand the part you played. I am
-explaining it to them. M. Lichtenbach is a patriot in a fashion. Instead
-of fighting he undertook to feed the fighters. If not a glorious
-employment, it is, at least a useful one.”
-
-“But I risked my life like the rest,” exclaimed Elias, red with anger.
-“Had the Germans caught me they would have shot me!”
-
-“It is most extraordinary that they allowed you to move in and out so
-freely through their lines, for they did not generally show themselves
-over confident. The good reception, too, they gave you must have appeared
-very strange.”
-
-“What do you mean!” exclaimed Elias.
-
-“Simply what I say; nothing more,” replied Baradier, coldly. “But if you
-wish me to explain, I merely remark that remaining out of the reach of
-sabre cuts and musket shots, whilst others are fighting, being warm and
-comfortable, and deprived of nothing, whilst your companions are dying of
-cold and hunger, seeing in the misfortunes of one’s country only an
-opportunity of making a fortune, is not what one would call the height of
-heroism.”
-
-“You insult me!”
-
-“I am ready to give you satisfaction.”
-
-“Good! you shall hear from me.”
-
-“Do not cry out so loud; I can easily be found. I am staying with M.
-Graff, and am the son of M. Baradier, your banker at Troyes. Now we will
-change the subject.”
-
-Immediately Elias found himself alone. Everybody turned their backs on
-him. Flinging on his adversary a look of hatred he left the room. As he
-closed the door he heard Graff exclaim—
-
-“Now that there are none but good patriots left let us drink to the
-health of France!”
-
-The following morning Baradier, accompanied by Captain de Trémont and his
-friend Graff, waited for Lichtenbach to put in an appearance. They waited
-in vain. The prudent Elias, having avoided wounds during the war, seemed
-quite determined not to run the risk of receiving any in times of peace.
-Still, as though by chance, M. Baradier at Troyes, received in his house
-a supplement of twenty Hessian hussars, to board and lodge, and old Graff
-was summoned thrice in a single week to reply to denunciations
-representing him as having spoken in insulting terms concerning the
-German army. Finally, Baradier received notice to leave Metz within
-twelve hours.
-
-It was quite possible that chance alone might have caused the increase of
-the burden laid on the banker of Troyes, and the expulsion of Baradier
-might have been the consequence of the banquet, at which more was said
-than the circumstances warranted. But old Graff was convinced that his
-neighbour Lichtenbach’s son was an agent of the enemy, and that the rogue
-had simply turned informer against him. All the same, Elias bowed to him
-in the street with the greatest deference, and he always showed himself
-very polite to Antoine.
-
-The quiet and taciturn heir to the firm of Graff avoided, as far as
-possible, his former companion. He did not openly break with him, his
-nature being opposed to violence of every kind. But very few words were
-spoken on either side, and he avoided transacting business with him. The
-firm Graff stored up large quantities of wool, which were sold to the
-manufacturers of Champagne and the Ardennes. The Baradiers, who had just
-bought a large factory at Ars, were great customers of theirs. Elias, who
-continued his father’s wholesale business, bought and sold everything in
-the nature of a business transaction, and had often made offers to the
-Graff for the wool of Germany. The latter had always declined his offers.
-Still, in spite of such evident ill-will, Elias was not discouraged, and,
-with that tenacity which is one of the virtues of his race, he
-periodically visited Graff and his son, in the hope of bringing off a
-bargain.
-
-Thus, after two years spent by Mademoiselle Graff in one of the best
-boarding schools in Nancy, Elias, one fine morning, found himself in
-front of her in the garden, whilst waiting for Antoine. He was stupefied
-and completely dazzled. The child had become a young lady, tall and
-graceful, with dark eyes, light hair, and brilliant complexion. He dared
-not speak to her, and could only bow as she passed. On returning home he
-mentioned the incident to his father, and, with a wealth of biblical
-comparison, he depicted the maiden, like Rebecca appearing to Jacob. He
-left his father in no doubt that he was passionately in love, and that
-if, as the shepherd had served Laban, he should have to serve Graff, he
-would submit to it for love of the fair Elise.
-
-Old Moses remarked that, being a Jew, and the Graffs being Christians,
-there was no chance of being accepted by them, without prejudice to the
-grievances they had manifested against him ever since the war. Elias
-replied that he could abjure his religion, and by his conversion give
-great prestige to the Catholic faith, that he had earned sufficient
-money, and that a young fellow of twenty-two years of age, who would
-place four hundred thousand francs on the table when the contract was
-signed was not a suitor to be thrown over so easily.
-
-Moses warned his son that he was entering upon a perilous negotiation. He
-did not dissuade him from changing his religion, if he found any
-advantage in such a course, but he warned him that, whether as Christian
-or Jew, he would not obtain the hand of Mademoiselle Graff, and that he
-would gain nothing but the shame of his apostacy. Elias, however, had a
-will of iron; he astonished the archbishop by his determination,
-conciliated him by his piety and generosity, and, with remarkable skill,
-brought over to his interests all the high Catholic powers. At a time
-when German pietism was struggling in the conquered provinces, with a
-clergy of purely Protestant tendencies, the conversion of Elias was a
-political event.
-
-Had Elias not been so well known he might have become popular. All the
-same, he met a thorough refusal at the hands of the Graff family, and, as
-though to intensify the insult offered to him, before six months the
-beautiful Elise married the former sergeant, Baradier. At the same time,
-a rumour spread abroad that the Graffs were leaving the town. Antoine
-followed his step-brother to Paris, and entered with him into the banking
-establishment of Baradier senior.
-
-It was too much for Elias. He lost his sleep, and one day, after meeting
-the Graffs, who were being escorted to the station by all their friends,
-he returned home, and was taken suddenly ill. Old Moses, terrified, put
-his son to bed, summoned the doctor, and learnt that the new convert was
-at the point of death. A furious delirium had taken possession of him;
-during its course he negotiated fabulous bargains with imaginary buyers
-and sellers. A semblance of reason returned only when he poured forth
-floods of insults and threats against the Baradiers and the Graffs,
-whilst his father calmed him by saying—
-
-“Yes, Elias, you shall have your revenge on these rascals! You shall ruin
-them! You shall crush them under your heel!”
-
-Then a happy smile came over the patient’s lips; he slept a few hours,
-and awoke feeling much better. One may affirm that it was the intensity
-of his hatred that kept him from dying. Plans of revenge haunted his
-fevered brain, and when the doctor, in astonishment, declared that the
-young man was convalescent, the first words Elias uttered were, “All the
-better! Had I died, the Baradiers and Graff’s would have been too glad!”
-
-To tell the truth, the latter paid not the slightest heed to the feelings
-of rancour they had so violently aroused. They had assumed the direction
-of the firm, had extended the business, and founded additional woollen
-factories. Marcel Baradier and his sister Amélie were born. Complete
-harmony seemed to exist in this happy family, when Elias Lichtenbach, his
-father having died, came to establish himself in Paris.
-
-A singular metamorphosis had been wrought in him. The first time Baradier
-and his rival met at the Bourse the banker did not recognize Lichtenbach.
-He saw before him a thin, stooping man, almost bald, with cold,
-passionless eyes, hidden behind gold spectacles. His very voice had
-changed. M. Lichtenbach spoke little, said only what was absolutely
-essential, and remained impassive before the most important news. A
-contraction of the jaws alone betrayed his emotion, giving to his
-countenance a character of singular ferocity.
-
-Lichtenbach’s connection with the firm of Baradier and Graff was full of
-meaning. He caused them to lose three hundred thousand francs in a single
-morning on a contract for wool, concluded at the Bourse of Troyes. Elias
-sold wool from Hungary at so low a rate that Baradier and Graff, who had
-speculated on a rise, were obliged to sell out rapidly to limit their
-risks. It was the first clear flash from the cloud. Henceforward an
-enemy, always on the watch, was ever ready to strike the Baradier firm in
-its most vulnerable part. Lichtenbach’s evil intentions, though
-concealed, were none the less certain.
-
-When attacked they ingeniously defended themselves, took needful
-precautions, and trusted nothing to hazard. Lichtenbach was very powerful
-and dangerous. Left a widower, with one daughter, whom he had sent to the
-Sacre-Coeur, there to be brought up according to the principles of the
-most rigid devotion, Elias was a type of the renegade who had become more
-Christian than the Pope himself.
-
-Still, if Lichtenbach was dreaded, he was received everywhere, and his
-influence in society was as secret as it was sure. He rendered priceless
-help to ruined families. Instead of aiming his financial batteries
-against the established Government, he divided his attempts, placed his
-hands on all the syndicates of Europe, and by means of the capital he
-collected caused diverse speculations not only to benefit himself, but
-all his friends in addition.
-
-The simplicity of his life was extreme. He lived in a gloomy mansion in
-the Rue Barbet-de-Jouy, attended by servants from Lorraine, who spoke
-German better than French. He never received visitors, whilst a game of
-whist seemed to form his only distraction. It was at his office, right in
-front of the Bourse, that he received his clients. Although only
-forty-five years of age, he seemed to have lost all interest in the fair
-sex, as though all women were an object of terror for him. The little
-Duchess de Bernay, who, thanks to speculations conducted by Elias, had
-been able to pay her debts, one day said to her friend, the Marchioness
-de Premeur—
-
-“I must find out what Lichtenbach really thinks. After all, the manner in
-which he treats us is almost humiliating.”
-
-For some evenings, in the presence of all her friends, she flirted with
-Elias, without succeeding in thawing him. Then suddenly she ceased paying
-attention to him. To her companions’ ironical questions she replied,
-evasively—
-
-“I have lost my time. It is no use.”
-
-But it was noticed that her style of living changed; that she spent large
-sums of money, and that, according as she ceased joking with the
-financier, she became more and more settled in money matters. Elias,
-distant and silent as ever, continued to speculate in the four corners of
-the globe, to advise the Prince, manage his journal, and prove to
-the-firm of Baradier and Graff, as well as to those in any way connected
-with him, that the enmity he was nourishing would be with him as long as
-he lived.
-
-
-
-CHAPTER III
-
-
-ON reaching the Rue de Provènce, the Minister of War descended from his
-brougham with the eagerness of a young man, crossed the court-yard,
-entered the offices, and, in loud tones, asked the office boy—
-
-“Is M. Baradier in?”
-
-The office-boy instinctively stood at attention, and replied—“Yes,
-General; I will announce you at once.”
-
-The Minister, with nervous steps, strode to and fro in the ante-chamber,
-behind whose windows the Havas despatches gave the current rates of all
-the Exchanges of Europe. Suddenly a door opened, and a stout man with
-ruddy complexion entered the room with outstretched arms.
-
-“Ah, it is you, General! What trouble you have taken! Just step into this
-room.”
-
-The Minister entered, and as soon as the door was closed he exclaimed—
-
-“Ah, my poor friends! How sad it all is!”
-
-“We cannot get over the shock, Baradier and I,” said Graff, rolling
-forward an armchair. “Take a seat, General.”
-
-“Who has told you the news?”
-
-“Baudoin, who was sleeping here last night, and came in terrified this
-afternoon with the dismal tidings. What has happened down there? The
-whole circumstances are even more serious than the disaster itself. Graff
-and I have been questioning and discussing with one another, without
-succeeding in settling the frightful problem.”
-
-“If only Marcel were here!” moaned Uncle Graff. “He would enlighten us.
-He is so well acquainted with Trémont’s life and habits, his weaknesses.”
-
-“His weaknesses?” asked the Minister. “A woman? Is that what you mean?”
-
-“Yes, General.”
-
-“You are taking the paltry side of the matter,” said the old soldier,
-firmly. “It is no question of a mere _passade_. The affair before us is
-far more than a paltry intrigue. The woman—yes, indeed, she has had a
-_rôle_ to play. But she has only been the agent, perhaps unwittingly, of
-an attempt, carefully thought out and boldly executed.”
-
-“With what object?” asked Baradier. “Tell me everything, General. Let us
-communicate our suspicions to one another, in an attempt to throw light
-on the affair.”
-
-“Ah! It is evident that the object of the attack was the discoveries made
-by Trémont. In this abominable plot, which has ended in the murder of a
-man we loved, a remarkable _savant_, I see—but do not let this go beyond
-the three of us here present—the hand of the foreigner.”
-
-There was a moment’s silence. Baradier and Graff looked at one another,
-uneasily, and as though undecided. But the impetuous Baradier could not
-long keep to himself the idea working in his brain.
-
-“We, too, General, seem to recognize in the blow which has fallen on our
-friend some hateful intention against him and against ourselves at once.”
-
-“Baradier,” intervened Graff, “you are going too fast and too far! How
-can you risk such a charge, on suppositions alone?”
-
-“Ah! You still hesitate!” exclaimed Baradier. “You are still bound down
-by scruples! The deuce! I feel there is treason and infamy in all this!
-I—Let me continue! I would swear that Lichtenbach is at the bottom of it
-all!”
-
-“You have no right to speak in that way!” exclaimed Graff, rising to his
-feet and quivering with emotion. “How can you insinuate that a man
-against whom nothing can be said from either a professional or a moral
-point of view, is a party to a crime, simply because he is our enemy? It
-is abominable! We must give some place to justice!”
-
-Baradier, boiling over with excitement, rose in his turn, and began to
-walk to and fro, speaking in snatches.
-
-“For the last two hours, General, we have been disputing in this way,
-Graff and myself, and the only reply he can give me is that I am not
-just! As though that were a matter of concern when an imperious instinct
-cries out to you: ‘There is the culprit. He is not seen; he is well
-masked, cunningly concealed, and appears in nothing.’ Probably he will
-not be found out, but it is he all the same who has done the deed,
-because it was to his interest and hatred combined to do it! No! With his
-justice, humanity, and philanthropy, you can have no idea how stupid
-Graff is, at times!”
-
-In spite of the gravity of the situation, the three friends burst into a
-loud laugh, and Graff, bending forward his great body, exclaimed—
-
-“Thanks!”
-
-The Minister then intervened to give a little order to the debate.
-
-“Come, Baradier, explain yourself. As your brother-in-law says, vague
-presentiments are not sufficient to establish an accusation. Presumptions
-lead to investigations, and if guilt results from information obtained,
-then one may proceed. Besides, I will observe to you that the authorities
-have been notified, an examination has been commenced, and if you have
-proofs to furnish—”
-
-“Impossible!” interrupted Baradier. “To you I have been telling my inmost
-thoughts; to an examining magistrate I would not repeat what I have just
-said.”
-
-“Ah!” triumphed Graff; “what did I tell you?”
-
-“For me to quit my reserve, such discoveries ought to be brought to
-light, that the proofs—moral as they are—upon which I lean, should have
-material coincidences. But do not think I am retreating. I will make
-inquiries, and if I find—”
-
-“You will not find anything. If your suspicions are true, we have to deal
-with those who are stronger than ourselves.”
-
-“We shall see about that!”
-
-The General intervened again.
-
-“Is this Lichtenbach, of whom you speak, the great merchant-prince who is
-allied with the clerico-royalist party?”
-
-“Yes, the same man.”
-
-“And you imagine him capable of a crime?”
-
-“I believe he is capable of anything.”
-
-“Doubtless you know that he is very influential with the Ministry, and
-obtains whatever he wishes.”
-
-“He is very powerful everywhere; his arms stretch in all directions.”
-
-“But what interest would he have in trying to circumvent Trémont, in the
-first place, and, afterwards, in bringing about his disappearance?”
-
-“Well, General, what do you think of the investigations into explosives?
-Lichtenbach is at the head of the French syndicate of mining
-exploitations. In Russia, Austria, and Spain, he has considerable
-interests. Now, in the composition of a powder, easy to control in
-results, capable of being handled without harm, and of very moderate
-cost—and all these advantages were claimed by the Trémont powder, as was
-seen from the report read by the General, at the Academy of Science, six
-months ago—was there not something to tempt the covetousness of business
-men, ever on the look-out for progressive and remunerative processes?
-Trémont had received splendid offers, but had always refused even the
-initial overtures. Then he explained to Graff and myself his intention of
-promoting a company, the working of which should be exclusively French.
-It was a point of honour with him that his own country should profit from
-his discovery.”
-
-“The fine fellow! Just like him!”
-
-“He was well aware that he had found an opportunity of making a fortune,
-but he did not wish foreign money to have a hand in it. Besides, at the
-same time, he had almost completed his investigations into a new
-war-powder. He would not throw the commercial affair on the market until
-he had given his new explosive to the Government. He said to us: ‘Both
-powders at once. The one that will make me rich, and the one that will
-make us conquerors. In this way I shall be pardoned for the benefits I
-shall reap from the first, in favour of the prestige the second will give
-our Army.’”
-
-“Yes; secret experiments had already taken place with his war-powder.
-Never had my colleagues or myself seen such destructive effects. Nothing
-could have resisted an artillery firing projectiles charged with this
-powder! And the secret has vanished in smoke! It is a great misfortune
-for France!”
-
-A strange smile passed over Graff’s mouth, and, with a gesture of
-dissent, he said—
-
-“Ah! Who knows?”
-
-“What do you mean?”
-
-“Yes, it is not absolutely certain that the secret is lost! Perhaps some
-one possesses the General’s formulæ in duplicate.”
-
-“Who?” exclaimed the Minister.
-
-Graff rubbed his hands together and replied—
-
-“My nephew!”
-
-“Marcel? Has he said anything to you?”
-
-“Yes. A week ago.”
-
-At these words Baradier turned pale. Turning to his brother-in-law, with
-a look of anguish, he exclaimed—
-
-“Never let the slightest suspicion of this be known! Repeat to no one
-what you have just said! They have killed Trémont! Do you want them to
-kill my son?”
-
-“Ah! Baradier, have you no courage left?” asked the General. “You are
-afraid of your shadow now. Do you imagine that, if your hypothesis be
-true, and I am much inclined to share it, those who have dealt the blow
-will be disposed to recommence without delay? We have time to act, and we
-are warned. Why the deuce should we be afraid? Just now, the authors of
-the crime have carefully gone to earth, for they can have no doubt that
-the police are on the look-out for them. Do not be alarmed, and let us
-speak frankly.”
-
-“My dear General, if the possession of the secret of the powders has been
-fatal to Trémont, whom they thought simply of robbing, what is not to be
-feared for Marcel Baradier, if this terrible intrigue is conducted by the
-implacable enemy of all his family? They would have spared Trémont’s
-life, could they have obtained possession of his formulæ. Marcel can
-expect no pity, for it is Graff and myself—it is his own mother whom they
-will reach in striking him.”
-
-“We shall be there to defend him,” said Graff, in trembling tones. “I am
-not an evil-disposed person, but still I feel myself capable of the
-utmost ferocity in preventing any harm befalling my nephew!”
-
-“You understand,” said the General, “that if the police have no clue to
-your suspicions, I will take it upon myself to inform them.”
-
-“It would be wiser not to do anything of the sort,” interrupted Baradier.
-“If, as we imagine, it is Lichtenbach who has directed the frightful
-plot, you may be certain beforehand that it will not be brought to light.
-Both he and his accomplices are free from all responsibility. The woman
-who appears to have acted as a decoy will have disappeared. The man whose
-arm has been torn off will be carefully attended to in some dark spot,
-perhaps abroad, and the coachman who accompanied the accomplices to
-Vanves is a trusted member of the band. Nothing will be discovered, you
-may be sure. The examining magistrate may prepare at once to shelve the
-whole affair.”
-
-“I think as you do. But that is no reason for not making investigations.
-In the first place, if Lichtenbach is watched, perhaps some proof will be
-discovered. But all that concerns the police. We will change the subject.
-General de Trémont has left an only daughter, without support.”
-
-“I beg your pardon, General. We will console her and pay her all possible
-attention.”
-
-“Yes, my dear friend, I know the poor child may rely upon you. But she is
-without fortune. Trémont left very little property; his pension was
-almost all that he had.”
-
-“Reassure yourself. She shall never lack anything. This very morning my
-wife went to her to the Sacre-Coeur, and brought her here. She shall stay
-with my daughter and be treated as though she bore my own name.”
-
-“All the same, I will obtain for her a pension from the Ministry.”
-
-“Certainly, if you wish; but it will simply be to ease your conscience.
-She will have every want fulfilled. I take charge of her as though she
-were my child.”
-
-“Can I not speak to her? Is she in a fit state to receive me?”
-
-“She is in great grief, but very calm. Graff will tell her that you are
-here.”
-
-The uncle left the room. Baradier drew his chair nearer the General’s, as
-though afraid the walls would hear what he was about to say.
-
-“Between you and myself—for Graff is too sentimental—is this a matter
-that concerns other countries?”
-
-“How can we tell, so long as we have not laid our hands on the culprits?
-Even if they are found, how can we throw light on that question? We can
-never hope for absolute certainty in this respect, as foreign agents
-always keep themselves aloof from direct responsibility, and disclaim all
-connection with abroad, if they are caught. We shall never get beyond
-probabilities. Our artillery material and explosives are at present, and
-will long remain, a matter of anxiety to rival Powers. Our armaments are
-well known, though our projectiles are continually being perfected. It is
-certain that the artillery which made use of the Trémont powder would
-have had an overwhelming advantage. Hence the attempt against the
-inventor, evidently.”
-
-“So you attach a great value to the formulæ discovered by the General?”
-
-“A very great value. Its possession would render our country an immense
-service.”
-
-Baradier became serious. Bowing his head, he continued resolutely—
-
-“I am a good patriot, General. I fought for France to the very last hour
-of the war. All the Baradier family, Lorraines from Metz, went into
-voluntary exile so as not to live in the midst of our conquerors. If my
-country needed my life, I would not hesitate to give it up. I will do
-more, I will risk my son’s life. If Marcel knows Trémont’s secret, I give
-you my oath you shall have the powder.”
-
-A flash of joy shone in the old soldier’s eyes. Stretching out his hand
-to Baradier, he exclaimed, in trembling tones—“Thank you. You are a brave
-soldier.”
-
-At this moment the door opened, and the General gave a sonorous hum, and
-regained his composure. Madame Baradier and Mademoiselle de Trémont
-entered the room, followed by Graff. Still slender and graceful, Madame
-Baradier now showed a few silver threads among the beautiful blonde
-tresses of her youth. But her frank look and smiling lips revealed the
-young girl beloved of Elias Lichtenbach. Mademoiselle de Trémont, wearing
-a blue convent dress, slender and dark-complexioned, showed in her
-countenance, overwhelmed with grief, the charming grace of her sixteen
-years. Without the slightest awkwardness or hesitation, she walked
-straight to her father’s friend. At the first words the old soldier
-addressed her, however, her eyes filled with tears, which silently flowed
-unheeded down her cheeks. She listened with eager satisfaction to the
-consoling words of praise, consecrated to him who had just disappeared,
-and the silent nod she gave from time to time seemed an acquiescence of
-resignation and grief, in the bitterness of life now beginning for her.
-
-Alas! she had scarcely known her father. A widower very soon after the
-birth of his daughter, he had been obliged to entrust her to the care of
-pious and devout women. She had scarcely ever tasted of the delights of
-home. Geneviève often tried, in vain, to recall the sound of her mother’s
-voice. How sad it was! She had never felt on her heart the caressing
-warmth of an ever-present affection. Isolation, in the midst of
-strangers, kind and benevolent though they were, had been her lot, right
-to the day on which death had broken the slender bond which still
-attached her to her father. And now what a sorrowful end, in this
-catastrophe, at once stupefying and terrible, which left her an orphan,
-and filled her mind with thoughts of violence and massacre!
-
-She had not even the supreme consolation of thinking that the one she
-mourned had had a calm and peaceful death. As a soldier, he had not
-fallen on the field of battle; as a _savant_, he had not succumbed, a
-victim to his investigations. In a base and cowardly fashion, he had been
-assassinated by bandits. She heard the Minister telling her that she
-might rely on his protection. Stammering out her thanks, and blinded by
-tears, she left the room with Madame Baradier, almost heart-broken at
-being made to understand more vividly, from the expressions of condolence
-addressed to her, the extent of her loss.
-
-The Minister, on leaving the room in his turn, found General de Trémont’s
-servant awaiting him in the antechamber. He looked with interest at the
-latter’s intelligent and energetic countenance.
-
-“Well, my poor Baudoin, this is a great loss for us.”
-
-“It is a great crime, General.”
-
-“They had sent you away, my good fellow; but for that, all this would not
-have happened.”
-
-“Ah, General, it is always the fair sex who ruin everything!”
-
-“Come, come! Don’t say anything more on the subject.”
-
-“Pardon me, General. I do not mention it from lack of deference for my
-poor master, but if attempts are not made to find the scoundrel, the
-woman who controlled the whole affair, nothing will be discovered, and my
-master will remain unavenged.”
-
-“Do you know the woman?”
-
-“Ah! If I had known her, I, too, should have been dead!”
-
-Baradier, Graff, and the Minister looked at one another. What Baudoin had
-just said was so clear a confirmation of Baradier’s fears, concerning his
-son, that the threatening power of the mysterious woman instantly forced
-itself on the Minister’s thoughts. He was already so well acquainted
-personally, and through his predecessors, with these fortune-hunters,
-always in quest of a speculation or intrigue to work out, or a secret to
-be stolen, from the sellers of crosses of honour, to searchers of
-official desks. He could have named several of them. And the experience
-of the past: all these acts of imprudence and folly, were there to prove
-the truth of what the simple and devoted Baudoin now said. The Minister
-continued—
-
-“I heard her voice, General, last night, and I will warrant that if she
-uttered a word in my hearing, I should recognize it.”
-
-“Ah, a voice, my poor fellow, a voice heard for a single moment, uttering
-a few sentences only. How could one dare to accuse another on such feeble
-evidence? Do you know, there are voices so similar that one may be
-mistaken, even when one is familiar with their owners. If you have no
-other proof to give, my poor Baudoin, you had better say nothing at all.”
-
-“We shall see, General.”
-
-“Ah, you are obstinate!”
-
-“A little, General.”
-
-“Well, well! What can I do for you? You have been a good soldier, and a
-devoted servant. I imagine your master would have recommended me not to
-abandon you. Would you like to enter the office of the Ministry?”
-
-“Thank you, General. M. Baradier has offered to take me into his office,
-and I have accepted. But if you would be good enough to—”
-
-“Well, speak!”
-
-“Could you please tell me the name of the Ministerial agent who has been
-conducting the investigations? He seemed to me a very intelligent man,
-and I should like to speak to him.”
-
-“His name is Laforêt. But keep the name to yourself. I have sufficient
-confidence to mention it to you; still, it must not be generally known.”
-
-“You may rely on my discretion, General. I will say nothing.”
-
-“Well, good day!”
-
-The Minister shook hands with Baradier and Graff, and rode away in his
-brougham. When the two partners returned into the hall, Baudoin, to whom
-they wished to speak, had disappeared.
-
-As soon as he learnt the agent’s name, Baudoin had taken his hat, and,
-leaving the hotel by the servants’ exit, had made his way to the
-Ministry. On reaching the entrance he made inquiries. Being an old
-soldier, he knew how to speak to soldiers. The orderly he met in the hall
-pointed out to him the building he wished to enter, right at the end of
-the court, staircase C. There the porter had stopped him; no one could
-enter without authorization. He had none; he must accordingly ask for
-one.
-
-“I simply wanted to speak to M. Laforêt.”
-
-The porter looked at him with suspicion. Then he said—
-
-“M. Laforêt? You will not find him at the Ministry, call at his private
-residence.”
-
-“Where is that?”
-
-“You must inquire.”
-
-It was quite evident there was nothing to be gained here. Bowing, he
-thanked the porter and took his departure. In the Rue Saint-Dominique, at
-the corner of the Rue Martignac, he noticed a small café. He entered with
-the object of making inquiries, as the porter had recommended. Four
-customers, under the complaisant eye of the proprietor, were playing at
-cards. At the far end was a room, containing a billiard-table. The
-players could be seen, though indistinctly, each time they passed before
-the door. There appeared to be spectators present. Probably a pool was
-being contested.
-
-“A bock. Is there a billiard academy here?”
-
-“Ah, sir, we have some very fine players. Some of these gentlemen from
-the Ministry come every evening. M. Trousset, the head clerk, though an
-amateur, would be a match for the best players in Paris, and even from
-abroad!”
-
-“Indeed! And may one watch the game?”
-
-“If you wish, sir, I will carry the beer into the next room.”
-
-Baudoin had already entered the billiard-room, which contained two
-tables. Taking a seat, he looked on. One of the players was a stout,
-jovial fellow, who accompanied his cannons with stale jokes. The other, a
-tall, thin dark-complexioned man, was Laforêt himself. Baudoin gave
-himself a slap on the thigh, took out a cigarette, and exclaimed to the
-astonishment of his neighbour—
-
-“I am lucky this time!”
-
-As he was looked at inquisitively, he said no more, but lit a cigarette,
-and began to sip his beer. The stout player said to his opponent, with a
-wink—
-
-“The balls are in the corner; now for the final!”
-
-Whereupon he made a series of seventeen cannons, and missed the
-eighteenth. Laforêt, without being disconcerted, took up the cue, but
-only scored five points. His adversary exclaimed—
-
-“If I score fifteen now, I win the set.”
-
-He won without the slightest effort, turned down his shirt-sleeves, put
-on his coat, and, holding out his hand to his opponent, said:
-
-“No ill feeling?”
-
-“None at all. You have played very well, M. Moussin,” said Laforêt. “My
-revenge next time.”
-
-“Whenever you like.”
-
-Laforêt, with perfect indifference, approached Baudoin, exclaiming in
-loud tones—
-
-“Waiter, a bitter.”
-
-Then, turning towards the General’s servant, he asked—
-
-“Are you waiting for me?”
-
-“Yes; so you recognized me?”
-
-“That is my business. Anything fresh?”
-
-“No; all the same, I wish to speak to you.”
-
-“Good!”
-
-The few loiterers gradually filed out into the other room, which was
-lighter and more pleasant in appearance. A few players alone remained,
-and Baudoin and Laforêt found themselves isolated.
-
-“You may speak here, no one will pay any attention to us.”
-
-“Well! This morning, when I saw you, in the presence of all the others, I
-had an impression that you were a man to be relied upon, and that, in
-case it were necessary to appeal to any one concerning something
-difficult or dangerous, one would run no risk with you of being left in
-the lurch. Am I mistaken?”
-
-“No.”
-
-“If I think rightly, you do not work under the same conditions as the
-agents in the service of the Prefecture, who are entirely allied to the
-Administration. You are, I suppose, a kind of volunteer of the police, at
-liberty to give information as you please, consequently free as regards
-initiative.”
-
-Laforêt interrupted him.
-
-“If you wish to speak to me on the Vanves affair, I must stop you at
-once. My principal ordered me not to take any further steps in the matter
-for the moment. The Public Prosecutor is in possession of the
-information. Every one to his own department. We shall not take up the
-matter again, provisionally.”
-
-“But if I simply asked you to enlighten me on certain points?”
-
-“One can always give advice.”
-
-“Good! The police are about to make a search for the authors of the crime
-of which my master has been the victim. But I, also, should like to
-investigate.”
-
-“There is no one to prevent you.”
-
-“Ah! One must know how to go about it. One does not become a detective by
-instinct. Which end shall I begin with, to unravel the skein?”
-
-“Come! Had your master any family?”
-
-“A daughter.”
-
-“She had no interest in wishing to be rid of him?”
-
-“Not the slightest.”
-
-“Had he any visitors?”
-
-“Very few; he was so distrustful! The woman who called on him only came
-mysteriously by night, on which occasions he always sent me away.”
-
-“That is the same woman who came last night?”
-
-“Yes.”
-
-“Do you know if M. de Trémont had any enemies?”
-
-“No.”
-
-“Was there any one who had reasons for injuring him?”
-
-“In a certain sense, yes.”
-
-“Why do you suspect this?”
-
-“I judge from personal observation, confirmed by the conviction of one of
-my master’s friends.”
-
-“A man who can offer good guarantees?”
-
-“Perfect.”
-
-“Very good! Search must be made in that direction.”
-
-“If only you knew what difficulties I am likely to meet with.”
-
-“That is the most interesting part about it. It is not very clever to
-arrest a coal-dealer who has been thrashing his wife in his shop, or a
-hair-dresser who has cut his lady’s throat with one of his razors! What
-excites one is the struggle and pursuit, the necessity of employing
-trickery and invention. We are men of imagination, and novelists often
-make us laugh by the poverty of their combinations.”
-
-“That is because you like your profession. It is not so with me; I am not
-inquisitive. Were I not mad with grief at seeing my master, whom I was so
-fond of basely murdered, I should take good care not to meddle with other
-people’s affairs. But vengeance seems a kind of duty my master would
-impose on me, could he do so. Had he had time to think, the moment he was
-struck, he must have said to himself: ‘Ah! If only Baudoin were here he
-would defend me with his last breath.’ You see, I must find his
-murderers. I shall have no rest till I have succeeded in this pursuit.”
-
-Laforêt had become thoughtful. After a moment’s hesitation, he said—
-
-“You are a brave fellow. But you do not possess the qualities necessary
-for the unravelling of an affair like this one. You will spoil everything
-by putting on their guard the very people you suspect. Do not stir; just
-wait. Patience is the first duty of a detective. Time is a precious
-auxiliary. At first, a criminal is very cautious; he takes every
-precaution. By degrees, as his feeling of security increases, his
-prudence lessens, he trusts himself out of his lair once more, and it is
-then that there is a good chance of catching him. Instead of undertaking
-a campaign, remain inactive. If you have to deal with powerful and
-determined men, be sure they will keep a watch on you, in proportion to
-their unwillingness to be caught. You will do more for the success of
-your side by giving them to believe that you do not suspect them, than by
-plotting against them, without knowing how to out-trick them. Go back
-home, warn those who, like you, wish to avenge the General, and wait and
-see the trend of events. Be sure something will happen which will put you
-on their track. Then go ahead boldly. If ever you need me, come here
-about five o’clock. You will find me regularly at this hour. My principal
-may be disposed to allow me to co-operate with you.”
-
-Baudoin rose from his seat.
-
-“Very good. I will follow your advice. If you have anything to tell me,
-send to Messieurs Baradier and Graff.”
-
-“The bankers of the Rue de Provènce?”
-
-“Yes.”
-
-“Strange! My principal has just gone to see them, on leaving the
-Ministry. I heard it from the coachman. Good! Everything will turn out
-for the best, when the right moment comes. _Au revoir_!”
-
-The two men shook hands, and Baudoin returned home.
-
-Marcel, summoned by wire, had just returned from Ars. He was closeted
-with his father and uncle. Walking to and fro about the room, he gave
-brief replies to the questions asked him. Tall and slender, of fair
-complexion, with long moustache, and blue eyes, he offered a perfect
-pattern of the Lorraine type, in its full purity and strength. He was a
-very fine-looking young fellow, and his Uncle Graff watched him with a
-glow of pride and satisfaction.
-
-“Well, then, what did Trémont tell you, the last time you saw him?”
-
-“From a scientific point of view, we spoke of nothing but my
-investigations on the subject of aniline.”
-
-“Nothing concerning his powders?”
-
-“He had already told me the results he had reached. I shared his opinion
-that the main difficulty was solved. In the composition of explosives
-there was nothing more to do besides introducing a few details of
-manipulation.”
-
-“And you knew his formulæ?”
-
-“I know every one of them.”
-
-“You could prepare them?”
-
-“Without the slightest difficulty.”
-
-“That is what I was afraid of,” exclaimed Baradier, sorrowfully.
-
-“What! Afraid of? But it is very lucky for us all. For Geneviève, for
-whom a fortune is assured; for the Army, which will possess the Trémont
-powder; and for the General’s memory, by reason of the glory attaching to
-so important a discovery.”
-
-“Well, Marcel, I beg of you,” said Baradier, in trembling tones, “for the
-sake of us all, for the time being, not to breathe a word to any one
-concerning what you have just revealed to us. It is a matter of life or
-death. So long as those who have killed Trémont remain at large, and
-unpunished, there will be no safety for those who might be suspected of
-being in possession of his scientific secret. It was to rob him of this
-that the blow fell. In Heaven’s name, be very careful not to let it be
-known that you have been taken into the confidence of our friend.”
-
-“Do not be uneasy,” said the young man, with a smile. “No one in the
-world knows, except my uncle and yourself. I feel no inclination to
-proclaim it on the housetops. But I cannot refuse to refrain from
-profiting by it, when the right time comes, even though there may be
-risks to run.”
-
-“Nor do we. But let us continue our investigations. Trémont was very free
-with you. He spoke to you of his private life. He told you of his
-adventures in the early days of his military career.”
-
-“Poor man! That was his only weakness. His heart remained as young as
-ever. His imagination was very inflammable, and he gave way to it with
-unparalleled facility. I was often obliged to stop him.”
-
-“Did he mention nothing that had happened recently?”
-
-“No; he appeared preoccupied and less expansive than usual. Probably he
-had been recommended to be very discreet, and his promise had been given.
-I must say that his passion for the fair sex rather disgusted me, and I
-gave no encouragement to tales which appeared to me unworthy of our
-friend’s noble mind. Latterly, therefore, finding him reserved and quiet,
-I did not encourage him to speak. I preferred him to say nothing on the
-subject.”
-
-“What a pity! Just the time when his explanations would have been so
-useful.”
-
-“It is always so!”
-
-“Had he made no fresh male acquaintances? Was there no name you could
-catch?”
-
-“He spoke to me of no one except a foreign savant, with whom he had
-struck up a friendship, and who seems to have been an extraordinary man.
-He suspected him of being a nihilist, and that worried him. But he spoke
-of him with the utmost admiration.”
-
-“Was he a Russian?”
-
-“I do not know. His name was Hans.”
-
-“Hans!” exclaimed Baradier. “That was the name of the man whose arm was
-torn off! It is the name on the ring worn by the man who caused the
-explosion of the house at Vanves. This is the first flash of light.”
-
-“So the General was acquainted with this Hans? Still, Hans is a German
-name!”
-
-“Only a German Christian name. As you are aware, there are several
-Russians of German origin. If the Hans in question is the author of that
-catastrophe, the end he aimed at by obtaining access to the General might
-well be the possession of the formulæ of the explosive found by him. But
-then, how had he become acquainted with the discoveries the General kept
-strictly secret?”
-
-Graff, who had not yet spoken, but had been listening in a reverie to the
-observations exchanged between his brother-in-law and his nephew, raised
-his hand, and slowly began, as though following the slender thread of a
-still fugitive idea—
-
-“You are getting lost. The motives of the instigators of this crime—for,
-certainly, there are several of them—are of a much higher order than you
-imagine. You are looking for robbers trying to obtain possession of some
-exceedingly fruitful discovery, or of anarchists on the scent of some
-powerful means of extermination. All this is very vulgar and commonplace.
-You have to deal with criminals of a higher stamp. The care they took to
-rob Trémont after killing him prove that his murderers wished to throw
-one off the scent. When one has a house to pillage, he does not linger
-behind to steal a watch or a pocket-book. The mysterious proceedings of
-those who effected the _coup_ are those of political conspirators, and
-the thing that gives the whole plot its special character is the presence
-of a woman. Every undertaking of interest to foreign politics, for the
-past century, has been carried on by women. From my point of view, this
-is in a large measure what must have taken place. One or several European
-States have been acquainted with the investigations carried on by
-Trémont. His communications to the Institute may have sufficed to give
-the alarm. Immediately, means have been sought for becoming intimate with
-him, or obtaining his confidence. Our friend’s nature has been studied,
-and a young woman, clever and beautiful, has been fastened on him, soon
-to serve as intermediary between the General and Hans. The latter is no
-Russian, but probably some native of Baden. The woman is a spy in the
-service of our enemies. The man, introduced into the premises by the
-woman, failed in his attempts to obtain, by trickery, Trémont’s secrets;
-accordingly he had recourse to violence. Be certain the whole _coup_ was
-entered upon for interests far higher than you imagine. You see a
-Lichtenbach in the affair, and imagine that it is in his interests that
-Hans and the mysterious woman have been playing each a perilous game. You
-attach to him more importance than he deserves. You must seek higher, or
-rather not seek at all, for nothing will be found now.”
-
-“I cannot deny,” replied Baradier, “that Graff’s explanation possesses
-some semblance of likelihood. Graff is a man of imagination, who often
-sees things that do not exist. Still, in the present circumstances, he
-would be a bold man who would say that he was mistaken. Perhaps his
-supposition and mine both contain part of the truth. What cannot be
-doubted is that the authors of this audacious plot are persons who will
-shrink before nothing. Accordingly we must be prudent, and not appear to
-suspect them, living in just our usual manner. Apparently we must abstain
-from all participation in the work of justice. If the police succeed we
-shall be satisfied, without having been involved in the affair. If they
-find nothing, as is very likely, then our turn will come. In my opinion
-clever and cool-headed criminals it is almost impossible to run to
-ground. It is only by their imprudence that they betray themselves. It is
-when they begin to be no longer on their guard that there is a chance of
-finding some clue to their guilt. So, after all, the most prudent and
-skilful plan will be to wait. Marcel will return to Ars—”
-
-“Not until I have seen Geneviève.”
-
-“Of course, you will dine and sleep here, and take the train to-morrow
-morning. Your mother and uncle will not be sorry to see a little of you.”
-
-“And my father?” asked the young man, smiling.
-
-“And your father. Now come along with me to see your mother. Graff, you
-are staying in the office?”
-
-“For a few minutes. Then I return home, but will be back in time for
-dinner.”
-
-Proceeding along an inner staircase, father and son reached the private
-rooms, and were astonished to find in the hall a tall footman waiting
-there.
-
-“Your mother has visitors,” said Baradier. “How has that come about;
-to-day is not her reception day?”
-
-They entered Madame Baradier’s small salon. There she sat, pensive, near
-the window, her needlework lying idly in her lap.
-
-“What! You here?” said Baradier. “I thought you were receiving.”
-
-“The visit is not for me.”
-
-“What is the meaning of this? No one can have called for Amélie. Then it
-must be for Mademoiselle de Trémont?”
-
-“You are right,” said Madame Baradier.
-
-“What is the matter with you?” asked the banker. “There is something
-extraordinary going on. Explain.”
-
-“It is, indeed, very extraordinary. It is a schoolmate of Geneviève, who
-has come especially from the convent to assure her of her sympathy and
-affection; a trusted servant came with her, since her father could not
-come in person.”
-
-Baradier’s face turned crimson, as he asked with a frown—
-
-“Then it is—?”
-
-His wife did not give him time to continue. They understood one another
-at a glance.
-
-“Yes, my dear, it is Mademoiselle Lichtenbach.”
-
-A silence fell throughout the room. Marcel had gone straight to his
-mother, to embrace her. He now stood looking at his father, who, standing
-before the mantelpiece, was endeavouring to fathom the meaning of this
-unexpected visit.
-
-“What is she like?” asked Marcel.
-
-“I scarcely looked at her, I must confess, my child. When her name was
-announced I was very much astonished. Amélie and Geneviève were with me
-at the time. I left them in the salon as soon as Mademoiselle Lichtenbach
-entered. She appeared to me to be tall, and rather good looking. It was,
-however, her voice, a sweet, charming voice, which impressed me most
-favourably.”
-
-“It is different from her father’s, then,” growled Baradier.
-
-“And how long has she been here?”
-
-“Half an hour, at least.”
-
-“And my sister is with them?”
-
-“She could not help staying with them, otherwise it would have been a
-show of hostility quite out of place. Parents’ enmities, I hope, form no
-necessary part of children’s inheritances.”
-
-“Mother, what you are now saying is contrary to all poetical tradition.
-Look at Romeo and Juliet. What would become of literature were there no
-hereditary enmities? They form part and parcel of romantic
-stock-in-trade. The deuce! We must not diminish it, as it is becoming
-less and less quite fast enough!”
-
-Baradier was not listening to his son; he remained still plunged in his
-own reflections. At last he murmured—
-
-“What has she come for? Why has Lichtenbach permitted her to come?”
-
-“Shall I go and ask her?” asked Marcel.
-
-“Try to be serious, Marcel,” exclaimed the banker. “This is no matter for
-jest.”
-
-“Oh, I know that well enough. I wonder what it is that upsets you so
-much? Here is my mother as pale as death, and yourself in a fever-heat,
-and all because a young girl has come to sympathize with her school-mate!
-There is something extraordinary going on.”
-
-Baradier glanced sideways at his son, and replied in a tone of
-irritation—
-
-“Don’t be such a fool, Marcel. You are incapable of understanding!”
-
-Marcel bowed, in mock humility.
-
-“Thanks! What do I owe you for that?”
-
-But Baradier had no time to give way to his increasing irritation. The
-door of the salon opened, and Amélie appeared on the threshold.
-
-“Mamma, Mademoiselle Lichtenbach would like to say good-bye to you before
-leaving.”
-
-“She seems to be very well bred,” said Marcel, in low tones. “Are you
-going, mother? I will accompany you. I should like to see what she looks
-like.”
-
-It was in vain that Baradier shouted to his son—
-
-“Marcel, stay here; I forbid you!”
-
-Already the young man, with a laugh, had slipped behind his mother into
-the salon.
-
-“The young rascal will never have any common sense,” moaned Baradier. And
-he sat down in the seat his wife had just left, vaguely listening to the
-sound of voices, which now reached him.
-
-At the very first glance Marcel Baradier noticed that Mademoiselle
-Lichtenbach was of a very elegant figure, with a countenance of great
-gentleness. On further examination he did not find her pretty. Her
-features were irregular, but her face was lit up by eyes of limpid blue,
-radiant with frankness and amiability. She was standing there, an upright
-and slender form, in her sombre school-dress, with the blue ribbon on her
-breast. On Madame Baradier introducing Marcel to her she made a
-respectful bow, and said in delightful accents—
-
-“I could not take my leave, madame, without thanking you for your kind
-welcome. Mademoiselle de Trémont and myself are very fond of one another.
-For a year we have been close companions, and I sympathize with her
-present suffering, as though her loss were also mine. It is a great
-relief to me, now that we are obliged to separate, to know that she will
-be with one who loves her. I hope you will permit her to speak to you of
-me, so that she may not forget me too soon, and, perhaps, instil into
-your mind a little of the sympathy her heart feels for me.”
-
-Marcel was still under the charm of the voice that uttered these gentle
-words, when those clear, luminous eyes fell on him. He returned the look
-with an inquisitive and, perhaps, rather bold glance, for she immediately
-turned aside. At the same time a slight blush, as though accompanied with
-a shudder, passed over her smiling face, which suddenly became serious.
-
-“I must thank you, mademoiselle, for the sentiments you express regarding
-our dear Geneviève. For ourselves,” continued Madame Baradier, “rest
-assured we shall not endeavour to influence her in her affections.”
-
-Mademoiselle Lichtenbach bowed, gave a graceful nod to Amélie, and, on
-passing in front of Marcel, heard the latter say to her, in troubled
-tones—
-
-“Permit me, mademoiselle, to show you the way.”
-
-Opening the door of the salon, and, taking the mantle the young girl had
-left in the hall, he placed it over her shoulders. Then, walking by her
-side, his mother and sister looking on in stupefaction, he descended the
-steps, followed by the footman. On reaching the bottom he said, with a
-charm full of grace—
-
-“Mademoiselle de Trémont’s departure will doubtless make your stay at the
-convent seem rather sad to you now, mademoiselle?”
-
-“Yes. I hope Geneviève will not forget me, but come and see me.”
-
-“After all, probably you will not stay long yourself at the Sacre-Coeur.”
-
-“I was like Mademoiselle de Trémont, alone with my father. Geneviève will
-find a mother in Madame Baradier, whilst I—”
-
-She left the sentence unfinished. Marcel, however, well understood the
-sadness of her meaning—“I shall remain abandoned, as I have been all my
-life. My youthful years will pass away behind the sad walls of a convent,
-under the cold, methodical surveillance of nuns, most excellent persons,
-but incapable of giving me that warmth of affection I need to be happy.
-My friend is leaving me, and all the sweetness of my life is past.”
-
-She looked so melancholy and resigned that Marcel was moved with pity at
-her grief. They had now reached the brougham, the door of which was held
-open by the footman.
-
-“No, mademoiselle,” said Marcel. “Rest assured Geneviève de Trémont will
-not forget you.”
-
-He fastened his eyes on Mademoiselle Lichtenbach’s face, which now, in
-feature, seemed delicate and charming in its modest grace; then, bowing,
-he added, in lower tones—
-
-“I do not think you are one of those whose fate it is to be forgotten.”
-
-Mademoiselle Lichtenbach smiled and bowed. Then, entering the carriage,
-she said to the servant—
-
-“Drive back home.”
-
-Not another word was exchanged, whilst the footman climbed to his seat,
-and the coachman put the reins in order. Marcel, with head uncovered,
-stood there on the footpath in the Rue de Provènce, looking through the
-window of the brougham at this young girl, who appeared so simple and
-attractive to him, though he had never seen her until an hour before.
-Mademoiselle Lichtenbach sat there with bowed head, while a smile played
-on her lips. The carriage started, and the charm was broken.
-
-On returning to the house Marcel reflected: If the father is a rogue, the
-daughter, at any rate, is a very charming person. After all, she is not
-responsible for her father’s misdeeds. But all this has nothing to do
-with me. In all probability we shall never meet again, so she may be what
-she likes. All the same, he could not get over the idea that Mademoiselle
-Lichtenbach, daughter of the declared enemy of Baradier and Graff, was a
-very striking character.
-
-“Well,” said his father, who was awaiting his return, “you show yourself
-very polite. You could not be more gallant to a princess.”
-
-“Probably not,” said the young man, calmly.
-
-“Will you have the goodness to explain why you show yourself so obliging
-towards the daughter of our enemy?”
-
-“For the sole reason that she is the daughter of our enemy.”
-
-“It may be very chivalrous on your part, but to me it appears stupid.”
-
-“Do you intend to introduce the fair sex into your quarrels?”
-
-“I should like to see how Lichtenbach would treat your mother and sister
-if ever they fell into his power!”
-
-“Let us hope we may never experience it. Still, Baradier and Graff are
-not obliged to act like Lichtenbach. Ask my uncle what he thinks about
-it.”
-
-“Oh, your uncle is too sentimental. For the last hour I have been trying
-to find motives for this intervention. Evidently Lichtenbach wishes to
-throw us off the scent by this demonstration of affection for
-Mademoiselle de Trémont, but it is this very thing which awakens my
-suspicions. Do you know what Barentin, of the Supreme Court, told me
-lately? Not twenty-five per cent. of the criminals are ever discovered,
-and then only by their own folly. The rich calculate, and are almost sure
-of impunity.”
-
-“My dear father, if the whole might of the law cannot seize a murderer,
-how can you expect Baradier and Graff to succeed? We must be sensible,
-and not attempt impossibilities. We will do the best we can—you by
-protecting Mademoiselle de Trémont, and I by assuring her the fortune her
-father promised her. For the rest let us trust in Providence.”
-
-“In Providence!” growled Baradier. “Trust rather in the devil! Attend to
-what I tell you, Marcel. Your mother, yourself, and myself are all
-involved in the quarrel between Lichtenbach and your uncle. Lichtenbach
-is one of those revengeful _men_ who strike both their enemies and their
-enemies’ offspring. Trémont has met his fate; it will be our turn next.”
-
-“No, father, our turn will never come,” said Marcel, energetically. “At
-the very first threat, the faintest attempt, I will go to Lichtenbach
-myself, and settle all our accounts with him at a single time. That I
-swear!”
-
-Graff, clean shaven and elegantly attired, now entered the office.
-Baradier signed to his son to say no more, and all three mounted to the
-salon to join the ladies.
-
-
-
-CHAPTER IV
-
-
-IN his study, soberly furnished, Elias Lichtenbach, seated in front of a
-large Louis Fourteenth bureau, was speaking in low tones, as though
-afraid of being heard, to a priest, lolling at ease in an enormous
-armchair. By the light of the setting sun, the sharp, bony face of the
-banker, with his _keen_ eyes and thin, well-shaven lips, could be faintly
-distinguished. He was no longer the stout healthy-looking Elias of former
-days. The cares of life had withered the flower of youth on his cheeks,
-and wrinkled the once careless brow. The jaws were still pronounced, but
-hard and thin, like those of a powerful and ferocious man-eater. The
-hairy hands, long and grasping as they lay there on the desk, revealed
-unusual love of wealth. A black skull-cap covered Lichtenbach’s bald
-forehead. His visitor was a young and elegant ecclesiastic of graceful
-and intelligent mien. He spoke with a southern accent, which gave his
-voice a kind of hilarity in sound.
-
-“It will be a very profitable undertaking. The property we have in view
-has no value whatever at present, nothing but waste land and marshes. The
-purchase will be effected in your name, and when we have signed an
-emphyteutic lease with you, we shall at once commence building. We want
-an advance of three hundred thousand francs.”
-
-“There will be no difficulty there,” said Lichtenbach. “I have clients
-disposed to lend—”
-
-“You need not go very far, eh?” said the young priest, with an ironical
-glance at the drawer of the desk, over which the banker spread his
-formidable hands.
-
-“No, Monsieur l’Abbé, not very far, indeed; but, all the same, not here.
-It is a principle of mine never to advance money on securities which
-cannot immediately be realized. Now, the matter you have just been laying
-before me offers no actual guarantee. But that does not matter. You wish
-me to find the capital.”
-
-“After all, this is the main point. Still, we have to rely on others than
-yourself. These gentlemen will not place their confidence lightly. They
-trust you, as they are certain of you, but they would not listen to
-strangers.”
-
-“These gentlemen, as usual, will only have to deal with me,” said
-Lichtenbach, with deference. “I know what I owe them, and they will
-always find me at their service.”
-
-“Then, as soon as the land is bought, and placed at our disposal, we
-immediately commence excavations, which will reveal the presence in the
-subsoil of the layers of ore I have been speaking to you about. At a
-bound the value of the land will be increased tenfold. You will sell back
-a small part of the ground, and with the profits, without further
-expenditure, we shall have paid for the establishment of our community.”
-
-“If the tenor of the ore is such as you state, the exploitation, once
-granted to a company, will bring you in large revenues for several
-years.”
-
-“That is what Monseigneur said on receiving the report of the engineer
-who undertook the soundings. Oh! we need a great deal of money to make
-the work a success,” sighed the young priest. “Our religion is attacked
-with such violence that if we do nothing but defend it we are lost. We
-must carry the war into the enemy’s territory.”
-
-“That is my own opinion, Monsieur l’Abbé. As you see, my journal has
-zealously undertaken the campaign.”
-
-“Yes, it is doing good; but your _panache blanc_ is not sufficiently
-dogmatic as regards pure doctrine. Too much space is given to speculation
-and business enterprise. Your columns smack too much of the Bourse.”
-
-“Monsieur l’Abbé,” replied Elias, roughly, “I do not possess, as these
-gentlemen do, the art of conducting business in a double-faced manner.
-But I will learn from them.”
-
-“Come, do not play the jesuit, my dear Lichtenbach,” said the young
-priest, airily. “We appreciate your services; that you have had proof of,
-and shall have again. By-the-by, who is this wounded man we picked up
-yesterday at Issy? The poor fellow was in a bad way. He came under your
-recommendation.”
-
-Elias turned pale. In tones of alarm he exclaimed—“Not so loud! Monsieur
-l’Abbé—not so loud! No one must suspect that—”
-
-“Oh! what a state you are in! Rest assured. The Superior and myself alone
-were taken into the poor wretch’s confidence. After all, he said very
-little. He was completely exhausted by the efforts he had made in
-dragging himself to our door. It was four o’clock in the morning, and the
-whole brotherhood was at matins. It was, accordingly, possible to
-introduce the wounded man without any one seeing him. It was quite time,
-for, as soon as he was put to bed, he fainted away.”
-
-“Who is attending to him?”
-
-“Our Superior himself; he has a thorough knowledge of medicine. Besides,
-the arm was cut off as though by a thermo-cautery, and all that had to be
-done was to dress the wound. The man has given evidence of the most
-heroic courage. But now he is ravaged by fever, and he speaks.”
-
-“What does he say?”
-
-“A most extraordinary mixture of things. He mentions, in almost the same
-breath, a fortified camp in the Vosges, and a war powder possessed of
-extraordinary virtues. His object is to carry off the plans of the
-former, and obtain possession of the formula of the latter.”
-
-“Does he mention no names?”
-
-“Yes, the name of a woman, whom he calls Sophia, and sometimes the
-baroness. He consults and threatens her in turn. She appears to be his
-accomplice in some underhand work or other.”
-
-“Has he expressed himself more clearly?”
-
-“No, he beats about the bush, and it is impossible to understand his
-meaning. After all, you have nothing to fear.”
-
-Elias gave a sigh of relief.
-
-“Monsieur l’Abbé, I am not afraid for myself, but for others. I am
-engaged in great international relations, as you are aware. The interests
-entrusted to my care represent not merely immense capital, but a great
-number of human lives. It is accordingly my duty to be very prudent.”
-
-The young priest gave a gesture of protest. His countenance assumed a
-serious expression.
-
-“I do not want to hear anything about it, M. Lichtenbach. These
-gentlemen, as you are aware, are thorough Frenchmen. Everything that
-happens beyond the frontiers is foreign to them—I might almost say
-hostile. Outside of France, which we love with deep and enlightened
-tenderness, and wish to save from the corruption of revolution, we
-recognize only the Pope, Sovereign of all Catholics, and our chief, whom
-we blindly obey. Keep your secrets; we will respect them, as you are
-serving us. But do not expect from us any help in the success of
-enterprises which would not concur towards the triumph of the cause to
-which we are devoted—monarchy and religion. In all else you will find us
-neutral. That is all you may expect of us.”
-
-“Have you been commissioned to tell me this?” asked Elias, in tones of
-anguish.
-
-“No, my dear Lichtenbach; I was only to speak to you of the ground
-purchase.”
-
-“Thanks, Monsieur l’Abbé. Tell them I will send my agent to-morrow to
-Grasse, to bring the matter to a conclusion, and that before the month is
-over we shall be in possession.”
-
-“Very well!”
-
-The young Abbé rose from his seat. He stopped, and, in negligent tones,
-said—
-
-“Ah! I was forgetting. Have you heard of that frightful catastrophe which
-took place at Vanves? The explosion even shook the buildings here at
-Issy. Were you not acquainted with this General de Trémont?”
-
-Lichtenbach looked paler and more sombre than ever, as he replied
-stammeringly—
-
-“Yes, Monsieur l’Abbé, I knew him a long time ago.”
-
-“It appears he was a dangerous maniac, dabbling with chemical experiments
-which were destined to kill him in time. A person of doubtful morality as
-well, according to public rumour, and who, even at his advanced age, gave
-himself up to the most degrading debauchery. He will not be missed. They
-say he was assassinated and robbed, before his house blew up. That is
-what comes of investigating in explosives! Well, _au revoir_, my dear
-Lichtenbach. When you come to see the patient give me due notice, and I
-will introduce you to him privately.”
-
-Lichtenbach made no reply. He showed out his visitor with a semblance of
-respectful humility. Then he bowed, as to a superior, and said—
-
-“Assure your friends, Monsieur l’Abbé, of my devotion to their
-interests.”
-
-“Good! Though it is scarcely necessary,” replied the young priest,
-carelessly; and, slowly descending the staircase, he disappeared.
-
-Lichtenbach, in thoughtful mood, returned to his study. It was now almost
-dark. Where the Abbé had just been sitting, a female form now sat
-stretched out in the armchair. A fresh, clear voice said—
-
-“It is as dark as in an oven here, Lichtenbach; let us have a little
-light.”
-
-“What! You are here, Baroness!” exclaimed the banker, eagerly.
-
-“Yes, I have just arrived. Was that the little Abbé d’Escayrac you were
-just taking leave of?”
-
-Lichtenbach had turned on the electric light, bringing into view the
-unceremonious visitor Elias had just called Baroness. She was a
-light-complexioned young woman, of exceeding beauty, with proud profile,
-blue eyes, intelligent forehead, though there was an expression of
-harshness in her small mouth, with its charming red lips, as well as in
-her strong chin. She was very elegantly clothed in black, and wore a
-hooded lace cloak. Patent leather shoes covered her charming feet.
-
-“Have you been here long?” asked Elias abstractedly.
-
-“No, I have only just come, I say. Your servant showed me into the salon,
-and I came in here when I heard your visitor leave. Do not be uneasy, I
-was not listening to what he said.”
-
-“Oh! I have no need to be on my guard against you.”
-
-“Yes, you mistrust me, as you do every one else. I do not blame you for
-it. It is a sign of prudence. Though, all the same, you have nothing to
-fear from me, and neither have I from you.”
-
-“Oh! Baroness, you know that I belong to you, body and soul,” exclaimed
-Lichtenbach.
-
-“Yes, yes, and you would not be sorry if the converse were true, would
-you?” interrupted the young woman, with a mocking smile.
-
-The banker’s pale face lit up with passion; he drew near the Baroness,
-and, taking her hand within his own, said—
-
-“And yet, Sophia, if you would only—”
-
-Withdrawing her hand, she tossed her head with an air of disdain, and
-replied—
-
-“Yes, but I will not, there!”
-
-“Never?”
-
-“Who can tell? If ever I am in great pecuniary difficulties, perhaps I
-may apply to you. Would you advance me money, Lichtenbach, if I needed
-any?”
-
-As she spoke she looked at the banker with a bewitching glance and a
-smile full of promise. The latter, as soon as mention was made of money,
-regained possession of himself. Placing his hand on her lap, he said, in
-a tone of assurance—
-
-“I will give you as much as you need.”
-
-“You undertake a great deal. Take care! After all, there is no hurry; the
-time has not come yet.”
-
-As she spoke, she drew back slightly from Lichtenbach’s presence. The
-latter sighed—
-
-“Ah, Sophia, you are a terrible flirt—your only pleasure consists in
-making men mad.”
-
-“I? You are dreaming, Lichtenbach. Have you ever seen me trouble about
-any man unless it were to my interest to do so? And yet you say such
-silly things. One would think you did not know me!”
-
-“On the contrary, I know you well. Even better than you imagine, for
-there are portions of your short life-which, all the same, has gone
-through so many sensations—which you leave in a favourable light, so that
-I have understood them. You are very clever and bold. I, too, am very
-tenacious and patient, and have an instinctive knowledge of what it is
-useful for me to know, as well as the means of obtaining information.
-Accordingly, I am well aware what you are to-day, Baroness Grodsko. But I
-also know what you were before.”
-
-Sophia’s eyes flashed, and her lips contracted, giving her face an aspect
-of terrible import. Looking boldly at Elias, she said, dryly—
-
-“Ah, ah! Tell me all about it. I should be very pleased to know what you
-have learned about me. If it is true I will not deny it, upon my honour I
-will not. If false you may stop the wages of your informers. When one has
-spies in one’s pay one should always try to have reliable and intelligent
-ones.”
-
-“Mine never deceive me; it is not to their interest to lie.”
-
-“We shall see about that. Well—”
-
-“Well, before becoming the wife of Baron Elmer Grodsko, a Hungarian
-nobleman, who quarrelled with his family in order to marry you, you were
-dancing and singing at the theatre of Belgrade, in a touring troupe,
-directed by an adventurer, half villain, half rogue, named Valaque. It
-was there that Baron Elmer, on his way from Varna, saw you, fell in love,
-and carried you off, after shooting down Escovisco, who pursued him with
-a poniard.”
-
-The young woman’s lips quivered, as she said with a look of disdain—
-
-“Then that is all you know? You cannot go back any further than the
-theatre of Belgrade, and the Escovisco affair? You are making much ado
-about very little!”
-
-“Oh! I was proceeding in order. I could go back further, and tell you of
-the mysterious strange death of Madame Ferranti, a charitable lady of
-Trieste, who had taken you, almost dead with hunger, from the streets
-into her service. You were sixteen years of age. Your benefactresses had
-a son. On the day his mother died—she was said to have been poisoned,
-though there was no definite proof of this—young Ferranti left home with
-you, carrying off all the ready money, negotiable deeds, and jewels of
-his dead mother. Was it you or he who gave Madame Ferranti the cup of tea
-she drank before she fell asleep never to wake again?”
-
-“Indeed it was neither he nor I. It was an old servant, who had been
-twenty years in their service. Besides, she confessed it, and as there
-was no proof against her, nor against any one else, she was released.”
-
-“Whilst you set out for Venice, and had a pleasant time with your
-companion. Ah! He had a fine way of mourning for his mother, the young
-Ferranti! It was at the Café Florian, on the Place Saint-Marc, that, one
-evening when he was drunk, the young ninny picked a quarrel with an
-Austrian major, who, the following morning, on the Lido, ran six inches
-of steel into his body, killing him on the spot.”
-
-“Quite true! Poor Ferranti! He was a handsome fellow, who waltzed
-divinely, but was too fond of absinthe. It _was_ that which killed him,
-or rather the stoccata of Major Bruzelow—a fine man, whose moustaches
-went almost round his head, but as stupid as his sabre, and as dangerous.
-It was he who forced me to leave Venice, where I was enjoying myself so
-well! I could not even speak to a man without the Major challenging him.
-He would have called out the whole town; I was obliged to go.”
-
-“The Austrian police had something to do with it, had they not?”
-
-“I have always hated the Tedeschi, and they have always paid me back in
-the same coin!”
-
-“So that you cannot return to Austria, even now?”
-
-“No, all by reason of that fool of a Grodsko.”
-
-“And what has become of this excellent Grodsko, who broke his mother’s
-heart all for your sake?”
-
-“The excellent Grodsko spends the summer in Vienna, and the winter at
-Monte Carlo. Both winter and summer he gambles to pass the time, and when
-he has lost he drowns his disappointment in drink.”
-
-“Does he always lose?”
-
-“Yes, so he is always drinking.”
-
-“Here are a few corpses already, if I know how to count, to your credit,
-without mentioning the grief, despair, and shame of others. You have
-lived a very exciting life, though you have scarcely yet reached the age
-of thirty.”
-
-“I was twenty-eight last week,” rectified the Baroness, coldly.
-
-“You have trampled on humanity as on a carpet to gain your objects:
-luxury, pleasure, domination. And here you are to-day more brilliant,
-better loved, and more powerful than ever, with a strength of will which
-shrinks before nothing, and a conscience ready for anything. Am I right?”
-
-She looked boldly at Lichtenbach, then, drawing from her pocket a
-cigarette-case of chased silver, she took out an Oriental cigarette,
-which she lit with perfect coolness; then she replied in gentle tones—
-
-“Quite right, though incomplete. I am far more to be dreaded than you
-imagine. You are well aware of it, but are afraid of displeasing me by
-depicting me as I really am. You are in the wrong. I have such a scorn
-for mankind that you cannot vex me by declaring me to be ready to profit
-by it, as though it were a piece of merchandise. In my opinion, men are
-no more interesting than cattle destined for slaughter. They serve to
-feed and enrich me; it is for that they toil and die. Apparently, it is
-their function, since they cannot escape this fate, and as soon as one
-disappears another offers to replace him. Are you going to say that I am
-a destroying flail? Possibly. All over the world there are beings born
-for work, sacrifice, and suffering; as there are others born irremediably
-for idleness, egoism, and enjoyment. It is nature which has made it so.
-To some instinct manifests itself, leading to servitude, to others
-leading to tyranny. Beings exploited and exploiting, beasts of burden and
-beasts of prey. Is not that the sole social classification founded on
-common sense? Look all around you, Lichtenbach, it is an invariable rule:
-a flock of simpletons led away, fleeced, and strangled by a few audacious
-individuals. Will you reproach me for being of the number of those who
-strangle, rather than of those who fleece? We are both at the same game,
-Lichtenbach; the only difference is, I am bold enough to confess it,
-whilst you are hypocritical enough to say nothing. Our object is the
-same—the exploitation of the human race for our greatest mutual profit
-and pleasure. There you are! If I am wrong, prove it to me now.”
-
-She had spoken without raising her voice, and the calm tone in which
-these terrible theories had been expounded as they came from that
-charming mouth formed so strange a contrast with the ferocious cynicism
-of the confession that Lichtenbach, who, although he appeared to have no
-illusions left concerning his beautiful and dangerous partner, was placed
-for a moment out of countenance. He had very few scruples, this
-trafficker in all kinds of goods, who had commenced by despoiling his
-country in its hour of trial, and who continued speculating on social
-poverty and infamy. But now he found himself confronted by a creature
-more audacious and violent, if not more redoubtable, than himself, And he
-weighed in imagination the perils she might make him incur and the
-advantages she could bring him. This beautiful, intelligent, and
-unscrupulous woman was an admirable instrument. He knew what she was
-capable of, but he had no wish to run so great a risk as she ran without
-any need. The adventures which offered the Baroness Sophia her most
-certain means of existence were not open to him; other matters, those of
-a man on the eve of becoming a Deputy, perhaps a Minister, and those of
-this industrial cosmopolity, coining money with filth and blood. His
-coolness returned. He had said too much that was foolish at the beginning
-of the conversation. The time had come to mitigate the confidence of the
-beautiful Sophia, and to give her to understand that, between herself and
-himself, their existed a stout barrier of respectability and of millions
-of francs.
-
-“On the whole, my dear Baroness,” he said, “there is some truth in what
-you have just said, though your manner of explaining yourself is rather
-exotic. Your pompous and declamatory cynicism is of the Orient. All you
-have declared a few moments ago may be summed up in a very few words;
-human inequality is unchangeable. There are fools and rogues. The first
-are exploited by the second, under the surveillance of the police and the
-control of the law. In your theory, you have not granted sufficient
-importance to police and law. I could not recommend you too strongly to
-pay more attention to them. They are one of the most important factors in
-the problem you are spending your life in solving. If you consider them
-as a neglectable quantity, one of these mornings you will receive a rude
-awakening.”
-
-She smiled disdainfully—
-
-“The small fish are caught in the meshes of the net, the large ones break
-through and escape. I am afraid of no thing or person except myself. I
-alone am capable of doing myself any harm. That, of course, I never think
-of doing.”
-
-“Not just now. But you have gone through moments of anxiety. I heard that
-in London two years ago.”
-
-A dark cloud came over Sophia’s brow. She suddenly flung her cigarette
-into the fire, and in changed accents, said—
-
-“Yes, I have committed acts of folly, for I was in love. And a woman in
-love becomes as stupid as a man.”
-
-“The object of your affections was an actor, I believe, the handsome
-Stevenson?”
-
-“Yes, Richard Stevenson, the rival of Irving.”
-
-“You were madly in love with him, but he played you false. Accordingly,
-one evening you found means to entice your rival on board a yacht you had
-hired, lying at anchor on the Thames. Since that time she was never heard
-of.”
-
-“Ah! You are acquainted with that anecdote? Indeed you have been well
-informed. Do you also know that Stevenson, to whom in a fit of madness I
-had said that he would never see her again, beat me with his cane, and
-left me almost dead on the spot?”
-
-“The stick presented to him by the Prince of Wales, doubtless. You must
-have felt highly flattered. It did not prevent you two days later from
-going to the Empire, and cheering your brutal persecutor.”
-
-“Yes, I loved the wretch; but now, luckily, all that is over.”
-
-Lichtenbach burst into a laugh.
-
-“What have you done with the handsome Cesare Agostini?”
-
-“Ah! He forms a mere pastime for me. I must interest myself in some one
-or other. That is no passion at all.”
-
-“All the same, he costs you a great deal, I suppose?”
-
-“Enormous sums! These Italians are terrible spendthrifts. This one knows
-one good way of making money, and ten better ways of spending it. In the
-first place, he is a gambler, and then, he cannot see a fine ring without
-buying it. But then, he has a few good qualities. He is no novice at
-either pistol or sword.”
-
-“He is simply a bravo.”
-
-“At your service, if there is any one you wish to be rid of.”
-
-“Is he bold and intrepid?”
-
-“Yes; but, above all, to be relied on. Try him, you will be well
-satisfied.”
-
-Lichtenbach’s countenance grew dark, as it always did every time a
-subject was mentioned which did not please him, and he said in arrogant
-tones—
-
-“Much obliged, but I do not deal in drama; comedy is sufficient for me.”
-
-“Ah! You’re fond of a joke. You are still one of those good apostles who
-insinuate a crime, have it executed, and then exclaim in candid tones, ‘I
-have had nothing to do with it!’ Have you had nothing to do with this
-affair at Vanves, I should like to know?”
-
-This time Elias became quite angry.
-
-“Silence! What are you thinking of to cry out in such a loud voice? Are
-we the only ones in the house?”
-
-She burst into a laugh.
-
-“Well, well! You amuse me! For an hour you have been telling me my own
-history, without the slightest precaution, and when I make the slightest
-allusion to your’s you tremble with fear. You do not mind compromising
-me, but not yourself. Very kind of you.”
-
-“My daughter is here, and I have no wish—”
-
-“For her to know you under your real aspect. For you are a regular
-scoundrel, Lichtenbach, and of the very worst kind, one who wishes to
-keep up appearances, even with one’s accomplices. Do you think you can
-deceive me, eh? Your jesuitism has no affect on me; I am well acquainted
-with your lubricity. In the whole world there is no more villainous
-character than yourself, and yet you wish to be taken for a man of honour
-and virtue!”
-
-Lichtenbach, pale with fear and anger, exclaimed—
-
-“Baroness! Really, you wish to throw me into a passion.”
-
-“Oh no, no! Now I will be very nice with you. Listen, my voice is a mere
-whisper. Lean over and listen. I need a hundred thousand francs to-night,
-to have Hans carried off to Geneva. He can bear the journey now. Cesare
-has gone to see him.”
-
-“Do you think he will survive?” asked Lichtenbach.
-
-“Yes. That vexes you? You would rather be well rid of him? Calm yourself,
-he would bite off his tongue rather than betray a companion. Besides,
-what does he know? That your interests were the same as ours, and that,
-had he found the formula for the explosive for commerce, you would have
-paid as much for them as those for whom we are working would have paid
-for the war explosive. The _coup_ missed. Hans is maimed. But, thanks to
-me, you are free from all suspicion.”
-
-Looking calmly at Elias, she said—
-
-“A hundred thousand francs, on account.”
-
-“On account?”
-
-“Yes, on account. And do not waste any time. General de Trémont, whom you
-hated so strongly, has been killed for you. How much would you give for
-Baradier and Graff.”
-
-“Nothing, nothing!” groaned Lichtenbach. “What crimes are these you are
-laying to my account? That I desired the death of General de Trémont and
-am anxious to harm Baradier and Graff? You are wandering! It is sheer
-madness! Certainly they are my enemies, and have done me a great deal of
-harm. But, commit a crime on that account! Never, never! If they were to
-die, ah! I should consider it as a divine providence, but hasten their
-last moments by a single hour or minute, I, great God!”
-
-“Of Abraham, of Jacob, and of Moses! Yes, my fine renegade! My good
-Lichtenbach!” said the Baroness, with a look of scorn. “Yes, you are
-quite ready to accept the favours of providence, incarnated under the
-features of the Baroness Grodsko, but you will not take the initiative
-yourself. Hypocrisy again! You ask for nothing, but you accept all! Well,
-your unuttered prayer shall be granted!”
-
-“Baroness! In the name of God, do not compromise me. Do not proceed
-without instructions.”
-
-“Ah, ah! How terrified you are. You remind me of old Trémont when I
-handled his chemical products after dessert. ‘Don’t touch that, it is
-deadly!’ he would say. Meanwhile, I tried to take in wax the impress of
-the lock of the iron casket, which Hans succeeded in opening, but which
-cost him his arm. And all for nothing. The box exploded, and destroyed
-the secret in the midst of the flames. But some one has this secret, and
-I must find it out. Whatever it cost I will obtain possession of it!”
-
-“What have you been promised for it?”
-
-She looked at him, with a laugh.
-
-“You are very inquisitive! Don’t think I shall tell you, however.
-Professional pride apart—for, after all, one does not care to fail in a
-mission of this importance—the affair is worth all the trouble I am
-taking. Meanwhile, my hundred thousand francs!”
-
-Lichtenbach opened a drawer, took out ten bundles of bank-notes, and held
-them out to the Baroness.
-
-“Here they are.”
-
-“Thanks. Now, Lichtenbach, what would you say if it were young Marcel
-Baradier who was the depository of old Trémont’s formulæ?”
-
-Elias sat up with renewed interest.
-
-“What! What makes you think—”
-
-“Ah, ah! Cannibal, you have just smelt human flesh, and have become quite
-young again in consequence.”
-
-“Baroness, you will kill me with anguish.”
-
-“Ah! Yes, you look as though you would die, indeed! Hate, Lichtenbach,
-hate is a far stronger sentiment than love, is it not?”
-
-He made no reply. The only thing that was now of importance to him was
-the supposition Sophia had just given utterance to. He saw nothing,
-except that the son of his deadly enemy might possibly be in possession
-of this secret they were so anxious to fathom. If only it were possible!
-Suppose chance were to give him the opportunity of crushing the very
-people he hated with all his soul, and, at the same time, depriving them
-of a fortune. He asked the Baroness in eager tones—
-
-“What makes you think the General took Marcel Baradier into his
-confidence?”
-
-“In the first place, they saw one another constantly; the young man was
-admitted into his laboratory, a most exceptional favour. I know well he
-worked there with Trémont, who had entire confidence in him. However
-mysterious a man may be, however close and sullen, a fatal hour is sure
-to come, when he is forced to unburden himself. The General would never
-have imparted his plans to a man, even to his best friend, for he was as
-cunning as a fox. But, after dinner, with a good cigar between his lips,
-he felt strongly impelled to dazzle me, and as he could not do this
-either by his youth or his beauty, he attempted to win me over by his
-genius. In this way, on different occasions, he let slip several small
-incidents, which, collected and coordinated by a good memory, form a
-certainty.”
-
-“Then all is not lost?”
-
-“Nothing is ever lost.”
-
-“Then what are you going to do, Baroness?”
-
-“You shall know when it is to my interest to tell you.”
-
-“You have no confidence in me?”
-
-“Under what pretext should I have confidence in you? I know you only too
-well. You will serve me until the time comes when you find it more to
-your advantage to throw me over.”
-
-“I!”
-
-“You, Elias Lichtenbach; but that is all the same to me—I hold you now.”
-
-“Do you hope to succeed?”
-
-“I always hope to succeed. Look at me now, please.”
-
-She threw back her head with a movement of voluptuous grace, which seemed
-to intensify her beauty a hundred-fold. She smiled, and her eyes and lips
-assumed an expression of passionate ardour, which sent a thrill through
-the veins of Lichtenbach. Who could resist this creature’s imperious
-power? She well knew the extent of her charm. At a sign from her men
-became changed into slaves. She was the magician who loosened human
-passions and appetites, and led lost creatures to folly, shame, and
-crime.
-
-“Yes; you will succeed in whatever you undertake,” murmured Lichtenbach,
-fascinated by her charm.
-
-“No exaggeration! I am not infallible, as you know, since Trémont escaped
-me. Still, I will do everything a human being can do to succeed. Have
-confidence, and keep calm, that is all I ask.”
-
-A rolling of wheels was heard under the carriage gate, and a trampling of
-horses’ hoofs announced the return of Mademoiselle Lichtenbach.
-
-“It is my daughter returning,” said the banker.
-
-“Then she is at home for the present?”
-
-“She wished to assist at the funeral of the General de Trémont, whose
-daughter is a friend of hers.”
-
-A smile flitted across the lips of the Baroness.
-
-“Chance or precaution?”
-
-“Chance,” said Lichtenbach, coldly. “They are both at the Sacre-Coeur.
-They found themselves thrown together, and a mutual attachment sprang
-up.”
-
-“And now that you know of it, you encourage this intimacy?”
-
-“I never oppose my daughter.”
-
-“That is true; I forgot. You are a good father, Lichtenbach. It is the
-last concession you have made to humanity. And it is there that you are
-still vulnerable. Take care!”
-
-“My daughter is an angel, who prays for me. I dread nothing. She has her
-mother’s goodness and grace.”
-
-“And she imagines you to be a good and honourable father. Suppose the day
-were to come when her eyes were opened about yourself?”
-
-Elias stood upright in threatening attitude.
-
-“Who could do that?”
-
-“One of your enemies; you do not lack them now. Perhaps a friend; the
-world is so wicked.”
-
-“His boldness would cost him dear!” growled Lichtenbach.
-
-The Baroness arose. She walked about the room for a few seconds, as
-though undecided to leave. Then she asked—
-
-“Before I go, could I see your daughter?”
-
-Lichtenbach looked steadily at her, then he replied rudely—
-
-“No.”
-
-“Why not?”
-
-“Because it is useless.”
-
-“Are you afraid that I shall corrupt her by speaking a few words to her?”
-
-“Perhaps.”
-
-“Bravo! Well, you are frank now, at any rate.”
-
-Lichtenbach raised himself to his full height, and, repaying Sophia in a
-single moment for all the insolent expressions she had been so prodigal
-with the last hour, said—
-
-“Mademoiselle Lichtenbach can have nothing in common with the Baroness
-Grodsko.”
-
-Sophia gave a gesture of indifference.
-
-“Very well. As you please. _Au revoir_, Lichtenbach.”
-
-She was going in the direction of the hall when he stopped her.
-
-“Not that way.”
-
-Opening a door, concealed behind some folds of tapestry, he said—
-
-“Go down this staircase, you will meet no one.”
-
-“There is no trap-dungeon at the bottom?” she asked, laughingly.
-
-“No; there is only the concierge’s room.”
-
-“Adieu. No ill will?”
-
-“I should think not; you ought to be well satisfied. You carry away with
-you indulgences to the extent of a hundred thousand francs. _Au revoir_.”
-
-She disappeared. He returned to his desk in dreamy mood. This woman, so
-dangerous and depraved, always disturbed him, though he knew her well.
-
-A knock at the door threw him from his reverie. Rising to open it, an
-expression of pleasure came into his face. It was his daughter, who had
-come to see him.
-
-“Am I not disturbing you?” she asked, with a shade of uneasiness in her
-voice.
-
-“No, my darling, you never disturb me. Have you had a pleasant visit?”
-
-“Very pleasant. They were all very kind to me.”
-
-Lichtenbach said nothing; his eyes fell on the ground. He did not wish
-his daughter to catch their expression.
-
-“Madeline is very fortunate to find such devoted friends in her trouble.
-Madame Baradier is an excellent lady. She is going to keep the poor girl
-with them. Although I am very sorry she is leaving the convent, since we
-shall be separated in future, I am very glad to know that she has found
-such good friends. It will be like a renewal of life for her.”
-
-“You are so sympathetic, my little Marianne.”
-
-“The blow which has struck Madeline is so terrible. Can anything more
-terrible happen to a child than to lose its parents? And when one has no
-longer one’s mother, as was the case with both of us.”
-
-The young girl’s voice shook, tears stood in her eyes. Lichtenbach turned
-pale, but kept his eyes still fixed on the ground.
-
-“It was this similarity of situation which, from the very first day, drew
-us together. Our common sorrow has been the source of our affection. It
-seemed to us that, as we were less loved than the rest we ought to be all
-the dearer to one another. She had for her father the same affection I
-have for you. It seems he was a great _savant_. Did you know him?”
-
-He was obliged to reply. In tremulous tones he said—“No; I have only
-heard mention of him.”
-
-“He was a very close friend of M. Baradier, and the godfather of his son
-Marcel. They all bewail his loss.”
-
-Lichtenbach raised his eyes from the ground; he looked at his daughter
-with keen look—
-
-“Who has told you all this?”
-
-“Madame Baradier and Madeline.”
-
-“You have spoken to Mademoiselle Baradier?”
-
-“Yes; and to her mother as well.”
-
-“And the son also, perhaps?”
-
-The sudden harshness of tone in Lichtenbach’s questions troubled
-Marianne. She stopped astonished—
-
-“But, papa, I assure you, everybody was exceedingly kind to me. M. Marcel
-Baradier accompanied me right to the carriage. Was it not quite natural?”
-
-“Yes, yes, perfectly natural. Repeat to me all they said to you. Did they
-make no mention of me?”
-
-“Not once. Your name was not even pronounced. I was surprised at that,
-for the Baradier family must know you. You formerly lived in the same
-town.”
-
-“Yes, we lived in the same town, and left it together. But we did not
-travel the same road. For, I ought to tell you, there was no friendship
-between us. My father and the Graffs had been hostile to one another.
-Graff is Baradier’s brother-in-law.”
-
-“But all this happened so long ago that it is doubtless forgotten.”
-
-“No, my dear girl,” said Elias, solemnly. “Nothing is forgotten.”
-
-“So you are not well disposed towards Madeline’s friends?”
-
-“Had I been ill disposed, should I have permitted you to call on them?”
-
-“Then it is they who wish you ill? That must be unjust on their part, for
-you are so good and kind. There must be some misunderstanding, and you do
-not know one another sufficiently.”
-
-“It is not so, my child. We have long known one another very well, and
-have always been opposed to one another. You are grown up now, and in a
-position to learn what life has in store for you. Very well! From the
-Baradiers and Graffs you have nothing favourable to expect. Every time
-you have dealings with them be on your guard. I had made up my mind to
-enlighten you some day on the situation this inveterate hostility has
-created between us. To-day is as good a time as any. I permitted you to
-enter the house which has received Mademoiselle de Trémont that you might
-not be in a position to accuse me of having concealed from you the least
-fraction of truth. Now you have seen the Baradiers, and you are convinced
-that I can treat with them on equal terms. Your grandfather Lichtenbach
-suffered a great deal at their hands in days gone by. He was an honest
-man, who commenced life in a very humble way. They humiliated and
-tortured him. When I was a poor little trader they spread abroad all
-kinds of calumny and slander about me. But I repaid them for all their
-insolence to old Lichtenbach. All this happened before we had left
-Lorraine—long before you were born. Still, this kind of hatred leaves an
-almost indestructible ferment in the heart. Whatever goes back to days of
-childhood and youth remains graven more firmly in the memory than things
-that happen in mature life. The Baradiers and Graffs came to Paris, so
-did I at a later date. We have been separated by life more completely
-than by immense distances, for in this great city, from street to street,
-quarter to quarter, one is more separated than from province to province.
-And yet, we have never forgotten the past. The Baradiers and Graffs are
-the inveterate enemies of the Lichtenbachs. Keep that well in your mind,
-my child, and let it be the rule of your conduct under every circumstance
-in life.”
-
-Marianne looked at her father uneasily.
-
-“Then you wish me to espouse your quarrel?”
-
-“God forbid! I love you too well to endanger your peace of mind, and I
-will do all I can to protect you from anything which might cause you pain
-and suffering. I have opened your eyes, for you must know how to discern,
-at a given moment, the causes of certain events, and the bearing of
-certain expressions. Leave to me the responsibility of assuring your
-security and happiness.”
-
-“Can I go and see Madeline again?”
-
-“Why should you? If you do not call on her what will prevent her coming
-to see you?”
-
-“I shall be at the convent.”
-
-“Not for ever.”
-
-The young girl gave her father a beseeching look as she said—
-
-“Ah! If you would only let me stay with you, how pleased I should be.”
-
-Lichtenbach’s face lit up with an expression of joy and gladness.
-
-“What would you do here?” he asked good humouredly.
-
-“I would keep the house for you. There is great need of it, though I do
-not wish to criticize. A woman would not leave this fine mansion in so
-gloomy and so dismal-looking a condition. So little would be needed to
-arrange the rooms so as to make them comfortable and agreeable. Besides,
-you could devote yourself entirely to your own work, and you would see
-how much better everything would go. It is not a man’s _rôle_ to give
-orders to servants. Would you not like to have some one about you who
-would ever be affectionately on the watch to attend to your every need
-and comfort? I am eighteen years old now; they no longer know what to
-teach me at the convent. Very soon it will be I who will be giving
-lessons to the pupils. Have I been born into the world to be a teacher at
-the Sacre-Cœur? You have a daughter; she does not belong to others, she
-is your own. Why don’t you keep her to yourself?”
-
-As she spoke she flung her arms round him and pressed him to her breast,
-so that the paternal instinct of Elias warmed gently under the influence
-of her fond caresses. This man, harsh-natured and ferocious as he was,
-became filled with generous and tender sentiments as his child looked
-down upon him. A sigh escaped his lips.
-
-“If I were to listen to you, should I not be doing something very
-imprudent? One should be alone and untrammelled if he wishes to remain
-strong and safe.”
-
-“But what are you afraid of? To listen to you one would imagine you were
-in a state of war with enemies lying in ambush for you. Is life so full
-of dangers? Is there no protection in this world from one’s foes?”
-
-Elias smiled.
-
-“Simple upright minds never see anything threatening to be afraid of.
-They are blind. But sagacious observers look at everything with anxious,
-uneasy eyes, and see danger all around. Look at the sea; at the first
-glance all you can distinguish will be an immense sheet of water,
-azure-blue, the mirror of the sky, furrowed all over by vessels, and
-troubled by the winds. Then lean over, and try to pierce the ocean’s deep
-bed, and you will see frightful reefs, whose existence you never
-suspected, and terrible monsters ever on the watch. _Débris_ and wrecks,
-the lamentable remains of ships and seamen, will prove to you that danger
-is ever present, that catastrophes are everyday events, and to avoid
-them, unceasing attention and prudence are needed. It is the same with
-society, which you believe trustworthy, and with life, which you judge so
-easy. The surface is smooth and attractive, but beneath everything is
-monstrous and terrifying. Still, I am here to watch over you, do not be
-uneasy. By my side you will be sheltered from danger, and as you wish to
-stay at home, my dear child, you shall do so. Your presence will be a
-consolation and a joy to me in the decline of life.”
-
-Holding out his arms, she threw herself on his breast with a cry of
-gratitude. Lichtenbach, rather ashamed at having given way to such tender
-emotions, said briefly—
-
-“Well, that is settled. I will send to the convent for your wardrobe and
-all your belongings, and you shall settle down here at once.”
-
-“Oh, my dear father, it would scarcely be worth while to take back the
-few garments I have; they may be disposed of in charity. There are only a
-few personal souvenirs I should like to keep. You will give me some
-money, will you not, as a present for these excellent nuns who have taken
-such good care of me?”
-
-“But you are rich, my darling,” said Elias, with a smile. “You have your
-mother’s fortune, which has been accumulating interest. Besides, I must
-give up my accounts to you.”
-
-Marianne went up to her father, and, kissing him tenderly, said—
-
-“This will serve as a receipt for everything!”
-
-
-
-CHAPTER V
-
-
-M. MAYEUR, examining magistrate, was seated in his study, near the
-fireplace, whilst his clerk, in listless mood, was engaged in questioning
-one of the agents, charged with investigating the Vanves affair. M.
-Mayeur was terribly bored; he was accustomed to carry through sensational
-affairs, without giving himself much trouble. The results were obtained
-with regularity, and as though by enchantment. Chance seemed to favour
-him, and he was reputed to be the luckiest judge on the bench. He had
-become accustomed to his good fortune, so, when the Vanves affair had
-been placed in his hands, he gave a smile of satisfaction and confidence,
-whilst his clerk, rubbing together his hands, with a look of pity for the
-culprits, said—
-
-“We shall not need to spend much time over this matter!”
-
-And yet matters were dragging along slowly. For a whole week, M. Mayeur
-had multiplied his investigations, sent out detective after detective,
-summoned witnesses, and fulfilled judicial commissions. Nothing came of
-it all. As he expressed it, he was moving about in a thick fog, from
-which he could not escape. Every evening the Government agent sent for
-him, and asked in satirical accents—
-
-“Well, Mayeur, where are we now?”
-
-And the magistrate, accustomed as he was to success, found himself
-obliged to reply—
-
-“Ah, sir, we are still on the look-out, but we have found nothing yet.”
-
-“Ah, ah! The deuce! A week already flown since the crime was committed.
-Your chances are diminishing. In proportion as time passes, false tracks
-appear, and the scent becomes fainter. I expected a better result from
-you! As a rule, your inspiration is clearer.”
-
-“But there is nothing whatever to take hold of—not the slightest clue in
-the cursed affair!”
-
-“What! Nothing? You have the corpse of the victim, the house in ruins,
-and the arm of the assassin! What are you doing with this latter? It
-ought to reveal something.”
-
-“For the present it is in the frigorific apparatus,” growled M. Mayeur.
-“But neither corpse, nor house, nor arm gives me the slightest results.
-An evil genius seems to have passed over everything, carrying with it
-death and mutilation, and leaving nothing behind. It is enough to drive
-one mad!”
-
-“Gently, Mayeur, keep a cool head, whatever happens. Persevere. You have
-been spoiled by success, but do not be discouraged; at any moment light
-may flash on the whole affair, and clear up everything.”
-
-What caused M. Mayeur the greatest chagrin was that he was perfectly
-aware of the secret pleasure his want of success gave all his colleagues.
-A magistrate who had failed in so important an investigation; how could
-he expect to be nominated to the Assize Court, contrary to all normal
-promotion, if he had no longer his invariable good luck as his supreme
-justification? And, seated in his study, with his back to the light,
-looking vacantly into the fire, whilst his clerk ran the risk of
-dislocating his jaw with too much gaping, M. Mayeur, to satisfy his
-conscience, in mournful accents, questioned one of his agents, who had
-returned after a fruitless search.
-
-“So there was no trace of the wounded man having passed through the
-cottage gardens, nor on the road to Paris?”
-
-“No, sir. I have visited all the inns frequented by the quarrymen and
-gardeners of the district. No one could give me any definite information.
-One would imagine the murderer had been annihilated by the explosion
-itself.”
-
-“Nothing of the kind! He was tracked to within three hundred paces from
-the Trémont property, and there a trail of blood, quite visible, which he
-had left all the way, suddenly disappeared. Did he, at that spot, find
-his accomplices waiting for him? Was he carried off? How and where?
-Nothing but darkness and obscurity!”
-
-“Those who committed the crime are not professional thieves, although the
-General has been robbed of objects of value he carried on his person.
-Accordingly, they will not be found so easily. That is where the whole
-difficulty comes in.”
-
-The magistrate gave a gesture of discontent, as though to signify that he
-knew all that. Stroking his beard, he said, with a sigh—
-
-“You may go now. Send me Baudoin, the General’s servant, whom I have sent
-for afresh.”
-
-The agent bowed, and left the room. A moment after the door opened again,
-and the valet’s resolute, intelligent face appeared. He already
-sympathized with the clerk, who gave him a friendly nod. The magistrate
-said, in sulky tones—
-
-“Take a seat, M. Baudoin. I have disturbed you once more, with the object
-of explaining certain details which I find incomprehensible.”
-
-“Do not apologize, sir; it is no disturbance if it is for anything
-concerning the General. Ah! I should only be too happy if I could give
-you any efficient help in your task!”
-
-How could this servant throw light on a mystery which he, Mayeur, could
-not succeed in unravelling? Well, it could not be helped. The clerk
-seemed overjoyed at his master’s humiliation. He had been worrying him
-long enough with his lack of capacity. A striking failure would make him
-less self-confident, and he would be a little more indulgent towards his
-subordinate, whom he always appeared to look upon as an imbecile. Fume
-away, my good master! That will not help you much. And the clerk gave
-another mighty yawn.
-
-“This woman you saw leave the carriage at the door of the house—was she
-tall or short?”
-
-“Rather tall. But as she was wrapped in a large mantle I could not say
-precisely. By the way in which she descended from the carriage, I should
-imagine she was rather slender in build.”
-
-“And her companion?”
-
-“Oh! her companion; I saw him distinctly. He was a strong man, with a
-thick beard, light-complexioned, and brutal in appearance. He wore a grey
-felt hat and a dark suit. His accent was foreign, and—”
-
-“Do you think it is the man your master called Hans?” asked the
-magistrate.
-
-“It could be no one else. The General received no one, except his
-friends, Messieurs Baradier and Graff. The people who came on different
-occasions at night to the villa must have been regular villains for him
-not to permit me to stay with him.”
-
-“What do you consider the reason of this precaution on the part of M. de
-Trémont?”
-
-“The fact that he would see me trying to fathom the plots of this lady
-and her acolyte.”
-
-“Then, in your opinion, it is a feminine intrigue which is at the root of
-the matter?”
-
-“Apparently, yes.”
-
-“And in reality?”
-
-“It was their object to steal from the General his formulæ for the
-manufacture of his new powders.”
-
-“Then the woman was only an intermediary?”
-
-“An intermediary, no. They well knew the General would never consent to a
-bargain. A bait, yes. I did not see the woman, but every time she came
-she left the General’s study impregnated with a peculiar perfume of a
-very captivating odour. Oh! I should recognize it amongst a hundred! The
-woman’s voice, too, was caressing and seductive. Ah! my poor master! She
-knew what power she had over him. That woman was capable of anything—of
-driving mad a brave warm-hearted man like my master, of pouring over him
-the poison of her looks and smiles, and having him cruelly killed for
-some cause I know nothing of. As for the man Hans, he was only an agent—a
-well-informed man, for the General respected his opinions, and could
-speak with him of his discoveries, but not of the same social position as
-his accomplice. He was an ordinary, even a rough individual. The woman’s
-prestige must have been demanded to have had him received by M. de
-Trémont, who was so aristocratic.”
-
-“And you could never find out, by means of the cook, who remained in the
-house, what took place when you had left the house?”
-
-“No, she was of a very dull intellect. Outside of her work, there was
-very little to be obtained from her. That is the reason M. de Trémont had
-no cause to mistrust her. All the same, she saw the woman on several
-occasions, and told me that she was a miracle of beauty—young,
-light-complexioned, with eyes that would have damned a saint. She spoke
-with the General in a foreign language. Now the General could only speak
-English and Italian.”
-
-“Was your master rich?”
-
-“No, sir, he had a very modest fortune—about twenty thousand francs
-income. But his discoveries were very valuable. And it was these the
-woman was aiming at. In all probability, whilst she was with the General,
-her accomplice was examining the papers and searching among the
-products.”
-
-“You never found any paper dealing with the relations of the General with
-this woman?”
-
-“Never.”
-
-“What became of the telegrams the General received telling him of the
-arrival of his visitors?”
-
-“The General burnt them himself. I saw him do it. Ah! Every precaution
-was taken by my brave master not to compromise the fair Baroness. God
-knows how he loved her! He trembled like a student at the idea of seeing
-her!”
-
-“And yet he never gave up to her the secret of his discoveries?”
-
-Baudoin’s face became serious.
-
-“Ah! He was reserving his secret for France. I heard him say so more than
-once, after an experiment which satisfied him: ‘Baudoin, my good fellow,
-when our artillery has this powder, we shall no longer be afraid of any
-one.’ Certainly the General was passionately fond of this woman. But he
-loved his country far more, and between the two, he did not hesitate.
-Besides, that was certainly the cause of his death. They could not
-succeed in taking his secret by fair means, so they attempted to obtain
-possession of it by force.”
-
-The clerk had ceased yawning; he was listening to Baudoin with
-sympathetic interest all the while he was writing his deposition. He
-wrote down the main outlines only, for it was the third time M. Mayeur
-was having the same thing repeated to him, as though he hoped to discover
-among expressions already heard, some special signification which would
-permit him to unravel the truth. And it was always this love intrigue,
-cloaking the criminal attempt, the bearing of which he could not succeed
-in gauging. Was it a matter that concerned international politics or was
-it mere spying? Or simply a bold attempt to seize a commercial product of
-considerable value? Still, before whatever hypothesis he stopped, there
-was obscurity with regard to cause, ignorance concerning details, an
-impenetrable mystery which maddened him, and which seemed as though it
-would compromise his career. Flinging himself back in his chair, he said—
-
-“Yes, the criminals have taken great precautions. The General is dead,
-the servant, too, is dead, and you had been sent away. The wounded man
-has disappeared, as though buried in the bowels of the earth. And the
-unknown woman is mocking at our researches.”
-
-Baudoin shook his head.
-
-“So long as attempts are made to find her, she will hide, and nothing
-will be discovered. If the matter concerned me, I know what I should do.”
-
-M. Mayeur, in his distress, flashed at the valet a look of curiosity.
-When he, the examining magistrate, so famous for a resourceful
-imagination, no longer knew what expedient to try, a simple witness
-pretended to understand the position, and point out the means to be
-followed. He was on the point of crushing him with official disdain, by
-telling him to trouble with what concerned him, when he thought that,
-after all, advice was not to be neglected, and he might despise it
-afterwards, if necessary. He accordingly asked, in mocking tones, to
-safeguard his dignity—
-
-“Then, what would you do, M. Baudoin?”
-
-“Please pardon me, sir, if what I say is foolish, but if the affair were
-in my hand, instead of sending out in every direction, seeking
-information everywhere, I would not stir a step. I should let it be known
-that I had given up the pursuit, and was engaged in something else. You
-must know what takes place in a barn, where there are mice. There is a
-general rush to the holes as soon as the sound of entering feet are
-heard. If you remain quiet, after a few moments the mice are seen to be
-risking out again, and playing about the floor as before. Well, I believe
-it would be the same in the present case. I beg pardon, if I interfere in
-the matter, but I, too, am bent on finding the rascals who killed my
-master, and if I can contribute towards their capture it will be the
-brightest day of my life.”
-
-M. Mayeur no longer cast a disdainful glance at the General’s valet. He
-smiled at him in most amiable mood. For, in a flash he had furnished him
-with the means of taking advantage of the difficulty in this cursed
-affair. When the Government agent should say to him, that very
-evening—“Well, my dear Mayeur, where have you got to now? Nothing yet?”
-instead of replying in a tone of vexation, “Nothing at all,” thus
-confessing his inability to discover, and even the absence of grounds on
-which to found his researches, he would be able to reply: “This matter
-has been badly begun, I undertake to recommence everything _ab ovo_. We
-have to deal with rogues who are exceedingly cunning. I intend to change
-my plans entirely.” This time he would no longer appear incapable, as
-though he were entrusted with a task too difficult for his capacity. He
-would secure an honourable retreat, and gain time as well.
-
-Resuming his stiff and formal gravity, he said—
-
-“There will be plenty of time to act as you suggest. But I have still at
-my disposal many other means of throwing light on the subject.”
-
-His clerk, pen in mouth, could not help laughing outright. When Mayeur
-was at bay, without a single idea in his head, befooled by the culprits
-when he had not the slightest idea where to look for them, he still
-pretended to “throw light on the subject.” Light on the subject! It was
-enough to make any one laugh! He gave Baudoin a wink, and noisily rattled
-his desk.
-
-M. Mayeur, as though he guessed the secret hostility of his subordinate,
-said to him—
-
-“Just go and see if Colonel Vallenot has come from the Ministry.”
-
-The clerk stretched himself; showed Baudoin his cigarette-case, with a
-grimace which signified, “I’m just going to smoke one,” and left the
-room. M. Mayeur followed him, bolted the door, and returning to Baudoin,
-said—
-
-“I would rather we were alone in discussing the subject I am engaged on.
-The slightest indiscretion in so delicate a matter might ruin everything.
-Just now you gave me a piece of advice which I might follow to advantage.
-Still, you did not tell me everything. You are better informed than you
-have yet shown. Perhaps they are only suspicions, still, I am sure you
-are quite determined to help justice in an energetic pursuit of your
-master’s murderers. Why have you not perfect confidence in me? We have
-the same object in view. Come, M. Baudoin, be frank and open. You imagine
-you have discovered some means of laying hands on the culprits?”
-
-Baudoin raised his head, and looking fixedly at the magistrate, saw that
-he was in passionate earnest. He thought that he had really an ally in
-him, and that professional secrecy guaranteed his discretion, and
-accordingly made up his mind to speak.
-
-“Well! yes, I have a means by which we shall lay our hands on the
-culprits.”
-
-“What is it?”
-
-“First of all, swear that what I am about to say shall not be repeated.”
-
-“But—,” protested the judge.
-
-“Take it or leave it,” declared Baudoin, bluntly. “I am risking my life
-and that of others as well. I shall say nothing, unless you give me your
-word of honour not to repeat to a living soul what I am going to entrust
-to you.”
-
-“Not even to my chief?”
-
-“Not a word to any one! Do you give me your promise?”
-
-“Very well! I promise.”
-
-“Well, then! as I told you before, in matters concerning scientific
-research, the General had confidence in no one except a young man whom he
-loved as though he were his own child, M. Baradier’s son. I have reason
-to believe that M. Marcel knows M. de Trémont’s formulæ. If, therefore,
-the villains we are on the look-out for have the slightest suspicion that
-they might in this direction try the _coup_ which failed with the
-General, as soon as they are reassured as to the result of the present
-search, they will set to work afresh. It is there my task will begin. I
-am entering the service of M. Marcel, and I shall not leave him a single
-moment. Besides, I have a friend, who is accustomed to such work. I am
-taking him with me. The two of us are organizing a continual
-surveillance. If the plot recommences, we let it develop, and intervene
-at the critical moment. That is my plan. That is why I made bold, a few
-minutes ago, to advise you to give up the game, to all appearance. With
-villains like those with whom we have to deal, there may be a great deal
-of trouble. Now, you may do all that is necessary to give me a hand, and
-as soon as developments have come to a head, I will immediately lay the
-matter in your hands.”
-
-The examining magistrate reflected for a moment, then said—
-
-“All this is outside of legal precedent, but the situation is an
-exceptional one. Above everything, we must succeed! If we have to deal
-with determined criminals, as I imagine is the case, this is not their
-first attempt, and perhaps we shall capture a whole gang. Put into
-performance, therefore, the plan you have indicated, and, at the
-slightest difficulty, come to me, and I will summon all the forces of the
-law to your aid. You need simply show me the beginning of the thread, and
-I will go right to the end.”
-
-“Good; you shall hear from me at the right time. Not another word, for
-here is your clerk returning.”
-
-The clerk knocked at the closed door, and the magistrate opened it.
-Colonel Vallenot stood in the passage, and M. Mayeur addressed him—
-
-“Come in, Colonel, take a seat.”
-
-Turning towards Baudoin, he said—
-
-“You may now retire, M. Baudoin; I don’t think I shall need you for some
-time to come. All the same, if you leave Paris, give M. Baradier your
-address, so that the summons I shall address to you may reach you in good
-time.”
-
-Baudoin bowed to the magistrate, saluted the Colonel in military fashion,
-and left the room. When he was gone M. Mayeur returned to Vallenot, with
-a smile on his face; he could not allow his discouragement to appear in
-public.
-
-“The Minister of War delivered a very solid speech last night in the
-House.”
-
-“Yes; they try to mystify him, but he is able to defend himself. He knows
-what he is talking about, and a direct attack always succeeds with
-Parliamentarians.”
-
-“_Imperatoria brevitas_,” sneered the magistrate.
-
-After a short pause he asked in honeyed tones—
-
-“Have your researches come to a point yet?”
-
-The Colonel replied bluntly—
-
-“Not at all; they are no further advanced than yours.”
-
-M. Mayeur smiled faintly.
-
-“Ah, ah! Then we make no progress?”
-
-“If I were not afraid of offending you I should say that we were going
-backwards.”
-
-“That appears to be exactly as the matter stands,” said Mayeur, with a
-look of intelligence.
-
-“Ah! Have you obtained some clue at last?” asked Vallenot, perplexed.
-
-“I am not in a position to explain, but have patience; a surprise is in
-store for you.”
-
-“How delighted the chief will be! The whole affair has put him in such a
-nervous condition that the whole staff suffers in consequence. He is
-never out of a temper; one does not know how to manage him.”
-
-“To return to our investigations abroad, what result have they given?”
-
-“We have obtained the certainty that, if an attempt has been made to
-obtain possession of the formulæ of General de Trémont, the Triple
-Alliance has had nothing to do with it. Ever since the last espionage
-affair, the different Governments have given orders to their agents to
-observe the strictest reserve. If there really has been a plot it can
-only have been made by the English. You are well aware that their
-artillery is quite out of date, and they are trying to recover ground.”
-
-“So there are nothing but suppositions; no proofs?”
-
-“None whatever. In Paris, or, at any rate, in France, there are half a
-dozen women well known for their international intrigues, and who might
-have been suspected of having acted the _rôle_ of the Baroness with the
-poor General de Trémont. Those known to have been in France have been
-strictly watched. Besides, the majority form part of our
-counter-espionage, and could have informed us, whilst still in the pay of
-another nation. So far as Hans is concerned, a police report from
-Lausanne announces the arrival in Geneva of a wounded man, whose arm has
-been amputated. He is from Baden, and is named Fichter. The accident took
-place in a wire mill in the neighbourhood of Besançon. Accordingly, he
-could not be at the same time in the Jura and at Vanves. All the same,
-the description of him corresponds exactly with that given by Baudoin. If
-this Fichter is the man we are seeking, the proprietor of the wire mill
-must have given accommodation certificates, or a substitution must have
-taken place on the way between the two men. All this is very improbable.
-So, you see, the matter is involved in greater obscurity than ever.”
-
-“Yes, yes,” hummed the magistrate, who appeared so absent-minded that the
-Colonel looked at him in amazement.
-
-“You take all this very calmly!” said Vallenot.
-
-“What is the use of getting excited? It never serves any useful purpose.”
-
-“Then you have not lost all hope?”
-
-“Why should I?”
-
-“The deuce!”
-
-“Ah! my friend, success often comes at the very time you think everything
-is lost.”
-
-“You magistrates are very lucky; it is not so in the Army. When you
-expect Grouchy it is always Blucher who comes!”
-
-“Well, we shall see.”
-
-“What do you intend to do?”
-
-“Let the whole affair slide for some time. It is too premature to do
-anything yet.”
-
-“In other words, you are shelving it?”
-
-“Yes, I am shelving it provisionally.”
-
-“Then you abandon the whole affair?”
-
-The magistrate looked gravely at Vallenot and, to the profound amazement
-of his clerk, said humbly—
-
-“I do, if no fresh incident happens.”
-
-“Have I to inform the Minister of this?”
-
-“Please do so. Tell him I am sorry, and wish I could have done better.
-That has been impossible. Still all is not lost, in my opinion. We shall
-see at a later date.”
-
-The Colonel stood there rather disconcerted by this unexpected solution,
-and as he took his leave he shook his head, saying—
-
-“A pleasant message you send me with. I shall be received like a dog in a
-game of skittles.”
-
-“Nonsense! You are the favourite. I am off to the Government agent. He
-will not grumble; on the contrary, he will poke fun at me. Still no
-matter. He laughs best who laughs last!”
-
-Shaking the Colonel by the hand, he conducted him to the passage, and
-returned to his office. He signed several sheets of paper handed to him
-by his clerk. The latter, devoured by curiosity, said—
-
-“Then the matter is really finished, sir! Are you giving it up?”
-
-“One cannot do what is impossible,” said Mayeur, negligently. “A house
-cannot be built without scaffolding. Here we have no grounds to work
-upon. I am not strong enough to invent what I am ignorant of. It is
-already difficult enough to obtain benefit from certain proof.”
-
-A look of pity came over the clerk’s countenance. So long as the
-magistrate had manifested a tranquil assurance of success he had, in his
-conscience, violently criticized him. Now that his master showed himself
-modest and simple he disdained him. Nothing but a poor fellow, after all,
-who was very lucky when things went well, but gave up the struggle at the
-very first difficulties.
-
-“Just put away that brief into my case. I am going to the Public
-Prosecutor’s office,” said the magistrate. “Afterwards you may go; it is
-five o’clock. I will see you to-morrow morning.”
-
-Colonel Vallenot, meanwhile, was rolling away in a cab in the direction
-of the Ministry. On entering his chief’s ante-chamber he came across
-Baudoin, who was leaving the Minister’s cabinet. Stopping him, he said—
-
-“You have just seen the General?”
-
-“Yes, Colonel.”
-
-“Is he in a good temper?”
-
-“Yes, Colonel. You had better hurry, sir, if you wish to find him in.”
-
-“What! He is going out?”
-
-“I heard him say that he was going to the Chamber.”
-
-“You had something to ask him, Baudoin?”
-
-“No, Colonel. I wished simply to speak to him of the affair of General
-Trémont.”
-
-“In what respect?”
-
-“The magistrate makes no progress, and seems to me as though about to
-abandon the matter altogether.”
-
-“You told this to the Minister?”
-
-“Yes, not five minutes ago.”
-
-“And how did he receive the communication?”
-
-“He whistled softly; then said aloud, ‘After all, perhaps it is better
-so.’”
-
-Colonel Vallenot looked at Baudoin, as though to make sure he was not
-making fun of him. Then he shrugged his shoulders, as though he did not
-understand, and declared, in vexed tones—
-
-“Good! Good! Well, we will say no more about it.”
-
-With a friendly gesture to the former soldier, he said—
-
-“Good night, Baudoin. If you need anything send for me. We were all very
-fond of M. de Trémont.”
-
-And he passed along, muttering to himself—
-
-“Everybody I meet seems to have lost his head.”
-
-Baudoin descended the large staircase. He went out into the street, after
-shaking hands with the concierge, and made his way towards the small
-café, where, in condescending fashion, Laforêt watched the billiard
-players, during the absinthe hour, eagerly playing pools. He was seated
-in his usual place, smoking his pipe, and speaking to a neighbour, a
-retired business man, who was telling him his domestic worries.
-
-“Yes, sir; a woman who is always out of the house, and has never enough
-money. The vaults of the Bank would not suffice for her. And whenever I
-remonstrate with her she rouses the whole house with her cries. We cannot
-keep servants, for she will not pay them, and when she is not pleased,
-then there are blows! I have already been several times before the
-Justice of the Peace on her account. The life she leads me is a regular
-inferno!”
-
-“Divorce her,” said Laforêt, curtly.
-
-“But the greater part of our common stock is hers!”
-
-“Then put up with her!”
-
-“I can do it no longer.”
-
-“Well, treat her as she treats her servants.”
-
-“Ah! No! The deuce! She would pay me back in the same coin!”
-
-Baudoin’s arrival interrupted the consultation. The unhappy tradesman
-arose, and said—
-
-“The only place where I have a little quiet is here.”
-
-“Well, that is something. Good-bye, sir. Consider me at your service if I
-can be of any use to you.”
-
-Baudoin had taken a seat. Laforêt leaned over in his direction.
-
-“Well, anything fresh?”
-
-“Yes. I want you. But we had better leave here.”
-
-The agent arose, took his stick, and left the café, accompanied by
-Baudoin.
-
-“Where shall we go?”
-
-“Where we shall be neither disturbed nor overheard.”
-
-“Then come along with me.”
-
-They proceeded along the banks of the Seine, and, on reaching a quay,
-Laforêt led the way down a flight of stone stairs leading to the
-embankment. Under the shade of the elms, which twisted their knotty
-boughs above the slimy, swift-flowing river, they sat down. On the
-opposite bank the gardens of the Tuileries exposed to view their lovely
-verdure. Lighters were unloading sand fifty yards on the left.
-Ferry-boats sped swiftly along, crowded with passengers, and the distant
-rolling of carriages formed a rumbling accompaniment to their words.
-
-“Here we are certain that whatever we say will be heard by none other
-than the birds or the fishes,” said Laforêt. “This is the spot I
-recommend to you whenever you have any secrets to communicate to any one.
-There is not even a single fisherman about. Now then, what have you to
-tell?”
-
-“Well, after three weeks’ researches, the examining magistrate is obliged
-to confess that he has not made the slightest progress. Clearly, if left
-to himself, he will never effect anything. Besides, the cleverest of them
-would have been no more fortunate. There is nothing to seize hold of. The
-culprits have plunged, and everything is quiet again. The upshot of the
-matter is that our magistrate is about to stop all investigations, and
-now I am free to go where I like, as I shall no longer have to spend all
-the day walking about the corridors of the Law Courts. Accordingly, I am
-leaving Paris.”
-
-“Ah! Where are you going?”
-
-“To stay with the son of my master, M. Baradier, who is at the works near
-Troyes, in Champagne. The district is called Ars, noted for alkaline
-springs and thermal waters, visited every summer by invalids.”
-
-“Are you going to your master with the object of forgetting your
-troubles?”
-
-“No! Rather to keep watch over him. Since I have been in the house I have
-spoken with his father, and learnt several things. M. Baradier is
-informed that his son has received communications from the General de
-Trémont, and now the famous formulæ can only be obtained from Marcel. M.
-Baradier, I believe, would give a large sum if his son had never entered
-the General’s laboratory. But that is a fact which cannot be undone. The
-only important thing now is to defend the young man. This trust has been
-confided to me. M. Baradier said to me: ‘Baudoin, Marcel is my only son,
-and although he is not so steady as he might be, I am all the same very
-fond of him. I do not want him to come to any harm. As soon as you are
-free go down to Ars, and do not leave him.’”
-
-“But why does this young man, who is so rich, and of whom his family is
-so fond, shut himself up in a quiet provincial town? Why does he not stay
-in Paris?”
-
-“For several reasons. The best one is that his father considers it more
-prudent for him to be at Ars than in Paris. Surveillance is more easy in
-the country. Besides, M. Marcel, from what I have learned, has been
-living rather too fast, and his father has cut off his supplies; but for
-his uncle Graff, the young heir would have nothing whatever. Just now he
-is desperately bent on finding a chemical process of wool-dyeing, and,
-though he is rather a hare-brained fellow, as the General called him, he
-has an extraordinary aptitude for scientific research, so that his work
-will be sufficient to keep him away from all kinds of distractions.”
-
-“He is rather a strange character.”
-
-“The finest young man you would meet anywhere. Generous and lively in
-disposition, not proud in the least. Ah! he will please you, I know, when
-you meet him.”
-
-“Then I am to make his acquaintance?”
-
-“Certainly.”
-
-“In what way?”
-
-“Listen. As soon as I learned that I could leave Paris I rushed off to
-the Minister to explain what I wanted to do, and asked him, if he wished
-the affair to succeed, to give me permission that you should come down to
-Ars whenever I need you.”
-
-“I must have permission first.”
-
-“You have only to see Colonel Vallenot, who has received instructions,
-and he will give you your papers.”
-
-“Good. And what shall I have to do afterwards?”
-
-“According to circumstances. It is my firm conviction that the
-catastrophe of which my poor master has been the victim, is nothing but
-the beginning of a drama. Many important events will take place, and we
-must arrange so as to prevent them from being harmful to the intended
-victims. Serious interests are at stake. We shall probably have to deal
-with matters that are anything but attractive. But then, afterwards,
-everything will be cleared up. We must succeed. By the way, you must know
-how to disguise yourself.”
-
-Laforêt smiled.
-
-“Do not be uneasy on that score. I will be there at the rendezvous you
-appoint; but I will not vouch for your recognizing me when you see me.”
-
-“That is all right, then. Unfortunately, I am not to be relied upon for
-playing a double _rôle_. But I can well maintain my own, which will be
-that of a watch-dog.”
-
-“Then everything is settled?”
-
-“So it seems. When I have a communication to make I will send my letter
-to the Ministry.”
-
-“Very good. Now let us get back.”
-
-Mounting the stone staircase, they reached the quay, and took leave of
-one another.
-
-Laforêt made his way towards the Rue Saint Dominique; Baudoin crossed the
-Pont de la Concorde, and returned to the Rue de Provènce by the Rue de
-Richelieu and the boulevards. Messieurs Baradier and Graff were in their
-office, along with the cashier of the firm, who was making inquiries
-concerning the collection of debts. The cashier was saying—
-
-“Do you know, gentlemen, that the ‘Commercial Explosives’ Company,’ of
-which M. Lichtenbach is chairman, is on its last legs? The shares have
-gone down considerably. It seems that there is an American company
-competing with them.”
-
-“Yes, so I have heard,” said Graff. “The Americans have found a product
-of very simple composition, costing fifty per cent. less than dynamite.
-They have already taken very large orders for Australia and South Africa.
-That is the reason of the fall of the Lichtenbach Company.”
-
-“Do not be uneasy, Bernard,” said Baradier to his cashier. “It will not
-affect Lichtenbach, but his shareholders. You have no more letters to be
-signed?”
-
-“No, sir.”
-
-“Well, then, you may go now. Good night.”
-
-“Good night, gentlemen.”
-
-Baradier rose from his seat, and stood with his back to the fire.
-
-“You see,” he said to his brother-in-law, “here we have a clear proof
-that Trémont has been killed as much to rob him of his commercial as of
-his military secret. Do you now understand how Lichtenbach would be
-interested in being in possession of the formulæ of an explosive which
-would be less costly than the American product, the discovery of which is
-ruining the French company, and would be as effective though a hundred
-times less in volume? For this is the real value of the discovery made by
-Trémont, and which Marcel has explained to me. Accordingly, if
-Lichtenbach, by some means or other, came into possession of the unknown
-formulæ, he would only have to take out a patent, and secretly buy back
-all the shares of the company which have now fallen so low. The day after
-he had swept everything before him he would sell to the company all
-property in the new explosive, and make millions at a single stroke,
-without speaking of the future success of the product.”
-
-“Yes, it would be a fine _coup_ worthy of him. He might give up to his
-confederates the profits from the war powder, for they would be little
-compared with those of the commercial product. Governments are not in the
-habit of remunerating philanthropists who afford them the means of
-marching triumphantly forward to a universal massacre.”
-
-“Oh, don’t make any mistake. Marcel affirms that this discovery made by
-Trémont is followed by the most frightful results. It is a kind of paste,
-which, according to the way in which it is prepared, causes a formidable
-detonation or else burns, without the slightest noise, even when in
-water.”
-
-“Greek fire?”
-
-“Something like it. Or, rather, like an up-to-date cannon compared with
-one of the fourteenth century. Torpedoes loaded with this paste, and lit
-by means of a well-graduated mechanism, might at will envelop a ship in
-flames at a single moment.”
-
-“That would mean the suppression of all naval supremacy!”
-
-“Ah! You understand. Now, do you think there exists any real security for
-the possessor of such a secret? A State would have to be governed by
-angels if it did not use its utmost endeavours to procure this monstrous
-power of annihilating all its enemies and subduing all its rivals. This
-is why Trémont was put to death, and why I have lost my sleep at the
-thought that my son has openly worked with him and may be suspected of
-having possession of this mysterious agent of destruction and greatness.”
-
-“Send him away from France, on a cruise.”
-
-“He would be in much greater danger away from France. The place where he
-runs least risk is here among his friends. Ah! How glad I should be were
-he rid of this heavy burden! I have begged him to hand over the General’s
-formulæ to the Minister. It would have been announced in all the journals
-that Marcel Baradier had handed over to the Technical Committee of
-Explosives all notes relating to the experiments of General de Trémont.
-After that he would have been free, and no further risk would have been
-run. Do you know what reply he gave me?”
-
-“No; tell me.”
-
-“He said to me, with a smile, and in tones of calm assurance: ‘My dear
-father, the General’s powder is still lacking in one slight detail. I
-know what he intended to do, for he explained everything to me. Well,
-then, I will continue his experiments, and when everything is complete I
-will hand over the formulæ to the State, according to his
-clearly-expressed will, and form a company with the commerce explosive to
-enrich the General’s daughter.’”
-
-“Does Marcel know what a risk he is running?” asked Graff.
-
-“I became hoarse in telling him. But he is a Lorraine; he’s as obstinate
-as a mule. To all my arguments he offered an imperturbable resistance. ‘I
-alone,’ he said, ‘can manage the affair successfully. If I give the
-General’s notes to the Technical Committee, one of those sharp fellows on
-the Board will boast that he has made the discovery himself, and obtain
-all the credit for it. Unless he spoil the invention by absurd additions,
-which is at bottom a very likely thing. As for the commercial product, if
-I open my mouth before taking all necessary precautions, it will be
-stolen in an instant, and the General’s daughter will lose her fortune.
-For these reasons, and others, I do not intend to abandon the work I have
-begun.’
-
-“‘But you are risking your life?’
-
-“‘Is it so very precious? You spend your time in telling me I am a
-rascal, that I am ruining you, and shall bring your name into dishonour.
-Very good! You will be well rid of a guilty and unworthy son!’”
-
-Graff struck his hands against one another.
-
-“You see! That is the result of your harshness towards the poor child.
-How can you expect him to listen to you?”
-
-“Ah! Leave me alone!” exclaimed Baradier, pale with anguish, “I am
-sufficiently worried with all this! You do not intend to make me
-responsible for it, into the bargain! I love Marcel as well as you do!
-The only difference is that I am not always fawning on him and giving him
-money! We should have been in a fine state had you been the only one to
-set him an example! All you did was to encourage his evil inclinations!
-If he has done wrong, it is all your fault!”
-
-“Yes! I, who have set an example to him, and practised what I preached!”
-exclaimed Graff. “I being his evil genius, as everybody knows. Really,
-Baradier, I wonder if you have gone mad!”
-
-Baradier walked excitedly about the room, then, returning to his
-brother-in-law, placed his hand on his shoulder, and said in trembling
-tones—
-
-“You are right! I believe I am losing my senses. Pardon me, this anxiety
-has completely overwhelmed me. We have only Marcel, Graff. Think of what
-would become of us, if destiny willed it that—”
-
-Graff rose quickly from his seat.
-
-“Not another word! It is unlucky to predict disaster. We must not even
-admit that there is a disaster at all. Still, I cannot blame Marcel for
-doing what he considers his duty. Did he act otherwise, he would be
-neither a Baradier nor a Graff. He is acting very courageously. All the
-same we must keep watch over him, and defend him against his own folly.”
-
-At that moment, a knock was heard at the study door. Baradier went to
-open it, and seeing Baudoin on the threshold, said—
-
-“Ah! You have come at the right moment. First of all, tell us how things
-are going at the courts.”
-
-“Everything is at a standstill, sir. The examining magistrate can find
-nothing. The culprits have left a vacuum behind them.”
-
-“Well?”
-
-“Well, M. Mayeur, in despair, unable to arrest the criminals, is simply
-stopping all investigations, and shelving the affair.”
-
-“That’s a fine idea! Is it his own?”
-
-“No, sir.”
-
-“What fool could have suggested such a course?”
-
-“I did.”
-
-“I congratulate you. Now, the rascals who have killed your master,
-believing themselves sure of impunity, will recommence—”
-
-“I am relying on their doing so!”
-
-“But! Marcel? My son! What is to become of him? Have you even thought of
-such a thing?”
-
-“I have thought of nothing else. Here I am free. If you will allow me, I
-will leave Paris this very night, and be at Ars about midnight. The news
-of the affair being abandoned will not appear in the journals for a
-couple of days. I shall have organized my surveillance by that time. I
-promise you nothing shall happen to M. Marcel, or, at any rate, they will
-have to begin with me.”
-
-“Very reassuring!” growled Baradier. “But what can one do with such a
-madman as my son? He is in danger everywhere. Ah, the cursed powder! What
-need had Trémont to tell him of his inventions? If this explosive is as
-dangerous to those against whom it is used as it is to its inventors,
-there will be fine butcheries the next war.”
-
-Baudoin philosophically paid no heed to these paternal recriminations.
-
-He understood how correct they were, but could he do more than devote
-himself to the defence of him who might at any time, be so gravely
-threatened? When M. Baradier finally sat down, in consternation, Graff
-decided to speak in his turn.
-
-“After all,” he said, “as the wine is drawn, we must drink it. The thing
-to guard against is not to poison one’s self with it. Forewarned is
-forearmed. The situation is not the same as it was for the General. With
-a little prudence it will be easy to make everything turn out right.
-Patience brings all things about.”
-
-“Have you finished with your proverbs, which have no meaning whatever?”
-exclaimed Baradier, exasperated by his brother-in-law’s optimism.
-“Without so much palaver, all that is needed is to give Baudoin
-permission to summon the police in case he sees anything suspicious in
-Marcel’s surroundings. For my part, I have more confidence in armed might
-than in providence.”
-
-“If you are interrupting me to say such nonsense,” replied Graff, “you
-might have held your peace. Let Marcel work on. The sooner he has
-finished the sooner he will be out of danger. Until that time, Baudoin, I
-entrust him to your care.”
-
-“Do not be uneasy, Monsieur Graff. I will answer for him with my life.
-Besides, I am not trusting in myself alone. I am going to send for a
-companion, who in himself is worth a score of men. I need say no more.
-Trust to me.”
-
-“Yes, my brave fellow, I will trust to you,” said Baradier.
-
-“Very good,” said Baudoin, rubbing his hands. “Have you any message to
-send to M. Marcel?”
-
-“Tell him to be very careful; give him our best love, and ask him to
-think of us at times.”
-
-“By-the-bye, have you any money for the journey?”
-
-“I have all I need, sir, thank you. Your servant, sir. _Au revoir_!”
-
-Bowing, he left the room. Father and uncle remained behind, silent and
-grave, plunged in reverie. After a time Graff stood up and said—
-
-“Nothing ill will happen. Of that I am sure. I feel it. You know I am
-never mistaken. In business, every time we have had a loss I have always
-had a very clear intuition of it beforehand. Be assured, Baradier, we
-shall come out of it without loss or damage.”
-
-The anxious father replied—
-
-“Heaven grant you may be right! But so long as there is a woman in it I
-cannot be at rest concerning Marcel. Ah! if it were only you or I, there
-would be no danger. But this young madman!”
-
-“The oldest are not always the wisest. Look at Trémont.”
-
-“Well, well. It is all in God’s hands!”
-
-Holding out his hand to his brother-in-law—
-
-“We will have no more quarrels; they serve no useful purpose, and only
-cause us pain!”
-
-“Ah! Speak to me as harshly as you like!” exclaimed Graff, greatly moved.
-“It does not hurt me, and it relieves you! But be careful to say nothing
-to your wife. There is no occasion that she should worry herself about
-the matter.”
-
-They left the office, and, as they crossed the court they saw Baudoin,
-portmanteau in hand, starting off, with alert and happy step, for the
-station.
-
-
-
-
-PART II
-
-
-CHAPTER I
-
-
-ARS is a small town of six thousand inhabitants, a distance of four
-leagues from Troyes. On the manly declivities to the South stretch miles
-upon miles of vineyards. The mineral springs of Ars are distant half a
-mile from the town, on the road to Lusigny, as is also the thermal
-establishment.
-
-It was whilst engaged in sounding for ore, in land which did not contain
-the slightest trace of it, that M. Reverend, chief engineer, unexpectedly
-discovered the alkaline and chalybeate waters, rivalling those of
-Plombieres and of Aix. But, after all, Ars is too near Paris for patients
-to have confidence in the healing virtues of its springs. It is
-frequented only by people of limited income, and hotel-keepers who are
-not in the habit of fleecing travellers. Near the forest of Bossicant,
-close by, a few villas, almost lost amid the trees, are every year placed
-at the disposal of wealthy invalids. These are modest-looking, quiet
-houses, offering their peace-loving guests nothing but the smiling
-solitudes of the forest. The weaving and spinning mills belonging to
-Messrs. Baradier and Graff are situated on the Barse, the rapid current
-of which turns the dynamos, which supply both light and motive-power. The
-private residence is separated from the works by a large court-yard and a
-beautiful garden. The road to Vandoeuvre passes in front of the house,
-whilst, on the other side of the road, through meadows in which large
-numbers of cattle are grazing all the year round, runs the railroad, past
-Chaumont, right to the German frontier. Ars is an important working
-centre. The quarries and mines give work to a large proportion of the
-male population.
-
-Two hundred men, a hundred women, and a large number of children are
-employed at the works of Baradier and Graff. The manager of the
-establishment, M. Cardez, is a native of Lorraine, who came from Metz
-with his masters. He had married at Ars, and was now a widower with two
-grown-up sons, devoted to duty, and kind towards his workmen, but of a
-taciturn disposition, and ruling with almost military discipline. One of
-his sons is in the Army, the other assistant-manager in the works at La
-Barre.
-
-A very good fellow, on the whole, whom Marcel Baradier, from his
-childhood, had been in the disrespectful habit of calling “the bear.” The
-“bear” and Marcel could never understand one another. There was the same
-distance between them as between Pascal, the inventor of the
-wheel-barrow, and the workman whose duty it was to roll it along the
-highway. Marcel likes Cardez well enough, though he is fond of poking fun
-at him. Cardez is very respectful towards the son of his master, though
-he deplores his light-heartedness and frivolity. The two might live
-together for years without the slightest affinity being manifested
-between them. As Marcel says, with a smile, the one is negative, the
-other positive. Cardez is none too glad at Marcel settling down at the
-works, for his presence is a cause of trouble for the workmen. The
-master’s son is too ready to listen to their complaints, and discipline
-suffers in consequence. The military order no longer reigns, and Cardez,
-more bearish than ever, never ceases railing at what he calls “the
-encouragement given to the rebellious instincts of the workmen.”
-
-Marcel’s researches in the colouring of cloth leave the director
-sceptical. He considers there is no necessity to change a system which
-has succeeded so well for so many years. A dye-shed always seemed useless
-to him. The raw thread, which brought so ready a sale, was quite
-sufficient for their requirements. All these new inventions, costing so
-dear, only served, in his mind, to introduce an element of trouble into
-the working of a business already prosperous. The laboratory at the end
-of the garden, in an isolated pavilion, was the object of raillery on the
-part of the director, who called it “the Capernaum.”
-
-Since Marcel had come to settle at Ars, contrary to his usual habit, he
-scarcely ever appeared at the works. He shut himself up in the
-“Capernaum,” or went off in search of recreation, with a gun and his dog,
-into the forest of Bossicant. Baradier and Graff owned two hundred acres
-of waste land, very picturesque, and abounding in game. Certain of the
-uplands of Bossicant remind one of Scotland, in point of wild,
-picturesque view, dry, arid heather, and the clear freshness of the
-invigorating air.
-
-Half-way down the hollow rose a villa, in the form of a chalet, buried in
-the trees—a red spot in the midst of so much surrounding verdure. It was
-gloomy and silent, and almost always uninhabited, by reason of its
-distance from the town, and proximity to the wood. One morning, as he
-passed by this villa, Marcel was surprised to see that the shutters were
-down, and that a servant was busily sweeping in front of the door. She
-was rather elegantly dressed, and appeared to be a stranger in the
-district, doubtless attending to some invalid who had come to effect a
-cure. Marcel was not inquisitive, and went his way.
-
-It was three o’clock when he reached the plain, which he began to cross
-with careless steps. The movements of his dog, however, drew his
-attention. He slipped a couple of cartridges into his gun, and mounted to
-the side of the slope. After a moment’s interval, on climbing the
-opposite bank, Marcel saw a rabbit bent on reaching the open. He took
-aim, pulled the trigger, and the rabbit rolled over to the foot of the
-descent. The dog was not far away; he seized the dead animal by the back,
-and brought him to his master.
-
-Marcel relieved the dog, placed the game in a light bag he carried over
-his shoulder, uncocked his gun, and, considering that he had done enough
-damage for the time being, sat down on the sand, at the foot of a fir
-tree, and looked dreamily away at the distant forests in the east. A
-delightful torpor, induced by the dull silence of the woods, took
-possession of his body, whilst his more active thoughts, as though freed
-from all material bond, began to dwell on his past life. He saw again the
-house in the Rue de Provènce, in which his father and his uncle Graff had
-quarrelled so often about him; and his mother’s salon, where Amélie,
-seated near Mademoiselle de Trémont, dressed in deep black, was quietly
-working.
-
-Suddenly his reveries were interrupted by a bark of his dog. The
-pattering step of some animal or other made him turn his head, and there,
-close by, he saw a small terrier, no larger than his two fists, a silk
-ribbon tied in a knot round his neck, advancing in his direction. A
-little farther away, a woman, dressed in black, slowly followed. He had
-no time to examine the newcomer, for the little dog, with a furious yelp,
-leaped towards the other, with the unthinking audacity of a rat attacking
-a tiger. A gentle voice exclaimed, “Bob!” It was of no use. Marcel’s dog
-stood up against his tiny adversary, and rolled him over into the dust.
-
-“Bob! Oh, _Mon Dieu_!” exclaimed his mistress, anxiously, as she rushed
-to the spot.
-
-Marcel heard the cry, saw a pair of beautiful eyes, and, without waiting
-longer, bounded forth, and seized his dog by the skin of his neck,
-flinging him over on to the ground. Then, picking up the terrier, still
-panting with the shock, but quite uninjured, he exhibited him to the
-lady, with a smile—
-
-“Do not be anxious, madame; your savage little animal is safe and sound.
-Still, we were only just in time. Please excuse us, and take into account
-that we were not the aggressors.”
-
-The lady put the dog under her arm, gave him a gentle tap, saying, in
-scolding tones—
-
-“Oh! _Che bestia_! A fly trying to devour a wolf!”
-
-Marcel could now see her at leisure, as she was tenderly scolding her
-terrier, and he stood there, filled with admiration at the gentle beauty
-of the unknown lady. Her face was of a perfect oval, surrounded by golden
-hair; her dark eyes were languishing and gentle, whilst she had the
-chaste and timid mien of a young girl. All the same, she was dressed in
-mourning, like a widow. Fixing her eyes on Marcel, she said, in quiet,
-gracious accents—
-
-“A thousand thanks, sir, for your timely intervention. I am sorry for
-your poor dog, which did quite right in defending itself.”
-
-“There can be no comparison, madame,” said Marcel, “between this charming
-little animal of yours and this large-pawed dog of mine, accustomed to
-brambles and thorns. I am sorry I have stopped your walk, but now you may
-continue in perfect safety; I will chain up my dog.”
-
-The young woman bowed her head in token of thanks.
-
-“If I am trespassing on your property, I beg you to excuse me. I am a
-stranger, and have only been in these parts the last two days. I am
-acquainted with no one to inform me as to what I have a right to do.”
-
-“Here, madame, you may do as you please. Doubtless you are living at the
-Villa de la Cavée?”
-
-“Yes, sir.”
-
-“Then these woods are easily within your reach. There are very few
-passers-by, and you may come whenever you wish.”
-
-She murmured, in constrained accents, “A thousand thanks.”
-
-Thereupon she moved away at a slow pace. Marcel stood there motionless,
-unable to remove his eyes from the ravishing figure, now slowly
-disappearing from view. Then he whistled for his dog, stroked him gently,
-as though to atone for his rough treatment a few moments previously, and
-returned, in pensive mood, to the works. After dinner he strolled about
-the garden, smoking, till nine o’clock; then, completely tired out,
-retired to rest for the night.
-
-The following morning he spent all his time in the laboratory. Suddenly
-the door opened, and Baudoin appeared.
-
-“Holla! You here?” said the young man. “Has my father sent you?”
-
-“Yes, sir. I am requested by all the family to convey to you their best
-love. Besides, I have come to stay by your side.”
-
-“For what purpose?”
-
-“To be your servant.”
-
-“Very good, Baudoin; make yourself at home. Your presence will be very
-useful here, in making things go all right. The inhabitants of this
-district are fine people on the whole, but not over-intelligent.”
-
-“We will put all that in order for you.”
-
-He walked round the laboratory, looking attentively at the objects on the
-table, and the alembics, with their copper spirals, on the stove.
-
-“So it is here that you are working! Who arranges things in this
-laboratory?”
-
-“No one enters the place but myself.”
-
-“So I see. However, I will clean your utensils; I know how to go about
-it. Are you working at the General’s formulæ?”
-
-“Not yet; I have had other things to attend to. Still, I intend to
-commence shortly. I am very glad you have come, for you will be at hand,
-in case I want any help. See here, Baudoin, these are blue, pink, and
-green dyes which I have fixed lately. They are capable of giving wool an
-unchangeable colour.”
-
-As he spoke, he handled hanks of a strong and harmonious shade,
-stretching them out before the light of day, and showing all their
-reflections.
-
-“Our poor General put this idea into my head. Ah! if he had only
-contented himself with undertaking industrial researches, we should still
-have had him alive and well among us, and in possession of a large
-fortune. But he disdained such productive discoveries; he thought only of
-the State. He would work for nothing else.”
-
-“After serving it so long, M. Marcel, it was second nature with him.”
-
-“Well, well, Baudoin! Settle down here, and commence your duties this
-very night.”
-
-Marcel stayed behind in the laboratory, inactive, as though some dull
-preoccupation would give him no peace. _He_ sat down in a large leather
-armchair he had gaily baptized the “alchemist’s armchair,” and, with open
-window to allow the sun to enter, he sat there in a reverie, until five
-o’clock struck.
-
-He went down into the garden, walked past beds of rose-trees, and halted
-by the banks of the river, watching in the crystal waters a jack chasing
-a shoal of roaches, which, to escape the dreaded pursuit, leapt out of
-the water, like silver arrows. The clock at the entrance, as it struck,
-disturbed his thoughts, and he saw approaching him, and preceded by the
-porter, a tall, elegantly dressed young man, of very handsome features
-and blue eyes. As he drew near he took off his hat, bowed with
-considerable deference, and said, in a sing-song Italian accent—
-
-“Have I the pleasure of addressing M. Marcel Baradier?”
-
-“That is my name, sir,” said Marcel, examining the stranger with a sudden
-interest. “To what do I owe the honour of this visit!”
-
-The young man gave a sidelong glance to assure himself that the porter
-had left the room, then, in haughty tones, said—
-
-“As I have no one to present me, allow me to introduce myself. I am Count
-Cesare Agostini, of the Princes of Briviesca. I live at the Villa de la
-Cavée with my sister, and I have called to thank you for the kindness
-with which, yesterday, you—”
-
-“What I did, sir, was merely natural; it was quite by chance that I met
-your sister. She is a stranger in these parts, and appeared to be sad,
-and in search of rest and quiet. All I did was to simply comply with her
-wishes so far as I could.”
-
-Count Cesare bowed gracefully; a cloud came over his handsome face, and
-in accents of sadness he continued—
-
-“My sister is, indeed, very sad; she has had a great deal of trouble. She
-has spent her strength in attending to the needs of a husband far older
-than herself, and whom she had the misfortune to lose some time ago. With
-the object of regaining her health, she has come into this valley, to
-seek calm and quiet. The waters of Ars, too, have been well recommended
-to us. But it is chiefly fresh air my sister needs, after being confined
-for long months by the bedside of a dying man.”
-
-The handsome Italian several times shook his head, and said—
-
-“Oh, it is very sad, very sad indeed!”
-
-“And you have come from Italy with your sister?” asked Marcel.
-
-“No,” said Cesare. “Madame Vignola was living in Paris, where I have
-recently been to see her. We intend to return to Naples, and settle down.
-Not before autumn, however. Yes, it is very sad indeed!”
-
-Marcel saw that the Count Cesare did not appear to wish to take his
-leave, and, as he was interested in what he related, he led the way to a
-green arbour, with rustic seats, sheltered from the rays of the setting
-sun.
-
-“Will you take a seat, sir?”
-
-The Italian chose an armchair, and drew from his pocket a gold
-cigarette-case, which he held out to Marcel. “A cigarette?”
-
-“Willingly.”
-
-They began to smoke, and the tobacco seemed to render Cesare even more
-loquacious.
-
-“This villa where my sister now lives is far from the village. Is the
-country round here quite safe?”
-
-“Perfectly safe. Your sister will have nothing to fear from any one.”
-
-“All the better! I myself am not staying here long. My business takes me
-back to Paris, and the idea of leaving her alone with a chamber-maid and
-a servant-girl whom I do not know makes me very anxious, that I will not
-deny. Is Ars always so quiet as at present?”
-
-“Always, at this time of the year. The season begins in June, and it is
-now only April. In a few months the hotels will be filled, and the roads
-overrun by all the stage waggons in the district. That is the time I
-shall choose for going away.”
-
-“You do not stay here the whole year round?”
-
-“No; I only call here at rare intervals. My home is at Paris; I am at Ars
-on business.”
-
-“Your works are very large?”
-
-“One of the largest in the department. My grandfather founded the
-industry. It is the cradle of our family and the source of our fortune.
-Accordingly, my father, who is a banker, could never make up his mind to
-give it up, although he has far greater interests in other enterprises.”
-
-“I see he has trusted to you the responsibility of managing the works.”
-
-“Oh no. My father is represented by a director. I am simply the master’s
-son, and interfere in no way with the weaving. Here I have a laboratory,
-in which I undertake chemical experiments. But all the people in this
-district will tell you that I am an amateur, anything but serious, and
-that I spend more money on experiments than my pretended discoveries will
-ever bring me.”
-
-As he spoke he laughed gaily. The handsome Italian joined, and said, in
-his sing-song voice—
-
-“Rich men’s eldest sons are always ill-judged. When one is wealthy it is
-extremely difficult to get one’s self considered as a serious worker.
-Because one has no need of money, people are only too ready to conclude
-that one is incapable of earning any. And yet, why should not a rich man
-be a genius?”
-
-“Ah, sir, then what would become of other poor wretches?”
-
-“So you pretend, yourself,” said the Count, with a graceful wave of the
-hand, “to despise these investigations, though they probably interest you
-greatly?”
-
-“Almost as much as the experiments of a dyer. I have woollen stuffs
-steeped in coloured vats, and I try to fix the tints indelibly, so that
-the stuff sold in future will not become discoloured under the influence
-of either light, rain, or wind. The tapestries placed on furniture or
-walls, nowadays, are scarcely in their places than they have to be taken
-down—they are already quite faded. All the same, the stuffs of former
-times lasted, and exist even now. Our ancestors were in possession of
-dyeing processes superior to ours, and yet modern chemistry offers us
-mighty resources. That is what I am working at, sir. It is very
-commonplace, as you see.”
-
-“Evidently, it is not the philosopher’s stone! Still, all researches have
-their value. Have you obtained satisfactory results?”
-
-Marcel bowed in mock humility.
-
-“You are very polite, sir, but you wish to take advantage of my vanity.
-Inventors always like to speak of their investigations, you are thinking;
-and I wish to repay this gentleman for the kindness he has shown my
-sister. But it would doubtless serve you right if I bored you with my
-discoveries, took your curiosity seriously, and showed you my samples.”
-
-The Italian bent down his head, and, in contrite tones, said—
-
-“I am indeed sorry you imagined I was not sincere. All you have told me
-interests me greatly. Doubtless I am not so frivolous as your
-compatriots, and since you appear to defy me examining your results, with
-satisfaction to myself, I now ask you to have the kindness to show me
-them, unless you were joking, in which case I should not have understood
-you, as I do not always seize all the finesse of your language. In which
-case I must ask you to pardon me.”
-
-“Indeed, I was not jesting; I was perfectly serious,” said Marcel, gaily.
-“I still believe you will be punished for your curiosity. But since you
-insist, follow me; I will show you my laboratory.”
-
-“Many thanks!” exclaimed Cesare. “I was afraid I should vex you.”
-
-“In what way? You would believe in the most marvellous things, did I not
-show you my poor results. Take care not to soil yourself; everything here
-is not perfectly clean.”
-
-Opening the door of the summer-house, he introduced the Count into the
-panelled room, leading to the laboratory, and which he used as a
-workroom. A blush mounted to Cesare’s temples. He looked eagerly around.
-On a Louis XVI. bureau, leaning against the wall, were scattered some
-papers covered with figures. A half-opened drawer exhibited boxes of
-different sizes and colours, carefully labelled. A massive table
-supported wide-mouthed jars, on the rough glass of which could be read
-the indications: sulphuric acid, nitro-benzine, picric acid, and a whole
-series of chlorates. The Italian, pointing to the table, said—
-
-“Ah! Here are some chemicals you do not make use of for your dyes!”
-
-“No,” said Marcel, evasively; “those are for something else.”
-
-And, as his visitor drew near, stretching out his hand towards one of the
-wide-mouthed jars—
-
-“Do not touch these jars—they are dangerous. If, by any chance, you were
-to upset the contents, both yourself and myself might find ourselves in a
-very disagreeable position. Come this way!”
-
-Opening the door of the laboratory, he bade him take a seat in the
-alchemist’s armchair, by the window, as he said—
-
-“Here you may smoke, if you like, without danger; there is nothing
-explosive here.”
-
-“Whilst in the next room?” asked the Italian, carelessly.
-
-“In the next room, if you threw down a match in the wrong place, you
-might explode the whole works!”
-
-“Diavolo! Then I will stop smoking even here, my dear sir, for I have no
-wish to leave the place by way of the roof.”
-
-He patiently examined Marcel’s fine samples of dyed wool. Apparently he
-was listening attentively, but his awakened intelligence, his piercing
-eyes under his half-closed eyelids were busied with that “something
-else,” of which Marcel had spoken so briefly. But nothing in the
-laboratory appeared to have any reference to that mysterious task, which
-demanded the manipulation of such dangerous products.
-
-“I should like you,” said the Italian, “to give me some of these
-beautiful cloths, of such a rich and harmonious colouring. I will take
-them to my sister, who can embroider like a fairy. She will start some
-magnificent piece of work, which will sooth her solitude, and thus you
-will see the effect of your colours, artistically employed.”
-
-“If you will permit me, I will bring them myself,” said Marcel.
-
-“As you please. We are always at home about five o’clock. But do not
-delay, for I shall soon be leaving the neighbourhood.”
-
-“Very well! To-morrow, if that will not inconvenience you?”
-
-“Not at all. To-morrow, then.”
-
-The Italian rose from his seat. He walked round the laboratory, and drew
-near the window overlooking the river.
-
-“Ah! You are close to the water here. You might even fish from the
-window, without descending into the garden. Are you not afraid of some
-one entering the laboratory? A few marauders in a boat could enter the
-summer-house.”
-
-“Who would ever think of such a thing!” exclaimed Marcel. “Besides, as is
-well known, there is nothing to take. And, then, the inhabitants of this
-district are very honest people.”
-
-“But have you no foreign employees at the works?”
-
-“Very seldom. A few from Belgium or from Luxembourg. As few as possible,
-for they are difficult to deal with.”
-
-“You do not live in this summer-house? You never sleep here?”
-
-“No; there is no convenience—simply a barn above the ground floor, that
-is all. I live in the house opposite the manager’s. It is small, but very
-comfortable. My uncle Graff lived there several months.”
-
-“You are very fortunate to have family relations,” said Cesare, in
-sorrowful tones. “My sister and I are alone—private dissensions have
-alienated us from the Briviescas. M. Vignola had no relations. We are
-obliged to be all in all to one another.”
-
-“Your sister is a young and charming lady. She may marry again.”
-
-“She never thinks of it. After all the sorrow caused by her union with M.
-Vignola, she aspires after nothing but peace and rest. Oh, she has
-suffered so much! The diseased and unhappy Vignola was madly jealous. He.
-could not endure his wife to be absent from him a single hour. He must
-have her constantly before his eyes. He left her a great fortune at his
-death. Poor compensation for all the tortures he inflicted on her! But
-now he is dead. Peace to his memory!”
-
-“Your sister has no children?”
-
-“No, sir; that is her greatest sorrow.”
-
-The image of the young woman, in deep mourning, walking sorrowfully about
-the woods, was evoked in Marcel’s imagination. Very pretty to be
-inconsolate at the loss of an old husband! How old could she be?
-Twenty-five years, perhaps, at the most, and no knowledge of life except
-grief and sadness. Cesare arose, and took his leave. Marcel accompanied
-him across the garden to the gate, and there said, with a cordial smile—
-
-“Till to-morrow, then, sir, my respectful homage to your sister.”
-
-When he had gone, Marcel made his way towards the works, when he saw M.
-Cardez coming in his direction, even redder than usual, and with a dark
-frown on his brow.
-
-“Ah, M. Marcel, I was calling to see you! I have a great deal of worry,
-and am indeed very pleased that you are here, so that you may understand
-yourself, and inform Messieurs Baradier and Graff.”
-
-“What is the matter?”
-
-“The fact is, the dyers are not pleased with their working hours, and
-threaten to come out on strike.”
-
-“Ah! That is something fresh.”
-
-“Fresh? No, it has been coming on for more than three weeks; the plot has
-only been developing. I was in hopes that, summer coming on, and the
-hours of daylight being more numerous, some arrangement might be reached.
-Now there is another cause of grievance. Instead of working more, they
-want to work less and earn more!”
-
-“Ah! Are their claims justified?”
-
-The manager, standing upright, cast a look of indignation on the son of
-his master.
-
-“Are workmen’s claims ever justified? This class of people have only one
-programme: the minimum of work and the maximum of wages.”
-
-“After all,” said Marcel, calmly, “they are only like other men.”
-
-“Ah, sir, let their ringleaders talk in that way; do not speak so
-yourself.”
-
-“Why not?”
-
-“Because, with philanthropic theories, and _laisser-aller_ tendencies, we
-should soon be no longer masters of our own works; they would put us out
-of doors.”
-
-Marcel looked gravely at the manager, and replied—
-
-“My opinion is entirely opposed to yours. I think that if workmen were
-treated as partners they would work better and keep better discipline.
-There is a huge misunderstanding between Capital and Labour. They treat
-one another as enemies, when they ought to proceed in concerted action,
-like allies.”
-
-“Eh? That is downright Socialism.”
-
-“No! It is simply co-operation.”
-
-“And do you know,” said Cardez, looking slily at Marcel, “what is the
-principal reason of the discontent of the dyers?”
-
-“The principal reason? Then the grievances they have manifested are only
-a pretext?”
-
-“Nothing more. These workmen, in whose lot you are so interested, are
-full of deceit and treachery; they never show their real motives. Well,
-the dyers, in their secret meetings, rail at your inventions—they are
-displeased with your new dyeing processes!”
-
-“Ah! The fools!”
-
-An expression of triumph appeared on Cardez’s ill-tempered face.
-
-“What did I tell you! Here are processes they are not yet acquainted
-with; and they maintain that your object is to simplify the workmanship,
-and, consequently, to do without workmen. Now they want to strike, to
-obtain concessions regarding both work and wages.”
-
-“They have been ill-advised. When the real state of things is explained
-they will easily understand. Then they will see that, far from injuring
-them, the improvements I shall introduce into the manufacture are
-entirely to their advantage.”
-
-“They will never admit that.”
-
-“Suppose I prove it to them?”
-
-“Their ringleaders will prove the contrary.”
-
-“Who are these ringleaders?”
-
-“A few Belgians.”
-
-“Send them away.”
-
-“Ah, that would be very imprudent! Better have patience, and try to come
-to an understanding. These men are from the Wallon district, and when
-they have drunk one glass of brandy too many you may fear anything at
-their hands. It was one of these Belgians who struck the overseer with a
-knife last year. They are good workmen, but terribly exacting and
-disagreeable. There is nothing to fear for the present. They want an eye
-keeping on them. Now, if you would like to call them together and speak
-to them, you will see what you can make of the matter.”
-
-He spoke in sneering tones. Marcel well understood that the manager,
-speaking from experience, was thinking: Have a little experience of these
-brutes, my young novice, and you will learn to know them. Speak to them
-nicely, explaining that it is to their advantage to work without
-grumbling, so that you may have a fine profit at the year’s end, whilst
-they have had the greatest difficulty to make ends meet. Try to obtain
-their approval. Afterwards, come and tell me what result you have
-obtained. Unless you give them the works, and capital to keep it going,
-perhaps even guaranteeing them dividends, you will never make them
-satisfied!
-
-Marcel would not discuss any longer with Cardez. He did not consider it
-necessary to weaken the authority of the manager at such a critical
-moment. He determined to give him all possible help to avoid the
-difficulties he foresaw.
-
-“You may be sure, M. Cardez, that if I can do anything to help you, you
-have only to mention it. It is possible we may not have the same ideas on
-the way of settling Labour difficulties. Still, it is of no use waiting
-till the house is on fire before discussing the fire-brigade system by
-which the conflagration may most surely be extinguished. The best thing
-to do is to use the means nearest at hand. Consequently, do as you think
-best. Have you informed my father of the matter?”
-
-“No; indeed, I am not in the habit of tormenting _my_ masters with an
-account of the difficulties of the works here. There will be plenty of
-time, in case things become more serious.”
-
-“Very good; we will wait.”
-
-At that hour the Count Cesare Agostini reached the Villa de la Cavée, and
-after traversing the garden he entered a small salon on the ground floor,
-where the young lady, in mourning, lolling on an easy-chair, was lazily
-reading a novel. The setting sun, entering through the window, shed his
-golden rays on the reader’s face. She was no longer the melancholy and
-timid widow Marcel had met in the woods. Her hair, thrown back on to her
-forehead, gave her delicate profile a look of audacious pride. On hearing
-Cesare enter the room, she flung down her book, rose eagerly to her feet,
-and, in joyous tones, said—
-
-“Well, _caro mio_, you are back at last! Are you satisfied with your
-mission?”
-
-“As far as one can be. I have seen your pigeon. He actually holds out the
-wing, without being asked. You will obtain no merit in plucking such a
-confiding youth, Sophia.”
-
-She laughed outright.
-
-“Never mind merit! I can do without glory. Success will suffice for me.
-So you found the ground well prepared?”
-
-“I am afraid distractions are sadly lacking in this district, and that
-our appearance in the woods has already produced its effect on Marcel.”
-
-“Then he will come?”
-
-“Yes; and not later than to-morrow. I told him I was going away.
-Consequently you will have the field free to do as you please. Do not let
-this affair lag; you have your revenge to take.”
-
-“Ah, _mio caro_, the _coup_ missed the first time, all through Hans’
-stupid obstinacy. Had he left me to act as I pleased, the General would
-finally have offered me his formulæ on a silver plate, and kneeling into
-the bargain. Hans wished to rush everything through, and old Trémont,
-infatuated as he was, became distrustful. Sorry adventure, in which our
-friend lost his arm, and almost all of us just missed being compromised.
-The most stupid part of it was that the General had said to Hans, as he
-pointed out to him the steel box—a fine box of Fichet’s, supplied with
-one of those admirable locks, so very complicated, but which are of no
-use whatever: ‘Look here, my friend, it is impossible to open this
-without my permission. All my secrets are inside. On raising this lid all
-my formula would be found. But then one must know how to do it; otherwise
-one may die in the attempt.’ Ah, ah! Old Trémont spoke the truth! He had
-made his box into a kind of reversing bomb. One must know how to handle
-it. Hans perceived the necessity of this. All the same, he distrusted
-himself. He had taken the precaution to go out on to the perron of the
-house, and there he tried to open the box. Ah, _caro mio_, when the
-explosion took place the very earth trembled! I had already returned to
-Paris in the carriage. The vibration was so great that the very windows
-of the brougham shook. I thought to myself: There, Hans has smashed up
-everything! I had no idea I was so near the truth, for the house was
-entirely destroyed. I cannot possibly understand how Hans, who had
-succeeded in opening the lock of the box, and who, lying on the ground a
-score of yards away, behind a tree, drew off the lid with a cord, justly
-dreading some devilish trick or other, was not completely blown to
-pieces.”
-
-“But since the lock was opened, how was the explosion produced?”
-
-“It was when the lid was raised that the explosion happened. Did the box
-overturn? It was a very heavy one. Was there some special manner of
-placing it, when removing the lid, to prevent a prime of fulminate going
-off? Was it clock-work, arranged in a certain manner? All is mere
-conjecture. What is certain enough is that, in a second, box, formulæ,
-powders, house, Hans’ arm, and all our hopes disappeared at the same
-time. Our friend must have shown extraordinary energy not to have been
-surprised by all the people who came running up from all directions. You
-may believe me when I say that, so long as I was not assured that he was
-out of danger, I felt very anxious.”
-
-“Ah, you are an intelligent woman, Sophia—really clever and brave! Now we
-must make amends for a preliminary defeat, and nonplus this young booby
-of a Marcel.”
-
-“Just leave the matter to me. He seemed a very nice young fellow.”
-
-“You are right; but don’t go and fall in love with him, whatever you do.”
-
-She burst into a laugh.
-
-“I have other things to attend to. Besides, Cesare, is it so easy to find
-a rival to yourself?”
-
-The handsome Italian shook his head.
-
-“You are so strange, Sophia, whatever is difficult is the very thing to
-tempt you.”
-
-“A scene of jealousy between you and me, Cesare!” said Sophia,
-ironically. “Do we not know one another well enough to be _blasés_ as
-regards our mutual qualities and failings? Shall I be jealous, the day I
-have married you to Lichtenbach’s wealthy daughter? Just close your eyes,
-and leave me free to act. Besides, if you acted otherwise, that would be
-all of no use. You are well aware that I have never done anything that
-did not please me, even with personages far more redoubtable than
-yourself.”
-
-“Come, come, Sophia, do not get excited! If I do not stop you, you will
-be threatening me in a minute. Ah, you have a will of iron!”
-
-“Yes; and just now it is my will to completely subjugate this young
-Baradier.”
-
-“Poor fellow, you will succeed only too easily!”
-
-“Ah! Now you are going to pity him, are you?”
-
-They both laughed outright. Then the young woman asked—
-
-“Have you visited the dwelling?”
-
-“Yes. I have also obtained an entrance into the laboratory without the
-slightest effort.”
-
-“Did you see anything special?”
-
-“A number of spiders’ webs, several broken phials, and tubs of various
-colours, in which pieces of cloth were soaking.”
-
-“Nothing resembling the powders we are in search of?”
-
-“Nothing whatever. I must say that, in one of the rooms of the
-summer-house, the young man charitably warned me that if I touched a
-single one of the flagons lying on the table some catastrophe might
-result. Accordingly, it is there he manipulates his products, or, at any
-rate, conceals them. In the next room there is nothing suspicious. He
-said to me: ‘Here you may smoke, if you like, and that without the
-slightest danger.’”
-
-“That is worth knowing.”
-
-“Do you think of going to see him?”
-
-“I think of nothing and of everything. Does one ever know what means will
-have to be employed in the performance of anything? Wisdom consists in
-preparing several, so as not to be caught unexpectedly. I have undertaken
-to obtain possession of and hand over the formulæ of the General de
-Trémont. For me, it is a matter of self-respect, as well as a question of
-interest. I will not admit that I cannot succeed in anything I undertake.
-Our friends abroad would consider me as having depreciated in ability if
-I failed, and you know what their support is worth to me. So long as my
-influence lasts, the Baron Grodsko will remain aloof, and not trouble
-about me. If my protection were to cease to-morrow, Heaven knows what
-sort of account I should have to give him!”
-
-Cesare looked at the young woman in surprise.
-
-“Ah! You are almost overcome with emotion. Are you afraid of him?”
-
-Sophia became serious.
-
-“I am afraid of no one in the world, as you know. Still, Grodsko is a
-terrible man, especially when he is not drunk.”
-
-“But then he is always drinking. Is it because he likes drink?”
-
-“No! It is to forget,”
-
-“Forget what? You?”
-
-“Perhaps.”
-
-“He was passionately fond of you, I suppose?”
-
-“So were all the other men.”
-
-“Is it long since you saw him?”
-
-“Some years.”
-
-“And he is still at Monte Carlo?”
-
-“In the winter. During the summer he lives at Vienna.”
-
-“And he drinks both at Monte Carlo and in Vienna?”
-
-“Yes, and gambles as well. He has a way of drinking which leaves his
-brain perfectly clear, so that he is able to play.”
-
-“Does he win?”
-
-“Often. But then, what does that matter to him?”
-
-“Then he is so rich that he is indifferent to his winnings? Lucky man!”
-
-“Grodsko is proprietor of a whole district in Moravia. He owns forests,
-mountains, and villages. His forests furnish the finest pines in Europe.
-The mountains are bored through and through with mines from which copper
-and tin are extracted. As for villages, Grodsko, with the peasants on his
-domains, could, in case of war, furnish a couple of regiments.”
-
-“And you left this nabob?”
-
-“Yes, for a young man, who had nothing but his beauty to recommend him.”
-
-“What did Grodsko say to that?”
-
-“He said nothing, he set out in our pursuit, overtook us, and killed my
-companion.”
-
-“Whilst you?”
-
-“I had reached the frontier when Grodsko came up to me.”
-
-“And there followed—”
-
-“An explanation, in the course of which, as he dared to raise his hand
-against me, I planted in his arm one of the knives lying on the table, on
-which I had just finished lunch.”
-
-“What exquisite relations you had with one another! And did that satisfy
-him?”
-
-“No. He bound me with cords and took me back to Vienna in his carriage.
-There I succeeded in escaping from him, thanks to certain irresistible
-influences. It cost me very dear to regain my liberty. Still, from that
-day I had no longer anything to fear, and could travel all over the world
-as I pleased.”
-
-“What was the name of the great personage who rendered you this service?”
-
-Sophia looked at the handsome Italian mockingly; she clacked her fingers
-as though they were castanets, and replied—
-
-“If any one asks you, you will say you know nothing about it?”
-
-“Then you have no confidence in me, Sophia?”
-
-“I have confidence in no one, scarcely in myself. Acknowledge that I am
-frank with you. I might tell you all kinds of tales—that it was the
-minister of police, or an archduke, or a foreign ambassador, or all three
-combined, who set me free. Be assured, all the same, that I have
-contracted obligations towards those who served me, and whom I am serving
-in my turn.”
-
-“Whatever obligations you are under to them, they have done a very good
-stroke of business in obtaining such an ally as yourself. Is there
-another so good in the whole world? You have the genius of corruption,
-and I do not think there is a conscience anywhere strong enough to resist
-you. If seductive charm is needed, you will succeed in everything you
-undertake. Ah, your power is indeed very great and terrible!”
-
-Sophia smiled bitterly, she raised her head, and her countenance assumed
-a threatening expression.
-
-“All my power consists in my scorn of humanity. I believe men are capable
-of everything. The sole question is to find the way to make them act. I
-have seen men, though heroes in the face of death, turn pale and
-trembling at the idea of being deprived of their pleasures. The most
-rigid from the point of view of honour, brought into contact with
-poverty, become accessible to the basest compromises. To turn an honest
-man into a thief, all that is needed is a woman’s smile. To make the
-mildest of men shed the blood of another, you need simply arouse his
-jealousy. These poor wretches who people the earth act, and are
-unconscious of the influence inspiring them. Men are like puppets, the
-strings of which are held by firm, audacious hands, whilst they
-accomplish the most sublime or the most infamous actions at will. And all
-this, merely through some favourable or perverse influence, a string
-pulled on one side or the other. And man, irresponsible agent of a
-destiny he is unable to modify, is treated as a hero or a brigand,
-carried aloft in triumph or flung into the gutter.”
-
-“But virtue, Sophia, the love of right?”
-
-“Mere accidents, my friend. Do not make them into general rules. The
-majority of people are virtuous because they have never had the
-opportunity of being rascals. But have no doubt that they would have
-been, and very successful ones, with the greatest ease. The human soul,
-Cesare, is a ground ready prepared for vice and crime. It is simply a
-question of what seed you intend to sow there. Very well! I am a sower,
-as you have said. I excel in growing the fruit of corruption. Young
-Marcel Baradier is now going to be my experiment field.”
-
-“Great good may it do him!”
-
-“Had he been content with the profession of a banker, or the business of
-a cotton manufacturer, nothing of what is now being prepared would have
-happened; he would have lived a happy, quiet life. But he has dabbled in
-chemistry, and that has spoiled everything.”
-
-The sun had sunk behind the hill, and the small room was quite dark.
-Sophia and Cesare could no longer distinguish one another. At last the
-young woman arose from her seat, and said—
-
-“Come, we have had sufficient philosophy. What does all that prove? They
-are nothing but mere words. Fortune does not come to those who speak, but
-to those who act.”
-
-
-
-CHAPTER II
-
-
-AFTER Baudoin had been a fortnight at the works, he was astonished to
-find that Marcel had passed from a state of perfect calm to one of
-extreme agitation. The young man, who spent the greater part of his time
-in the summer-house, either working or indulging in day-dreams, had
-suddenly begun to leave the laboratory after lunch, and did not return
-before night set in. A more significant fact was that Marcel’s appearance
-had changed as well as his habits. Instead of a country costume—soft felt
-hat and heavy shoes—a quiet, refined elegance now characterized him. The
-expression of his countenance, too, was far different from the one he had
-assumed previously; his eyes shone more brightly, even his voice sounded
-more vibrating. Baudoin thought, “There is a woman at the bottom of all
-this.”
-
-He had had experience when with the General de Trémont, and was well
-acquainted with that tension of the nerves which enters into the
-slightest movements. He knew the meaning of that satisfied little humming
-and that firm step on the floor, of conquering though feverish sound.
-There was a woman at the bottom of it, without the slightest doubt.
-Baudoin felt anxious. In that quiet country district, how had his master
-found the opportunity of falling into a passion? He instituted a discreet
-inquiry.
-
-He had made the acquaintance of the landlord of the Golden Lion, the
-principal hotel of Ars, a former cook, who had served in the Army, and
-proudly wore at his buttonhole, on Sundays, a blue and yellow ribbon,
-brought from Tonkin. Whilst drinking a bitter, Baudoin chatted with him,
-and listened to all the local gossip he retailed. He questioned him: Were
-there any strangers in the district? Did his hotel contain any fresh
-arrivals? Had any fair ladies been seen lately in the town?
-
-All these questions received categoric replies. No one staying with him
-or anywhere in Ars could be suspected by any stretch of imagination of
-having disturbed Marcel’s peace of mind. The only thing to do was to make
-inquiries in the outskirts.
-
-“A young gentleman and a young lady,” said the landlord, “are staying at
-the Villa de la Cavée. But they are in mourning, and never visit the
-town, but live in very retired fashion. They have hired carriages on
-three occasions, for driving in the environs. The young lady has never
-shown herself at Ars, and I could not say whether she is pretty or ugly.
-My coachman, who drove them, said that they look very sad, and speak very
-politely to one another. He thinks they are brother and sister. At any
-rate, they are not French.”
-
-Baudoin could obtain nothing more. This, however, was quite sufficient,
-and he determined to secretly watch his master, to try to find out the
-object of his walks. The fact that the young Jady was very sorrowful and
-in mourning seemed no reason to him why his master should not fall in
-love with her. On the contrary; besides, he had an instinctive distrust
-of foreigners who passed as brother and sister.
-
-The following day, his friend of the Golden Lion said to him—
-
-“I have some news for you regarding the people at the villa. The young
-man left this morning. He was driven to the railway, and is going to
-Paris; his luggage was registered by the coachman. The young lady is now
-alone.”
-
-That evening Baudoin noticed that his master returned home later than
-usual, and on the coat he flung off he discovered small pieces of moss,
-as though Marcel had been seated in the woods. The following day, about
-two o’clock, the young man went out as usual. Baudoin, who had made
-arrangements to keep a watch on him, starting out before him, waited for
-him at the bottom of the Cavée, to make certain that he had proceeded in
-that direction. Seated under the arbour of an inn, close to the town, he
-did not lose sight of the Ars road, which mounts towards the woods of
-Bossicant. After waiting half an hour, he saw Marcel, wearing a grey
-suit, and with a new straw hat on his head, come along, at a brisk pace,
-his stick under his arm, and his face lit up with pleasure.
-
-“Ah, my friend,” said Baudoin to himself, “you are on the way to meet
-your lady-love! You would not be stepping out at such a brisk pace were
-your mission merely to gather herbs on the hills.”
-
-He allowed the young man to go on ahead, then he followed him with
-infinite precautions. Marcel was, indeed, going in the direction of the
-villa. Since he had been introduced to Madame Vignola, the whole tenor of
-his life had changed. He no longer thought either of chemistry, of the
-works, or even of his family. There was nothing in the world for him
-except the ravishing Italian. Could his uncle Graff have seen him, he
-would have said, “Ah, caught again! He has lost his head and his heart
-once more!” The fact was, he well knew that feverish state, which
-rendered Marcel incapable of thinking of anything else than his
-inamorata, and capable of the greatest acts of madness in the pursuit.
-
-But the special sign of love with this inflammable young fellow was the
-reasoning rigour with which he pursued the conquest of the loved one. He
-was an engineer and a mathematician even in his passion, neglecting
-nothing, and profiting by everything to advance his cause, and the court
-he paid was a veritable siege.
-
-Madame Vignola had only needed half a day, spent with Marcel, in her
-brother’s presence, to obtain sole possession of the young man’s mind.
-She had shown herself so charming and modest, and so cajoling, and
-chaste, that Cesare, who was, all the same, well aware what this
-remarkable actress was capable of, was quite stupefied at the result. The
-art of deception reaching such a stage of perfection became real genius.
-In dilettante fashion the handsome Italian had followed the progressive
-phases of his pretended sister’s manoeuvring. The two hours Marcel had
-passed at the villa had sped away like a flash of lightning. And the
-young swain, already love-smitten, had been obliged to retire, when he
-thought he had only been there a few moments.
-
-True, Madame Vignola, at her brother’s request, had seated herself at the
-piano, and, with penetrating and expressive tones, had sung a few
-Dalmatian airs in true artistic style. Marcel, an excellent musician
-himself, had accompanied the young woman, and afterwards offered some
-musical scores he kept at Ars as a distraction for the solitary evenings
-he often spent there. At his earnest request, Cesare had postponed his
-departure, and the following afternoon had been spent in the woods of
-Bossicant wandering along the narrow alleys, breathing the keen fresh air
-of the plain, and chatting in friendly fashion. That evening Cesare had
-pointed with a smile to his sister’s animated and healthy looking
-countenance, saying to Marcel—
-
-“You see what good it does her to have change and distraction. You would
-scarcely take her to be the same person. Ah! If only she could forget her
-grief every day in the same way, her usual health and good spirits would
-quickly come back.”
-
-“Then stay on; why should you go away?” asked Marcel.
-
-“Ah! It is not I who can give her the distraction she needs,” said the
-handsome Italian, heedlessly.
-
-A moment later he appeared to regret having spoken so frankly.
-
-“It is much easier for strangers, you see, than for intimates to obtain a
-fortunate change in the dispositions of people who suffer.”
-
-“But your sister is not suffering! Look with what an alert and supple
-step she is walking there, in front of us.”
-
-“Yes; but just now her nerves sustain her. This very night she will
-relapse into a feeling of melancholy, and be completely prostrated. I
-shall not be able to draw a single word from her.”
-
-“If you would authorize me to call and see her, and she also would permit
-me, I should find great pleasure in her company.”
-
-The Italian grasped Marcel effusively by the hand.
-
-“I do not know how to thank you for your kindness. But it would be
-expecting too much from you. Poor Anetta would quickly tire out your
-patience. She is a capricious child. You do not know her yet.”
-
-They had no opportunity to continue, for Madame Vignola turned towards
-them a questioning look, which asked—
-
-“What are you two plotting there?”
-
-“Count Cesare, madame, is handing over to me his authority over you
-during his absence,” said Marcel, gaily. “He is making me responsible for
-your state of mind. Accordingly, from to-morrow, I am in charge of your
-good or bad temper. But you must be willing to put up with my tyranny.”
-
-Her countenance became grave; in low but fascinating tones she said—
-
-“Yes, he is right. You must not leave me. When I am alone all kinds of
-gloomy thoughts come into my head. Be a friend to me. Cesare will not be
-long away, and then we will resume our walks in the woods. Until then,
-call for me at the villa; you will always be welcome.”
-
-Count Agostini had left, and Marcel, by invitation, was now calling at
-the Cavée. The nearer he drew the faster became his pace, and his temples
-were quite flushed. On reaching the villa he suddenly slackened his
-steps, for he had heard Madame Vignola’s voice. She was alone in the
-salon, the windows were open, and the passionate melody, in which both
-art and sentiment were wonderfully blended, had filled Marcel’s soul with
-a keen jealousy. It was the “Gipsies’ Cantilena,” by Marackzy, the great
-Hungarian artist, who died of grief when in full possession of his genius
-and glory—
-
-    “Viens sur ma levre parfumée,
-    Rose fremissante et pamée,
-    Trempée encore des pleurs d’amour,
-    Cueillir le baiser, dont la flamme
-    Fera de mon cœur a ton âme
-    Jaillir. . . . ”
-
-The song stopped suddenly, as though the voice were broken by sobs. It
-seemed to Marcel that the singer’s very heart had broken under the
-influence of some mysterious grief. Unable to contain himself, he rushed
-through the garden, and reached the salon. Madame Vignola was still
-seated at the piano. She was weeping bitterly, her beautiful pale face
-leaning on her hand. At the sight Marcel gave a cry of pain, which made
-the young woman suddenly look up. Holding out her hand to Marcel,
-apparently ashamed at being thus surprised, she said—
-
-“Pardon me. I ought never to sing when I am alone. These harmonious
-strains agitate me, and recall to my mind souvenirs that are too
-painful.”
-
-“_Mon Dieu_! What is the matter? Have confidence in me.”
-
-“No, no! Do not ask me.”
-
-Closing the piano, and summoning a smile to her face, she said—
-
-“Let us talk about you, not about me.”
-
-She looked at Marcel, and said, in tones of affectionate reproof—
-
-“How warm you are! You have been walking too fast, and the hill is so
-steep! It will be my turn to scold if you do not act sensibly. Now come
-out into the garden.”
-
-He quietly followed her. They walked along the small alleys of the tiny
-garden, then seated themselves under the shade of the blossoming lilacs,
-where they entered into a chat, talking of everything except of what they
-really thought.
-
-On the road, Baudoin had not lost sight of his master. When Marcel had
-entered the villa the servant had approached with considerable
-precaution. Madame Vignola’s singing had stopped as soon as Marcel
-appeared, so that Baudoin had heard nothing. He took good care not to
-pass in front of the door, but followed a footpath along the wall which
-continued in the direction of the wood, along a high copse crowned with
-large trees. On reaching the thicket he climbed the slope, and, concealed
-behind a bush, was able to catch a glimpse of the garden. The lilacs,
-under which Anetta and Marcel were chatting, grew at the foot of the
-mound which Baudoin had chosen as his observatory. There they were,
-seated with their backs towards him, about thirty yards away.
-
-Baudoin reflected. Who can this woman dressed in black be? She looks
-young, and of very good figure. Marcel loses no time once he sets out on
-a campaign. But perhaps all preliminaries have been facilitated for him?
-What is this young stranger doing here, and what interest is it of hers
-to place herself in immediate communication with M. Marcel? What are they
-speaking of, there, under my very eyes? Certainly it cannot be business.
-Then love must be the bait at the end of the line. The hook is well
-concealed, and will appear at the right moment.
-
-During this monologue the two friends continued their conversation. They
-sat there, near one another, but the sound of their words did not reach
-Baudoin. At the end of an hour they stood upright, and the young woman
-turned round so as to face Baudoin. _He_ examined her with astonishment
-and admiration, for seldom had he seen a more beautiful face. He was
-obliged to acknowledge that he had never seen her hitherto. After all,
-what resemblance had he expected? The “other” woman, the one of Vanves,
-he had seen only in the shadow of night, and so as to render it
-impossible to recognize her again. The only clues he possessed were that
-characteristic favourite perfume of hers, and the sound of her voice,
-which still vibrated in his ears.
-
-He thought, “If I could only hear her speak! A single sentence would be
-sufficient to enable me to recognize her.” His heart leaped with joy, for
-the couple were now slowly walking along the circular alley which passed
-close to the foot of the mound not a dozen steps from where Baudoin was
-concealed. They were speaking to one another without the slightest
-suspicion that any one was listening. The former soldier, like a hunter
-on the watch, who sees his long-expected quarry approach, with beating
-heart and slightly dimmed eyes, listened with all the attention he was
-capable of. He heard Marcel say—
-
-“Now that you are free, do you intend to take up these former plans of
-yours?”
-
-And the woman, in caressing tones, but with an Italian accent, replied—
-
-“What is the use? I am now quite old. I am twenty-seven years of age.
-Artistic triumphs would have no value for me now. Sing in a theatre, in
-public;—be the object of everybody’s gaze? Oh no. I no longer think of
-such a thing.”
-
-“And yet you would obtain a great success!”
-
-“For whom?”
-
-They passed by, and Baudoin was obliged to confess to himself that this
-woman in mourning had not the same voice as the “other,” the one who had
-brought death with her. He saw the two promenaders disappear into the
-house, then he heard the clear tones of the piano, and the pure vibrating
-voice of the young woman arose, filling the silence of the woods with its
-melodious accents. Thereupon Baudoin descended the mound, and returned to
-Ars preoccupied and reflective. As he passed in front of the post-office
-he entered and wrote the following despatch:—
-
-“Laforêt, War Office, rue Saint Dominique, Paris. Come to Ars, near
-Troyes. Ask for me at works. Baudoin.”
-
-After paying he watched the transmission of his telegram, and, slightly
-relieved, returned home. At seven o’clock Marcel arrived. He dined
-without uttering a single word, and immediately afterwards retired into
-the laboratory, where Baudoin heard him pacing to and fro, far into the
-night.
-
-Meanwhile Madame Vignola, seated in her small salon, an Oriental
-cigarette between her lips, was cutting a pack of cards under the
-complaisant looks of her chambermaid. The latter, a confidential
-companion rather than a servant, was a small, dark-complexioned woman,
-whom Sophia had had with her for the last ten years. Her name was Milona,
-but she was always called Milo. She had been born in the Carpathians, in
-the midst of a gipsy encampment. Her mother had died by the side of a
-ditch, leaving her, at the age of twelve, quite alone, and exposed to the
-attentions of a villain of the band, who had been smitten with the
-precocious grace of the child.
-
-Sophia, as she passed through Trieste, in the course of her adventurous
-life, had been present, in the court of the inn where she had put up, at
-a quarrel between Milona and her ferocious suitor. The little one boldly
-opposed the zingaro, who wished to compel her to follow him, and to his
-loud-voiced threats uttered in the Romany tongue, she replied by a
-determined denial and a flashing look of defiance. The whole band, the
-only relations Milona knew, supported the young bandit’s pretensions. But
-Milona continued her refusal, when the chief of the band, an old man with
-grey beard and white curly hair, a regular patriarch, whose chief
-business was to steal poultry from the villages they traversed, tried to
-reason with the young girl.
-
-Sophia, with her elbows resting on the window-sill, was enjoying the
-sight, and a feeling of sympathy came over her for this proud child who
-would not submit to the man’s tyranny. She appeared to understand the
-language these gipsies spoke, and smiled at the highly-coloured
-expressions of their speech.
-
-“Milona,” said the venerable poultry-thief, “you are not acting aright.
-You refuse Zambo, who belongs to the tribe, and loves you well, because
-you have been listening to this little Hungarian hussar who has lately
-been making love to you. And yet you are well aware that he is a dog, an
-enemy of our race, who will soon tire of you, and leave you all alone. It
-was to me your mother left you when she died. I have paid for your
-training and food, taught you to tell fortunes, and all about chieromancy
-and the composition of love philtres. Will you be ungrateful and refuse
-to be the wife of my little nephew Zambo?”
-
-“I do not love him,” said the girl, dryly.
-
-“But he loves you.”
-
-“That does not matter to me.”
-
-“But if you resist him, he will kill you.”
-
-“That is my business!”
-
-“Do you intend to leave us, then?”
-
-“Yes. I am tired of living on robbery, and being clothed in rags!”
-
-“Then pay for your freedom.”
-
-“I have no money. Wait, and some day the hussar will give me my hands
-full of money.”
-
-At these words, Zambo gave a terrible imprecation, and leapt towards the
-child with the words—
-
-“That is the last word you shall ever speak!”
-
-And, brandishing a long dagger, he threw himself on Milona. At that
-critical moment the Baroness Sophia gave a shrill, whistling sound, which
-drew the attention of the whole band, and speaking in their own tongue,
-she said—
-
-“That is quite enough. I intend to send for the police. You, old man,
-would you like to sell the girl?”
-
-“Yes, your ladyship.”
-
-“How much?”
-
-“Twenty golden ducats.”
-
-“You thief!”
-
-“I cannot take less, your Excellency!”
-
-A purse fell into the courtyard at the patriarch’s feet. He picked it up
-with the rapidity of a juggler, counted the money, and, after bowing to
-the Baroness, said to Milona—
-
-“Thank your noble benefactress. She has paid; you are free!”
-
-“Come up here, little one,” said Sophia.
-
-Immediately Milona, followed by the imprecations of her disconcerted
-lover, flew into the inn. The window of the Baroness was closed, and the
-gipsies, with vehement words and exaggerated gestures, tried to give
-Zambo to understand that girls were far less rare than ducats, and that,
-though his love remained to him on account, the till of the troupe would
-be filled for a whole year. Ever since this strange introduction, Milona
-had become attached, with a wild and savage affection, to her deliverer.
-She had served her indefatigably, and, with the exception of those
-terrible secrets which Sophia entrusted to no one, she knew the
-life-story of her mistress.
-
-Sophia exhaled a puff of blue smoke, and hesitated before the combination
-of her cards—
-
-“King of hearts, nine of spades, and knave of clubs,” said Milona,
-calmly, her finger pointing to the spotted cards. “And then, queen of
-clubs, knave of hearts, and seven of spades. Still the same reply. You
-will not succeed!”
-
-Sophia raised her bold though beautiful eyes up to her companion, and, in
-her ordinary accents, which were different from those in which she spoke
-Italian, said—
-
-“I must succeed, I tell you, I must, Milona: do you hear?”
-
-“Shall we try the water test?”
-
-“Yes, we have not tried it for some considerable time.” Milona took a
-crystal cup filled with flowers. She threw the bouquet on to the floor,
-and after extinguishing the wax candles in the chandelier, with one
-single exception, placed the cup on the table in such a way that the
-light might fall upon it from behind. Then, drawing out one of the long
-gold pins which fastened her hair, she crouched down on a stool, dipped
-the metal stem into the vase, and commenced a strange chant. In the
-water, through which the light penetrated, irisated eddies formed, and
-the two women attentively watched the broken fugitive lines, the tiny
-drops sparkling like diamonds, and the brilliant spirals of the water
-stirred to motion by the gold needle. Milona sang—
-
-“Water is nought but trouble and mystery, light is certainty and truth.
-Let the light penetrate the water, and cause its secrets to be revealed.
-Turn, needle; shine, ray; water, divide.”
-
-“Look, Milo, look!” exclaimed Sophia, excitedly. “The water is turning
-red, it seems to be turning into blood!”
-
-Milona continued her chant—
-
-“Blood is strength and life. The blood of the brain is victory. The blood
-of the heart is love. Turn, needle; redden, blood. Grant us victory and
-love!”
-
-Sophia, on her knees by the side of the table, was anxiously watching
-with ardent eyes the crystal vase in which the water was whirling round
-under the impulse given to it by the gold needle.
-
-“Look! Look again!” she exclaimed. “The water is turning green! It is
-shining like an emerald!”
-
-“The emerald is the colour of hope, and hope is the joy of life. Turn,
-needle; water, become glaucous, like the eyes of the sirens, whom a man
-follows to his death!”
-
-Milona withdrew the gold needle. The water, again restored to a state of
-calm, after having ceased turning around the sides of the crystal vase,
-first assumed a greyish tint, then turned to a dark colour.
-
-“Milo,” exclaimed Sophia, in dismay, “the water is black! It is a sign of
-mourning! Who is to die?”
-
-The servant, without replying, relit the candles, took the crystal vase
-and threw out of the window the water which had just been used for the
-experiment; then, in anger, she spat out into the night—
-
-“May he die who opposes you!” she said fiercely. “Fate announces love,
-happiness, and death. You have the privilege of not continuing the
-enterprise you have begun. The spotted cards say you will not succeed.
-The water predicts death! For whom? That we cannot learn. Stop, there is
-still time.”
-
-Sophia walked silently to and fro in the salon, then halted in front of
-Milona, who sat there, in pensive calm.
-
-“Do you believe in these predictions of yours?”
-
-“I do.”
-
-Sophia lit a cigarette.
-
-“What is the use of being superior in thought and courage, of a bold
-audacity that recognizes no obstacle, if one acts with the weak cowardice
-of an ordinary mortal? It is only in whatever is difficult, if not
-impossible, Milo, that there is any interest. How can one live like a
-common citizen when one possesses the soul of a sovereign of mankind? No!
-Cost what it may, one must follow one’s instinct, give evidence of one’s
-will. You know me, Milo; you know that I give way before no obstacle,
-once my resolution is taken. Why did you say to me just now, ‘Renounce
-what you are undertaking; there is still time?’”
-
-“And you,” said Milona, gravely, “since you are so firm in your plans,
-why do you consult cards, and ask the water to lay bare to you its
-secret?”
-
-Sophia smiled.
-
-“What you say is just. But, after all, little one, mortals are only
-human; that is to say, beings accessible to fear and superstition. Don’t
-you know that doctors—who, after all, are well aware how precarious and
-powerless is their art—call other doctors to their bedsides when they are
-ill? A concession to human frailty, Milo. Still, people do not think any
-the worse of them.”
-
-“And is all this in honour of the young man who has been coming here
-every day since the Agostini first brought him?”
-
-“The Agostini, as you disrespectfully call him, brought me this young man
-because I ordered him to do so. Do you not know that he obeys me without
-discussion?”
-
-“Oh, he will never discuss. But, some day or other, he may no longer
-obey.”
-
-“Poor Cesare is no favourite of yours,” said Sophia, gaily.
-
-“He is false, and a coward as well. If ever he tries to strike you, it
-will be in the back.”
-
-“But he loves me.”
-
-“And do you return his affection?”
-
-“Perhaps; though I am not very sure of it. Why do you call him a coward?
-You are well aware that he fought a duel at Palermo with the Marquis
-Belverani.”
-
-“Because he knew he was the stronger or the more skilful, and the other
-had struck him in the presence of fifty people at the club, after
-accusing him of having cheated at cards. And it was quite true; he did
-cheat!”
-
-“No one will ever say so again, now that he has killed a man for that
-very reason! Besides, the proof that he does not cheat is that he always
-loses.”
-
-“You know something about it?”
-
-“Ah, what should I do with my money if I did not give it to him?”
-
-“You are right. Money is vile; it should serve no other purpose than to
-satisfy one’s caprices. Its only value is in the pleasures it procures;
-in itself it is worth no more than the pebbles lying at one’s feet. Will
-the young man who comes now give it you or receive it from you?”
-
-“I do not think he would accept it, Milo,” said Sophia, laughing. “You
-are a regular barbarian, and incapable of understanding anything beyond
-bribery. There are honest people on earth, little one, and they cannot be
-paid for obtaining from them what one wishes. Other seductive means must
-be employed.”
-
-“Ah, that is why you sing when he is here! You will make him mad, like
-all the others. And yet he looks so gentle and charming!”
-
-“That is true, but he is our enemy, Milo; and if he were to discover who
-I am, and what I wish to obtain from him, I should run the most terrible
-danger.”
-
-“So the Agostini has brought him here to ruin him?”
-
-“In a way.”
-
-“And he already loves you? Ah, your power over men is irresistible. Take
-care, however, or some fine day you will be caught in your turn. Then it
-will be terrible for you!”
-
-“I have loved, as you well know. Love has nothing new to teach me.”
-
-“Your heart has never been touched, for all those you have loved have
-been your victims. Sincere and pure love is no assassin. It is a
-protection and self-sacrifice. Up to the present, however, you have had
-to deal with none but fortune-hunters, and it was pure justice to treat
-them as they had been in the habit of treating their own victims. The day
-you show the Agostini to the door, you may summon me to open it for him.
-I will do it most gladly!”
-
-“That day has not come yet.”
-
-“What a pity!”
-
-Sophia gave a weary toss of the head, and Milona understood that she must
-cease this light jesting tone. She said—
-
-“I am going to close all the shutters, mistress, do you need me any
-longer?”
-
-“No, I am going to write. You will hear me when I retire to rest.”
-
-Seating herself in front of the table, she took an elegant blotting-pad
-and began to trace, on perfumed paper, in a large masculine hand, the
-following lines:—
-
-    “MY DEAR CESARE,
-
-    “Since you left me, I have not been wasting my time, nor have you, I
-    imagine, been inactive. Let me know how your Lichtenbach affair is
-    progressing. Here everything is going along smoothly. Our young
-    Marcel came to-day, overflowing with enthusiasm, and surprised me
-    singing the most plaintive songs imaginable. Milona, who was on the
-    look-out for him, had signalled to me his approach, and I played the
-    _rôle_ of despair with extraordinary success. He seemed frantic with
-    grief at seeing my tears flow. You know that I can weep at will, and
-    that in the most seductive fashion. I led him away into the garden,
-    and there, made him talk about himself. He is a regular child, of
-    most disconcerting simplicity, and so frank and open that you would
-    smile. To tell the truth, there will be no merit in triumphing over
-    such innocence. This lamb will hold out his neck to the sacrificial
-    knife. And we shall have our formula willingly handed over, or I am
-    greatly mistaken. Besides, I am enjoying a delightful rest in this
-    abandoned spot, and never suffer from _ennui_, even for a single
-    moment. In the midst of such an adventurous life, it is long since I
-    had time for reflection, and now I am astonished at the result. The
-    joys and pleasures for which I have sacrificed everything hitherto,
-    form, I am afraid, only one of the phases of life. There is another I
-    did not suspect, far more seductive and beautiful. This afternoon, as
-    I was listening to young Marcel speaking to me of his father, his
-    mother, and sister, with such tender and delicate affection, a
-    feeling of sadness came over me. These are all good, honest people.
-    They are happy in a mutual love, and would be ready to undergo the
-    greatest sacrifices for one another. And, although nothing could be
-    simpler, more upright and monotonous than their existence, it cannot
-    be disputed that they find happiness in it.
-
-    “It is this lamb of a Marcel, who is the scapegrace of the family.
-    From time to time his father threatens him with his malediction, and
-    the poor fellow is very repentant for a whole week. He comes and
-    buries himself at Ars, like an anchorite in the desert. During his
-    penance he works in the laboratory, eats the most ill-cooked food
-    imaginable, and has quarrels with the manager of the works, who seems
-    to be a disagreeable fellow to deal with. It is during these periods
-    of repentance that the interesting discoveries on the dyeing of wools
-    and other industrial stuffs—which, it appears, have a certain value,
-    as he explains to me in rather too much detail for my liking—have
-    been due.
-
-    “But, after all, he is a very fine fellow. He actually asked me how
-    old I was! He does not imagine that I am older than himself, and I
-    should not be astonished in the slightest, if he were to cherish the
-    idea of marrying me. I lead him by a thread—he neither feels nor
-    sees—on towards absolute slavery. Then, after he has delivered up to
-    me his secret, as all the rest have done, I shall disappear. Once the
-    mourning weeds of Mme. Vignola flung aside, I shall again become the
-    Baroness Sophia, in which character I challenge my lover to recognize
-    the plaintive sorrowful widow he is paying court to just now. So, you
-    see, I am not neglecting business matters. I hope you are doing the
-    same on your side. The little Lichtenbach heiress will be a
-    multi-millionaire; that is well worth the trouble of whispering words
-    of love into her ear.
-
-    “A thousand kisses, Cesare. _Sempre t’amero_.
-
-                                                                 “SOPHIA.”
-
-She sealed the letter, took up a cigarette, and was preparing to retire
-to rest, when three slight taps on the shutters sent a shudder through
-her veins. She listened, an anxious frown on her face, and, after a
-moment’s interval, the taps were repeated. Opening a drawer, she seized a
-revolver, and, walking deliberately to the window, half opened it, and,
-speaking through the closed shutter, said in Italian accents—
-
-“Who is there?”
-
-A voice replied in muffled tones, “It is I—Hans; there is nothing to
-fear, Sophia.”
-
-A slight pallor came over her face, but she placed back the revolver in
-the drawer, and, without replying, left the salon. On reaching the
-outside door she drew the bolts, and noiselessly opened the door. A tall
-man entered. Without the exchange of a single word, she led the way to
-the salon, then carefully closed the door. The man removed the felt hat
-which covered his head, displaying a bold, rough countenance. He was a
-man of athletic build, and very broad-shouldered, whilst a reddish beard
-covered the lower portion of his face.
-
-Taking a seat, he cast a keen look at Sophia, and said—
-
-“Who is with you, here?”
-
-“Milona.”
-
-“Where is Agostini?”
-
-“In Paris. And where have you come from?”
-
-“From Geneva. Lichtenbach sent me your address.”
-
-“How did you enter?”
-
-“Over the wall.”
-
-“With your wounded arm?”
-
-“My arm is healed.”
-
-As he spoke he extended it with a threatening smile. The arm was indeed
-whole. A glove covered the hand. He continued—
-
-“The Swiss are very fine mechanics. They have made for me a jointed
-fore-arm which works like a natural one. The hand is of steel. It is the
-best fisticuff imaginable. A blow from that hand, Sophia, would kill a
-man.” With a sigh he continued. “But, after all, this arm is not worth
-the one I have lost. Still, those who have mutilated me shall pay for my
-flesh and blood.”
-
-As he spoke his face assumed a ferocious expression, and _he_ ground his
-teeth savagely. Sophia, in grave accents, replied—
-
-“Have you not already been paid? At the time you were struck, the General
-de Trémont was dead. Perhaps it was he who was taking his vengeance on
-you!”
-
-“The old fool! He had only to accede to your request when you were
-inducing him to tell you the secret of his safe. Then nothing would have
-happened!”
-
-“Hans, it all happened because you were in too great a hurry. You
-destroyed all my combinations through your brutality. Had you merely
-given me another week the poor fool would have given up to me his secret,
-his honour, and everything else. Your intervention put him on his guard;
-he recovered from his torpor, and all was lost!”
-
-“No reproaches, please. This mistake has cost me dearly enough. Now, how
-do matters stand here?”
-
-“If you will leave me to act in my own way, I shall succeed.”
-
-“Good! Good! I, too, am preparing a slight diversion, which will be of
-use. Besides, it will please Lichtenbach.”
-
-“What do you intend to do?”
-
-“Stir up the workmen at the manufactory.”
-
-“Then you intend to make a tool of socialism?”
-
-“Certainly. In it lies the future of society. The thoughtless, brutal
-mob, under the sway of a few bold leaders, will obtain for themselves
-universal dominion and rule.”
-
-“How long will this be your rule of conduct?”
-
-“Until everything in this execrably rotten society is destroyed.”
-
-“What will you put in its place?”
-
-“That is the secret of time. The revolution will tell it to us.”
-
-“I hate your opinions as well as those who maintain them.”
-
-“I know, I know,” interrupted Hans, with a loud laugh. “You are an
-aristocrat, Sophia, and equality is not to your liking. You must have
-luxury and superiority always around you. But how do you know that we
-shall not give them to you? We aim at levelling, but it is the levelling
-of those who rise above us. Have you ever seen a flock of sheep without a
-shepherd and his dog to guide them? Then how could nations live without a
-head? The great thing is to command. For this power must be snatched from
-the hands of those who now have it, by means of certain privileges we
-pretend to suppress because we do not enjoy them. Once power is in our
-hands, torrents of blood will have to be shed before it can be taken from
-us. Who would try to do so? Only revolutionists have any energy left, for
-they alone are governed by passion. Revolution is the only means of
-succeeding rapidly. To-day I am nothing; in the near future I intend to
-be everything. To attain to my object I suppress everything in my way.
-This is the meaning, expressed briefly, of all the burlesque rigmarole
-uttered by these apostles of humanity. Their love and thoughts are
-entirely for themselves. And that suffices.”
-
-Sophia laughed aloud.
-
-“They are mere brigands. You are another, but you must take care, Hans,
-for those you dream of spoiling will not let themselves be robbed so
-easily as you think. They have invented the police, a tolerably effective
-safeguard. But what are you preparing for these poor Baradiers and
-Graffs?”
-
-“For the past fortnight I have been exciting the workmen by means of my
-agents. I am going to turn their works upside down. That will divert
-their attention, for they are far too wide awake concerning what we are
-doing. I do not know who is informing the sly rogues, but they seem to
-understand Lichtenbach’s game with the greatest ease.”
-
-“Lichtenbach is such a coward! He has done something stupid again. I have
-sent Cesare to him, quite as much to keep a watch over him as to pay
-court to his daughter. But you cannot put courage into the heart of a
-coward.”
-
-“It seems the shares of the Explosives Company had fallen so favourably,
-thanks to the bear system undertaken by Lichtenbach, that the re-purchase
-was on the point of being effected under the most favourable conditions.
-Suddenly, without apparent reason, the brokers began to buy in enormous
-quantities on the Stock Exchange, and the shares rose by leaps and
-bounds. Lichtenbach held firm, but he had to deal with some one superior
-to himself. The threatening ruin was checked. He, personally, has lost a
-pile of money at the liquidation. And, from information received, it is
-the Baradiers and Graffs who have formed a syndicate, along with a large
-number of shareholders belonging to the threatened Company, with the
-object of checking the too complete depreciation of the shares. There is
-a rumour in business circles that, thanks to a new patent, you
-understand, Sophia, the prosperity of the affair is assured for the
-future. That is why I am here; direct competition against Lichtenbach
-means a challenge to us. The war has begun; it must be maintained, and
-the victory won. You all appear to me to be doing nothing but play here.”
-
-“Now, Hans, nothing rash this time,” said Sophia, firmly. “We are going
-along very well; take care not to spoil everything again. You have only
-one arm left to lose, my dear friend. Do not attempt too much.”
-
-Hans’ features contracted.
-
-“You are in a very gay humour, Sophia. I have only one arm, true; but it
-is the better one of the two, make no mistake. Little chance for him who
-comes within its reach!”
-
-“So you have come to settle down here?”
-
-“With your permission.”
-
-“You will be greatly in my way.”
-
-“Do not be anxious. I shall only be out-of-doors at night time. It is not
-to my interest to be seen in the open daylight. Darkness suits me better.
-You attend to your business, and I will attend to mine. All I ask of you
-is a room up in the garret, where I may write and sleep during the
-daytime. Milona alone will know that I am here. We can have entire
-confidence in her.”
-
-“Entire, unless there is harm threatening to myself.”
-
-“Who would think of doing you any harm? Not I, at any rate, so long as we
-have the same end in view.”
-
-They exchanged looks, and in their eyes could be read the memory of
-long-standing complicity and collusion. Sophia was the first to avert her
-glance, which she did with a sign of acquiescence.
-
-“Then follow me.”
-
-She opened the door, and showed the way to the man who appeared to her an
-object of mingled dread and hate.
-
-
-
-CHAPTER III
-
-
-BAUDOIN had just finished arranging everything in the summer-house where
-Marcel lived, when he heard his name called by the concierge of the
-works. On showing himself at the window, the concierge bowed with
-deference, and said—
-
-“M. Baudoin, some one wishes to speak to you at the gate.”
-
-“Good; I will be down in a moment.”
-
-It was three o’clock in the afternoon, and, as Marcel had just set out in
-the direction of the woods, Baudoin was alone in the house. He had just
-placed the furniture in order, and now, after closing the window, he took
-off his apron, and went out into the courtyard. On reaching the entrance
-to the works, he saw standing in the street a ruddy-faced man, with
-untrimmed beard, dressed like a workman, and wearing a pair of large
-rough shoes. The concierge disdainfully pointed out the man, and said—
-
-“There he is!”
-
-At the same moment the man turned round, and, seeing Baudoin, came up
-with smiling face and extended hands. Baudoin, astonished, watched him
-draw near, ransacking his memory, but unable to call to mind if he had
-ever seen him before. He said to himself, “Who the deuce can it be? Some
-one who has made a mistake!” On coming close up to him, the man said—
-
-“Good day, M. Baudoin.”
-
-Then Baudoin recognized Laforêt. Taking him by the arm, he conducted him
-along the garden wall in the direction of the main road; then, sure that
-he would be out of the hearing of any one, he said—.
-
-“So you are here at last! What a perfect disguise! I had no idea who you
-were till you spoke.”
-
-“We must not remain in the open air, for no one must see us together. Is
-there no small inn where we can talk?”
-
-“Certainly; come with me to the Soleil d’Or. I know the landlord; he will
-let us have a small room to ourselves, where we shall not be disturbed.
-He is an old soldier, and to be relied upon.”
-
-“Very good!”
-
-Seated before a bottle of beer, the two men began their confidential
-talk—
-
-“It was quite time you came,” said Baudoin. “There is something new at
-last. M. Marcel’s solitude has been broken in upon by two strangers, who
-pass as brother and sister, jabber away in Italian, and who, from the
-very first week of their stay here, have found means of entering into
-friendly relations with my master.”
-
-“What kind of a woman is she?”
-
-“Ah, unless I am mistaken, she is a very cunning woman, like the one who
-called to see my poor General, and tricked him so cleverly.”
-
-“And the man?”
-
-“A foreigner. His first appearance. He calls himself a count, but he is
-probably a mere fortune-hunter. A handsome-looking fellow, though I have
-only seen him at a distance.”
-
-“And the sister?”
-
-“A splendid woman! Light-complexioned, with hair arranged in Madonna
-fashion. The most innocent, harmless-looking creature imaginable! In deep
-mourning, reminding one of ‘Mignon’ bewailing her country. What is her
-object in coming here just at this time?”
-
-“We will do our best to throw some light on the matter if possible.”
-
-“I can do nothing, you understand, for I am too well known here. At the
-very first sign of activity I gave, it would be equivalent to saying to
-these people, ‘Look out, I am watching you.’ They would be at once on
-their guard, and the game would be over! I have already hazarded a rather
-risky examination of the house in which they live, and the surroundings.
-But I cannot recommence without running the risk of being caught by M.
-Marcel; and, if he questioned me, what reply could I give him? To warn
-him of the toils being skilfully drawn around him would be to cut short
-the intrigue now in preparation, and which, in all probability, will give
-us an opportunity of laying hands on the villains we are on the look-out
-for. And not to warn him is to leave him exposed to the greatest dangers!
-I have been thinking of all this for some days, and the more I reflect,
-the more I hesitate. Accordingly I was very anxious to see you, as you
-can give me your advice in the first place, and afterwards we can
-deliberate as to the best means of defending M. Marcel in case he comes
-to be threatened.”
-
-“We must proceed methodically. Where is this house situated?”
-
-“Oh, it is very easy to recognize! It is half-way between Ars and the
-woods of Bossicant, and is named the Villa de la Cavée. Impossible to
-make a mistake, for it stands all alone.”
-
-“To-morrow morning I will take up my post at the door.”
-
-“How?”
-
-“That is my business. You will see how it is possible to keep a watch
-over people without appearing to do so.”
-
-“But there is no house for more than half a mile around.”
-
-“That will make no difference. How does the lady live?”
-
-“Very quietly. She never leaves the house, except to take a walk in the
-wood. Until lately, alone, or with her brother, but now with my master.”
-
-“Then he is bitten?”
-
-“Very badly.”
-
-“Good!”
-
-“And what, in your opinion, must we do as regards M. Marcel?”
-
-“Nothing.”
-
-“Not even warn him of his danger?”
-
-“Under no pretext. What danger does he run? I will keep watch over him
-outside, and you will look after him inside. No one has any interest in
-threatening him. If, as is very probable, according to usual tactics, a
-pretty woman has been told off to try to catch him, all he risks is
-falling in love with a worthless creature. Will it be the first time this
-will happen to him? You do not think so, nor do I. Meanwhile, we will set
-a few caltrops to try and catch our freebooters. Are you sure it is not
-the same woman who came to Vanves?”
-
-“She has neither the same voice nor the same accent. But then, can one be
-certain of anything when one has to deal with people of such cunning? As
-for the man, I can answer that it is not he, for I saw the man at Vanves.
-He was a head taller than this tom-tit of an Italian. His speech, too,
-was very peculiar. Oh! I should at once recognize the man who killed my
-General! And if ever he comes within my reach—”
-
-As he spoke his fists were tightly clenched, and a fierce glare shone in
-his eyes. Laforêt calmed him by saying—
-
-“Do not get angry! Especially in the matter now engaging our attention;
-we must keep cool heads. Suppose you suddenly found yourself in front of
-this man, what would you do?”
-
-“I would seize him by the throat, and he should not escape, that I would
-swear to before God!”
-
-“What folly! Your duty would be to pretend not to recognize him. You
-could follow him, find out where he lives, and keep a watch over him, so
-that we might capture both himself and his accomplices. My dear Baudoin,
-let us agree at once to some such course beforehand. For if we act in too
-sentimental a fashion, we shall fail utterly.”
-
-Baudoin sighed—
-
-“You are right; still, it would be very hard for me to keep my fingers
-away from the rascal’s skin! But then, you have had experience; I will
-obey you.”
-
-“Well, then, let us find some means of correspondence. For the future we
-must not be seen to have any communications with one another. See here;
-when I have anything to say to you I will go to the entrance door of the
-works, and write on the top of the gate on the left side the day and hour
-of the rendezvous in red pencil. For instance: ‘Tuesday, 4 o’clock.’ Then
-you will arrange to come round to this inn, where you will find me. If
-you wish to speak to me you will do the same on the other pillar on the
-right of the gate. I shall pass by every morning and evening to see if
-the rendezvous has to take place that evening or not.”
-
-“Very good.”
-
-“Then good-bye for the moment. When we leave here we no longer know one
-another. I will go now, and leave you to pay. Good luck, and keep cool!”
-
-“I will, if possible.”
-
-At that very hour Marcel was walking to and fro in the woods with Madame
-Vignola. The small terrier was running about along the path, which was so
-narrow that the young man and his fair companion were brought into close
-proximity to avoid the shooting branches which invaded the way. A feeling
-of languor seemed to emanate from the earth, gently warmed by the early
-spring sun. On reaching the edge of the plateau they halted by a rocky
-ledge overshadowed by large ash-trees.
-
-The whole valley of Ars lay before them. The tile roofs of the works, the
-large chimney-steeple with its plume of black smoke, and the church and
-houses capriciously grouped, formed a smiling and delightful picture. The
-young woman pointed out with the end of her parasol the different parts
-of the panorama, and Marcel named all the points of interest visible. It
-was a kind of taking possession of the country under the auspices of
-Marcel. He said to her, with a smile—
-
-“You are asking questions, as though you intended to settle down in these
-parts.”
-
-“It is a custom of mine,” she said. “I like to know where I am, and to
-make inquiries about the district. Things have no meaning or interest for
-me unless I know their names and purposes. For instance, you point out to
-me down there a railway line which passes into the plain. To the fact
-that it is a railway I am absolutely indifferent; you add, it is the line
-running from Troyes to the frontier, _viâ_ Belfort. Immediately my mind
-begins to work, and the precise representation given by the thing
-attaches my mind to the thing itself. As you see, I am of anything but a
-poetic nature.”
-
-“You appear to me to have an extraordinary intelligence.”
-
-“And one which is not of a very feminine nature, now confess.”
-
-“True, I find you anything but silly or fickle in disposition. But I give
-you credit for a good quality.”
-
-“In any case, confess that it is not a graceful one.”
-
-“Oh! You have so many others!”
-
-“I did not ask you for a compliment.”
-
-“You must accept it now, all the same.”
-
-She looked at him with an air of simple content, then shook her head.
-
-“That is not right of you; you have broken our agreement. It was
-understood between us that you should treat me as a companion, in return
-for which I would allow you to accompany me in my walks, and call on me
-unceremoniously. But you are a Frenchman, and it is impossible for you to
-give up all pretensions to gallantry.”
-
-“Would an Italian have stayed so long in your company without telling you
-how charming you are?”
-
-“Yes, if I had forbidden him to speak of such things. But he would have
-thought the more!”
-
-“How can you tell?” said Marcel, eagerly. “Do you think I am indifferent
-because, obeying you too well, I have addressed to you nothing but simple
-expressions of cold courtesy? Do not judge my feelings by my words; they
-are very different from one another.”
-
-“You have only known me for a week.”
-
-“Is a longer time needed to love for ever?”
-
-“For ever! What an engagement to make! And so quickly decided on!”
-
-“And so easy to keep when one first sees and afterwards comes to know
-you!”
-
-“And which can have no result, as I must soon leave, and go away far
-from—”
-
-“What need is there for you to follow out plans formed during the early
-days of sadness and solitude? Is it wise to decide for a whole lifetime
-in a single moment at your age, and with such a store of future
-compensations to draw upon? At the age of twenty-four to think that
-everything is lost, because destiny has separated you from a husband old
-enough to have been your father? Your life has only just begun, at the
-very time you think it is all over.”
-
-“Yes, my brother has often said the same thing to me. That is the usual
-way of looking at things. New tenderness to replace a dying affection.
-But then, how wretched to lend one’s self to such social arrangements,
-and undergo such an unexpected fate! And yet a heart cannot be swept out
-like a room for new tenants. The memories of the one who occupied it
-cannot be so speedily effaced; they remain. And is it not a kind of
-profanation for a delicate soul to allow itself to cherish a new
-affection, when it imagined the light had vanished for ever?”
-
-“I will reply in your own words: ‘For ever! What an engagement to make!
-And so lightly decided on!’ Can you be sure of keeping it? Let the world
-wag along. Your decision will not alter anything. There is nothing
-definite in this world, not even the sincerest grief.”
-
-She stood there silent for some time with downcast eyes. Her companion
-admired the graceful curves of her supple form, and the youthful grace
-that appeared on the beautiful countenance. She seemed scarcely twenty
-years of age. Her cheeks had all the appearance of a tempting and savoury
-fruit, Finally she continued, with a sigh—
-
-“If I listened to your protestations, what trouble should I be preparing
-for myself in the future? You are not dependent on yourself, as I am, for
-I have only a brother, though, after all, he is very indulgent towards
-me. You have a family which will claim you. When you leave this district
-where will you go?”
-
-“I shall return to Paris, where I generally live. What prevents you
-taking up your abode there also? Your interests are in Italy? What then?
-Your brother will look after them, and you will have nothing to do but
-consider your own happiness.”
-
-“Paris frightens me. That immense stir and commotion troubles me, and I
-imagine it would be impossible to live there in calm and quiet.”
-
-“What a mistake you make! The excitement of Paris life is very deceptive;
-it is only the surface that is troubled. Its depths, as in those of the
-sea, are quiet and peaceful, and the storms on the surface never disturb
-them. In Paris itself are peaceful corners, filled with verdure, light,
-and flowers, where a happy and gentle life may be passed. We would find
-such a spot for you, chosen with tenderest care, and there you would
-learn to spend your time free from melancholy and feverish anxiety. Far
-from noise and distraction of every kind, within easy reach of the utmost
-refinements of taste and intellectual pleasures, you will find out the
-most precious thing in the world: a quiet home, embellished by a love at
-once sincere and tender.”
-
-“That is a very seductive picture you have drawn, and you know how to
-present it in the best light. Is there a touch of the fairy about you?
-Are you in possession of an enchanter’s wand, to be able thus to dispose
-of the destiny of others? You summon up characters and scenes to suit
-your fancy. Were I to listen to you, would you be free to realize your
-programme? To me you appear to be building castles in the air. What would
-your parents and friends say of this arrangement?”
-
-“Oh! they would accept it, there is not the slightest doubt of that. If
-you only knew how fond they are of me, and how joyfully they would
-welcome anything giving proof of moderation and wisdom on my part! My
-father, though rough to outward appearance, is the finest man in the
-world. He is anxious about my doings, only because of his affection for
-me, and his anxiety regarding my future welfare. He never gave the least
-sign of egoism, even when we quarrelled. His own pleasure and peace of
-mind, even, were subordinated to my interests. Only when he saw that some
-action of mine which he judged harmful—would injure me in some way, did
-his anger burst forth against me. He loves me so well that, were he
-certain my happiness might be assured under honourable conditions, he
-would sacrifice his own without the slightest hesitation. As for my
-mother, she is the very embodiment of virtue and goodness.”
-
-She bit her lips, and answered with sudden harshness, as though tired of
-listening to this wealth of praise.
-
-“Very fine sentiments, indeed! Then you are not a dutiful son if you have
-not been in perfect accord with such loving parents.”
-
-“I have not been undutiful, though not always reasonable.”
-
-“Then what has been lacking to make you so?”
-
-“A serious love.”
-
-Raising a delicate finger, with threatening gesture, to Marcel, she said—
-
-“I am afraid you are anything but a model of virtue!”
-
-“Do not judge me ill for having spoken so frankly. That would be neither
-benevolent or just. For, really, you would form a false idea of me.”
-
-She continued, gaily—
-
-“Come! I see that you are quite a model, after all!”
-
-“Now, you are joking! How changing is your mood! How can one hope to get
-the better of you?”
-
-“Ah! my dear sir, did you think that a single word or look would suffice
-to seduce me? If so, I am more rebellious than you imagined. Did you
-suppose that the influence of spring, amid this charming scenery, an
-inactive solitude, and the length of the evenings, joined to your own
-particular qualities, would have induced me to fall down at your feet?
-You are going rather too fast. My melancholy mood cannot accommodate
-itself to such a rapid change! There, now, don’t look so down-hearted; I
-am speaking to you very gently. Had I wished I might have assumed an
-offended attitude, for, after all, you offer me your heart without taking
-the slightest precaution. Still, in this out-of-the-way place one cannot
-help feeling nearer the simplicity of nature. It is easy to return to
-habits and manners that are almost primitive, even without troubling
-concerning forms and customs, and saying what one really thinks and
-feels. I will forgive you, on condition you do not recommence.”
-
-Astonished at hearing the young woman speak in such a vivacious tone of
-raillery, Marcel wondered if she were really the same sorrowful
-languishing widow whose tender melodies were so often broken by sobs. Her
-face sparkled with a malicious harshness, and those caressing eyes of
-hers belied the coldness of her words. She offered so irritating a
-mixture of decency and profligacy, of modesty and sensuality, that Marcel
-no longer knew what to think. Suddenly the church-bell of Ars began to
-toll the evening Angelus, changing the trend of their thoughts. The young
-woman suddenly stood upright, exclaiming—
-
-“Six o’clock already! How time passes! They will wonder what has become
-of me.”
-
-“But you are quite alone!”
-
-“My servant—”
-
-“That extraordinary creature you call Milo.”
-
-“Do not speak ill of her; she likes you.”
-
-“Thanks for the favour!”
-
-“Oh! she is not fond of everybody. With you, however, she is like my dog,
-which licks your hand; he does not treat everybody the same way!”
-
-“Yes, I may charm the servant and the dog, but the mistress disdains me.”
-
-“Oh! the mistress. She is the one who orders, and the others obey.”
-
-“Then I will obey.”
-
-Giving him a charming smile, she summoned to her the little terrier,
-which was hid among the heather, and, walking slowly by Marcel’s side,
-returned in the direction of the villa. On approaching the gate they saw
-a man engaged in arranging on the road a pile of stones discharged from a
-tumbrel that very morning. A large sledge-hammer lay near his vest under
-a straw covering. Politely raising his cap to the two passers-by, and
-without appearing to bestow any further heed on them, he continued his
-task. Madame Vignola seemed vexed at this installation so near her home.
-She looked carefully at the man, and, as soon as the garden gate was
-closed, asked—
-
-“What does that person intend to do there?”
-
-“He seems to be engaged in breaking stones,” said Marcel. “Most likely a
-journeyman who will be working on the road for some time.”
-
-“Will he stay here long?”
-
-“A few days, perhaps.”
-
-“He has a villainous-looking face. Is there nothing to fear from such
-people?”
-
-“Nothing whatever, except the sound of their hammers breaking the stones.
-But you will not hear that from the house.”
-
-Madame Vignola did not appear to be quite satisfied by what Marcel said.
-A look of anxiety shaded her brow.
-
-“If the presence of this poor fellow disturbs you so much,” said the
-young man, “would you like me to request the authorities to have him
-removed? He will be sent to work a few hundred yards away. I have
-sufficient influence to obtain this change.”
-
-“Do nothing of the kind. I shall get accustomed to his presence. After
-all, he has his living to earn.”
-
-She held out her hand to Marcel, with a smile. Holding it for a moment
-within his own, he said, softly—“You are not angry with me?”
-
-“No.”
-
-“You will allow me to return to-morrow?”
-
-“Yes, I should like you to do so.”
-
-“And you will allow me to tell you that I love you?”
-
-“If it gives you pleasure to do so.”
-
-They said nothing more; night was falling, and a gentle obscurity was
-overshadowing all nature. Still, they were less alone than on the plain
-of Bossicant, and it was, perhaps, this very fact which rendered them
-more audacious. Marcel drew near to himself the young woman, without the
-slightest resistance on her part. The tissue of her black dress came in
-contact with Marcel’s shoulder. A kind of fever seized him, and for a
-moment he lost all notion of the surrounding world.
-
-A cry of pain, and an effort of resistance, recalled him to himself. He
-saw Anetta fleeing towards the house. On the threshold she halted, looked
-at him for a moment, as though trying to find something to say to him. He
-took a step forward, but she stopped him with a gesture. Placing his
-fingers to his lips, he sent a kiss to the enchantress who had so
-completely gained possession of his heart, and took his departure.
-
-A disagreeable surprise awaited him on his arrival at the works. The
-gates, usually open, were now closed, and small knots of men were
-collected in the street. They removed as he approached, only to form
-again a little further distant. What the manager had told him a few days
-previously concerning the evil dispositions of the workmen returned to
-his mind. In his eagerness to overcome his love difficulties he had
-forgotten business worries. Going up to the concierge, he asked—
-
-“What is the matter here? Why are the gates closed? What is the meaning
-of all these people in the streets?”
-
-“Ah! M. Marcel, there are troubles with the workmen. They went on strike
-at three o’clock to-day, and are scattered about in the cafés and inns,
-along with the strikers from the Troyes works, who have turned their
-heads.”
-
-“No damage has been done?”
-
-“No, M. Marcel. But the manager has been looking for you everywhere.”
-
-“I will go at once and speak to him.”
-
-He made his way towards the office. Through the closed shutters a ray of
-light announced the presence of M. Cardez in his study. Marcel entered.
-The manager was seated before his desk writing. On seeing the son of his
-master he rose at once, and, without waiting to be questioned, began—
-
-“Well! what did I tell you, M. Baradier? Here they are in open revolt!
-And that without the slightest plausible reason! Simply to do as their
-comrades! Their heads have been turned by the leaders of the strike. I
-have reasoned and talked gently to them, but all in vain; they are
-nothing but machines! Ah! you are interested in the workers, now you will
-learn to know them!”
-
-“What measures have you taken?”
-
-“I have closed the doors, so that no one may enter without our
-permission, or without incurring a penal responsibility. Now I am
-expecting a delegation of the workmen.”
-
-“Under what pretext have they ceased work?”
-
-“They demand the suppression of sweeping and lighting, the supply of
-needles at a lower price.”
-
-“Is the demand a just one?”
-
-“It is something quite new.”
-
-“But is it just?”
-
-“_Mon Dieu_! Concessions might, doubtless, be granted, but then others
-would immediately be made. Their grievances would never come to an end.
-We are only at the beginning. Is it wise to yield all at once?”
-
-“Why not give them the impression that we wish them well?”
-
-“They would look upon it as a sign of weakness.”
-
-Marcel remained pensive.
-
-“So the weavers of Troyes are on strike, and are inciting our workmen to
-follow their example?”
-
-“They were at Sainte-Savine yesterday, and to-day they are at Ars. They
-made sufficient noise; you must have been very busy not to have heard
-them.”
-
-“I was away from home,” said Marcel, embarrassed.
-
-“All the same had you been here; that would have made no difference;
-their plan of action is fixed. They would have insulted you, as they did
-me, that is all.”
-
-“Insulted?” exclaimed Marcel.
-
-“Listen.”
-
-A vague sound was heard breaking the silence of the night. The harsh
-untrained voices of the mob were heard singing a kind of workmen’s
-Marseillaise—
-
-    “Les patrons, les damnés patrons,
-    Un beau matin, nous les verrons
-    Accrochés au bout d’une branche!
-    En se sentant morts a moitié,
-    C’est alors qu’ils crieront pitié!
-    Mais nous leur repondrons: Dimanche!
-    Retroussez vos manches, luron!
-    Bientôt va commencer la danse.
-    Ayons la victoire, ou mourons
-    Pour notre indépendance!
-          Ayons la victoire, ou mourons
-          Pour notre indépendance!”
-
-A shrill clamour, mingled with the shrieks of women and children,
-followed this threatening refrain; then came a formidable hooting—
-
-“Down with Cardez! Down with the manager! To the gallows with him!”
-
-“Do you hear them?” said Cardez. “The gallows, indeed! And what have I
-done to them? Simply exact from them a conscientious amount of work, and
-respect for the regulations. The gallows! If they think they can frighten
-me with their threats they are mistaken. An old soldier like myself
-cannot be intimidated so easily. Besides, these are nothing but idle
-cries; no deeds will follow!”
-
-“Have you written to my father and uncle?” asked Marcel.
-
-“I have telephoned to them. They must, by this time, have entered into
-relations with the prefect to insure the protection of the works, and
-respect for the rights of labour. But for that troops will be needed, and
-no one can tell how far things will go with people of the character of
-these Champagne fools. We have a loyal police at Ars, who are well known
-and respected. I think that ought to be sufficient.”
-
-“Are you afraid of a conflict?”
-
-“I am afraid of nothing, but I am obliged to take every precaution. Our
-Ars workmen, as I said, are more noisy than evil-intentioned. But there
-are strangers who have incited them to action, and it is with them that
-we shall have to deal.”
-
-“A mob is a brute force, both blind and deaf. You cannot undeceive a
-hundred men. If they all clamour aloud at once, how can any possible
-understanding be reached?”
-
-“That is what leaders of strikes rely upon! Tumult and violence.
-To-morrow I shall receive a delegation of workmen, with whom, I hope, it
-will be possible to come to reasonable terms.”
-
-“I will help you.”
-
-“If you wish.”
-
-“Will there be any hostile manifestation this evening?”
-
-“No. Not before to-morrow.”
-
-“Then I will go and dine. Good night.”
-
-Baudoin was waiting for him. In serving his meal the devoted servant, to
-whom Marcel permitted a certain amount of familiarity, lingered near the
-table instead of returning to the kitchen. He looked carefully at his
-master, and seemed to wish to read his secret impressions on his face.
-Never had the young man been so silent and preoccupied as during the past
-few days. In solitude he lived over again the hours he had spent in the
-company of the beautiful Italian, and never appeared tired of thinking
-about her. Not a word did he say, but his countenance was illumined by an
-inner radiance. Still, in spite of his absentmindedness, Baudoin’s
-persistence in standing there before him, like a note of interrogation,
-struck Marcel at last. Looking at him for a moment, he said—
-
-“What is the matter with you, this evening, Baudoin? You seem quite
-agitated.”
-
-“One might be so with less cause. You are aware, sir, that the employees
-have assumed a very threatening attitude?”
-
-“Well! Are you afraid?”
-
-“No, indeed, sir, not for myself, at any rate!”
-
-“For whom, then?”
-
-“For yourself, sir. When I left Paris M. Baradier gave me precise orders
-to protect you from all harm. If anything were to happen I should not
-know what to do. That is what agitates me, as you say, sir.”
-
-“There is nothing to do, Baudoin, except wait.”
-
-“I beg your pardon, sir, there is something far preferable to that—that
-is, to take the first train back to Paris.”
-
-“And leave my father’s works exposed to the violence of his workmen?”
-
-“M. Baradier’s works are doubtless very precious, but not so precious as
-his son.”
-
-“Do not be uneasy, Baudoin; no one will harm either the son or the works.
-The deuce! Are there no laws in existence? The people of Ars are not
-savages.”
-
-“Neither are the people of Troyes, nor those of Sainte-Savine, savages,
-and yet, this very morning, they destroyed everything at the works of
-Messrs. Tirot and Malapeyre.”
-
-“Hard masters!”
-
-“The question is not whether they are hard or lenient masters, but simply
-whether they are masters at all. Your presence here, sir, is not
-absolutely necessary. It would be better if you would go and spend a week
-in Paris.”
-
-“They would say that I had run away. And old Cardez, who is none too fond
-of me, will say that I am good for nothing except making chemical
-experiments! That, when the works are to be defended, I am no longer to
-be found. No, no! Chance has brought me here, and chance will keep me. I
-shall even try to arrange everything for the general good.”
-
-“Then you will take all necessary precautions, sir?”
-
-“What precautions?”
-
-“A good revolver on your person, in the first place.”
-
-“What an idea! What would be the use of a revolver, Baudoin? If I have to
-deal with a crowd of men, I could not attempt to defend myself. With one
-or two men only, I shall run no danger.”
-
-“At any rate, if you have anything important here, sir, it might be
-useful to put it in safety.”
-
-They looked at one another in silence. Marcel had understood what the
-General’s servant meant. He became very serious.
-
-“You allude to the powders, I suppose, Baudoin?”
-
-“Yes, sir, I am aware that you possess the formulæ. Can nothing be stolen
-which would place the one who should be audacious enough to attempt the
-_coup_, in possession of the secret?”
-
-“The powders, even the formulæ might be stolen, Baudoin, without the
-secret being discovered. There is a peculiar trick of manipulation the
-General revealed to me, which alone constitutes the real value of the
-discovery.”
-
-“All the same, it was to obtain possession of the formulæ that my master
-was killed.”
-
-“No, Baudoin, he was killed because he refused to tell the proportions of
-the ingredients. It was madness at finding himself deceived that inspired
-the murderer’s arm. He imagined he could substitute his own for the
-genius of the inventor, and find out the mixtures himself. He wished to
-storm the mystery and brutalize science. It was then the General was
-struck.”
-
-“Is it not possible he may try again?”
-
-“Is he even alive? Come, Baudoin, are you attempting to discover some
-relation, however far-fetched, between these disturbances, which are
-putting the whole district in commotion, and this powder affair?”
-
-“I know nothing; but I am on my guard against everything that appears of
-a suspicious nature. There are strangers in the works. It is they who
-lead the strikers. Strangers were also in the powder affair. _Mon Dieu_!
-I may be stupid, sir, but I would give a great deal to be safe back in
-Paris with you.”
-
-“You are very imaginative, Baudoin.”
-
-“Well, then, as I see you are determined to pay no attention to what I
-say, I should be glad, sir, if you would give me the key of the
-laboratory. I will keep watch by day, and sleep there by night. In that
-way I shall be more completely at ease.”
-
-“Very well, Baudoin. You will find the key in my room, over the
-mantelpiece. If that will restore your peace of mind, it is easy enough.”
-
-“That will not restore my peace of mind entirely, sir; but, at any rate,
-it will give me a certain amount of satisfaction.”
-
-The dinner being now at an end, Marcel went out for a stroll in the
-garden and along the river bank. It was a cool evening, and the stars
-shone forth in undimmed brilliancy. At times a dull, rumbling sound was
-heard coming from the inns and cafés of the town, where the workmen were
-celebrating the strike in numerous bumpers. A feeling of sadness came
-over Marcel at the thought of the women and children awaiting in their
-poor dwellings the return of the father for the evening meal, whilst the
-latter, under the persuasion of raillery or threats, lingered before the
-table covered with glasses, and drinking the most poisonous and maddening
-liquors imaginable. What wretchedness would result from this interruption
-of work! The paltry savings of the thrifty would vanish, the debts of the
-improvident would increase. And the net result of all this tumult and
-agitation, excited by hypocritical leaders, would be nothing but severity
-and rancour.
-
-Turning aside his thoughts from these evils, to which he could see no
-remedy, he directed them to the Villa de la Cavée. There, at the same
-time as himself, Anetta would be walking to and fro in the garden. He
-pictured her passing down the winding alley in dreamy solitude. What
-could she be thinking of, if not of himself; whose heart was filled with
-her memory? Were they not united in soul, and was not that delicious kiss
-a proof of her affection. A thrill of pleasure came over him in the
-silence of the night, and he thought to himself, “Suppose I were to pay
-her a visit now? She does not expect me, true. What would she think of my
-eagerness to see her again? Would not the untimely hour, and the
-isolation she is in, make her consider my visit offensive? The more
-defenceless she is, ought I not the more to respect her? Ah! She loves
-me, I feel it. Am I on the point of spoiling by my rashness all the
-happiness the future has in store for me?”
-
-In his tenderness Marcel was anxiously solicitous of sparing the
-susceptibilities of her who had set the terrible trap in which he was
-hopelessly caught. Had he been able to penetrate into the Villa de la
-Cavée, and reach the salon unperceived, he would have heard Sophia and
-her Dalmatian servant exchanging their impressions; whilst, seated
-astraddle on a chair, the terrible Hans was listening to them, smoking
-the while, and with an expression of ironical contempt on his face.
-
-“After all, madame, what will you do with this poor young man when you
-have obtained from him what you want?”
-
-“Oh, that will not trouble me! He is very agreeable and charming, and
-will doubtless bewail my departure. But he has not yet reached the point
-I wish to bring him to.”
-
-“What we chemists call the incandescence point,” said Hans, harshly. “We
-know what that is, Sophia, when you have a hand in the matter. For young
-Zypiatine it was the moment when, in his madness, he handed over the
-secrets concerning the concentration on the frontiers of Afghanistan; for
-poor Stenheim, the hour when he stole from the War Office the plan of
-defence of Herzegovina, and for our friend, the handsome Cesare
-Agostini—”
-
-“Don’t speak of Cesare,” interrupted the young woman, frowning.
-
-“Why not, indeed? The _coup_ he effected was a very fine one. Were he to
-attempt to cross the Italian frontier I believe he would be sent to rot
-in the darkest fortress of Sardinia. For he is not one of those whom they
-risk passing judgment on, even in private; he knows rather too much.
-Certainly, this fair-complexioned young fellow from Champagne you are now
-preparing to shear, is a pascal lamb compared with the dangerous
-characters you have hitherto led to their ruin without the slightest
-compunction. All the same, you must beware, Sophia; I know you well. You
-are not quite at your ease just now, you have become silent and
-dreamy—preoccupied, in fact; not a good sign at all! Are you on the point
-of doing something stupid?”
-
-Sophia shuddered. Fixing her eyes full on Hans, she asked suddenly—
-
-“What do you mean?”
-
-“Ah, ah! Now you are interested. I am not surprised. You are too
-intelligent to form any illusions regarding yourself. You must have
-noticed that something abnormal is taking place in your mind. The other
-day there was something in your way of saying that no harm whatever
-should come to the young Baradier, which gave me serious grounds for
-reflection. This very evening, on returning home, I saw you in a state of
-languor anything but natural to so practical a woman as you are. Usually,
-after playing a _rôle_, you resume your ordinary expression and clear
-directness of speech, as though, after removing a mask, you had become
-your own self once more. This time it is not the same. You are under the
-sway of external influences. In short, to sum up, you seem to me as
-though about to fall in love with this young Baradier!”
-
-“I!” exclaimed Sophia, almost angrily.
-
-“Yes, you, Sophia, Baroness Grodsko, known here under the name of Madame
-Vignola. Now listen, my dear, such an occurrence would be an out-and-out
-act of stupidity!”
-
-“You are mad, Hans!”
-
-“I shall only be too glad if I am mistaken. But I have a very keen
-intuition! We all have our little weaknesses, Sophia, and I should not
-wonder in the least if this young man pleased you. But I should be very
-much astonished if you thought of attaching yourself really to him, for
-nothing would be more dangerous to us, or to him, or even to yourself. If
-you could keep the young Marcel from the works for a short time I will
-not deny that such a course would serve my purpose. But no passion,
-remember, just a passing fancy. Keep him in the villa just long enough to
-enable us to execute our plans. That is how I understand things.”
-
-“As I, also,” said the young woman, coldly.
-
-“Very good. If you can keep a cool head and heart, there is nothing to
-fear and everything to hope for. You hear that, Milo. If your mistress
-shows any inclination to go astray, you will be there to remind her of
-her engagements.”
-
-“My duty is to obey her,” said Milona, with scowling look, “and not to
-order. As for you, never presume to order me to do anything.”
-
-“Why not, if you please, my young savage?”
-
-“Because a girl like myself is willing to give up her liberty for the
-sake of one she loves, but she will not serve one she detests.”
-
-“That means simply that we are not friends, my little one,” jeered Hans,
-with a loud laugh. “As you please; I will not force you to like me.”
-
-Milona gave him a steady look, and shrugged her shoulders, pronouncing a
-few words in an uncouth tongue. She then left the room.
-
-“What did she say in that Romany tongue of hers?”
-
-“She said, ‘Son of a she-wolf, may you die of a burning fever without any
-one at hand to give you a glass of water.’”
-
-“Many thanks for her gracious wishes. Some day my stick shall make the
-acquaintance of your back, charming creature.”
-
-“Do not think of such a thing, Hans, she would repay you with
-dagger-blows!”
-
-“What delightful relations! But you know well that I am afraid of no one.
-Now let us speak of something more serious. Have you heard from Cesare?”
-
-“He writes to say that he is back from London, where business matters are
-progressing well. As you are aware, our English friends are very
-practical. They have launched a company with a capital of fifty million
-francs. They will need a whole territory for their money, and they will
-certainly succeed.”
-
-“Assuredly. When one’s calculations are based on human folly and
-incredulity, failure is impossible. That is why business matters possess
-so little interest.”
-
-“At the bottom, you have no esteem for anything but force and might. Your
-temperament is that of a _condottiere_ of the fourteenth century. You
-have been let loose in this coward society of ours, there is no scope for
-your talents in such a restricted civilization as the present. Come,
-Hans, since we are speaking to one another to-night, with apparent
-frankness, who are you, and where do you come from? It is five years
-since I first met you, and yet I know you no better than I did the first
-day. We have mutual interests, and yet I have no hold on you. You are
-generally called Hans, but sometimes Fichter; although you look like a
-German, you can speak both Russian and Spanish admirably. I have known
-you to accomplish the most abominable actions, and yet you are never
-cruel without necessity. You attempt to obtain possession of huge sums of
-money, though your style of living is anything but extravagant. Where do
-all your resources go to? What end have you in view? What is this
-mysterious task you are engaged on, for the little you accomplish with us
-is only a small part of your work? You have trusty companions who do not
-belong to us. Suddenly you disappear, to accomplish some work or other we
-know nothing about. I sometimes suspect that we are merely tools in your
-hands, and are collaborating, without the faintest suspicion of it, in
-the execution of some far-reaching plan which embraces the whole of
-humanity. At times, I wonder if you are not the visible head of some
-enormous and terrible international federation, which, at a given moment,
-and everywhere at the same time, will set the revolution aflame.”
-
-Hans smiled, shook his head approvingly, and then said in railing tones—
-
-“Women are far better than men, after all, for being possessed of
-delicate tact and a clear perception of things. Ah! So you have wondered
-who I really was, Sophia? Well, well! my dear, you are more inquisitive
-than either Lichtenbach or Agostini, without speaking of the rest, for
-not one of them ever attempted to find out what I was unwilling to show.
-Good! Sophia, good! I am interested in you, my child, for you are no
-fool.”
-
-Rising, he took the young woman by the waist, drew her to himself, and
-gave her a friendly kiss on the forehead. Then, looking at her
-steadfastly as though to force his words to enter her brain, he said—
-
-“If you attempt to make a psychological study of me you will lose your
-time, Sophia. Know that I am Hans Fichter to you, and shall never be any
-other. All the same, do not forget that I am not really Hans Fichter. You
-have sought my personality with amusing clear-sightedness, but you will
-never discover it, and that is very lucky for you, otherwise you would
-not survive your discovery a single moment. Yes, my child, I have too
-many people around me, interested in my freedom of action, for any one,
-who thought of playing the spy on me, to be permitted to live. Do not
-imagine, however, that I am a kind of evil genius, a master of rebel
-souls, or the arbiter of future social transformations. If you did you
-would be on the wrong track. My power is great, but not sovereign. I am
-one of the numerous soldiers of a cause which will triumph in time, and I
-bow to no master!”
-
-“Hans!” exclaimed Sophia; “you speak like the nihilists of my own
-country. I knew a young student, named Sewenikof, who propagated nihilist
-literature among the Moujiks in Moscow, and spoke in almost the same
-tones as you are using now. One day he disappeared.”
-
-“Yes, my child, as you will disappear if you repeat a single word,
-however seemingly simple and inoffensive, of what I have just said. Your
-Sewenikof, whom I have never met, but whom I know, after all, as though I
-saw him, was merely an instigator, an agent who has been suppressed. That
-kind of thing happens every day. Be careful, Sophia. I am very fond of
-you, and should be sorry if any trouble befell you. All the same, I
-should be unable to do anything. Now it is time to say good night.”
-
-“You are going to bed?”
-
-“No. I have a rendezvous with my men at Ars. Have you not heard them
-shouting themselves hoarse all day long, fools as they are? What a pack
-of simpletons! These people have no idea that they are hurling threats
-and imprecations simply because such a course suits my convenience.”
-
-“Be prudent yourself, Hans.”
-
-“Ah! This is nothing more than child’s play for me!”
-
-Lighting a cigar, he took his leave. The garden was dark. He proceeded,
-without the slightest noise, along the edge of the turf; gliding along
-like a shadow. On reaching the gate he opened it noiselessly, and
-remained there a moment against the wood panel, so as not to be noticed
-from the road. Then he looked all around, as though possessed of the
-faculty of seeing in the darkness. After a moment’s hesitation he set out
-in the direction of Ars. It would have been impossible for any one coming
-behind him to believe that he had come from the garden of the villa.
-
-When he had advanced a hundred yards the branches of a bush silently
-separated on the opposite side of the road, and another man, in his turn,
-appeared. He was the stone-breaker who had been working for the past few
-days at the Cavée. Walking along in step with Hans, he, too, made his way
-towards the town.
-
-
-
-CHAPTER IV
-
-
-ON leaving Marcel, Baudoin, after obtaining permission to keep watch over
-the laboratory, had gone out on to the main road. It was dark. Taking his
-pipe, he filled it with tobacco, then halting near the pillar which
-served for Laforêt’s correspondence, he struck a match. By the light he
-examined the plaster, and discovered the following inscription in red
-pencil, “This evening. Nine.” The old soldier lit his pipe, looked at his
-watch, and muttered to himself—
-
-“Nine o’clock to-night. At last! I will go and wait for him.”
-
-He made his way towards the inn, which was no longer dark and silent as
-usual. A vivid light shone through the glass on the door, and a rumbling
-sound arose from the bar. Baudoin drew near one of the windows on the
-ground floor, and listened through the shutters. A voice, as of some one
-delivering a discourse, could be heard, interspersed from time to time
-with shouts and exclamations. At one time it sounded louder and more
-violent, and a thunder of applause rang through the room, as though all
-the tables had been struck at one and the same time by the robust fists
-of the men present.
-
-“The deuce!” said Baudoin; “this place does not seem very safe for one
-belonging to the master’s household. The strikers have met at the Soleil
-d’Or, and they appear to be paying favourable attention to one of their
-usual haranguers.”
-
-Making the round of the house, he reached the door of the courtyard, and
-looked around for an entrance into the kitchen, where he expected to find
-his friend the innkeeper. A hand was placed on his shoulder. Turning
-round, he recognized Laforêt, who had arrived, noiselessly, and was
-standing by his side.
-
-“I was watching you,” said the agent. “The place is full. I was convinced
-you would enter this way. We must not stay in the middle of the
-courtyard. Many eyes to-night are on the watch around us.”
-
-“Where shall we go?”
-
-“Come along into my room.”
-
-An outer staircase led to a wood corridor, running along the first floor,
-and continued right to the top story. It was right under the roof that
-Laforêt had taken a room, the wretchedest in the whole establishment, and
-quite in accordance with the condition of a poor labourer. Opening his
-door, he signed to Baudoin to take a seat on the bed; then, raising the
-skylight, he looked along the roof to make sure no one was watching.
-Dropping the iron sash, he said in low tones—
-
-“Speak close to my ear. There are rooms on either side of this. The
-partitions are very thin, and it is possible to hear everything that is
-said.”
-
-“What have you summoned me for?” whispered Baudoin.
-
-“Because I have news from the Cavée. The lady is no longer alone. There
-is a man in the house.”
-
-“What kind of a man? A dark, handsome young fellow, who speaks Italian?”
-
-“No; tall, strong-looking, and light-complexioned, with a thick beard,
-and speaking with a kind of German accent.”
-
-Baudoin’s eyes shone. He vigorously grasped Laforêt’s hand, and, in
-trembling tones, asked—
-
-“Did you see him?”
-
-“Yes, as distinctly as I see you.”
-
-“Had he both arms?”
-
-“He has both arms.”
-
-Baudoin gave a sigh of disappointment.
-
-“Then it is not he! Ah! For a moment I hoped—”
-
-“That it was the man of Vanves? Could you recognize him if he were shown
-to you?”
-
-“Perhaps not, for I never saw him except in the dark, but if I heard him
-speak, yes, without the slightest doubt, I should recognize his voice
-from among a thousand.”
-
-“Very well! I hope I shall be able to give you satisfaction; the man is
-here.”
-
-“In the inn?”
-
-“In a room on the first floor with three others, the ringleaders, who
-were summoned from the common room when he arrived. He himself has no
-relations with the mass of the workmen; he communicates only with the
-staff. I shadowed him from the villa to this very spot. The cunning
-rascal forced me to keep my wits about me. He changed direction three
-times, and twice tried to throw me on a false scent. One would have
-thought he felt me close at his heels, though I followed him with the
-utmost precaution. He went to the Café de la Gare, where he drank a
-bitter; then he left by the servants’ door, after entering by the front.
-I suspected the trick, so I went round to the back. Then he went to the
-station itself, crossed the waiting-room, and reached the platform. He
-walked the whole length, right on to the storeroom; there he found an
-open gate, through which he entered the town, and came straight to the
-Soleil d’Or. At this very moment he is beneath us, holding a conference
-with his confederates.”
-
-“How will you manage to give me an opportunity of hearing him?” whispered
-Baudoin.
-
-“You will see shortly. But, first of all, what does the rascal want at
-the Villa de la Cavée?”
-
-“Well, you see, it has reference to M. Marcel, that I would swear to.
-There is trouble in the air. Why are the works in this condition when
-there has never, hitherto, been the slightest difference between the
-kindest of masters and the best-treated of workmen? The same thing is at
-the bottom of it all. When I summoned you I knew what I was doing. This
-Italian is here for M. Marcel, and so is this new arrival, and everything
-has been planned by the villains who killed the General!”
-
-“Well! We will throw some light on the matter. If I can succeed in laying
-hands on this gang the Minister of War will be delighted. After all,
-Baudoin, if you are not mistaken, this affair is simply the result of the
-attempt at Vanves. We have to deal with a whole company, and an
-experienced one, too, which has already had a crow to pick with us.
-Follow me.”
-
-Raising the sash, he placed one foot on a chair, and mounted on to the
-roof. Baudoin imitated him. A large leaden pipe surrounded the building.
-This they followed until they reached the front, overlooking the
-courtyard twenty feet below. Laforêt pointed out to his companion a small
-zinc roof below the first floor. It was the covering of a shed, used as a
-saddle-room.
-
-“Now, then, our friends are in the room where you see that lighted window
-above this roof. If you can get there unnoticed, and without making the
-slightest noise, you may see from the roof into the interior; certainly
-you could hear.”
-
-Baudoin leaned over into the courtyard, looking for some means of
-descending.
-
-“How can I get there? Twenty feet and no ladder.”
-
-Laforêt pointed to something projecting from the angle of the wall.
-
-“That is a cast-iron pipe used for the drains.”
-
-“You are right! Come along!”
-
-“Put your shoes in your pocket.”
-
-After doing so the agent seized hold of the leaden pipe with his hands,
-and separating his knees in the angle of the wall to protect himself by
-the friction, he silently began to descend. Baudoin, leaning over the
-roof, watched the operation with anxious curiosity. He was not afraid
-that Laforêt would be found lacking in strength or agility, but was
-wondering if the pipe would prove solid. Suppose the attaching
-cramp-irons became loose, both pipe and man would fall to the ground with
-a terrible clatter. The alarm would be raised, and the consequences of
-such an accident might be disastrous. But his anxiety did not last long.
-At the end of a few seconds Laforêt had reached the roof, and was lying
-there extended at full length.
-
-Baudoin thereupon followed suit. On reaching the bottom of the window,
-where the meeting was being held, he knelt down and looked. Through the
-muslin of the curtain the human forms appeared indistinct, like the
-silhouettes of a badly-focused magic-lantern. According to the position
-he was in, and his distance from the light, each of the three men
-assembled appeared either like a giant or a dwarf. One of them had risen
-from his seat, and was walking to and fro. According as he approached or
-went away from the window, a voice, distinct or indistinct, reached
-Laforêt’s ears. The latter, without turning round, drew Baudoin nearer,
-and whispered in his ear—
-
-“It is difficult to see, but you may hear. Come a little nearer and
-listen.”
-
-Baudoin obeyed, and listened attentively in the effort to discover the
-object of his keen curiosity. It was not the man who was walking to and
-fro whose voice could now be heard. It was rather the voice of some one
-seated near a table, who appeared to be examining some papers. Difficult
-as it was to find any meaning in what was said, all the same certain
-expressions reached them, “No use using violence—nothing would result.
-Alarm the workmen. Excite the attention of the authorities.” All the
-same, it was easy to understand that he was not of the same mind as the
-man on his feet, who appeared to be pacing to and fro with downcast head,
-as though impatiently submitting to opposition. Suddenly the walker
-stopped, and in harsh tones said—
-
-“It shall be as I wish!”
-
-The other replied, though, on account of the distance, only a few broken
-phrases reached the listeners.
-
-“General interest; unfavourable opinions.”
-
-The man on his feet resumed his walk, and was listening to his opponent.
-
-Once more he stopped, and said—
-
-“It shall be as I wish, I tell you.”
-
-Laforêt whispered—
-
-“Is he the man? Do you recognize the voice?”
-
-“No!” said Baudoin, anxiously. “I don’t recognize it at all.”
-
-The man seated before the table thereupon folded up his papers, and put
-them in his pocket, with the words—“Then there is nothing to do but
-obey!”
-
-The other thereupon went up to the table, laid his hand on the shoulder
-of his opponent who had capitulated, and said in joyful accents—
-
-“That’s right! You were a long time before you would give in! Now we must
-set to work. No one will repent the decision reached!”
-
-And he burst into a loud laugh.
-
-Laforêt felt the hand of his companion shake, and, at the same time,
-Baudoin murmured in accents of frightful anguish—
-
-“It is he—yes, that is the man; I recognize his laugh!”
-
-He gave a gesture of anger, but Laforêt immediately restrained him.
-
-“Listen once more! Make sure that you are not mistaken!”
-
-“It is he! I cannot be mistaken! Ah! that laugh of his; just as I heard
-it on the night of the crime, when he descended from the carriage.”
-
-“Well, then, we know all we want. We must not stay any longer here; it is
-useless to risk any unnecessary danger.”
-
-Thereupon he glided down to the edge of the zinc roof. Baudoin followed
-him, and the two men put on their shoes and reached the courtyard. There
-they halted. The door of the inn was closed, but Laforêt knew how to deal
-with locks, and, a second later, his companion and himself were in the
-open street.
-
-“What are you going to do now?” said Baudoin. “The police are at hand.
-Will you hesitate to lock up this villain at once?”
-
-“Good!” said Laforêt. “That is one solution. And afterwards?”
-
-“What do you mean—afterwards?”
-
-“Nothing is easier than to take him. We need only wait till he leaves the
-inn, and then carry him off to the police! But what then?”
-
-“Of course he will be accused of the crime committed at Vanves; then he
-will be tried, convicted, and finally condemned.”
-
-“Indeed! Convicted? You think so? Such a man as the one with whom we have
-to deal? Take him unawares? Could he not easily find an alibi to prove
-that he was five hundred miles away from Vanves on the night of the
-crime? Even yourself, five minutes ago, hesitated about recognizing him.
-And then, whilst we have this bird safe under lock and bolt, only to be
-obliged, later on, to set him at liberty, perhaps, all the others will
-take to flight. That will be a fine end to everything!”
-
-“All the same, we cannot fold our arms quietly, and let this rascal get
-off scot-free?”
-
-“The villain is plotting something here, and the play must not be
-interrupted at the very moment the principal character is about to enter
-on the stage. What about the beautiful lady of the Cavée and her
-pretended brother? And all these rascals who are just now doing their
-best to ruin the works of Baradier and Graff? Do you not think of them?
-Should we let them know that the whole affair is over and their plot
-discovered?”
-
-“But we cannot remain inactive spectators in all this?”
-
-“Spectators, yes, for the moment. Inactive, never! I did not come from
-Paris to Ars simply for the purpose of breaking stones on the road. I am
-engaged in my profession, and I intend the whole affair to be
-successful.”
-
-“But can I not, at least, warn M. Marcel?”
-
-“Under no pretext! His first impulse would be to have a frightful scene
-with his lady-love, and everything would be ruined. In the name of
-Heaven, let us keep those who are under the influence of passion out of
-our confidence! From them you may expect nothing but the most utter
-folly!”
-
-“But suppose Marcel falls into some trap or other?”
-
-“Have no fear for him. He will come out of it all right. For my part, I
-intend to shadow our man, and shall not let him give me the slip until I
-have everything necessary for giving him up to the magistrate in Paris,
-who is extremely mortified at his failure in this affair. Do you agree?”
-
-“I must do so, I suppose.”
-
-“Then we will each attend to our own business.”
-
-They shook hands, and separated in the darkness of the night. The
-illuminated inn rang with shouts and exclamations, alternating with the
-cadence of mugs of beer, as they struck the wooden tables. Away in the
-distance the factory raised its sombre bulk under the star-lit sky. At
-the very moment Baudoin passed in front of the concierge’s room, the
-latter stopped him, and, in joyful tones, said—
-
-“M. Graff has just arrived!”
-
-Uncle Graff, uneasy at what Cardez had telephoned, had not hesitated, but
-had left Baradier to continue an important operation at the Bourse on the
-shares of the Explosives Company, and, taking the train, had made
-straight for the works. Marcel, who was taking a walk by the riverside,
-had seen the worthy uncle come along the flower-beds, and had rushed
-joyfully forward to meet him.
-
-“What! Is it you, Uncle Graff?”
-
-“Yes, my nephew, I wanted to see for myself what is taking place here. I
-have just had a talk with Cardez, and at present I know how matters
-stand. Now, let us speak of yourself. How are you getting along, and what
-are you doing? I don’t want to find fault, but you send us very little
-news. Your mother is anything but pleased, and said to me only last
-night, ‘He no longer thinks of us; he loves us no more.’”
-
-“I! Not think of you all!” said Marcel.
-
-“How can your poor mother have any illusion on the subject? Certainly,
-you do not spoil her! Ah! I well know that children do not live for their
-parents, but for themselves. All the same, they might do a little, from
-time to time, for those who have brought them up and loved them from
-childhood.”
-
-“Oh, uncle! What you say pains me very much!” said Marcel, penitently.
-“Has my silence been interpreted in this way? To obey my father I have
-come to bury myself at Ars for several weeks. I think I have given him
-sufficient pledges of my good intentions, in spite of a few silly
-escapades I have been guilty of.”
-
-“Debts amounting to three hundred thousand francs, my little Marcel,
-without counting what I often gave you unknown to your parents, eh?”
-
-“Ah! Uncle Graff, why return to discuss such matters?”
-
-“Yes, you forget them very soon, don’t you?”
-
-Marcel smiled.
-
-“You are a very indulgent uncle; you know what young men are!”
-
-“All the same, I have never been young! Ah! Marcel, I should have adored
-pleasure and luxury had I not looked as solemn as a churchwarden.”
-
-“So you gave yourself up to finance, and succeeded brilliantly! My good
-uncle, it is you who pay when your spendthrift of a nephew is in
-difficulties! All the same, I am very fond of you, Uncle Graff.”
-
-He had taken him by the shoulders, and was embracing him with warmth. The
-old man, his eyes filled with tears, looked tenderly at the handsome
-young fellow by his side. He coughed to conceal his emotion, and said—
-
-“Yes, I know you are fond of me. Well, well! Promise me that you will
-write a nice little letter to your mother.”
-
-“I promise, Uncle Graff, I will write to-morrow morning, and one to my
-father into the bargain.”
-
-“That is right! By the way, things don’t seem to be going along very well
-here! Are these rascally strikers going to ruin our workmen?”
-
-“There is every appearance of it. Cardez has not sufficient tact; he is
-too straightforward in his talk. A fine man, in reality, but one who
-appears to act too tyrannically.”
-
-“I will attend to the matter myself. To-morrow I will see the syndicate.
-And you—what are you doing? Has your work been progressing?”
-
-“Considerably. I have discovered the pale green and the golden yellow I
-have been looking for. You shall see my samples.”
-
-“And the other affair?”
-
-Lowering his voice, he asked in anxious tones—
-
-“The powders?”
-
-“The formulæ have been tested, and their success is assured.”
-
-“Have you made any experiments?”
-
-“Yes, Uncle Graff, and they have been terrible in their simplicity. I set
-off, carrying a small piece of the commerce-explosive, in the direction
-of Bossicant; I placed it all around the roots of a huge oak. After
-igniting it, the immense tree, without noise or smoke, lay there level
-with the ground, lying in the heather, as though cut down by a giant
-scythe.”
-
-“No one saw you?”
-
-“No one. The following morning the gamekeeper said, ‘Ah, M. Marcel, what
-a loss we have had! The old oak of the flat Mare was struck to the ground
-last night by the storm. It is strange how those old trees go; but the
-wind is a famous wood-cutter!’ In fact, it would be impossible to form
-any idea of the destructive force of this powder. I wished to test it
-once more, and this time in the breaking up of a rock. Going to the old
-stone quarry on the Sainte-Savine road I placed a squib in an excavation.
-There were three hundred yards of earth and sand-stone to explode. When
-night came I set fire to it, and withdrew. There would be no one passing
-in the neighbourhood till morning came; accordingly I feared no accident.
-The detonation was extremely feeble, and I was only half a mile away. In
-fact, I scarcely heard it. The following morning I returned to judge of
-the result. It was terrible! The whole cube had been lifted, and a hole
-six yards deep had been dug out in the shape of a funnel. With a
-sufficient charge I would wager that a mountain could be blown into the
-air! See here, Uncle Graff, if the Spaniards took it into their heads to
-destroy Gibraltar they would succeed with this powder. What a fine sight
-it would be, that huge mass, rocks, parapets, casemates, cannons, and all
-the rest, thundering down into the sea!”
-
-“Have you drawn up your formulæ?”
-
-“No, not yet.”
-
-“Well, draw them up, and give them to me. I will take them away with me
-to Paris, and deposit them at the Patents Office. The time is come to
-make use of them.”
-
-“You shall have them to-morrow morning, Uncle Graff. It is a mere
-trifle.”
-
-“You see, your father and myself have for some time been putting into
-execution a plan, the consequences of which are far-reaching. Baradier,
-who has a fine intuition for business, has found out Lichtenbach’s plans.
-The old rascal caused several shares in the explosives to be sold at a
-loss, and brought the stock down to nothing. We were wondering why the
-depreciation kept getting greater and greater, when chance afforded us
-the proof that it was Lichtenbach who was plotting to ruin the company,
-so as to reconstitute it to his profit. He had seven or eight
-stockbrokers under his orders. One of them, however, committed an
-indiscretion, which placed us immediately in possession of the secret.
-Then your father, equal to the emergency, did not hesitate, but bought up
-all Lichtenbach was selling, and after the fall had reached the limit,
-the rise began. At this moment we hold two hundred thousand shares in the
-explosives, bought at a very low price, and which to-morrow, in case the
-patent of the new powder is acquired by the company, will rise above par.
-It is a formidable party stroke. If we succeed, the fortune of the family
-is increased tenfold. We shall have directed against Lichtenbach the
-attack he wished to inflict on the Explosives shareholders. He will lose
-on what we gain, and this time I think we shall have finished with him.”
-
-“Very well! Uncle Graff, you shall have the formulæ to-morrow, and you
-may do what you please with them.”
-
-“It will be a fortune for Mademoiselle de Trémont, and one for ourselves
-into the bargain.”
-
-“Ah! Are you not rich enough?”
-
-“Yes. But your father is ambitious. He wants the maximum in everything,
-and affirms that there is no reason why French fortunes should not be as
-great as those of the Americans.”
-
-“Ah! The Vanderbilts and the Astors! What a weakness to think of such
-things!”
-
-“My young friend, you cannot understand this intoxication of success
-which takes possession of the calmest and most level-headed of men. You
-know well enough that your father is very simple in his tastes, and
-spends less money than you do. But it is no longer a matter of pleasure;
-it is a question of arithmetic.”
-
-“Yes, I know. But it is precisely there that the harm lies. It would be
-far better if he were not so rich, and spent more money. What weapons you
-place in the hands of these socialists, who are, at this very moment,
-causing us so much trouble! How can you justify in their eyes such a
-piling-up of capital at the disposal of one individual whilst the
-generality of men toil and suffer from all kinds of privations? You see,
-Uncle Graff; the sole excuse of wealthy men is that they spend a great
-deal, so as to throw their superabundant riches into general circulation.
-It would give me pleasure to see my father fling money out of the window,
-since he has so much. Those in the street would pick it up, and their
-momentary wretchedness would be relieved, at any rate. I should be glad
-if he would order statues of sculptors, and pictures of artists, and set
-rolling all the wealth now being piled up in the safes. How can you
-expect me to be interested in the shares of such and such a company? What
-does this paper represent in my eyes, if not the labour of a whole crowd
-of workmen, who toil and sweat to produce dividends which will enrich the
-shareholders? Uncle Graff, all this is neither moral nor just, nor even
-human! And I believe that a prodigal son like myself is the just ransom,
-from a social point of view, of a treasure-hoarder like my father.”
-
-“But consider, my little Marcel, your father’s work enriches, and his
-wealth strengthens the country. It is the resources of the rich which
-keep up the vigour of a nation in time of national peril. Your father is
-a citizen useful by reason of his wealth, just as an inventor is by his
-genius, or a general by his talent for war. It is your father who will
-give the inventor funds to perfect his invention, and who will pay for
-the improved cannons and guns of the soldier. Every man has his function
-in life, as in society. And, I can assure you, your father is not one of
-the most despicable.”
-
-“Uncle Graff, I speak sentiment to you, and you reply with political
-economy. It is impossible for us to come to an agreement. We are both
-right, only we are not speaking of the same thing.”
-
-“Neither are we of the same generation. Ideas change several times in a
-single century, and one generation does not reason like the following.
-Your father and I have seen the war of 1870, invasion and ruin on every
-side, and we remember what a ransom we had to pay. That has made us
-parsimonious for the rest of our days. You came into the world only when
-prosperity had returned; you have been brought up under the breath of
-Republican ideas. Your thoughts are quite different from ours; you are an
-advocate for equality. We are nothing of the kind. My father inspired in
-me respect for caste. I have less consideration for a tradesman than for
-a mill-proprietor, more respect for a lawyer, a magistrate, or a notary,
-than for a painter or man of letters. It is my nature. I cannot change if
-I would. I am well aware that ideas are changing all round me, but I
-shall die impenitent. Your generation has no bump of veneration as ours
-had. You consider yourself on the same footing as an elderly man, famous
-and respected, and you treat him on the most familiar terms. That is
-something which would be impossible for me, any more than I should expect
-the foreman at the works to look upon me as his equal, and pat me
-familiarly on the shoulder. Possibly you and your companions may be
-right, but I don’t think so. At any rate we shall see what your children
-will be like, if you have any, for even family life is another
-institution quite out of fashion now.”
-
-“Well, uncle, you have a very effective way of discussing, without giving
-yourself any pretensions! Father would long ago have called me a fool,
-without offering the slightest argument. With you, it is different, and
-when I listen to you I am by no means sure that I am right. Besides, you
-are so kind and tolerant, Uncle Graff, that I do not feel myself capable
-of resisting you for any length of time!”
-
-“Ah, you little rogue! Now you are flattering me; you know how to make me
-do as you wish. At bottom you are a sly fox, and I believe you trick the
-lot of us!”
-
-“Oh! Uncle Graff!”
-
-“Come now, you are not so nice as that for nothing,” said the old
-bachelor, with a laugh. “What is it you want me to do for you now?”
-
-“Nothing, upon my word, uncle. I am perfectly sincere in everything I
-have just said!”
-
-“Then you are conducting yourself very well just now.”
-
-Marcel raised his eyes, and said calmly—
-
-“How could I do anything else here?”
-
-“Ah! Do you think you could not find an opportunity if you wanted? I
-really believe that if you were thrown on to a desert island you would
-find means to fall in love and get into debt, even there!”
-
-“But who would pay them if my Uncle Graff were not at hand?”
-
-“You are jesting with me, you rascal!”
-
-“No, I am quite serious. I never leave my laboratory except for a walk in
-the woods; and I have not spent twenty-five francs since I came here.”
-
-A violent clamour, coming from the direction of the town, cut short the
-conversation. A light shone in the sky. Songs, at the same time as a dull
-tramp of a marching band, were heard on the road. And the workmen’s
-Marseillaise, shouted out by hundreds of voices, again broke the silence.
-On leaving the inn the workmen, accompanied by their wives, were marching
-through the sleeping town, hurling out against the startled citizens
-threats of revolt and violence. Marcel and his uncle Graff, halting there
-in the garden, listened, and watched the shouting mob as it passed by,
-waving in the air torches made of pine branches. It was the smoke and
-flame hovering above a crowd which was hurling imprecations against the
-masters.
-
-Uncle Graff pointed to the street, and said—
-
-“You hear what these people are saying. ‘All the masters shall be strung
-up!’ And yet there is not one of them who, were he ill or infirm, would
-not have the right to rely on us to mitigate his suffering. We have given
-them workmen’s dwellings where they are lodged, schools where their
-children are educated, hospitals where they are treated with every
-attention when ill, and co-operative societies where they may buy
-everything at cheap rates. There is only the public-house we have been
-unwilling to give them, and it is there they go, to become filled with
-sentiments of hatred against us! It is alcohol which is their master, and
-he is a pitiless tyrant who will give them no mercy!”
-
-The end of the column had just passed. Whether it was that they had seen
-the two men in the garden, or they simply wished to fling to the winds
-their cries of rebellion and rancour, these latter, the most intoxicated
-and miserable of them all, screamed forth in a shrill chorus, “Down with
-the masters! Down with exploiters!” Then silence was restored by degrees.
-Uncle Graff sadly shook his head, and said—
-
-“Come along, exploiter, let us turn in!”
-
-And they made their way towards the house.
-
-The following morning Uncle Graff was up early. He hunted up Cardez, to
-come to some arrangement with him; Marcel made his way to the laboratory.
-He had promised the powder formula, and he wished to draw it up at his
-leisure, As he entered he found Baudoin arranging the chemical utensils.
-He admired the unwonted order reigning in the capharnaum.
-
-“Ah, that is better!” said he; “here is a room which has not been so
-clean for several weeks. The dust cannot know what it all means to be
-disturbed in this way. But you must take care, Baudoin, not to touch a
-single product. There are some very dangerous ones here.”
-
-“Ah, sir, I know all about them; I handled any quantity of products
-during my poor General’s lifetime. I always obeyed the orders he gave me.
-And after what has taken place at Vanves, I am not likely to risk
-handling them.”
-
-“You have been sleeping in the summer-house, Baudoin?”
-
-“Yes, M. Marcel, I have arranged a bed very comfortably in the attic.
-Now, I am no longer uneasy. Still, so long as there are doubtful
-characters in the neighbourhood, I shall sleep with one eye open.”
-
-“In my opinion, the people to whom you allude have intentions on the
-works rather than on the laboratory.”
-
-“I cannot tell, M. Marcel. There are sufficient mixed characters in the
-company which has come here the last few days.”
-
-“One would imagine you had discovered something extraordinary.”
-
-Baudoin bent his head. He was afraid he had said too much, and recalled
-to mind Laforêt’s prudent advice.
-
-“Oh! I am not clever enough for that; but I warn you, M. Marcel, to be on
-your guard. Have confidence in no one—in no one!”
-
-He left the room, leaving Marcel astonished at his persistence. What was
-the meaning of this mysterious warning his servant kept giving him? Did
-he know more than he meant to tell? To whom did he allude when he said,
-‘In no one.’ The beautiful and charming silhouette of Madame Vignola
-sprang up in his imagination. Was it of her that he ought to be on his
-guard? He pictured her again in her dreamy, careless attitude,
-promenading sorrowfully in the woods of Bossicant. What had he to fear
-from her? What danger could she make him incur, except that of adoring
-her without obtaining a return of affection? There, indeed, was a very
-grave and serious peril! It was the most dreadful he could imagine just
-then, and one against which he felt himself utterly helpless. To love,
-without obtaining love in return! What would become of him if such a
-misfortune befell him? He could not think of it without a kind of
-distraction, so long as the young woman was mistress of his heart and
-mind. For a few moments he walked up and down the laboratory with anxious
-mien, and only halted when he heard the door open. It was Uncle Graff.
-
-“You know we have to meet the syndicate of workmen this morning, at ten
-o’clock?”
-
-“Yes; I have not forgotten.”
-
-“What is the matter with you? You do not appear at your ease. Is there
-anything that troubles you?”
-
-“Nothing whatever; it is simply this distressing situation that makes me
-anxious. Now that you have spoken to Cardez, uncle, what is it the
-workmen want?”
-
-“Oh, several things! In the first place, less work and more pay.
-Afterwards, themselves to nominate their own overseer. To have personal
-administration of the pension and assistance funds. To submit to no
-stoppage of wages for insurance against accidents. _Mon Dieu_! On all
-these points some understanding may be reached, and I am quite disposed
-to meet them half way. But there is on the point of being formulated a
-final demand which may render all conciliation impossible.”
-
-“What is that!”
-
-“They will demand the dismissal of Cardez, who is accused by the workmen
-of being extremely severe in enforcing the regulations.”
-
-“Dismiss the director? To-morrow they will want to send us away also.”
-
-“Ah, my nephew, is not that the collectivist doctrine, pure and simple?
-The works to the workers, the land to the tillers—that is to say, the
-dispossession of the master and the landlord. We are advancing in that
-direction.”
-
-Marcel said coldly—
-
-“We cannot give way on these points. Abdicate all authority, be no longer
-master in one’s own house? At no price and under no pretext. Be kind to
-the workmen, certainly! But be their dupe, never!”
-
-“Come,” said Uncle Graff, with a smile, “do not get excited. You always
-go to extremes. Yesterday all fire and flame; this morning full of
-reactionary energy. You must keep to the golden mean as I do. I still
-have hopes of seeing the triumph of reason and common sense. But I should
-like to obtain one thing from you.”
-
-“What is that?”
-
-“That you go out for a stroll instead of being present at the meeting.”
-
-“Ah!” exclaimed Marcel; “that is not your own idea, Uncle Graff. It is
-Cardez who has given you this hint.”
-
-“Well! I confess you are right. He mistrusts your impetuosity, and is
-afraid you cannot keep perfect possession of yourself. He knows what your
-opinions are.”
-
-“The fool! Let him trouble himself with his own opinions! After having
-alienated our workmen by useless reforms, how can he have the assurance
-to ask that the son of his master should not be present at a debate in
-which his own interests, both material and moral, are engaged? And he
-thinks I shall submit to this eviction? Decidedly, he knows me very
-little!”
-
-“But if I myself asked you not to come to the meeting!”
-
-“For what reason?”
-
-Uncle Graff hesitated a moment, but finally decided to speak.
-
-“I did not wish to tell you all my reasons. This morning’s debate may
-cause grave disorders. We have been informed that the workmen, who have
-been worked up to a high pitch, will admit of no refusal to their
-demands. In short, it is feared violent measures will be resorted to.”
-
-“Very good! The greater reason I should be there!”
-
-“If I consent, think what responsibility I assume in your father’s eyes!”
-
-“But what do you think I should do?”
-
-“You would do well to take the next train for Paris.”
-
-“And leave you to resist these madmen, all alone? You have a fine opinion
-of me, indeed!”
-
-“Come, now, Marcel, do not get angry. I am an old man, and command a
-certain amount of respect. It will be easy for me to keep out of a
-quarrel, but it will be no easy matter to keep an eye on you. To tell the
-truth, you would be greatly in the way. Here, you have no official
-standing; you are simply an inventor, and there is a whole group of
-workmen who regard you with no kindly feelings on account of your
-investigations in dyeing. They pretend that it is your intention to take
-away their living by manufacturing with the machine what they now do by
-hand. I assure you, Marcel, I have good reasons for keeping you away,
-and, if you are reasonable, you will obey me.”
-
-“Well, Uncle Graff, I am not reasonable. That you have long known; on
-many occasions have I proved it, and I will prove it once again to-day. I
-don’t care what people think. I will keep close to your side, without
-giving you any cause for trouble. But I will be present, because it is
-both my duty and my right. Besides, if I did not come, some time after
-you would say to yourself; ‘After all, he obeyed me very readily. My
-young nephew is bent on pleasure only, and is quite willing to keep out
-of the way when there is danger in the air.’”
-
-As the old man listened to his nephew the look of anxiety, by degrees,
-disappeared from his countenance. Doubtless he blamed him for his
-unwillingness to obey him, but approved of his showing himself at once
-determined, devoted, and affectionate. Oh yes, affectionate above all! In
-the bachelor’s tender heart Marcel’s protests found a delightful echo. He
-felt himself loved by this nephew of his, whom he himself loved as though
-he were his own son, and all his discontent melted away in an exquisite
-sensation of happiness. Still, he would not confess to a satisfaction so
-little in accord with his expressed wishes. He gave himself an angry and
-displeased mien; but a smile shone in his eyes as he murmured—
-
-“Very good! I cannot force you. As you please! If anything happens
-through you we shall know whose fault it is!”
-
-“Uncle Graff, we will perish together!” exclaimed the young man, gaily.
-“What more brilliant end could I hope for! What a glorious item of news
-for the journals!”
-
-“That would be the last straw!”
-
-“What precautions are you going to take to prevent our being devoured by
-the popular lion?”
-
-“None whatever! I am convinced that a display of force would effect no
-useful end. Accordingly, I begged the authorities not to disturb
-themselves. They wished to send us out the dragoons! Why not the
-artillery at once?”
-
-“And who are the delegates to whom we shall have to reply?”
-
-“There are eight of them. But it is the famous Balestrier who is at their
-head and acts as their mouthpiece.”
-
-“He is a very intelligent fellow, only he reads too many books beyond his
-power of comprehension.”
-
-“The rest are honest enough, but they have been incited to revolt by
-their companions at Troyes, and I am afraid I shall find them more
-violent than they are naturally disposed to be. They assume an attitude
-and play a _rôle_.”
-
-“We will judge them by their actions.”
-
-Pointing out to his uncle on the laboratory table a glass recipient of
-moderate size, Marcel said—
-
-“Look at this jar, Uncle Graff. If I were to throw a lighted match into
-it, in a moment I could annihilate all these ill-advised strikers.”
-
-“Then that is the famous powder?”
-
-“Yes.”
-
-“Show it me.”
-
-Marcel took the jar, removed the stopper, and poured into his hand a few
-small brown shavings. An odour of camphor spread throughout the room.
-
-“It is the war powder in flakes, but I intend to manufacture it in
-pastilles. Then it will resemble an ordinary button without holes. In
-flakes it is more convenient for charging large projectiles. In pastilles
-it will be better suited for cartridge sockets. Non-compressed it burns
-like German tinder, with a smell of disinfecting powder, and entirely
-without smoke. Would you like to see it?”
-
-“No!” said Uncle Graff, eagerly. “I do not care to see you handling such
-substances. One never knows! They might explode without any one expecting
-it!”
-
-“Impossible! Besides, as this powder smells of camphor it might be placed
-with one’s clothes during the summer to prevent the moths from spoiling
-them.”
-
-He laughed aloud. Uncle Graff, slightly reassured, forced him to place
-the bottle back on to the table.
-
-“And the commerce powder?”
-
-“I have none manufactured. But the formula is already there in the
-drawer.”
-
-“With this formula Trémont’s discovery may be exploited?”
-
-“Certainly, on condition one knows how to make use of it. But that is my
-secret, which I shall reveal only at the moment the exploitation
-commences. The different kinds of products employed, with their dosings,
-are specified.”
-
-Opening a drawer he took out a sheet of paper, at the head of which were
-written the words: Powder Formula. No. I. Then followed lines of
-abbreviated words, with figures.
-
-“Leave it in this drawer; I do not need it just now. You will give it me
-this evening, after the conference. Then I will write to your father and
-send on the paper to him.”
-
-“As you please,” said Marcel.
-
-Placing back the paper he shut the drawer. Uncle Graff left the room
-saying—
-
-“I am going to see Cardez; if you want me you will find me with him.”
-
-Marcel, left all alone, walked up and down the laboratory, then drew near
-the open window, and looked out on to the river flowing beneath. A
-fisherman was sitting there in a boat, moored in the middle of the
-stream, engaged in throwing baked grain as bait into the water all around
-him. A large straw hat covered his head, whilst the wind blew out his
-grey smock-frock into the form of a balloon. He did not appear even to
-see Marcel, but filled his pipe with tobacco, lit it, and began to throw
-out his line, at the end of which was a ball of worms as bait. After a
-few moments a bite came, he struck adroitly, and landed a small
-silver-bellied fish in the boat. Marcel, interested, sat and watched from
-the window-ledge. After watching for a good quarter of an hour, the
-fisher, in his smock-frock, who, by the way, appeared to have the best of
-luck, the door of the laboratory opened, and Baudoin appeared. He seemed
-embarrassed, but came straight up to his master, and said, in tones of
-seeming regret—
-
-“Monsieur Marcel, there is some one at the porter’s lodge who is asking
-for you.”
-
-“Who is it?”
-
-Baudoin said, with a wry grimace—
-
-“A kind of chambermaid.”
-
-Marcel arose eagerly. He thought, “It is Milona, sent by Madame Vignola.
-Something has happened.” In a trice he was out of the room.
-
-Baudoin followed him with ill-pleased look.
-
-“How he runs off to meet her! Ah, that crafty woman holds him tight
-indeed! And this servant, who looks like a gipsy! This kind of company
-does not inspire confidence in one!”
-
-Marcel, on reaching the porter’s lodge, had found Milona there, as he had
-conjectured. Drawing her aside, he asked anxiously—
-
-“No harm has befallen Madame Vignola?”
-
-“No; I am with her all the time. But my mistress is uneasy for your sake.
-She heard cries and threats, and saw flashes of light through the
-darkness of the night. She well knows what these mad acts of folly
-committed by an angry mob mean, and would like to see you and have you
-explain the meaning of all this tumult.”
-
-“May I go to her at once?”
-
-“She is expecting you every minute.”
-
-He gave a gesture expressive of the joy he felt.
-
-“Then start back at once. We must not be seen crossing the plain
-together. In a few minutes I will follow you. Tell this to your
-mistress.”
-
-Milona bowed with a kind of haughty deference. With a tender look at the
-young man she said—
-
-“Do not tarry; she is never happy except when you are there!”
-
-Marcel stifled a cry of joy.
-
-“Oh, Milona! What has she told you?”
-
-“Nothing. But even had she taken me into her confidence I would not
-betray her. All the same, I see the difference between when she is alone
-and when you are with her. She is not the same at all. Come! She was in
-tears all the morning.”
-
-With a bow, she placed her fingers to her lips and withdrew.
-
-Marcel watched her take her departure. His heart beat wildly; flashes of
-light seemed to pass before his eyes. He had forgotten everything—works,
-strikes, danger, Uncle Graff, and his good resolutions. Now he thought of
-nothing but the radiant blonde awaiting him in that solitary villa, for
-which he set off with all the ardour of youth and love.
-
-
-
-CHAPTER V
-
-
-IN the dimly-lit salon Marcel and Madame Vignola were seated chatting
-near the window. It was ten o’clock. In the clear blue sky the sun shone
-brightly, and its warm rays breaking through the branches of the trees
-came with caressing gentleness to the lovers. Madame Vignola was saying
-in grave accents—
-
-“Even in this out-of-the-way little place, right in the midst of the
-forest and far away from the rush of town life, there is no perfect peace
-and calm.”
-
-“You seem to have no luck. Never before have the inhabitants of Ars shown
-themselves so turbulent. Generally they are quite peaceable and harmless
-creatures. If they have any claims to make they do it with moderation and
-politeness, sure, in advance, of obtaining what they want. I do not know
-what madness has come over them!”
-
-Madame Vignola smiled.
-
-“Doubtless they have listened to bad counsel and advice. But that is of
-little importance. The main thing is that you are not exposed to the
-violence of these madmen. When I heard them last night shouting out their
-threats of death I trembled.”
-
-“Then you do take a certain amount of interest in me?”
-
-“Can you ask me such a question?”
-
-Passionately he seized hold of a dainty hand, which she made no attempt
-to withdraw.
-
-“Well, now, listen, Anetta. I cannot understand how I have been able to
-find any joy in life before I knew you. I seem to myself only to have
-been alive the last month.”
-
-Graciously raising her hand with threatening gesture, she said—
-
-“Not another word! I know you have been anything but perfect. Don’t try
-to deceive me like all the others you have said you were in love with.”
-
-“Oh! I have never been in love before. That I understand well enough
-now!”
-
-“Marcel, for pity’s sake, be quite frank with me. I have gone through
-such suffering hitherto, but that was because my heart was untouched. I
-am afraid of suffering now, as I shall love—”
-
-“No, have confidence in me. I will make you forget all your past sorrow.
-You are so young, and the future may yet be so bright for you. I want you
-all to myself. Once your mourning over you will again become mistress of
-your own destiny, and if you will authorize me to speak to your brother—”
-
-The young woman gave a gesture of fright.
-
-“To Cesare? Do nothing of the kind. You do not know him! In a moment he
-would become your most bitter enemy!”
-
-“Why so?”
-
-“Ah! It is sad to think of and even sadder to mention. Cesare is without
-fortune, and I have been left a wealthy widow by M. Vignola. Were I to
-leave my brother, and cease to be free, he would be absolutely without
-resource. How could I induce him to accept a modest station in life? He
-is already unhappy, indeed, at not being able to do honour to his birth,
-for we are descended from a princely family. The Briviescas formerly
-reigned in Padua. An Agostini was ruler of Parma. But ruin came, and
-Count Cesare receives only the pay of a captain of cavalry. A sorry
-position for a man of his disposition! Accordingly, ever since I have
-been a widow he has undertaken the direction of my property. He finds it
-to his advantage, I believe, and I am well pleased that it is so. For he
-is very kind, and I am fond of him.”
-
-“In that case give him what belongs to you. Have I any need of your
-fortune? I only want yourself! Leave Count Cesare all your possessions.
-I, too, shall be rich, and if I wished I could restore to you to-morrow
-more than all you would have sacrificed in becoming mine.”
-
-She seemed astonished. A light shone in her beautiful eyes as she said—
-
-“Tell me how?”
-
-No suspicion came across his mind. He saw nothing but that exquisite
-mouth and those gentle eyes which questioned him so eloquently.
-
-“I am in possession of a commercial secret calculated to bring about a
-complete revolution in the economic conditions of work in mines. The
-assured profit will not belong to me entirely, but I shall have my share
-of it. That sole share alone will be immense. They can do nothing without
-me, for I alone know the secret of the process of manufacturing the
-powder. A company will be formed to exploit the patents of this
-discovery. All this means fortune—you hear, Anetta?—an immediate and
-enormous fortune.”
-
-“Oh! continue! Tell me all, my dear friend.”
-
-“You are the first to whom I have said so much. But, then, can I conceal
-anything from you? Were you to ask me for my very honour I would
-sacrifice it for your sake. Besides, what have I to fear from one so kind
-and disinterested? Yes, I am the possessor of a glorious and powerful
-secret. The glory of the discovery will belong to the inventor, and I
-shall be happy to have helped in making him world-famed. To those who
-have organized and rendered his work practicable will belong an
-incalculable financial power.”
-
-Madame Vignola interrupted Marcel.
-
-“But suppose you were to disappear—suppose some misfortune happened you;
-in these noisy street quarrels of the strikers you might be struck to the
-ground. Then what would become of this invention of yours? Probably you
-have given no more thought to the protection of your secret than you have
-to that of your life.”
-
-As she spoke she pressed him to her heart, a look of anguish
-overshadowing her face. Her looks seemed to burn into Marcel’s brain as
-she gently passed her hand over his brow.
-
-“No!” he said. “Do not deceive yourself. I took the precaution this very
-morning to write out the formulæ of this wonderful invention.”
-
-“You have it on your person?” she asked in terrified accents.
-
-“No, do not be anxious, dearest; I left it in my laboratory. It cannot be
-destroyed now. My Uncle Graff would take it from the drawer of my desk in
-case anything were to befall me. But I love you, and nothing can possibly
-happen to me. I must succeed and triumph if you love me!”
-
-With a gesture expressive of infinite content, she said—
-
-“Can you doubt it, after what I have said? How could I help loving one so
-fervent and capricious as you are? It is this youthful folly of yours
-which pleased me from the beginning. You are so different from those with
-whom I have hitherto lived. My early life was passed with my old parents,
-who were very strict and severe with me, in a cold and gloomy house in
-Milan. Then my husband, though so kind and anxious to please me, could
-not bring his cold and reasoning habits into harmony with my youth and
-inexperience. Sorrow and _ennui_ were my daily portion. It seems that I
-have only awakened to life from this very day, as though I had all my
-life been like the sleeping princess in the fairy tale. You have appeared
-before me, and now my eyes open to the light of day, my ears listen to
-your tender, loving words, and with inexpressible delight I awake to a
-new birth of happiness.”
-
-The most accomplished actress could not have more artfully uttered such
-ravishing words as these which fell from the lips of the beautiful
-temptress. Turning aside her face, as though to conceal her blushes, her
-lithe form seemed to quiver with delight. He, maddened by this
-confession, and burning with the passion this redoubtable enchantress
-knew so well how to inspire, dropped his fevered head on Anetta’s
-shoulder. His reason seemed to leave him as he murmured—
-
-“I adore you!”
-
-At this moment she turned her head to look at him, perhaps to reply.
-Their lips met, and united in a burning kiss. Suddenly, above the green
-expanse of forest, in the midst of the calm in which the peaceful house
-was wrapped, rose a shout which grew louder and louder, whilst the clang
-of an alarm-bell could be distinctly heard. Anetta exclaimed—
-
-“What is that?”
-
-Marcel listened attentively.
-
-“It sounds like shouts and cries for help coming from the direction of
-Ars.”
-
-He rushed towards the window, and, already trembling with secret anguish,
-exclaimed—
-
-“It is the alarm-bell! Perhaps the works are on fire! _Mon Dieu_! What
-can be the matter? You are well aware to what risks we were exposed at
-Ars, and I am afraid that matters have taken a turn for the worse in my
-absence.”
-
-Madame Vignola opened the door, and called—
-
-“Milo.”
-
-The servant appeared. Without waiting to be questioned, she said—
-
-“There is something wrong at Ars, madame. Bells are ringing, and a black
-cloud of smoke is rising above the trees. It might be possible to see
-from the roof.”
-
-“I will mount at once!” exclaimed Marcel.
-
-“I will follow you. Go with him,” she said to Milona.
-
-But instead of keeping her word the young woman entered the small office
-where she was in the habit of writing her letters, took up a sheet of
-paper, and traced a few rapid lines. Steps could already be heard on the
-staircase. Marcel, pale and agitated, appeared before her.
-
-“The fire must have caught the works. Oh, Anetta, I have forgotten
-everything by your side! Good-bye, I must rush off at once.”
-
-“Marcel, do not forget that you are mine.”
-
-With a look of fright she pressed him in her arms, and held him back.
-
-“Darling, I must go. What would they think of me? I will return to-night.
-Let me go now.”
-
-“Very well. But Milona will follow you, and bring me back the news.
-Promise me you will be very careful.”
-
-A final kiss, and he was already in the garden. Anetta turned to the
-servant and handed to her the note she had just written.
-
-“Run to Ars. On the river, in a boat, you will see Hans, dressed like a
-peasant. Give him this paper, and return at once. Go, Milo! This time we
-shall succeed.”
-
-“And the young man, madame—what will you do with him?”
-
-A look of anxiety came over her brow.
-
-“I cannot tell yet, Milo. I believe I love him.”
-
-The servant smiled faintly as she said—
-
-“Poor fellow! What a pity!”
-
-And, without another word, she disappeared.
-
-Marcel was running towards the works. At the first turn of the road the
-whole town lay before his eyes. From the Supply Stores a lofty column of
-black smoke mounted towards the sky, and flames were beginning to break
-through the roof.
-
-“Ah, the wretches!” exclaimed the young man. “They have set the place on
-fire! And Uncle Graff? _Mon Dieu_! if only he is safe and sound!”
-
-Young and vigorous, spurred on by fear and anger, he ran along faster
-than ever. A mass of onlookers was standing in the street, kept in check
-by the police. Marcel rushed through them like a bullet and entered the
-yard, perspiring and out of breath. Workmen were manipulating the
-fire-engine belonging to the works. On seeing their master’s son arrive
-they exclaimed eagerly—
-
-“Ah, M. Marcel! You have come at last!”
-
-“How did the fire happen?” exclaimed the young man panting for breath.
-
-No one replied. They were two hundred; he was alone. All the same he
-exclaimed, in angry tones—
-
-“So it is you, rascals, you who have set fire to the works which afforded
-you your only means of livelihood?”
-
-They protested noisily.
-
-“No, M. Marcel, we did not do it! We set forth our demands, but we did
-not enforce them by such villainous means. There are strangers about. We
-had nothing to do with it.”
-
-“Where is my uncle Graff?”
-
-Terror-stricken, a foreman advanced—
-
-“Ah, M. Marcel, we could not prevent him entering.”
-
-“Entering where?”
-
-“Into the managing department, with M. Cardez and your servant. They
-wanted to find the account books, etc.”
-
-“But the managing department is on fire!” shrieked the young man, in
-despair. “If you could not prevent them going, you might at least have
-accompanied them.”
-
-A crash was now heard coming from the burning building. Millions of
-sparks shot forth into the air, and a black dust filled the sky. It was
-the roof of the stores, which had fallen in.
-
-“How can we reach them now?” said the overseer, anxiously. “They are
-caught between the weaving department and the stores. The fire is all
-over the place now.”
-
-“By the roof.”
-
-The workman shook his head discouragingly.
-
-“Who will dare to go?”
-
-“I will!”
-
-“But it means death!”
-
-“Well, I will risk it with them!”
-
-“We will not let you go. What would your father say?”
-
-“What would he say if I did not go?”
-
-Scarcely knowing what he was doing, Marcel seized hold of a hatchet, and
-rushed into the works. A violent biting sensation of heat seized him by
-the throat, but he did not halt. He mounted the staircase leading to the
-door of the book-keeping department. Here he was forced to stop. Before
-him was a wall of flames. Climbing higher, he came out on the roof, ran
-along a drain-pipe, entered the loft, which was filled with smoke, and,
-almost suffocated, reached that part of the building which lay above the
-offices. The fire had not reached them. He halted. If Cardez and Uncle
-Graff were in the book-keeping compartment they were surrounded on every
-side by the fire. Accordingly, they could only effect an escape either
-from above or below. Without the slightest hesitation he began to cut
-away at the floor. Suddenly he heard his name called from the roof.
-Without stopping he shouted back—
-
-“This way! In the loft!”
-
-It was the overseer and three of the workmen, who had followed with picks
-and levers. They set to work. Marcel, with his hatchet, seemed possessed
-of the strength of ten men; the beams appeared to fall away like reeds
-before the blows he dealt. Bricks and plaster were flying in all
-directions. At last a hole was made in the floor, and Marcel, lying flat
-on the ground, shouted with all his might—
-
-“Uncle Graff, Cardez, Baudoin—are you there?”
-
-A stifled voice replied—
-
-“Ah! This is you, Marcel. Yes, we are here. Be quick; we are almost
-exhausted. The smoke is suffocating us. We cannot open the window on
-account of the flames.”
-
-“Take care of yourselves!”
-
-Seizing the lever he gave a powerful lift, which considerably enlarged
-the hole. Then he saw the smoke rise as though by an escape-flue. There
-appeared in full view the three men, who had not let go their books and
-registers, stolidly awaiting deliverance or death. It was deliverance
-that came. A rope was lowered down the hole.
-
-“Baudoin, fasten my uncle firmly under the arms with this rope. Are you
-ready?”
-
-“Yes.”
-
-“Pull away, my men!”
-
-The rope, hoisted by impatient arms, was drawn up, and Uncle Graff, black
-with dirt and smoke, trembling, and scarcely able to breathe, though
-perfectly happy, was pressed in Marcel’s arms, whilst tears flowed down
-their cheeks, though not a word was uttered. Cardez and Baudoin were
-hoisted up in the same way.
-
-“By the way,” said Marcel, “is there anything else you want from the
-office? I will go down, if you like.”
-
-“No!” exclaimed Uncle Graff; finding his voice; “we have all the books we
-want. That is sufficient! The place is insured, so there is nothing more
-to do.”
-
-“Then we must beat a retreat at once,” exclaimed Marcel. “The smoke is
-getting denser here.”
-
-Marcel, helping along his uncle, made his way to the drain-pipe. From the
-yard they were seen returning safe and sound. An immense shout arose,
-almost deafening the roar of the flames. They reached the works, where
-the firemen had already taken up their positions with the object of
-preserving the buildings still intact. Once in the yard Uncle Graff sank
-down on a bale of wool, turned pale, and almost fainted. He had come to
-the end of his strength.
-
-“A glass of water!” exclaimed Marcel.
-
-In a moment a decanter was in his hand. No matter what he had asked for,
-his demand would have been immediately obeyed. Full of respect before
-courage and devotion, the mob regarded him with indulgent and reverent
-tenderness. The very men who had cried out only the night before, “Down
-with the masters!” were ready to shout out, Hurrah for M. Marcel! The
-reason was that he had just performed a feat none of them had had courage
-to attempt, and in their inmost souls they were conscious that he was
-braver and better than themselves, and, accordingly, they felt nothing
-but admiration for him.
-
-“Cardez, take these registers and the money home,” said Marcel. “We will
-go to my home, Uncle Graff. You must try to regain your strength
-completely.”
-
-“No! I feel better already. I can breathe more freely. Ah, Marcel, you
-came just in time. Another quarter of an hour and you would have found us
-all dead.”
-
-“I was miserable at the thought that I was not with you all the time.”
-
-“Had you been with us everything would have been lost! We were dying.
-Your absence was quite providential! But for that, all would have been
-over with us!”
-
-“But how did it all happen?”
-
-“We cannot understand anything yet! For an hour we had been discussing
-with the delegates, and I must say the peaceful settlement of the strike
-seemed very doubtful, when we were suddenly interrupted by shouts of
-‘Fire! Fire!’ The workmen assembled in the yard awaiting the delegates
-had just seen a dense cloud of smoke issue from the stores. To tell the
-truth, they were ill-disposed towards us. When we crossed the yard on the
-way to the office they received us with a hostile silence. Not a head was
-uncovered. Veritable enemies on our own ground! In a moment the fire
-effected a complete change. They became like madmen when they saw the
-works burning. At bottom these workmen are not evil-disposed, for they
-rushed forth from every direction, shouting out, ‘To the pumps!’ When
-they saw me appear with Cardez they shouted: ‘M. Graff, this is not our
-work!’ A moment after one of the strangers, who has been here only a
-week, a native of Luxembourg, named Verstraet, being caught prowling
-about the works, they half killed him, accusing him of being the
-incendiary. We were obliged to tear him from their hands.”
-
-Marcel listened with gloomy interest to this recital. He associated the
-fire with the strange fears, manifested on different occasions by
-Baudoin, respecting the safety of the laboratory. He heard the servant
-say, “Just now, there are men here whose appearance is anything but
-prepossessing.” The workmen also spoke vaguely about strangers.
-Everything was wrapped in mystery. Instinctively, Marcel felt himself
-enveloped in a network of threats and hatred. Was it still this secret of
-the General de Trémont, which brought disaster on all those who possessed
-it? Looking round for Baudoin, he found that he had disappeared. The fire
-was raging less fiercely, for the torrents of water poured on the stores
-had extinguished the bales of wool. The works themselves did not seem to
-have suffered to any considerable extent; the loss was only partial. The
-captain of the Ars fire brigade, a plumber by trade, came out from the
-rest and stood there, hot and panting, with cap in hand, before M. Graff
-and Cardez.
-
-“Well, gentlemen, we shall come out of this affair better than we might
-have expected. At present, more than two-thirds of the works are safe. We
-may take our breath a little. It has been warm work, indeed, the last
-hour!”
-
-“Yes. But for M. Marcel,” said Cardez, “we should not be speaking to you
-at this moment, M. Prevost.”
-
-“That was a very noble act of his,” said the captain. “Ah! neither my men
-nor myself had thought of doing as he did. There was courage enough in
-us, but we should not have thought of piercing a hole in the roof. He did
-not lose his head; and that was the main thing.”
-
-Just at that moment, a voice quivering with anguish, was heard, and
-Marcel, pale and excited, came rushing from the laboratory, exclaiming—
-
-“Uncle Graff. Come here, quick!”
-
-“What is the matter?” asked Cardez.
-
-“Stay here! My uncle only!” said the young man. Monsieur Graff
-immediately went up to his nephew. Baudoin was already on the threshold
-guarding the entrance.
-
-“Come in! _Mon Dieu_! Come in!” said Marcel, pushing the old man before
-him. “Baudoin, shut the door and place the key inside.”
-
-“What is the matter now?” exclaimed the old man.
-
-“Look!”
-
-Standing there on the threshold of the capharnaum, the three men looked
-around in bewildered astonishment. All the signs of a desperate fight had
-thrown the room into the utmost disorder. A curtain, half torn from the
-window still open on the river, was hanging from its broken pole. Jars,
-retorts, and alembics of every description crushed to pieces lay
-scattered about the floor. On the table was a large clot of blood, still
-wet, as though some one had there met his death. The paper everywhere was
-splashed over with large red spots, and the drawer of the table lay wide
-open before their eyes.
-
-“What has taken place here?” asked Uncle Graff, in low tones.
-
-“Look in the drawer, Uncle Graff,” said Marcel. “Try to find the formula
-I placed there before your eyes.”
-
-“Well!”
-
-“It is there no longer! It has been stolen! Look for the flagon
-containing the war powder, which was on the table. Disappeared!”
-
-“Stolen? By whom?”
-
-“Perhaps by the same person who set fire to the works? Whose blood is
-that on the floor? Uncle Graff, we have brought about our heads a
-terrible stream of enemies. Think of what has happened concerning the
-inventions of M. de Trémont. There has been a whole band of rascals at
-work for months, bent on stealing these secrets at whatever cost, and in
-face of the greatest difficulties! My father guessed this, for it was
-with the utmost trouble that I succeeded in obtaining his permission to
-continue this discovery. Baudoin knew it, for he asked my permission to
-keep watch in the laboratory. It was the excitement caused by the fire
-which forced him to quit his post; doubtless, had he stayed here, he,
-too, would have lost his life. But whose blood is this that has been
-shed?”
-
-“Come, my child, do calm yourself,” said the old man, alarmed at the
-increasing agitation of his nephew. “Speak, Baudoin, tell us all you
-know.”
-
-“Monsieur Graff, I know who has fallen here, and I know, too, whose hand
-struck the blow. The victim is a man devoted to our cause, who, from the
-very first, had scented the culprits. He could not help the robbery being
-committed, and, had he not been killed, he would certainly have arrested
-the thief.”
-
-“And who is the man who struck him?”
-
-“Ah! This is by no means the first attempt. He is a determined villain;
-all the troubles in the district have been caused by this man. It is he
-who started the conflagration. He who stabbed General de Trémont. It is
-the man of Vanves. In a word, it is Hans!”
-
-“How do you know this?”
-
-“Because I have seen him. Laforêt, whom I had sent for to keep a watch on
-these people whom I suspected, and who has doubtless paid with his life
-for his zeal and devotion, followed him last night, and we both spent
-part of the night in tracking his movements. We were present at his
-conferences with the leaders of the strike at the Soleil d’Or. We heard
-him give his orders to his acolytes. It is he our unhappy workmen obeyed,
-without knowing it, seduced as they were by the rabid language of the
-leaders. This is the villain who, secretly, and from a distance, directed
-the riot, and set fire to the works!”
-
-“But how could he know that the written formula was in the table of the
-laboratory? Why did he come here?”
-
-“He came here because I ran off to the fire and left my post. He has,
-somehow or other, received precise information.”
-
-Baudoin stopped. He gave his young master a look of anguish.
-
-“Ah, Monsieur Marcel, must I speak? Will you pardon me?”
-
-Marcel turned pale. All the same he said, in firm tones—
-
-“Speak. I insist upon it.”
-
-“Well, then, this man, for the past week, has been living at the Villa de
-la Cavée.”
-
-“Impossible!” exclaimed Marcel. “Hans! This villain?”
-
-“Monsieur Marcel,” resumed Baudoin, bravely, but with infinite sadness,
-“I have seen him there myself. Laforêt has been watching him for a whole
-week. He lived in the attic, and only went out at nights.”
-
-“And I never suspected anything!” exclaimed the young man, in stupefied
-grief. “Then who is this woman who has been there the last six weeks?
-What is this atrocious farce she has been playing with me?”
-
-“Ah!” exclaimed Uncle Graff. “A woman! Another woman? Incorrigible
-child!”
-
-Marcel, seated by the table on a stool, his head in his hands, was
-endeavouring to collect his ideas. He was falling from a pure heaven of
-delight in which he had been living into the degradation of blood and
-crime.
-
-“Come, it is impossible!” he continued, with trembling voice. “Why should
-she have deceived me so atrociously? Was there any need to make me so
-madly in love with her? No, I cannot believe her guilty; she never lied
-once to me. Her very looks were frank and true. No, no! You are mistaken;
-you are heaping calumny on her! Even though the man be a villain, she, at
-least, is no accomplice of his. She is his victim, as we all are. If they
-tried to harm me, she had not the strength or the authority to resist.
-And if she knows what has happened, she is lamenting it all, as we are,
-this very moment.”
-
-His desperate protests were stifled by sobs, and, leaning his head on the
-blood-stained table, he wept bitterly. His uncle respected his grief,
-and, taking Baudoin to the window, he said to him, in subdued tones—
-
-“In your opinion, who has been in the laboratory after you left it?”
-
-“Laforêt, who was keeping watch over our man, must have followed him to
-this very spot. During the tumult caused by the fire Hans entered the
-yard of the works, and went right to the summer-house. Laforêt must have
-surprised him whilst he was examining the drawer. A terrible struggle
-must then have taken place between Hans, who is a giant in form, and
-Laforêt, who is very muscular. Hans doubtless made use of some arm or
-other to rid him of his adversary. Laforêt, killed outright, or stunned,
-fell on the table, thereupon Hans seized him and dragged him to the
-window. He became entangled with the curtain, which has been torn away;
-the weight must have been a heavy one, for the pole is broken.”
-
-“And afterwards?” asked M. Graff, anxiously.
-
-“Afterwards Hans flung the ill-fated Laforêt out of the window. The
-current has carried him off. Probably he will be picked up in the sluice
-of the mill of Sainte-Savine.”
-
-“And the woman, Baudoin?” whispered the old man.
-
-“Ah, Monsieur Graff, I do not know if she is the woman of Vanves or not.
-Both the scent she uses and her voice are different. But a voice may be
-modified, and a perfume changed. What remains unchanging is villainous
-skill and seductive charm. This one has all that is needed to madden a
-man—beauty, distinction, grace. Look at M. Marcel there, in tears. It is
-neither crime nor theft that has brought him into that state. It is the
-grief caused by suspecting the one he adores, and the fear that he may
-now be under the obligation of hating her.”
-
-“Poor fellow! He, at least, did not deserve to suffer. He has been very
-brave. But for him, Baudoin, we should not now be in the land of the
-living.”
-
-“True; and but for this wretched woman all this trouble would have been
-avoided. She well knows what she has done, and with whom she has had to
-deal. It is not you she would have undertaken to corrupt. She would have
-known beforehand that your calm and tranquil reason would have guarded
-you from her attacks. But with the General and M. Marcel it was
-different. Oh, M. Graff, she has made no mistake! Had she had either the
-necessary time or desire both the old and the young man would have given
-up their secret of their own accord.”
-
-Uncle Graff, astonished at such clear-sightedness, looked at Baudoin with
-considerable interest.
-
-“Ah, sir, you are astonished at hearing me speak in this way. But what I
-have said is not an invention. My General, on those days when he was
-master of himself, spoke to me in similar terms. He accused and blamed
-himself, well knowing how weak he was.”
-
-“And his weakness brought him to his death. Let us consider ourselves
-fortunate that Marcel has not been treated so harshly. The poor fellow
-suffers; he is unhappy. But, then, he is only twenty-five years of age,
-and in one’s youth no sorrow lasts long. But if these rascals had killed
-him? Ah, his father seemed to guess the danger he ran! He imagined his
-son would be safer at Ars, in the midst of the workmen, but you see how
-mistaken he has been.”
-
-“Ah! But, after all, this woman knew how to track him. And in this quiet
-spot her power was more manifest than ever.”
-
-“What will she do now?”
-
-“Disappear with her acolytes.”
-
-“Are there many of them?”
-
-“There is a pretended brother, a handsome, dark-complexioned young
-fellow; the servant, who called this morning for M. Marcel; and then
-Hans, without counting those we know nothing about. A whole band, you may
-be certain. Sir, not a single act of rascality or treachery happens in
-the country without those rascals having a hand in it. Laforêt told me so
-himself: ‘France is exploited by foreigners. The Government will do for
-strangers what they will not do for Frenchmen. If only an individual
-offers himself, speaking with a foreign accent, and wearing a
-many-coloured decoration, all kinds of privileges are showered upon him.’
-We are a set of ninnies and simpletons, M. Graff, though we imagine
-ourselves very clever.”
-
-Marcel drew near. During the past few minutes his face seemed to have
-become quite furrowed.
-
-“Uncle Graff,” he said, “the present is not the time for lamenting. We
-must act at once. Perhaps we may still come across the bold scoundrel who
-has been here. We must give a description of him to the police. For
-myself, I shall go to the villa and find out the whole truth.”
-
-“We know very little, Marcel, about the people with whom we have to deal
-if we can think they have lost a single second in escaping.”
-
-“How can they imagine they are even suspected?”
-
-“The _coup_ is effected; all they need do now will be to clear off!”
-
-Marcel gave a gesture of protest.
-
-“Yes,” continued the old man, gently. “You are asking why she could have
-gone? How could she have taken her departure without seeing me again? My
-poor child, you are still under the effect of the delusion practised on
-you! You cannot yet understand that all the tenderness she lavished on
-you was calculated, interested in its nature, that, in short, you were
-only a victim. And you still expect her to be waiting for you. Well! we
-will all go and see, my child. Then we shall know the value of the
-promises by which you have allowed yourself to be deceived. Meanwhile we
-must inform the authorities. Take my advice, and say nothing about the
-powders. We must speak of the murder only. Our man will be caught just as
-easily, if he is to be caught at all, which I very much doubt. We will
-keep our secret in the background. Ah! We have to deal with enemies
-stronger than ourselves! Do not reproach yourself in any way. Everything
-was too well arranged. In one way or another, you were bound to succumb.
-Luckily, your life is out of danger.”
-
-“Thanks, Uncle Graff, you do your best to console me. But I shall never
-forgive myself, in case you are right. Come along.”
-
-They descended into the yard. The fire had been extinguished, and the
-pumps were now silent, with the exception of the one belonging to the
-works, which was still dashing water on the ruins. On their approach, the
-crowd of workmen stood there in respectful silence, all heads uncovered.
-This misfortune had kindled renewed sympathy with their masters, and
-their devotion enjoined an attitude of respect. Cardez came forward, and
-said—
-
-“Monsieur Graff, the workmen want you to speak to them. They do not wish
-to remain suspected.”
-
-Graff advanced, and said in grave accents—
-
-“My friends, I know you too well to accuse you of the crime which has
-been committed here. I am well aware that you are hot-headed, but you are
-very honest all the same. Besides, what would have been the use of such
-wilful destruction, if not to throw you on to the streets and cause you
-to die of hunger? The very moment the fire broke out, your delegates and
-ourselves were on the point of coming to a mutual understanding. After
-the good will you have just given proof of, in uniting to save the works,
-I can only admit of one solution, the one most favourable to you.
-Accordingly, I grant you your demands.”
-
-An immense cheer of mingled joy and gratitude burst from five hundred
-throats. Caps were waved high in the air. Graff raised his hand; silence
-was instantly restored.
-
-“I beg you to remember that it is to the manager quite as much as to
-myself that you owed this result. If he is severe in point of discipline,
-it is because he feels it to be necessary in the interest of the work.
-But no one is a stauncher upholder of your interests than your excellent
-director.”
-
-“Hurrah for M. Cardez!”
-
-Uncle Graff smiled.
-
-“Come, come! You are like overgrown children! Yesterday you wanted to
-hang him. And myself into the bargain! To-day you receive him with shouts
-of joy. And it is at this moment that you are more just and reasonable.
-Remember what has taken place. And next time you have any demands to
-make, do not begin by threats of murder. Now, go home, all of you, and
-to-morrow morning, at the usual hour, we shall expect you back at work!”
-
-The crowd melted away in respectful silence. With its usual fickleness it
-now showered blessings on those it had formerly cursed. Obeying its
-instincts, which are always generous and kind when left to develop
-freely, it congratulated itself on the happy ending of a day which might
-have been so tragic, and now withdrew, delighted at the prospect of
-resuming the labour it had contemptibly looked upon as utter slavery.
-
-
-
-
-PART III
-
-
-CHAPTER I
-
-
-WHILST Milona was running in the direction of Ars, her mistress returned
-quietly to the salon. Flinging herself on the sofa, she abandoned herself
-to a delightful reverie. What a difference she found between Cesare
-Agostini and Marcel! A feeling of nausea came over her when she compared
-them with one another. The complaisant and needy lover, who always knew
-when to close his eyes, when some mysterious interests of his were at
-stake, and this tender, sincere lover, who thought of nothing but her
-happiness, and sacrificed for that his own.
-
-She remembered Hans’ sarcastic remarks, “Take care you are not caught in
-your own net, and fall in love with this young man.” Had he then read her
-inmost thoughts, this dread accomplice of hers, who trampled humanity
-under foot, and who had no more respect for joy and happiness than the
-hail has for the harvest? Suppose it were so? Had she not the right to do
-as she wished? Was she a slave, linked to obscure and threatening
-adventurers engaged in some formidable though tremendous task? Or was
-there equality for both them and herself, in danger, success, and
-pleasure alike? Who could compel her to do what was displeasing to
-her—above all, who would dare to attempt it? She knew she was as
-dangerous as any of them, and they, too, were well aware how powerful and
-audacious she was. If it were necessary to try conclusions with them,
-they would see who would come out the winner.
-
-She smiled, and her face shone with the light of a glorious graciousness.
-In that young woman, with those delicate, refined features, who would
-have discovered the bold, sarcastic Sophia Grodsko? What would
-Lichtenbach have said, had he seen her, and what would all those have
-thought who had known her, so faithless and vice-stained, fatal to all
-who had loved her, and whom she had led on to ruin, dishonour, or death?
-A young man, the least remarkable of all she had hitherto met, in all
-probability, had obtained the triumph of making her uneasy and anxious at
-the thought of what might become of him. Following him in imagination, on
-his way back to the town, she wondered if it would not have been better
-to have kept him by her side, instead of allowing him to rush off to the
-burning works, and especially towards the spot where Hans was
-watching—Hans, more to be dreaded than all the other scourges combined.
-
-She rose, and, already repenting of having shown such a lack of decision,
-she was deliberating whether or not she ought, herself, to go to Ars, and
-find out what was taking place there. Prudence checked the impulse. All
-the same, she mounted to the second floor of the villa, on to a balcony
-from which a view of the valley could be obtained beyond the trees. There
-she quickly saw that the danger, if there had been any, had lessened. The
-smoke was disappearing, not a single flame was to be seen, and the hubbub
-from the town had calmed down, whilst even the church bell had ceased
-ringing. She was about to descend, when she saw Milona open the garden
-gate. The servant was coming along the alley with rapid and uneasy steps.
-Sophia had a presentiment that she was the bearer of bad news, and gave a
-sharp, low whistle. Milo mounted the steps all out of breath, and came
-straight to her mistress—
-
-“I have performed your commission,” she said. “I found Hans. He read your
-note, and placed it back in my hands. Here it is.”
-
-“Good. That is not all. What is the matter?”
-
-“Agostini is close behind me. He has just landed at Ars.”
-
-Sophia frowned. A slight blush mounted to her cheeks. Taking a match, she
-lit it, and set fire to the paper Milona had handed to her. Thoughtfully,
-she watched the ashes fly away in the wind. Then she asked—
-
-“How is he coming here?”
-
-“In a cab. Listen, you may hear the horse’s hoofs already.”
-
-The cab stopped in front of the door, and Cesare descended. The cabman
-waited. Sophia slowly descended the staircase, and found herself in the
-hall, to receive the handsome Italian. He advanced with shining eyes and
-eager gait. Carelessly, and with an air of indifference, she held out her
-hand.
-
-“Well, well! my dear,” said he. “Is this the way you receive me after a
-fortnight’s absence?”
-
-“Silence!” she said firmly; “this is no time for nonsense. Hans at this
-very moment is doubtless risking his life to obtain possession of the
-powders.”
-
-“Have you then succeeded with our young victim?”
-
-“You may see for yourself. There will be more to learn later on.”
-
-“Diavolo!”
-
-Rushing from the room, he exclaimed—
-
-“Milo, tell the cabman to wait.”
-
-He returned—
-
-“Who knows if we shall not need him shortly? As I passed by I saw the
-town was in the greatest commotion imaginable, and that the works were on
-fire. Is this accident an invention of yours?”
-
-“I believe Hans arranged the whole affair.”
-
-“Gay disposition, Hans! He is fond of an attractive _mise en scene_. But
-I should be glad to have a little lunch; I left Paris quite hurriedly.”
-
-“Milona will serve you.”
-
-They passed into the dining-room. The table was set, and Cesare took a
-seat.
-
-“Come and talk to me, my beautiful Sophia. Time has weighed heavy on my
-hands since last I saw you. I have vainly sought for distractions.”
-
-“What have you been doing?”
-
-“Ah! Trying to win a little money at cards. A kind of fatality seems to
-pursue me, my bad luck never leaves me, and I cannot touch a card without
-losing.”
-
-“You have lost much?”
-
-“Too much! I so easily get excited, you know.”
-
-“Well, how much?” asked Sophia, impatiently.
-
-The handsome Italian replied with a smile—
-
-“Nothing at all, cara; I had the money!”
-
-“Who gave it you?”
-
-“Lichtenbach. I was obliged to accustom him to my little fancies. When he
-becomes my father-in-law I shall appeal to him rather often.”
-
-“Take care. He may tire.”
-
-“He will not be allowed to do so.”
-
-“His resources are not inexhaustible.”
-
-“You are jesting. I am well acquainted with the source of his wealth.”
-
-“Indeed! Who has been informing you?”
-
-“A relation of mine, the Very Reverend Monsignor Boldi, whom I saw in
-Paris a few days ago. Lichtenbach, in addition to his wealth, is a church
-trustee. I no longer wonder at the influence he wields. He has the
-disposal of immense sums, and of almost limitless power. But he is not a
-man of action. He is always hesitating and trembling. Had you seen how
-terrified he was when I alluded to his position as a kind of
-ecclesiastical banker, you would have laughed outright. Ah! cara, his
-brow was covered with perspiration. Whatever can he be afraid of?”
-
-“From his constituents, nothing. From you, everything. That he doubtless
-guessed at once.”
-
-“Oh! _Mon Dieu_! All that trouble for such a trifle! A mere bagatelle of
-forty thousand francs. That cursed baccarat! But Lichtenbach never plays,
-except on the Bourse. And there he always wins!”
-
-“Question!”
-
-“Ah! Can he, too, be cursed with bad luck?”
-
-“We are now doing our best to arrange matters so that he may have nothing
-but good luck!”
-
-“The powder affair?”
-
-“Yes. Listen, what is that?”
-
-A sound was heard outside. Taking from a cupboard a small revolver, she
-slipped it into her pocket, and said—“Are you armed?”
-
-“I am always armed. What are you afraid of?”
-
-“Wait!”
-
-In the silence a curious whistling sound was heard. Sophia’s features
-relaxed.
-
-“It is Hans!”
-
-A rapid step was heard on the sand of the alley. The door of the salon
-opened, and Milona made her appearance, followed by the colossus. He was
-still clothed in his mean-looking fisher’s costume. Flinging his hat on
-the ground, he removed his blouse and his huge shoes, without the
-slightest thought of Sophia’s presence, and exclaimed—
-
-“Milo, my clothes.”
-
-Placing on the table a glass recipient and a sheet of paper, he said,
-with a grimace—
-
-“Here it is!”
-
-“Then you have succeeded at last?”
-
-Sophia and Cesare approached with a kind of respect, and saw through the
-jar the brownish shavings of the powder which had already cost so much
-blood!
-
-“Yes, here it is! This small phial and this piece of paper again
-represent the life of a man.”
-
-“You were surprised in the act?”
-
-“Yes. And I have killed again.”
-
-“Who is the victim this time?” exclaimed Sophia, pale as death.
-
-“Do not alarm yourself, my dear; it is not your turtledove.”
-
-_He_ gave Cesare a glance, which immediately put the Italian on the
-alert. His light, careless attitude disappeared, and a cold, hard look
-came into his face.
-
-“It was a troublesome fellow I have had on my track for several days,”
-continued Hans. “A Government spy. It was not the first time we had met,
-either. He almost caught me three years ago at Lyons, in the affair of
-the Sergeant-Major. I took good note of him at the time, and his account
-is now settled!”
-
-“But will his murder not be discovered?”
-
-“What then? We must clear off at once; the authorities never trouble
-about detectives, that you know very well. This one will undergo a curing
-process, with his broken head, in the river, until he is fished out.
-Meanwhile, we shall be on the other side of the frontier.”
-
-Milona entered, carrying a suit of elegant-looking clothes, a grey felt
-hat, and yellow shoes. Unceremoniously, Hans dressed himself.
-
-“The cabman is at the door. Did he see you enter?” asked Sophia.
-
-“No. I am not such a fool as to show myself to him. It was very
-convenient to come along the end of the garden, where the wall is
-conveniently low. I am returning the same way, and I would advise you, my
-children, to vacate this place as soon as possible. As you are aware, we
-are due shortly in Venice. The first who arrives will wait for the rest.
-There, I again become Major Fraser.”
-
-Placing in a leather bag his glass recipient and the folded paper, he
-shook hands with Agostini, smiled familiarly to Sophia, and disappeared
-as he had come. The Italian gave a kick at Hans’ cast-off clothes, and
-said—
-
-“Milo, all this must disappear, my child.”
-
-“In the kitchen fire,” said the Dalmatian, gravely.
-
-“And you, Sophia, what do you intend to do? You have heard what our noble
-friend has just said. In my opinion, the best thing we can do is to start
-at once.”
-
-The young woman made no reply. She passed into the salon with slow,
-steady steps, as though laboriously seeking the right form to explain her
-meaning. Sitting down, she took a cigarette, and, looking at the handsome
-Italian standing before her, said—
-
-“Yes, indeed, I do think you would do well to start off. There is no
-reason for you to stay here. As for myself, a sudden disappearance would
-excite suspicion; it would, in fact, be a very tactless thing to do.”
-
-“But will you not be suspected if you remain behind? Will no action be
-taken against you?”
-
-“I? Suspected? In what way? Who could suspect me? Have I done anything
-whatever calculated to excite mistrust? There has been no one here except
-Marcel Baradier; he alone knows me.”
-
-“But doubtless he gave you the information by the help of which Hans
-succeeded in his enterprise.”
-
-“He did certainly give it me, a couple of hours ago. The execution has
-been concomitant with the revelation, so to speak. By what miracle could
-I, who have not stirred from here, have informed the one who entered the
-laboratory, and rid himself of his spy? This latter will not speak, as he
-is dead! The laboratory will be found ransacked and in disorder. Very
-good! Have there not taken place to-day, at the works, sufficient events
-in which several rascals have been implicated, without there being any
-need to charge me with a deed so much more likely to have been wrought by
-any of them? If I leave I shall be suspected. Why have I taken to flight?
-How is it I have left no explanation of my departure? What has become of
-me? Then, afterwards, what and who am I? Whilst if I remain quietly here
-with Milona, Marcel returns, finds me serene and calm, and everything is
-safe. Is the arrangement not a good one?”
-
-Cesare smiled, and, in ironical tones, said—
-
-“Very good, indeed; too good, in fact!”
-
-Sophia frowned.
-
-“What do you mean?”
-
-Drawing near her, with subtle grace, and still bent on adopting gentle
-means, he said—
-
-“Have you no longer confidence in me, cara? Why are you trying to deceive
-me?”
-
-“In what way, may I ask?”
-
-“You are not telling me the truth. This is the first time you have played
-me false, Sophia.”
-
-She bit her lips, and turned slightly pale.
-
-“My dear Cesare, do not ask so many questions. Do as I tell you, as you
-have always done hitherto. You have never found it a bad policy, have
-you? Very well, continue as before.”
-
-“No!”
-
-This refusal rang out sharp as a lash.
-
-“Ah! Might I be permitted to know the reasons influencing you?”
-
-“They are the same as yours. You will not come with me on account of this
-young Marcel Baradier. But it is on that very account that I am bent on
-your accompanying me.”
-
-“Can you be jealous?”
-
-“I am.”
-
-“That is something quite novel; and I must confess I am greatly
-surprised!”
-
-“It is diversity of sensations which gives a charm to life!”
-
-“Then you think—”
-
-“That this fair-complexioned young fellow has pleased you more than was
-agreed upon in our programme. Now, though I was disposed to allow you to
-practice your wiles on him, in the interests of business, I no longer
-feel inclined to permit you to flirt with him for art’s sake. The play is
-over, let us drop the curtain without continuing the love scene in the
-green-room.”
-
-“You are a very practical lover, Cesare.”
-
-“Did you not know that before?”
-
-“I have been very generous to you.”
-
-“Many thanks.”
-
-“And now I intend to act as I please, and to-day I cannot obey you.”
-
-They looked at one another like two wrestlers about to come to close
-quarters. Cesare’s eyes sparkled with anger, while Sophia stood there
-calm, with lowered eyelids, as though unwilling to meet his look. The
-Italian, with an effort, controlled himself, and speaking with affected
-gaiety, said—
-
-“Come, cara, let us not quarrel. We have every possible reason to be
-indulgent with one another; have we not been acquainted so long? Tell me
-what you have resolved on. I will do all I can to further your wishes. Is
-it a week’s liberty you want? When that length of time has elapsed will
-you promise to come to Venice? _Mon Dieu_! We may well be complaisant
-with one another. I will imagine I am nothing more than the brother of
-Madame Vignola, and will bear you no ill-feeling; that I promise. Will
-that satisfy you?”
-
-She replied with a sigh—
-
-“I do not know.”
-
-“But I must know.”
-
-“How can you be so stupid, Cesare, as to speak to the Baroness Grodsko as
-you would to any other woman? One would think you had forgotten what she
-is when some fancy takes possession of her. My poor friend, I am sorry
-for you; Lichtenbach’s company must have spoiled you. You must stop
-seeing him; he has turned you into a mere bourgeois!”
-
-“You are jesting with me?”
-
-“No!”
-
-“You refuse to promise to come and rejoin me?”
-
-“When I left Zypiatine, was he ever a source of annoyance to me?”
-
-“Then you confess you wish to leave me?” exclaimed the Italian, pale with
-anger.
-
-“You will know later, my friend. At present I have not the slightest wish
-to see you again.”
-
-“Ah! Now you are speaking frankly. Do you forget that we have several
-secrets in common?”
-
-“No; nor do I forget there is no obligation for you to remember them.”
-
-“That means?”
-
-Sophia raised her eyelids, and flashed a look on Agostini which
-astonished him.
-
-“It means that if for my own safety your disappearance were necessary,
-your life would be very cheap.”
-
-“You threaten me with death?”
-
-“Fool! You are well aware that if you breathed a single word calculated
-to throw light on our enterprises, there are at least five persons who
-would kill you at once.”
-
-“But the affairs of the association are not your affairs, and you know
-that I am acquainted with the ones as well as with the others.”
-
-“Listen, Cesare; people like ourselves ought to be agreed in everything
-we do, if we wish to run no risk of ruin. The slightest discord places us
-at the mercy of our enemies. We must serve one another with the greatest
-self-sacrifice. Every selfish demand detracts from the force necessary to
-common success.”
-
-“Ah! Do you pretend to impose an apathetic indifference on people who
-live with an intensity a hundred times greater than the rest of mankind?
-You forget that I love you, and I will submit to no rivalry, Sophia.”
-
-“And how will you compel me to obey your wishes, may I ask?”
-
-“In the simplest manner imaginable. I will inform Marcel Baradier of your
-life before you gave up your whole existence to international
-investigations and diplomatic intrigues, and we shall see if his love for
-you will survive, for instance, an account of the incident of Segovia.”
-
-Sophia turned so pale that Cesare was afraid of the impression he had
-produced. Grinding her teeth, and stamping about the room like a wild
-beast at bay, she seized upon the revolver she had taken up on the
-arrival of Hans, and, levelling it at the head of the Italian, said—
-
-“Ah, you villain; never again shall you betray a single human being!”
-
-With extraordinary agility, Agostini leapt on to her, dashed her arm
-upwards, so that the shot could not reach him, and pitilessly twisting
-her beautiful white wrist, he took possession of the revolver, which he
-calmly placed in his pocket. Then looking resolutely at Sophia, he said—
-
-“Now let the dagger have a turn!”
-
-She fell into a chair.
-
-“You dog! To dare to raise your hand against me! You shall be punished
-for it.”
-
-“Good! But we cannot lose our time with such nonsense. Can it be admitted
-that the man the Countess Grodsko has chosen as her companion will submit
-to being fooled like the veriest ninny? You may hate me if you like,
-Sophia, but you shall not despise me! This is the first time we have
-tested our strength against one another, and as you see, I have not been
-found to be the weaker. Do not recommence the struggle; if you do, I
-shall treat you without the slightest gallantry?”
-
-Shaking her head, and looking at her bruised hand, she said,
-submissively—
-
-“You have hurt me, Cesare!”
-
-“Whose fault is it? Upon my word, I believe you were mad, for a moment.
-You brave me, all for the sake of this young fop! Do you know I am going
-to kill him?”
-
-“I forbid you!” said Sophia, emphatically.
-
-“I shall be delighted to obey you,” he said gallantly. “There is this
-difference between us, that I am dominated by respectful attentions
-towards you, and treat you like a sovereign, whilst you, by your language
-and your attitude, wish to reduce me to the rank of a lackey! Is that
-just?”
-
-She made no reply. He walked to and fro for a short time, then drawing
-nearer said—
-
-“Never have I seen you in such a passion before. What in the world can
-this young fellow have taught you? For the future I shall not be able to
-trust you at all, though hitherto I have had the most complete confidence
-in you! Is it possible that just now you thought of blowing out my
-brains? Afterwards, what would you have done with my body? Your Marcel
-would have arrived. He would have found the floor stained with blood, and
-my corpse lying in the middle of the salon! How would you have explained
-the matter to him? You see, Sophia, it was a fit of madness which came
-over you. And all for what? Place in the balance these love-dreams of
-yours, weigh them against the immense interests in which you have a part,
-and decide whether the former weigh down the latter? Really, women must
-at times be mad for one like yourself to give way to such acts of
-extravagance!”
-
-He gave her a side-long glance as he spoke, but the expression on her
-face did not appear to satisfy him, so he continued—
-
-“We neither have nor can have strength, unless we support one another. I
-rely on your beauty, and you ought to be proud of my skill and courage.
-Wherever we pass, it is your _rôle_ to charm and please, and mine to
-defend you. Have I ever failed in my duty? When Colonel de Bredmann, last
-year in Vienna, spoke of you in a manner you considered derogatory, did I
-hesitate to challenge him the following day, and drive six inches of cold
-steel through his throat in the Prater? I must confess that you, with
-charming generosity, enabled me to support the run of ill-luck which
-always overtook me at the club. Mutual exchange—you, of money; and
-myself, of respect. Meanwhile, we carried on our affairs. And with what
-success? Do you remember? Was it not better than quarrelling? Come,
-Sophia, don’t look so gloomy; I know your feelings are bitter, but don’t
-let them be more bitter than my own. Diavolo! Wake up and speak. Give me
-an answer.”
-
-Appearing to shake off the feeling of numbness which had come over her,
-she once more looked at her reddened fingers, and said, with a strange
-smile—
-
-“Very well! Order, since it is you who are the master!”
-
-With displeased air, he replied—
-
-“No! Don’t adopt such an attitude! Now you are acting the part of a
-resigned victim! You must act according to your own free will and
-pleasure. I think I have proved to your satisfaction that you are turning
-your back on the right path, and that it is time to turn round. Am I not
-right?”
-
-“One is never right when one is the stronger!”
-
-“That is a woman’s reply. Well, Sophia, I am very sorry, but I will not
-assume this advantage of imposing on you any resolution whatever. I leave
-you free to do as you wish. Stay or go as you like. For my part, I must
-go; I do not feel inclined to let myself be caught in this house like a
-fox in a poultry-yard. I will give you ten minutes while you make up your
-mind and prepare your luggage. I will smoke a cigarette in the garden.
-Decide your future for yourself.”
-
-He left the room. A flash of hate shone in Sophia’s eyes. She arose, gave
-a sigh of despair, and then murmured—
-
-“He is right!”
-
-She called for Milona. The servant appeared.
-
-“The trunk at once. We are leaving,” she said briefly.
-
-“Good, madame.”
-
-Sophia sat down before a small desk, took up a sheet of writing-paper
-edged with black, and wrote—
-
-    “MY DEAR MARCEL,
-
-    “When you return to the villa I shall no longer be here to receive
-    you. My brother, to whom I have been denounced by some person
-    unknown, has arrived in a passion, and is taking me far away. Never
-    try to see me again. Keep the remembrance of my kisses ever fresh in
-    your heart. I am carrying off the delicious flavour of yours on my
-    lips. Good-bye.
-
-                                             “Yours with life-long regret,
-                                                                 “ANETTA.”
-
-Sealing the envelope, she placed it in full view on the table of the
-salon, and, after looking all around, she went out into the small garden.
-Cesare was walking to and fro, along the alley, where she had spent so
-many hours by Marcel’s side. She sighed deeply. But her mind was made up,
-and she was not a woman to draw back.
-
-“Well?” asked the Italian.
-
-“Well, you have convinced me; I will accompany you.”
-
-“Very good. Now you are yourself again. It was only a momentary weakness
-which came over you.”
-
-“Indeed, I was mad,” she said, mockingly. “Just think, I was in love with
-this young Baradier.”
-
-“That I can well understand,” he conceded graciously. “He is a charming
-young fellow. But everything comes to an end. And since, thanks to this
-intrigue, you have obtained the result so ardently followed up by Hans,
-the only thing we can now do is to quit. And that is what you are now
-doing, with your usual good sense. Just now you surprised me, I must
-confess, by your resistance. This is the first time I have ever seen you
-sentimental. This fit of idyllic tenderness seemed quite incomprehensible
-to me. Now, can you explain to me what has taken place?”
-
-“Oh! It is very simple. In this young Marcel I found a love and affection
-at once simple and disinterested, quite refreshing. It seemed as though I
-were in a thirsty desert, and came upon a limpid spring, at which no one
-had drunk previously. I stopped at the edge, looked into the crystal
-water, and the reflected image was so different from myself, that I stood
-there astonished and delighted. I thought I was about to find tranquil
-rest, and a delightful regeneration, and cease being the Sophia who had
-gone through so many adventures, to become a simple harmless woman in the
-eyes of a love-stricken swain. Perhaps my mouth would forget its lying,
-and my eyes their deceit and fascination! What a dream! And how near
-realization! What unexpected happiness, ruined in a moment by your
-reappearance. Ah! I have cursed you, Cesare, and Hans as well! But what
-can I do, how can I tear myself away from my destiny? It was the height
-of madness for me to think that a sincere love could unfold in my heart,
-as though a wild floweret of the open fields could spring up in a marsh!
-Come, let us think no more of all this. Society shall pay the price of my
-disillusion!”
-
-“Now you are speaking sensibly. But all you have been telling me is most
-deplorably romantic. To think of your settling down in a village like the
-Dame aux Camelias to live on new-laid eggs with Armand Duval! How
-ridiculous! Ah! Here is Milona with your hat and cloak.”
-
-“Ask the coachman to mount the luggage.”
-
-Sophia, apparently impassive, watched her trunk and bags change position.
-As Cesare stood at the garden-gate calling her, she looked around for the
-last time, raised her hands to her lips, and to all she associated with
-Marcel—green trees, forms on which they had sat, birds that had sung
-above their heads, sky which had shone on their happiness—she sent a
-rapid kiss.
-
-“Are you ready?” asked the Italian.
-
-“Here I am.”
-
-“We will not leave by Ars, the town is in too great a commotion. This
-worthy coachman will drive us to Saint-Savine, where we will take the
-express for Paris.”
-
-“As you like.”
-
-“Come along, then, quick!”
-
-She mounted the open carriage. Milona took up a position opposite her
-mistress. A lash of the whip, a sound of bells, and at the turn of the
-road everything was out of view.
-
-It was four o’clock when Uncle Graff, after arranging for the search for
-Laforêt, and giving orders for the management of the works, in short
-arranging for whatever was absolutely pressing, came for his nephew to go
-with him to the Villa de la Cavée. Baudoin, with a trusty revolver in his
-pocket, went on in front as a scout. Marcel and his uncle followed, a
-hundred yards behind. The excitement of the struggle and danger was now
-past, and they were beginning to examine the position more coolly.
-
-It was not a brilliant one. The boldness and violence of their enemies
-had been manifested with too few precautions, for the utmost excesses
-were to be dreaded at their hands in case the struggle were continued.
-Now, at this moment, they appeared to be on the point of triumph. They
-had just obtained possession of the scientific treasure, the commercial
-application of which would assure them an enormous fortune. How exultant
-they must feel, accordingly! But then, on the other hand, how
-disconcerted they would be on attempting to utilize the stolen formula!
-As Marcel had said, to obtain the explosive in its full power, and with
-its special destructive qualities, a particular manipulation, a twist of
-the hand, so to speak, discovered by General de Trémont, was necessary.
-They might try to apply the formula; but if they did not know how to
-handle the different doses, their hopes would fail of realization. Now
-the thief-assassin, who had found his way into the laboratory, had
-carried off the precious document, but would it not remain utterly
-worthless, like the golden crown in the legend, which changed into a dry
-leaf?
-
-Uncle Graff was meditating on all this as he walked by Marcel’s side. He
-said nothing to the young man. What was the use? It was also certain that
-the villains, bent as they were on obtaining the secret, had already
-killed two men and set fire to the works to accomplish their object.
-Granting that they had once more failed, would they not recommence the
-struggle, and purchase victory at the cost of no matter what sacrifices?
-Under these conditions there was no drawing back; they must risk much to
-try and check an offensive return, and not hesitate in case the unknown
-beauty were an accomplice in the crimes already committed; it must be
-their object to keep her in view, question her, and if need be, deliver
-her into the hands of justice in order to try and throw light on this
-dark and dangerous affair.
-
-They reached the wood, and, the house being no more than a hundred yards
-distant, Baudoin, who had waited for them, said—
-
-“I will go all round the garden, and bear off in the direction of the
-wood, so that, if any one tries to escape, I may be able to cut off his
-retreat.”
-
-“No,” said Marcel. “Let us remain together.”
-
-Just at that moment an old woman appeared before them, dragging a faggot
-of decayed wood.
-
-She smiled with her toothless mouth, and, stopping to take breath, said—
-
-“Is it the young lady of the villa you want to see? If so—”
-
-“Well?” said Marcel.
-
-“You will not find her here. An hour ago she went away in a cab with all
-her luggage, in the direction of Sainte-Savine. Cacheu, of the Lion d’Or,
-drove the cab himself.”
-
-“Gone?” exclaimed Marcel, stupefied.
-
-“So it seems,” said Uncle Graff. “The _coup_ is effected.”
-
-“Impossible!”
-
-“Poor young man! His walks with the young lady were very agreeable,”
-muttered the old woman.
-
-She shook her head, encircled with a kerchief, accepted the two-franc
-piece Uncle Graff slipped into her hand, and walked slowly away, in the
-direction of the town, dragging her faggot along the road.
-
-Marcel had already entered the villa. On the threshold his heart seemed
-almost to stop beating. The door remained open, as though, in the hurry
-of flight, they had not had time to close it, or rather, as though she
-had left nothing behind worth keeping. Crossing the garden, he entered
-the hall, and called—
-
-“Milona! Anetta!”
-
-No reply came; nothing but silence and darkness. Entering the salon, he
-saw a letter lying on the table. Tearing it open, he rapidly ran over the
-contents, sat down to read it once more, finally understood it, and sat
-there, with bowed head and throbbing brow, as though in the presence of a
-terrible disaster. There Uncle Graff found him. He had gone over the
-whole house, and acquired the certainty that it was abandoned. Baudoin
-was seated in the garden. Seeing his nephew’s anguish and the pallor of
-his countenance, the old man’s heart melted; he placed his hand
-affectionately on the young man’s head, softly stroked his hair, and
-seeing the letter pressed between his passive fingers, asked—
-
-“Has she written to you?”
-
-At these words, simple though they were, his fugitive love seemed almost
-reinstated in his eyes, as he felt that she had not forgotten him, and
-Marcel burst into sobs as he silently held out the paper and hid his face
-in his hands. Uncle Graff drew near the window and read the letter, after
-which he stood there in a reverie. Marcel, regaining possession of
-himself to defend the one he loved, finally rose from his seat, and said
-in supplicating accents—
-
-“Uncle Graff, is this the letter of a woman who lies? Do not her protests
-appear sincere to you? Has she the faintest complicity in the crimes
-committed? Do you accuse her of having deceived me? Is she not rather a
-victim undergoing a rigorous tyranny at the hands of the very monsters
-who threaten us? This letter, Uncle Graff, this letter—does it not
-breathe despair in every line? Is it not a confirmation of her love for
-me?”
-
-“The letter appears to be sincere,” said the old man, calmly. “I cannot
-but recognize that grief is evident in every word, and that the one who
-wrote it was evidently acting under compulsion when she left the house.
-That is a proof that she loves you, and regrets your absence. But is that
-a proof that she is not guilty, and the accomplice of the rest?”
-
-“Oh, Uncle Graff, do you think it possible?”
-
-“I do, and I am afraid it is so, my dear Marcel, and that would be more
-serious than anything else, for, if this woman loves you—and how could
-she help loving you, my dear child, once she knows you—ah, if this woman
-loves you, my anxiety will become greater than ever. For she might try to
-see you again, and then—”
-
-A light of hope illumined Marcel’s face.
-
-“Ah, if only that could be!”
-
-“Marcel, you see what grounds I had for fear. At the very thought of
-seeing her again you at once become radiant with joy. And yet she is a
-rascal, there is not the slightest doubt of it. I will not dispute her
-charms, since she has obtained such control over you; but she is very
-dangerous all the same, for, in short, suppose she were the woman of
-Vanves?”
-
-“Impossible!”
-
-“Do not say impossible. You know nothing about it. These women, you see,
-are terrible creatures. In matters like the one now engaging our
-attention they are a kind of female Proteus, capable of assuming all
-forms, even the most diverse and disconcerting, to deceive their enemies
-and allay suspicion. Cosmopolitan adventuresses, living on human folly;
-spies, on the track of State secrets; corruptresses, sufficiently
-fascinating to obtain the mastery over all consciences. You are aware
-that these women are insinuating and of plausible manners, generally very
-beautiful. And this one—”
-
-“Oh! No, no!”
-
-Uncle Graff insisted authoritatively.
-
-“This one, very clever and dangerous, more dangerous than the rest, even,
-has played her _rôle_ with you, whilst satisfying her caprice at the same
-time. Come, Marcel, be reasonable; do not blind yourself. Why was the man
-of Vanves concealed here? Why have the powders been removed from the
-laboratory, and why is the house deserted, now that the burglary is
-accomplished? It is not a mere departure, it is a flight. Consider the
-rapidity and suddenness of the resolution reached. This morning only she
-had no thought of it, or, rather, in that case she deceived you, since
-she said nothing about it, and was to receive you to-night. Crime and
-duplicity are manifest everywhere. You have been deceived by words of
-tenderness, whilst the others, her accomplices, were stealing and
-murdering.”
-
-Marcel gave a movement expressive of anger.
-
-“If only I had the proof of this!”
-
-Uncle Graff looked at him fixedly.
-
-“Well, what would you do?”
-
-“Ah! I would have my revenge, that I swear! All my love would turn into
-hate. If my heart has been deceived with lying words, I would tear it out
-of my breast, rather than cherish a poisoned love! If that woman was not
-a victim, she would be a monster. And, by what I hold most sacred in
-existence, I would punish her!”
-
-The old man looked at his nephew with considerable satisfaction.
-
-“Oh! _Mon Dieu_! We don’t ask you to do that! Simply forget her. Above
-all, make up your mind not to fall into her toils again, if ever you meet
-her.”
-
-At that moment the door opened, and Baudoin appeared. Holding a book in
-his hand, he approached mysteriously, and said—
-
-“It is useful to make a thorough search. One can never examine too well.”
-
-He laughed as he spoke and held the book aloft—
-
-“Had I done nothing but cast a careless glance over the lady’s
-bed-chamber, I should not have found this.”
-
-“What is it?” asked Graff.
-
-“A book—a simple book.”
-
-Marcel took it up, looked at the title, and said—
-
-“Yes, it is a book she has been reading lately.”
-
-“Oh! the book in itself signifies nothing,” said Baudoin. “It had fallen
-down by the side of the bed nearest the wall. In a hurry of departure she
-did not see it, and it was left there. But there was something between
-these leaves.”
-
-Baudoin took between his fingers a piece of paper, and showed it to his
-masters.
-
-“This envelope, torn in two, and folded to serve as a book-mark. To whom
-does it belong, if not to the one who has been making use of it? Now on
-the folded part, there is a line of writing and an address.”
-
-“An address?”
-
-“Look!”
-
-He handed the paper to Marcel, and on the small band, concealed by the
-folding, the young man read aloud the name: “Madame la Baronne Grodsko.”
-The bottom of the envelope, on which was doubtless written the street,
-number and town, had disappeared. On the top, however, a large stamp
-contained the postmark: “Wien, April 18.”
-
-The rest was effaced.
-
-“Baroness Grodsko,” repeated Marcel. “But her name was Anetta Vignola.”
-
-“Ah!” said Uncle Graff; “these women change their names as easily as
-their dresses. She has only kept this envelope from the most incredible
-and imprudent carelessness. And how is it this letter, which came from
-Vienna a fortnight ago, is now here? It must have been forwarded under
-another envelope to the name and address she assumed here!”
-
-Baudoin then remarked—
-
-“Perhaps I may be permitted to state that the woman who called on my
-master on the night of the crime was addressed by him as Baronne—”
-
-Marcel turned pale.
-
-“True,” he murmured, in a low tone. “But what relation is there between
-Anetta Vignola and the Baroness Grodsko?”
-
-“That is what we must discover, for it is the clue which may guide us
-through the darkness in which we are now groping. Courage, my child; if
-this woman is the same who has committed such infamous actions—”
-
-“Ah! Uncle Graff, in that case I should feel no pity whatever for her.”
-
-The uncle shook his nephew’s hand, in sympathetic approval.
-
-“Now, there is nothing more for us to do here. The house has delivered up
-to us part of its secret. The rest we must seek elsewhere.”
-
-The three men went out into the garden, after carefully closing the
-doors, and slowly returned to Ars.
-
-
-
-CHAPTER II
-
-
-LICHTENBACH was sitting in his study, listening to young Vernot, his
-broker, who was speaking with the utmost volubility.
-
-“Baradier and Graff will not long be able to maintain their position on
-the Explosives now. It has already been remarked at the Bourse that they
-have not reduced their stock. The coming liquidation will be a decisive
-one; or else they will remain firm; then what a bankruptcy it will be! Or
-they may sell everything. What a fall that will mean!”
-
-A faint smile came over the banker’s lips.
-
-“I should like to see that!”
-
-“_Man Dieu_! My dear master, I cannot conceal from you the fact that, in
-business circles they say it is a duel between the firm of Baradier and
-Graff and the firm of Lichtenbach. One of the two will go under.”
-
-“I know it; but I have no fear.”
-
-“I have negotiated this affair for you, so I know our mode of action.
-Hitherto it has been an admirable one. To sum up in a word, you have sold
-what the Baradiers have bought.”
-
-“Yes, my friend, and I have their money, as they have my vouchers. Now,
-Vernot, be wideawake as to what is about to happen. The explosives, which
-are now at their highest price, will rapidly fall to the very lowest.”
-
-“Are you sure?”
-
-“Absolutely certain.”
-
-“Why?”
-
-“Because a rival company is being formed, which is in possession of the
-patents of a product destined to replace, within a very short time, all
-the mining powders and other dynamites hitherto employed, and which will
-cost fifty per cent. less in commerce. What do you say to that?”
-
-“It will be a crushing blow!”
-
-“You are right. Read my journal to-night; it will contain the first
-article of a series destined to set forth before the world this new
-discovery. In two months from now I wish to see Baradier and Graff
-bankrupt!”
-
-“Oh, they have a long purse to draw on,”
-
-“We shall see about that.”
-
-“So now you engage me to sell?”
-
-“From to-morrow sell as fast as you can. There will be a gain of five
-hundred francs per share. You will see the movement begin. All my
-personal orders will be executed on foreign Exchanges. Profit by this
-opportunity.”
-
-“I shall not be likely to forget.”
-
-“Now go. My daughter is expecting me, and I am punctual in my habits.”
-
-“My dear master, many thanks, and my respectful compliments.”
-
-The stockbroker left the room. Lichtenbach did not even rise from his
-seat to accompany him to the door. He was thinking. From Venice a letter
-had reached him which, on the one hand, caused him great satisfaction,
-and, on the other, brought him a certain amount of uneasiness. Sophia
-Grodsko had written to him: “The war powder is a triumphant success.
-Experiments made at Spezzia and Trieste have given prodigious results
-with marine cannons. Plates of Siemens steel a foot thick are pierced
-like sheets of paper. We have received two million francs, the rest will
-come afterwards. The affair is big with magnificent results. Things are
-not progressing so well with the commerce powder. Hans has been at work
-for the last fortnight at Swalbach with Prunier, from Zurich. He has been
-disappointed. All the attempts have been unsatisfactory. They have
-manipulated the product in different manners, but no result has been
-obtained. The explosive is worth no more than dynamite. True it is not so
-dear, but we are far from what we hoped, and from what must actually be
-the case. There must be some secret or other in the fabrication of the
-powder unknown to us. Hans is trying to find it, and has not abandoned
-all hopes of doing so. But, up to the present, fiasco. Don’t be
-discouraged, but thank me for telling you the exact truth. Agostini sends
-you his best wishes, and informs you that you will shortly receive your
-brevet of baron.”
-
-Lichtenbach growled.
-
-“Baron! That will be of some use to me, indeed, if this affair fails.”
-
-Rising, he gave a gesture of defiance.
-
-“It will not fail! Hans is a skilful chemist. He will find out the
-secret. Besides, if need be I will retrace my steps. They will not catch
-me so easily, altogether unprepared.”
-
-He smiled. His daughter entered the room. She was no longer the little
-schoolgirl, dressed in the blue convent robe, but an elegant and graceful
-Parisienne. The banker looked at her with considerable satisfaction.
-
-“Are you ready?”
-
-“Yes, father. It was agreed we should start at four o’clock.”
-
-“And where are you taking me?”
-
-“To the Charity Bazaar in favour of the Alsace-Lorraine orphans. You must
-come.”
-
-“I might have sent a cheque.”
-
-“But I must be there. Madame Sainte-Alix has charge of a stall, along
-with several of my old school companions. I promised to be there.”
-
-“Well, let us start.”
-
-They set off. The sale took place in the Agricultural Hall of France. All
-over the walls hung groups of flags, whilst above a verdant groove stood
-a marble bust representing Alsace, with a mourning sash flung across the
-breast. The wife of a Deputy from the Vosges, surrounded by a group of
-ladies belonging to official circles, performed the honours. A large
-double sofa occupied the middle of the room, between two rows of stalls,
-in which the most aristocratic families of Alsace and Lorraine were
-represented by white haired grandmothers who had never been willing to
-acknowledge the conquest of these two lost provinces, and elegant young
-ladies, smiling and careless, educated or born in exile, and finding
-France beautiful, and life pleasant, even though it were passed far from
-their native soil.
-
-Lichtenbach and Marianne were warmly received immediately they entered
-the room. Here the financier’s prestige and the influence of the journal
-proprietor could be exercised in uninterrupted sovereignty. Nothing but
-smiles on every side. The more republican one’s opinions, the more
-unctuous was the respect lavished on Lichtenbach, the reactionary.
-Marianne, timid and anxious, was looking for the stall presided over by
-Madame Sainte-Alix.
-
-A young attendant, anxious to serve so rich an heiress, placed himself
-under the young girl’s orders, and Marianne passed through the crowd of
-buyers and sellers until she reached the stall where her old companions
-were selling children’s clothing at five times its real value, and that
-without the slightest difficulty. Geneviève de Trémont, dressed in
-mourning, presided over the hosiery department. After exchanging a
-friendly greeting she asked—
-
-“Are you all alone?”
-
-“Oh no. My father has stayed behind for a moment to speak to the wife of
-a Senator.”
-
-“He is going to leave you here for some time?”
-
-“I do not know. Perhaps it would not be convenient for him to return for
-me.”
-
-Turning towards the nun presiding at the cash-box, she said—
-
-“Are you pleased with the result of your sales, madame?”
-
-“We have made three thousand francs since noon, my child. But it will
-soon be five o’clock. In an hour everything will be over. We have still a
-third of our stock left.”
-
-“Very well. Send me everything you have not sold to-night,” said the
-young girl, simply.
-
-“Ah, my child, how grateful I feel to you. But what will your father
-think?”
-
-Mademoiselle Lichtenbach smiled calmly.
-
-“My father? He never opposes my wishes. Besides, I am rich.”
-
-She exhibited a purse full of gold.
-
-“And, if that is not sufficient, papa will make me an advance.”
-
-“Ha, look in front!” said Geneviève de Trémont. “There is Amélie at the
-stall of Madame Baradier.”
-
-Marianne blushed. She remembered what her father had said regarding their
-quarrels with the Baradiers and Graffs, and felt considerably embarrassed
-in consequence. What kind of relations could be set up between these
-hostile families? Suddenly the smiling face of Marcel Baradier awoke in
-her memory. The hostility of the parents could not bind the children,
-since he had so graciously received Lichtenbach’s daughter when she had
-called at the Rue de Provènce. Turning her eyes in the direction of
-Geneviève, she recognized the one of whom she was thinking, near the
-counter where Madame Baradier and Amélie were selling. He smiled as he
-talked to an old man who was purchasing a porcelain vase of a very ugly
-pattern. After the bargain was struck he took it from his hands, placed
-it gaily back again on to the stall, and said, in tones sufficiently loud
-to be heard by Marianne—
-
-“This is the third time, Uncle Graff, that we have sold it, and it has
-been left behind. People don’t object to paying for it, but it is so
-frightful that no one will decide to carry it off.”
-
-The old man put back his purse into his pocket and said—
-
-“Now, where is the stall of Mademoiselle de Trémont?”
-
-“We will go there together. The very thing you want, uncle. _Trousseau_
-and baby linen. Indispensable for bachelors!”
-
-“You rogue!”
-
-They crossed the room. Suddenly Marcel became very grave; he had
-recognized Mademoiselle Lichtenbach. She, too, had seen him approach,
-and, trembling, had not had the courage to look him in the face. Uncle
-Graff, with his usual good nature, said—
-
-“Well, Mademoiselle Geneviève, what are you going to sell me? Children’s
-hoods? How much a dozen?”
-
-“Sixty francs, as it is you, Monsieur Graff. And you can leave them with
-us if you like.”
-
-“Certainly. It would be too much trouble to carry them all off.”
-
-“What you leave us we will give to the Sainte-Enfance institution. After
-you have finished, if there is anything which remains one of our friends
-has promised to buy it up.”
-
-“Who is she?”
-
-“Mademoiselle Marianne Lichtenbach.”
-
-Graff started. His face changed expression, and he said—
-
-“The daughter of—”
-
-As he took a step backwards he heard a gentle voice say—
-
-“On the ground of charity there are no enemies, only competitors as to
-who shall do the most good.”
-
-“You are quite right, mademoiselle,” replied the old man, with a bow.
-“And I will immediately put your precept into practice.”
-
-Leaning towards the nun, he asked calmly—
-
-“How much for the contents of the stall?”
-
-“My dear sir,” stammered Madame Sainte-Alix, astonished.
-
-“Is two thousand francs enough?”
-
-“Oh, that’s nothing! I will give four thousand!”
-
-And Count Cesare Agostini, smiling and elegant, appeared by the side of
-Mademoiselle Lichtenbach.
-
-“Our father has sent me to you, mademoiselle,” he said, with a bow. “He
-will be here in a moment, and, really, he would not have tolerated that
-_any_ one should rob you of the honour of your generosity at so moderate
-a price.”
-
-Glancing around at those present, and recognizing Marcel he affected a
-joyful surprise.
-
-“Ah! Monsieur Baradier! I am delighted to meet you. We have had a great
-deal of trouble since last I saw you. I heard all about it on my return
-to call for my sister. I greatly regretted not being able to stay and
-tell you how sorry we felt for you. You were so kind and gracious to us
-in that quiet country place.”
-
-He spoke without the slightest hesitation, and with a boldness which
-stupefied Marcel. As he looked at Agostini he wondered whether he were
-not dreaming—whether this calm, phlegmatic person speaking to him at this
-charity bazaar in the heart of Paris, without even thinking of escape,
-was indeed the man he suspected of having mystified him at Ars, of being,
-doubtless, the accomplice of murderers and incendiaries; at the very
-least in collusion with this enigmatical woman whose memory still filled
-his heart. He listened with astonishment, and replied—
-
-“And your sister, Madame Vignola?”
-
-“Ah! Poor Anetta!” interrupted Cesare. “She is at Venice, engaged in
-troublesome family affairs. But she will probably come to Paris this
-summer to assist at my marriage.”
-
-“Ah! You are about to be married, Count?”
-
-“Yes, M. Lichtenbach has given his consent at last.”
-
-This news of the marriage of Agostini into the Lichtenbach family
-produced an electric effect. Marcel immediately regained full possession
-of his faculties.
-
-Looking at the Italian from head to foot, he said ironically—
-
-“Ah! you are about to enter the family of M. Lichtenbach. It was to be,
-and it would have been a pity could it not have taken place!”
-
-“I do not understand very well,” replied Cesare.
-
-“Yes, you understand perfectly. And if you wish further information ask
-for it from your sister.”
-
-“These are strange words,” said the Italian, arrogantly.
-
-“Every one does as well as he can; all men have not the privilege of
-being strange in their actions.”
-
-Agostini was about to reply, and the two men stood threateningly in front
-of one another, when a hand was laid on the Italian’s arm, and the voice
-of Mademoiselle Lichtenbach was heard saying—
-
-“Monsieur le Comte, will you come this way, please? My father is looking
-for you.”
-
-Cesare gave Marcel a defiant glance. Then, turning with flattering
-humility to the young girl, he said—
-
-“Your slightest wish shall be obeyed, mademoiselle. But I shall see this
-gentleman again, and—”
-
-“I forbid you!”
-
-“Very good.”
-
-Lichtenbach came up to them. He passed in front of Graff, without
-appearing to see him.
-
-“What is this they are telling me, Count?” he said, addressing Agostini.
-“You have been bidding up to four thousand francs for the contents of
-this stall? What a trifling sum! You must have had some very sorry
-competitors against you!”
-
-An expression of disdain came over his face as he looked round on Marcel
-and Uncle Graff.
-
-“Formerly my opponents were more tenacious. The struggle for gold has
-considerably cooled them down.”
-
-Turning towards the nun he wrote a few lines on a piece of paper, saying—
-
-“Here, madame, is a cheque for ten thousand francs.”
-
-“What shall I give you in return?” asked Madame Sainte-Alix, stupefied.
-
-“Your prayers,” said Elias, humbly.
-
-A group had formed round the stall, and a murmur of approving admiration
-reached the ears of Lichtenbach. Agostini exclaimed, with emphasis—
-
-“This is a magnificent gift!”
-
-“Come along, my daughter,” said Elias.
-
-Marianne kissed Geneviève de Trémont, and, lowering her head, so as not
-to see Marcel, followed her father and Agostini. As she passed in front
-of Graff she heard him say—
-
-“Ten thousand francs’ worth of prayers! At a franc per villainous trick
-he has committed he loses nothing!”
-
-The old man had not time to further exhibit his bad temper, for Marcel
-interrupted him—
-
-“Not so loud, Uncle Graff; his daughter might hear you. Poor child; it is
-not her fault!”
-
-Marianne felt sad at heart, and, more afflicted at the nephew’s
-humiliating indulgence towards herself than at his uncle’s scorn for her
-father, she left the room.
-
-Since his return to Paris, Marcel had been restored to the good graces of
-M. Baradier. Graff’s story of the conflagration at the works, and the
-rescue effected by his nephew, had touched the old man’s heart. The
-danger incurred by his brother-in-law, Cardez, and Baudoin, had made him
-quiver with anxiety; the intervention of his son at the critical moment,
-when even the bravest among the workmen drew back from the danger, had
-aroused his enthusiasm. He had taken Marcel in his arms, and said to
-Madame Baradier and Amélie, who were sitting there in tears—
-
-“You seem quite astonished. Did you think this child, on account of a few
-silly escapades, was not a fine and brave fellow, after all? For my part
-I was sure, if the opportunity occurred, he would act as nobly as he has
-done! It is because I knew what he was capable of that I treated him
-harshly when he went astray. But, after all, he is a Baradier!”
-
-The same evening, alone with his wife, he said—
-
-“Indeed, I am very well pleased with Marcel. Graff has told me things
-concerning him which have touched me very much. I am beginning to hope
-that, once the passion and giddiness of youth is over, he will turn out a
-remarkable man. All he lacks is a certain amount of order. But that will
-come in time. He is both intelligent and warm-hearted. Now, it is time he
-thought of marrying.”
-
-“He is only twenty-five years of age.”
-
-“The very best age imaginable. One’s happiness in life is assured when
-one finds a good partner and marries young, as I did. What kind of
-attitude does he show with regard to Geneviève?”
-
-“He treats her like a sister, neither more nor less.”
-
-“Not the slightest sign of flirtation?”
-
-“I believe she has a faint liking for him, but I know nothing about his
-feelings for her.”
-
-“Ask Amélie a few discreet questions.”
-
-“I will think of it.”
-
-Marcel’s mind was occupied with things entirely different. He thought of
-everything except marriage. His return home appeared very pleasant, for
-he was very fond of his parents. Perhaps the exile’s son, more than
-another, possessed a liking for home. He had so often heard his father
-and uncle regret the old home at Metz, their friends and customs of
-former times, that the bonds which attached him to his father’s house
-were very strong, and when away from them all something essential seemed
-to be lacking in his life. Doubtless this something was his father’s
-affectionate chiding and his mother’s consoling smile.
-
-Since his return he spent almost the whole of his time out of the office;
-went out very little at nights, and worked away at a task known to no one
-except Uncle Graff. M. Baradier, greatly troubled at the turn of events
-the Explosives had taken, expressed his anxiety to no one but his
-partner. Uncle Graff, however, calmly replied—
-
-“We must keep wide-awake, but we need not exaggerate the danger.
-Everything will come out right in the end, that I am sure of.”
-
-“Eh! Do you expect a miracle?” murmured Baradier. “These Explosives
-shares continue to go down, in spite of all our efforts. Yesterday there
-was a rumour out on the Bourse that a patent had just been taken, in
-Germany, England, and France, by an Englishman named Dalgetty, for some
-marvellous powder or other superior to dynamite. They go so far as to
-state that this substance is so manageable and harmless, in spite of its
-destructive power, that they expect to make use of it for engine power.
-That would mean the suppression of steam, gas and petroleum. A complete
-revolution. If a quarter of all this is true we are ruined! Doubtless it
-is an application of Trémont’s formulæ, and Dalgetty is the dummy of the
-villains who stole them.”
-
-“Possibly,” murmured Graff, calmly.
-
-“And you can find nothing else to say?” exclaimed Baradier, furiously.
-“You resign yourself to all this robbery and murder?”
-
-“No; I am simply waiting for the Dalgetty powder in use. It may be the
-Trémont explosive, but then, on the other hand, it may be something
-entirely different, and in that case worth nothing at all.”
-
-“But suppose we are ruined in the meantime?”
-
-“We shall obtain the upper hand in the long run.”
-
-“But it is this villain of a Lichtenbach who is leading the campaign
-against us. This is what I am informed from both London and Brussels.”
-
-“Give him his head. The farther he goes the greater will be his fall.”
-
-“I should like to know the cause of your confidence.”
-
-“It is Marcel, your son, who is stronger in himself, than Trémont,
-yourself, myself, and all the others. You will see.”
-
-“But, after all, cannot you tell me?”
-
-“No, I will say nothing. Let Dalgetty go ahead, and the shares continue
-to lower. Above all else, do not sell. He laughs best who laughs last.”
-
-The calm assurance of Uncle Graff had its due impression on Baradier at
-the time. But afterwards, in his study, in front of his correspondence,
-which brought him nothing but bad news, fear again took possession of
-him. He was aware that Marcel was working hard. He saw him start every
-morning for the laboratory of the Arts-et-Métiers. But what was he
-engaged in? Doubtless some improvement of the Trémont powder; perhaps
-simply the exact doses of the products. How could he prove, after all,
-that he knew the dosing, which was the General’s invention? And Baradier,
-red and excited, would take up his hat and go out for a walk, to avoid a
-congestion.
-
-At night, when they were dining, he again saw Marcel in the salon, seated
-between his mother and sister, or playing the piano with Geneviève de
-Trémont. He was an excellent musician, this son on whom Nature had
-lavished such gifts. And Uncle Graff, a passionate melomaniac, lay
-stretched out in an armchair, listening, in delighted ecstasy, to some
-_lied_ of Schubert or a concerto by Schumann. He pointed out to Baradier,
-who had entered the room on tip-toe, the charming picture of these two
-young people playing duets together, and murmured—
-
-“What a fine couple. She is dark; he is fair. Perfect match. And as their
-fortune—the General’s powder.”
-
-“Nothing but smoke!” growled Baradier.
-
-“No, it does not give any,” laughed Uncle Graff.
-
-In his partner’s feeling of security, though he was mistrustful enough in
-business matters, there was a kind of unconsciousness which astonished
-Baradier. Evidently Marcel was preparing something extraordinary, which
-Graff was well aware of and which promised to have extraordinary results.
-But what was it? Besides, with rascals who went about everywhere carrying
-into action their murderous plans, under the indulgent regard of the
-Government, was one sure of anything? Accordingly he fumed and raged, but
-that in itself was something, and kept him occupied.
-
-Baudoin, on his part, had not remained inactive. His first visit had been
-to Colonel Vallenot. He had found him at the War Office, busily engaged
-on a question the Minister was to receive from a socialist Deputy, who
-complained that anarchist journals were not permitted in barracks. How
-could the people be educated if the soldier were refused the right of
-knowing why it was his duty to despise his superiors? The good Colonel
-had bristled up like a wild boar. Only the night before he had been
-abused by his superior, who, greatly worried, himself, had passed on his
-ill-temper to the other, and so it descended from grade to grade right
-down to the concierge. The latter had given a drubbing to his dog, which
-had been at a loss to understand the reason for this treatment. It was
-the only difference between the animal and the functionaries.
-
-“What is it you want?” growled Colonel Vallenot to Baudoin, as he
-saluted. “To see the Minister? Well, you are lucky. If you go in there I
-will not guarantee your safe exit. And, then, what is it you want to tell
-him? That the agent he had placed at your disposal has disappeared? It is
-now three weeks since we heard from him.”
-
-“I have brought you news of him.”
-
-“Ah! What is the matter?”
-
-“He is dead.”
-
-“The deuce! How did that happen!”
-
-“He has been killed.”
-
-“Who has killed him?”
-
-“The same who killed General de Trémont.”
-
-“What was his object?”
-
-“The same as before—to obtain possession of my master’s secrets.”
-
-“Was he successful?”
-
-“Yes.”
-
-“So now he is in possession of the powder formula?”
-
-“He is.”
-
-“Well, this is a fine business. We suspected something of the kind, for
-we have received notice from abroad that experiments have been made with
-smokeless powder of extraordinary power.”
-
-“That is the one.”
-
-Colonel Vallenot had forgotten all about the Deputy’s question. He pulled
-and twisted his moustache furiously. Finally he asked—
-
-“When was poor Laforêt murdered?”
-
-“Nearly a fortnight ago. But it was only later that we had the proof of
-his death. The poor fellow had been flung into the river, and the current
-had carried him into a millrace. He remained several days fastened to
-some piles under water, and it is only just recently that his body
-mounted to the surface. It was taken out, recognized, and buried as was
-fitting for an old soldier and an honest man. Now he is lying under the
-green turf of the cemetery of Ars.”
-
-“And his murderers?”
-
-“Ah, that is what I have come to speak to the Minister about. I know the
-villains.”
-
-Vallenot sat upright.
-
-“Those spies! You know who they are?”
-
-“And you, also, Colonel, without doubt, for this is not their first
-attempt. The Minister, before now, has had a crow to pick with them. They
-are professionals in treason!”
-
-The Colonel rose, and, with changed expression, said—
-
-“Ah! Here, at any rate, is something which will distract him! I will risk
-entering his room without being summoned. Yes, it is possible such news
-may restore him to good humour again. Wait for me here.”
-
-Opening a door, he left the room. Baudoin, standing near the
-mantel-piece, stood there a few minutes ‘attentively listening to the hum
-of voices which proceeded from the next room; then suddenly the door
-opened, and a voice called—
-
-“Baudoin!”
-
-The old soldier advanced, and, on reaching the threshold of the study, he
-saw the Minister standing there, a frown on his face, which was even
-redder than usual.
-
-“Come in!” he said.
-
-Baudoin entered. The General, who wore a black frock-coat and grey
-trousers, was striding to and fro. Vallenot stood waiting in the
-embrasure of the window.
-
-“The Colonel informs me that you have very important news to relate
-concerning the death of M. de Trémont and my agent.”
-
-“Yes, General.”
-
-“You think you know the rascals who have committed these murders?”
-
-“Yes, General.”
-
-“Tell me all about it.”
-
-“I must ask permission to speak in the presence of no one but yourself.
-It is a secret which interests the lives of those who are too dear to me
-to warrant my entrusting it to any other than yourself.”
-
-“Not even to Colonel Vallenot?”
-
-“A secret which belongs to several persons,” said Baudoin, coldly, “is no
-longer a secret. I will tell it either to the Colonel or to yourself.”
-
-“Very good, my friend, you are right. Will you retire, Colonel Vallenot?
-This good fellow means no offence. I approve of his thoughtfulness.”
-
-Vallenot smiled and saluted. It was evident he would gladly have stayed.
-But his chief had given the order. A quarter of an hour later the
-telephone bell rang. Placing the apparatus to his ear, he heard the
-Minister call out—
-
-“Bring me File Z, No. 3, from the secret press.”
-
-Vallenot opened a large iron safe, and took out a yellow bundle of
-papers, which he carried into his chief’s room. Baudoin was standing
-before the desk, and the General _was_ attentively listening to him.
-Vallenot withdrew. Another interval for a quarter of an hour, then a
-fresh ring at the telephone—
-
-“Send me Captain Rimbert, who had charge of the Valance affair.”
-
-Vallenot murmured—
-
-“The deuce! There is something in the wind here!”
-
-Ringing for his office-boy, he gave the order and waited patiently. Half
-an hour passed, then the study-door opened, and Baudoin, conducted by the
-General himself, appeared. The latter now appeared satisfied, and said—
-
-“Very good, Baudoin; so it is understood?”
-
-“Yes, General.”
-
-“You will request M. Marcel Baradier to call on me?”
-
-“Yes, General.”
-
-“And if you hear of anything, let me know of it at once.”
-
-“Yes, General.”
-
-“Good day. Come in, Vallenot.”
-
-Baudoin left the room. The Minister returned to his study, where the
-young Captain Rimbert stood waiting.
-
-“Colonel, will you kindly make out a _resumé_ of the Espurzheim and
-Vicomte de Fontenailles affairs. I believe we are on the point of laying
-our hands on this crafty woman who so completely tricked all my
-predecessors, and mystified myself two years ago. Ah! If I can have my
-revenge it shall be a complete one!”
-
-“Then we have to deal with the woman who has successively borne the name
-of Madame Ferranti, with Espurzheim, . . . ” said the Colonel.
-
-“And of Countess de Vervelde, with poor Fontenailles,” added Captain
-Rimbert.
-
-“And finally of La Ténébreuse,” summed up the Minister.
-
-“Oh! What trouble and money the wretch has cost us without our succeeding
-in laying hands on her!”
-
-“Well, gentlemen, we will try not to fail this time. Prepare the notes I
-requested, Colonel. And you, Captain Rimbert, not a word!”
-
-Both Colonel and Captain left the room. The Minister rubbed his hands
-with satisfaction. Meanwhile Baudoin had made his way along the quays,
-and reached the Law Courts as four o’clock was striking. Crossing the
-large entrance hall, he mounted to the second floor, and stopped in front
-of M. Mayeur’s study. The attendant was an old friend of his, and
-welcomed him cordially—
-
-“Holloa! you here?” he asked. “Have you come as witness in another
-affair?”
-
-“No. I simply wish to speak to the magistrate. Is he engaged?”
-
-“Always! Just now it is a gang of oil-painting thieves, who have been
-overhauling the hotel of a marquis in the Champs-Elysées.”
-
-“Can I speak to him?”
-
-“As soon as he rings, I will tell him you are here. Ah, he is in no
-amiable mood. He and the attorney seem to be quarrelling all the time!”
-
-The bell rang, a door opened, and three men of slouching gait, regular
-types of Parisian blackguards devoured by absinthe, advanced, casting
-sly, searching looks in every direction. But there were neither doors nor
-windows by which they could gain the open-air, so they quietly continued
-their route.
-
-The attendant said—
-
-“M. Baudoin, will you come in now? M. Mayeur is disengaged.”
-
-The old soldier entered the study. The registrar looked at him as he
-passed with a certain amount of curiosity. M. Mayeur smilingly pointed to
-a chair, placed his papers in order, and, turning to the clerk, said—
-
-“You may go now. Put all the files in order. Goodbye.”
-
-The clerk gave a grimace, which might at will have been taken as a mark
-of politeness or of insolence, and withdrew. M. Mayeur, doubtless tired
-of questioning, looked steadily at Baudoin, and invited him to explain
-himself.
-
-“I undertook, monsieur, to inform you of whatever fresh might happen
-concerning the Vanves affair. I have come to keep my promise.”
-
-“Has something taken place of a nature to throw light on the affair?”
-
-“A great deal has happened.”
-
-“What?”
-
-“A fire, a murder, and a robbery!”
-
-M. Mayeur’s face lit up.
-
-“And where have these crimes been committed?”
-
-“At Ars, in the Aube.”
-
-The magistrate’s countenance darkened, as though the inner light which
-had just illumined it had died away. He said—
-
-“In the Aube? That is not within our jurisdiction, and does not concern
-us.”
-
-“I beg your pardon; it concerns us very much. For the people who have
-committed these crimes have also the Vanves affair to their credit, and
-it is for this affair, of which the other is only the consequence, that
-they are wanted.”
-
-“Then you know them?”
-
-“I do.”
-
-“And you know where to lay hands on them?”
-
-“No. But I can tell you how to do so.”
-
-“So the affair we were so unfortunately obliged to shelve a couple of
-months ago is about to recommence? Perhaps this time we shall be able to
-reach a satisfactory conclusion!”
-
-“I maintain without the slightest hesitation that we shall succeed if you
-will do your duty.”
-
-“I?” exclaimed M. Mayeur, his face purple with agitation. “I! After all
-the trouble I have had, and the humiliation I have endured.”
-
-He felt that he was giving himself away. The passionate and ardent nature
-of the man disappeared, and the calm, cold nature of the magistrate
-resumed sway.
-
-With a sigh, he said—
-
-“Tell me everything in detail.”
-
-Baudoin resumed one by one all the events that had taken place at Ars. He
-depicted the character of Madame Vignola, and of Agostini, and finally
-explained the dreaded intervention of Hans. Motionless, the magistrate
-listened, taking short notes from time to time. The time sped swiftly
-along, the sun as it sank tinged with a ruddy glow the waters of the
-Seine, and the veil of darkness had fallen when the magistrate ceased
-listening, and began to question.
-
-“So this Cesare Agostini is in Paris?”
-
-“M. Graff, M. Marcel’s uncle, has seen him, and M. Marcel has spoken to
-him. It appears he is engaged to the daughter of M. Lichtenbach, the
-banker.”
-
-“Lichtenbach? A man in his position, with his fortune and relations? Is
-it possible?”
-
-“You will see. If you wish to know where Agostini lives, set a watch over
-Lichtenbach. They are hand and glove with one another.”
-
-“And the woman Vignola?”
-
-“Agostini will take you to her abode. And when you have the Vignola, you
-come to Hans, and the rest of the accomplices, if there are any. And I
-believe there is a whole gang of them!”
-
-“And what will M. Marcel Baradier do?”
-
-“Do not trouble about him; he does not wish to appear in the matter. A
-mere question of scruples!”
-
-“But suppose some attempt is made against him? Does he not wish me to
-take precautions to assure his safety?”
-
-“No. He is strong enough to protect himself. Besides I am with him.”
-
-“And so was Laforêt.”
-
-“Yes, that is true; still, it is my master’s wish—do not do any more than
-he asks you to undertake. I think you will be well pleased with the
-result. That has cost dear enough! But if we can obtain vengeance for the
-murder of my General and poor Laforêt we shall be quits!”
-
-“Very well,” said the magistrate. “If I need you, M. Baudoin, where can I
-find you?”
-
-“I am living with my master, M. Baradier.”
-
-“Good. Now that you have been working so well, it is my turn. This gang
-will find that they have not been mocking at justice with impunity.”
-
-“Ah! This has been going on a considerable time, from what I understand
-at the War Office.”
-
-“I shall put myself into relations with that Office; we will act in
-co-operation. Keep your courage up, and have good hopes, M. Baudoin; the
-affair is about to start afresh.”
-
-Baudoin, conducted to the door by the magistrate, went out into the
-passage, shook hands with the attendant, and left the building. Returning
-straight to the Rue de Provènce, he mounted to Marcel’s rooms.
-
-This evening he was seated in a small salon examining with minute care
-the plan for a machine at which he was working. On seeing Baudoin enter
-he placed the diagram on the table, looked at his visitor, and said—
-
-“You have just left?”
-
-“Yes, M. Marcel.”
-
-“You have seen the Minister?”
-
-“Yes. At the very first words I uttered he was all attention. He wishes
-to see you, and affirms that the lady in question is a spy of the most
-dangerous category, who has had the police on her tracks for the past six
-years. That woman must have a number of crimes on her conscience.”
-
-“That is not what I asked you,” said Marcel. “Are they going to take
-measures to keep a watch on Agostini and his companions? If so—”
-
-“The Minister told me that was the business of the Detective Department,
-and advised me to see Mr. Mayeur. I have just left him. Ah! he will not
-allow the affair to lag.”
-
-“Good!”
-
-The tinkling of a bell in the yard interrupted the conversation. It was
-the signal for dinner, which, from time immemorial, had thus been
-announced every evening, as is the custom in the provinces. Marcel took
-off his coat, and replaced it by another, after which he made his way to
-the salon. On entering, his father, Uncle Graff, the two young ladies,
-and Madame Baradier, were already waiting before passing into the
-dining-room. More comfort than luxury was evident everywhere; not the
-slightest sign of ostentation was manifest. Usually, dinner was the time
-when all the company related the events of the day. This evening one
-would have thought that nobody wished to speak. All the same, Graff, when
-the joint was brought on the table, risked the remark—
-
-“The Bourse has been firmer to-day.”
-
-“No great improvement!” growled Baradier.
-
-A deeper silence than before followed. But Uncle Graff had the patience
-of a Lorraine, and he continued after a while—
-
-“I have received a letter from Cardez, in which he says they have reached
-the second floor of the new building. The Assurance Company has paid the
-claim. After all, everything has turned out for the best.”
-
-“Are the workmen quiet now?” asked Madame Baradier.
-
-“Poor creatures! They were sorry for what they had done. But they were
-not responsible. It was the leaders of the strike! The deuce take them!”
-
-“Have they fixed upon a larger building-site for a new steam-engine?”
-asked Baradier, who forgot his bad temper as soon as business was on the
-tapis.
-
-“Father,” interrupted Marcel, “I should advise you to postpone this plan
-of yours. Something might happen which would cause the system of power
-employed in the works to be radically changed. Better wait a little.”
-
-“Mere idle fancies and whims! Some wild impracticable invention, I
-suppose.”
-
-“No,” replied the young man, with warmth. “No idle fancy at all! My dear
-Geneviève, it would cover your father’s name with glory, for it was he
-who had the idea of this invention first, and, indeed, if it is
-realizable, as I believe will be found to be the case, it will bear his
-name.”
-
-“Then this is something at which you have been working the last month?”
-asked Baradier, inquisitively.
-
-“The last two years, father. It is on this application of the regulated
-explosive power of the Trémont powder—you understand, regulated, that is
-the point—that I have been working with the General. We were on the point
-of success when he disappeared. But I was in possession of all the plans,
-sketches, and calculations we made together, and I have continued the
-work all alone.”
-
-“And you think you have succeeded?”
-
-“I do.”
-
-“And what result will you attain with your machine?”
-
-“A substitute for coal, petroleum, and even electricity, in the
-production of force. That is to say, the suppression of magazines in war
-vessels, permitting them to increase to an indefinite extent their sphere
-of action. There would be no necessity for locomotives to be supplied
-with a tender, and in all industries coal need only be used for
-metallurgic and heating purposes.”
-
-“Oh, oh!” said Baradier. “And what will you put in the place of coal,
-petroleum, and electricity?”
-
-“That, my dear father, is what I will tell you the day the patents have
-been taken all over the world.”
-
-“When will you take them?”
-
-“To-morrow, if you will advance me the forty thousand francs necessary.”
-
-“I will give you them,” exclaimed Uncle Graff, with warmth. “I have
-confidence in you.”
-
-“Who says I am not ready to advance the sum myself?” resumed Baradier. “I
-would do it merely to honour the memory of Trémont.”
-
-“Very good, father; I warrant you have never advanced money at better
-interest,” said Marcel, joyfully. “It is a discovery calculated to
-completely change the methods of commerce, and yet it is the simplest
-thing in the world!”
-
-“Like all good inventions!”
-
-Baradier remained silent for a moment, and then said—
-
-“But the invention of this machine is connected with the discovery of the
-Trémont powders?”
-
-“Yes, father.”
-
-“And the powders have been stolen?”
-
-A sad smile passed over Marcel’s lips.
-
-“Yes, father, the powders have been stolen. The war powder, for instance,
-and it is very unfortunate. For the General intended to present France
-with this marvellous product, which would have assured for our army a
-supremacy of several years over the other Powers of Europe. Then you know
-what would have happened; foreigners would have set to work, and either
-discovered or bought our secret, and equilibrium again have been
-restored. There will be no superiority for any one, since the formula of
-the Trémont war-powder will be given by me to-morrow to the War Office.
-That will establish equality. And if there is war, valour and
-intelligence will have to undertake the victory. As for the business
-powder, that is another matter. They may have stolen the formula, even
-manufactured it themselves, but I defy them to find the means of using it
-for its destined purpose.”
-
-“There is a secret about it?”
-
-“Yes, which I discovered quite by chance when working with the General.
-That is the peculiarity of this powder, which, under ordinary conditions,
-is destructive enough, being ignited by simple friction—in a word, very
-dangerous to use; but which, employed according to our method, is under
-perfect control, and regulates its dynamic effects, even to the movement
-of a pendulum, according to my pleasure.”
-
-All present were listening attentively, thinking of the importance of
-this discovery, and the wretched fate of its initiator. M. Baradier said—
-
-“To-morrow you shall have your money. If the affair is worth merely the
-hundredth part of what you claim, Geneviève will be rich and Trémont
-world-famed.”
-
-“As for the Explosives Company,” added Graff, “it is in a bad way.
-Lichtenbach is likely to have met his match at last!”
-
-
-
-CHAPTER III
-
-
-IT was five months since Marcel had solemnly promised his father to break
-with his giddy companions, give up his fast life, and no longer set foot
-in the club, but, instead of all this, to work and obliterate the acts of
-folly he had previously committed. Scrupulously keeping his word, he
-withdrew to Ars, and only seldom appeared in Paris. So well had he worked
-that the result of his efforts were manifest. The Minister, after the
-conversation he had had with Marcel, had expressed himself to Baradier,
-concerning the young savant, in such terms that the father was quite
-disarmed. All these deprivations of rights, which he had patiently
-submitted to, were now removed, and, not without considerable
-satisfaction, this fine young fellow of twenty-six years of age had
-resumed his former habits.
-
-The first time he appeared at the club he had been welcomed with open
-arms by his companions, young and old alike.
-
-“What has become of you; we have seen nothing of you for several months!
-Probably you have been travelling?”
-
-Marcel replied that he had indeed been away from Paris, but added that he
-had been thinking seriously concerning gambling, and had determined to
-give up baccarat.
-
-“How often have I heard you talk in that way,” said the Baron de Vergins.
-“All the same, you could not resist the temptation to play if you were in
-front of the baccarat-table a single quarter of an hour!”
-
-“Come along, then, and you will see.”
-
-They passed into the large room. Beneath the ceiling floated a grey mist
-of tobacco smoke, like a fog.
-
-On either side of the room was a green table, around which thronged a
-crowd of sour-visaged punters.
-
-“Ah! You have two baccarat-tables now,” remarked Marcel.
-
-“Yes; it is an innovation. At the one the minimum stake is a louis; at
-the other, it is ten francs. So that, when a punter has had a run of
-ill-luck at the large table, he goes to the small one to try and recoup,
-with the privilege of returning afterwards to the other, to lose once
-more what he may have won.”
-
-“Very ingenious. A double sieve from which nothing escapes!”
-
-He approached the large table, and his look immediately became fixed. In
-front of him, dealing the bank, he had just recognized Agostini.
-Impassive and smiling, a flower at his buttonhole, he gracefully
-distributed the cards at both tables. He did not see Marcel. With his
-sing-song voice he called out—
-
-“Cards!”
-
-Marcel, addressing the Baron de Vergins, asked—
-
-“Who is the banker?”
-
-“Count Cesare Agostini.”
-
-“Newly joined the club?”
-
-“For a time. Agreeable fellow, good fencer, and reckless player.”
-
-“Is he lucky?”
-
-“Ah, no. He has very bad luck. Loses more than any one else, in fact.”
-
-“Do you know anything about him?”
-
-“He was introduced by the Prince de Cystriano and M. Beltrand. The
-Agostini family is well known; they are the younger branch of the great
-Italian family, the dukes of Briviesca.”
-
-“Why do they receive so many foreigners at the club?” asked Marcel, with
-a displeased air.
-
-“Ah, my dear friend, the club lives on them, so to speak. I know they
-make themselves as much at home here as at their hotel. It is not very
-pleasant for us. But what is there to be done? The establishment must be
-kept going.”
-
-“Has he any relations in Paris?” asked Marcel. “A sister?”
-
-“No; he is unmarried, and has never been seen in the company of a lady.”
-
-Marcel changed the conversation, made an excuse for leaving his
-companion, and went to the writing-room. Taking up a directory, he found
-a recent indication, handwritten as follows: “Count Cesare Agostini, 7
-Rue du Colisée.” It was something to know this address, though what he
-wanted was information respecting that mysterious woman, Anetta or
-Sophia, Madame Vignola or the Baroness Grodsko. What was Agostini to him
-besides that infinitely charming creature, who had suddenly become
-metamorphosed into a most dangerous monster. Her brother, really? Her
-accomplice, without the slightest doubt. That was what he wished to know,
-and, at the risk of the greatest danger, he was determined to have his
-doubts removed.
-
-He had taken a seat in a large armchair, the back of which, turned
-towards the door, almost entirely concealed him. Two members of the club
-were writing letters. The quiet of this retired spot, the ticking of the
-timepiece, seemed to numb his faculties. The murmur of distant voices
-lulled him into a reverie.
-
-Suddenly a quiver ran over him, and he listened attentively. The voice of
-Agostini had just joined in the conversation.
-
-“I have again lost two thousand louis. With the thousand yesterday, it is
-quite enough.”
-
-He laughed, and one of his companions said—
-
-“You ought to hold off for a few days, Agostini! It is useless being
-obstinate against ill-luck.”
-
-“But if I did not play, what should I do? It is my only distraction.”
-
-“That was a beautiful lady, at the opera, to whom you introduced Colonel
-Derbaut the other night.”
-
-Marcel’s heart seemed to stop beating. He had a presentiment that the
-woman in question was the one who was engaging his own attention so
-strongly. He could not hear Agostini’s reply, and the other continued—
-
-“If she is no more than a compatriot of yours, I should be pleased to
-make her acquaintance.”
-
-Agostini laughed, but made no promise. And Marcel said to himself: “His
-compatriot? An Italian? It is Anetta, I am sure of it. What is she doing
-here with this villain? The army once more in danger, for she has made
-the acquaintance of Colonel Derbaut, a staff-officer.” Meanwhile, he had
-lost the thread of the conversation, but a second sentence told him all
-that was necessary—
-
-“Very good! To-night, at the opera?”
-
-“Agreed!”
-
-Silence was restored. The members of the club continued their
-correspondence. Marcel rose from his seat, sure that he was about to meet
-the pretended sister of Agostini. She was not in Italy, as the adventurer
-had had the audacity to tell him at the charity sale. She was in Paris
-and, without thinking of the past, engaged on some fresh intrigue. Along
-whatever path she travelled she sowed corruption, infamy, and death.
-
-Suddenly in Marcel’s memory arose the smiling, tender image of Madame
-Vignola with that bewitching smile, and those clear, limpid eyes. Was it
-possible that such a creature should be a monster? If so, then one
-greatly to be dreaded!
-
-How can one help trusting in that exquisite gentleness which pervaded her
-whole person? And yet, had she not betrayed him? Had she not revealed the
-presence of the secret documents in the laboratory? And that, too, with
-marvellous rapidity, and a skill scarcely compatible with honesty. He
-would have liked to free her from every suspicion which hung over her;
-but was it possible?
-
-Leaving the club, he returned to the bank, and, entering his father’s
-study, found his uncle Graff, attentively reading an evening paper. The
-old man arose on seeing his nephew enter, and, holding the printed sheet
-out to him, said—
-
-“See here, Marcel, here is an article on this affair of ours. It is a
-report of a meeting of the Academy of Science, where Professor Marigot
-read his notice on the Trémont powder.”
-
-Marcel carelessly took the journal. Without even glancing at it, he laid
-it on the desk.
-
-“Is that all the interest you take in the matter?” exclaimed the uncle.
-“You are not inquisitive about the effect produced by Marigot’s official
-communication? Very well, I will tell you what he says. The _Globe_ has
-given up a whole column to the discovery, which it states is an important
-one, and it predicts, within a short date, a revolution in the use of
-motive power. On the other hand, the _Panache Blanc_, Lichtenbach’s
-journal, is dead against the invention, which it qualifies as a
-shamefaced imitation, insinuating that it is simply the Dalgetty process,
-without the slightest change in the doses of the products.”
-
-“What a brazen falsehood!” Marcel exclaimed, unable to restrain himself.
-
-“Here is something better. At the Bourse a rumour has got abroad that the
-Explosives Company is in possession of the Trémont patents, and the
-shares have begun to mount, in spite of the desperate efforts of the
-bears. Accordingly, our situation is saved, and, on the other hand, that
-of Lichtenbach seems to be in a terrible pass!”
-
-“You do not expect me to get excited over that?”
-
-“I do not, indeed. But your father, who for the past three months has
-hardly been able to sleep, is now happy and smiling. He has just gone to
-Aubervilliers to examine a plot of land, covering seven acres, which has
-been offered to us, and which would be the very spot for constructing the
-works necessary. He is especially pleased at owing this result to you.
-Though not very expansive, he is enthusiastic and warm-hearted, and
-exceedingly proud to be obliged to confess that you are so gifted. Up to
-the present, it is Trémont that has been mentioned, but, when it is known
-that it is you who brought the affair to its completion, and your name is
-in everybody’s mouth, as soon will be the case, then you will see your
-father expand.”
-
-Marcel made no reply. He walked to and fro in the study, with so
-absent-minded an air that Graff exclaimed—
-
-“What a strange fellow you are! And yet you must be well pleased with
-what I have been telling you. Though you will scarcely listen to me. What
-is the matter with you?”
-
-The young man shook his head, and, with an attempt at a smile, said—
-
-“There is nothing the matter with me, Uncle Graff. What do you expect me
-to say?”
-
-“Ah! Perhaps you have no suspicion of the plans Baradier has been forming
-for you. He explained them to me this very morning. We are going to put
-Marcel at the head of the works as director. At the same time he shall be
-one of the managing directors of the Explosives Company we are about to
-completely reorganize. You see, Marcel, you are about to play a very
-important _rôle_ in life at twenty-six years of age. And your father
-added, ‘If he will marry, I shall no longer have anything to wish for. He
-will have satisfied me in everything.’ What do you think of the idea? I
-believe he was thinking of Geneviève de Trémont. What will your reply
-be?”
-
-Marcel replied quietly—
-
-“Nothing whatever, Uncle Graff.”
-
-The old man touched Marcel on the shoulder, and, looking attentively at
-him, said—
-
-“I do not understand you, Marcel; there is something you are hiding from
-me. Have you seen the woman of Ars again?”
-
-This time, the young man broke out—
-
-“No, I have not seen her; but I know she is in Paris. I know where I
-shall see her this evening. Uncle Graff, I intend to have the key to this
-living enigma.”
-
-“Ah! My child, there is no enigma; she is simply a villain, nothing more!
-How anxious you make me in still troubling yourself with this woman! Take
-care! You know how dangerous she and her companions are. Remember the
-poor General, and this brave fellow killed at Ars. Just inform the
-police, she will be arrested, and all will be over.”
-
-“If I were certain she were as guilty as you suspect her to be, I would
-do so. Though it is not very gallant to give up a woman.”
-
-“What! Chivalry with such people?”
-
-“But I have my doubts, Uncle Graff. I cannot make up my mind to condemn
-her unheard.”
-
-“Yes! In a word, you wish to see her again. Don’t tell me any idle
-stories; I am not so stupid as to be taken in by them. She still holds
-you in her power. And you are about to risk being murdered, in some dark
-corner or other, for the pleasure of being deceived once more by such a
-traitress.”
-
-“Uncle Graff, no one will kill me at the opera. It is there I rely on
-seeing her to-night.”
-
-“Are you in earnest?”
-
-“Have you disposed of your orchestra stall?”
-
-“No.”
-
-“Very well, give it to me.”
-
-“Promise me you will do nothing extravagant, and that if this woman wants
-you to accompany her, you will not do so.”
-
-“No; I cannot promise that. But I will be on my guard all the same.
-Agostini shall not knock me over like a pigeon.”
-
-“Take a good revolver with you.”
-
-“Certainly.”
-
-“Ah! _Mon Dieu_! And I was feeling so happy!” groaned the old man.
-“Suppose you take Baudoin with you?”
-
-“Under no pretext. Be assured, however, I am running no risk this time.
-Later on, we shall see.”
-
-The arrival of Baradier cut the conversation short. Marcel returned home
-to dress before dinner.
-
-That evening the _Walkyrie_ was being given at the opera. When Marcel
-reached his stall, the second act was commencing. The domestic troubles
-of Wotan, the Scandinavian Jupiter, with Fricka, a real Juno without her
-peacock, possessed only a slight interest for the young man. Turning
-round, he leaned his elbow on the back of his stall, and looked about
-him. Slowly, the boxes began to fill, as though the subscribers had only
-decided to come at all because they had paid dearly for the privilege. Up
-above in the amphitheatre was a sea of eager faces turned on to the
-stage. There was the real amateur and artistic public.
-
-But Marcel was not looking for critical observations as to the musical
-capacity of the different auditors of a masterly piece, rather for the
-face of a woman. Nowhere could he catch a glimpse of the beautiful
-profile of Madame Vignola. Two side boxes on the right of the actors
-still remained unoccupied. And Marcel, again turning towards the stage,
-kept a watch on them.
-
-Towards the end of the act the sound of an opening door drew his
-attention. He saw a light appear in one of the side boxes, then a vague
-uncertain form appeared in its velvet frame. The door closed again, the
-background again darkened, and a woman, clothed in white, _décolleté_,
-and wearing a necklace of beautiful pearls, came to the front of the box.
-As her face was turned away from Marcel he could not distinguish her
-features. Still, what relation could there be between this vigorous
-brunette and the blonde and languishing Anetta? Strength, where he had
-found grace. No. This could not be the one.
-
-As the curtain fell amidst a tempest of cheers, and the artists
-reappeared on the stage to bow their acknowledgments, the lady turned
-round, in such a way as to face Marcel, who, stupefied, recognized the
-look of the one he loved. He might have been mistaken in everything else,
-but not in the languishing look which formed so delightful a contrast
-with that mocking smile and imperious brow. He examined her attentively,
-without her being aware that she was observed. But what grief he felt at
-being obliged to recognize her in such a disguise!
-
-Was not the very fact of this metamorphosis, the most complete of
-confessionals? Why, if not to disarm curiosity, these changes, in
-head-dress, in the colour of the hair, and the expression of the face?
-What was this comedy she was playing, and when? Was it at Ars that she
-was painted and disguised, or at the opera?
-
-Marcel arose. All around him were leaving their seats. Madame Vignola was
-no longer in front of the box. Marcel counted the number of boxes. This
-one was the fourth after the passage. Standing behind a column, he kept
-watch.
-
-This self-imposed waiting seemed interminable to him. The passers-by
-irritated him, he replied to a few bows, but avoided shaking hands with
-any one. Finally, the door of the box opened, and Agostini and an elderly
-man, wearing the rosette of the Legion d’Honneur, appeared. The count and
-his companion made their way towards the grand staircase, before Marcel,
-who had his back turned to them, and disappeared. Then the young man
-opened the door of the box, and entered.
-
-The spectator was seated on the sofa. Marcel closed the door, and walked
-up to her. Turning her head, she looked at the intruder, and said,
-without the faintest agitation—
-
-“You are in the wrong box, sir.”
-
-He replied ironically—
-
-“No, madame, there is no mistake, if I am in the presence of Madame
-Vignola, unless you are the Baroness Grodsko.”
-
-At these words, the young woman’s face appeared frightfully agitated. Her
-eyes turned pale, and her lips trembled.
-
-“Whose name is that you have uttered?” she murmured, in unsteady accents.
-
-“Evidently one of your own! So far as I can judge, you change names,
-according to circumstances, just as you change faces, according to the
-men you associate with.”
-
-“I do not understand what you mean. Once more I say, you are mistaken,
-retire.”
-
-“No! I shall wait here till Count Agostini returns. We will have an
-explanation in his presence. He, at any rate, will not be able to deny
-his identity. And that will help to establish yours.”
-
-Rising from her seat, and no longer taking the trouble to deny, she said—
-
-“And he will kill you! Wretched man, leave here at once, without a
-moment’s delay. You do not know what dangers you are running!”
-
-“I know them quite well. General Trémont is dead, Laforêt, the police
-agent, is dead, and so, doubtless, are many others who have resisted your
-fancies or intrigues. And if I, too, do not yield, you will try to
-compass my death also. But, before that happens, I will know who and what
-you are.”
-
-The woman’s countenance darkened. Raising her beautiful arm, she said in
-tragic tones—
-
-“Do not attempt it! You will never succeed!”
-
-“Still, I have made a beginning,” he said madly. “Spy—thief—actress; yes,
-actress even in love!”
-
-She did not appear to have heard the other insults he hurled at her, but
-from this last one, she recoiled. Blushing, she seized Marcel by the arm,
-and fixed on him a pair of eyes which seemed to flame with passion.
-
-“No! I have not lied! Don’t believe that of me! Do not accuse me of
-having been false in love. I did love you! Can you think otherwise?
-Accuse me of whatever you wish, it matters little to me! We shall never
-see one another again, you hear!—never see one another again in this
-world. Therefore, believe what I now swear to you: I loved you; I still
-love you! I have never loved any one as I have loved you, and that is why
-I shall never see you again. Do not attempt to understand or to fathom my
-secrets; they would cause your death. Content yourself with what you know
-of me, and with the fact that you have not paid for it with your life.
-Become blind when I pass by your side; deaf, whenever my name is
-mentioned. Do not enter the darkness in which I am shrouded. Oh! Marcel,
-my loved one, go away, do not suspect me of having lied to you. Clasped
-in your arms, your lips pressed against mine, I told the truth, I—”
-
-She stopped. Tears shone in her eyes, and her beautiful arms are flung
-around Marcel’s neck. He felt himself pressed to her throbbing bosom, the
-fire of her eyes blinded him, and he shuddered at the contact of that
-ardent mouth pressed to his own in a delirium of delight. Amid her sighs,
-he heard the word “Adieu!” and found himself near the door. There, her
-embrace relaxed, and he stood dazed and maddened in the passage, amidst
-the spectators who were returning to their seats. Taking up his coat, and
-staggering along like a man intoxicated, he obeyed his mysterious love,
-and left the theatre.
-
-He no longer doubted. That cry, “I love you still!” was sincere. She was
-not lying when she confessed her love. Besides, why had she driven him
-away from her, if not inspired by the passionate fright of the woman who
-trembles lest her loved one meet his death. Then it was some strange
-will, superior to her own, which had compelled her to fascinate him, and
-which was again controlling her in the performance of some dark,
-mysterious deed or other! That he was, and must remain, ignorant of.
-
-On reaching the Place de l’Opéra, he felt calmer. The open air did him
-good. But the memory of those glorious eyes, and that quivering voice, as
-she held him in her arms, came back to him with painful intensity. Ah!
-What a woman!
-
-But she was a monster of corruption and depravity. He had told her so
-without the slightest protest. She was, beyond doubt, an accomplice in
-several murders; perhaps even that white and delicate hand of hers had
-itself been stained in blood! She was the secret agent of threatening
-hostility and venal treason. Her beauty, grace, and intelligence were so
-many attractions which served to captivate her dupes. Her love was only a
-means to an end.
-
-A feeling of revolt came over him. He said to himself, “Really, I am too
-much of a coward. The attraction this woman exercises over me is taking
-away my moral faculty! At the very moment she appears in such a
-despicable light before me, I yet love her. And yet, I scarcely know her.
-She loved me; that is the reason she left me, unwilling as she was to
-ruin me!” He laughed in a nervous fashion, and thought, “Very soon, I
-shall be obliged to feel grateful towards her! And yet she is an infamous
-wretch. Yes; but how beautiful!”
-
-A prey to these contradictory thoughts, he reached the Rue de Provènce,
-and immediately retired to rest. The following morning, when he awoke, he
-was astonished to find his uncle Graff at his bedside. It was eight
-o’clock. He had had a dreamless sleep. The old man, feeling uneasy, had
-been turning over and over in his bed, and, at daybreak, had not been
-able to resist the desire of making sure that nothing had happened to
-Marcel. For some time he had been watching his nephew sleep, and now he
-wished to question him, but, finding him silent, or evasive in his
-answers, he abandoned all hope of learning anything just then, and called
-on Baradier for a cup of coffee. He had left his room, fasting, and was
-dying of hunger.
-
-The same morning, in Lichtenbach’s study, about ten o’clock, Agostini and
-Hans were engaged in a _tête-à-tête_ with the banker. Count Cesare was
-sitting in dreamy attitude, smoking a cigarette. Hans, impassive, was
-listening to Elias, who was speaking in even a duller voice than usual.
-
-“The situation is certainly serious for you,” he was saying, “but for me
-it is becoming very grave. Relying on your information, I undertook a
-bear campaign, which was to place the Explosives Company in my hands, by
-permitting of my redeeming the shares for a mere trifle. It happens that
-my closest rivals, and deadly enemies, the firm of Baradier and Graff,
-have undertaken the counter-part of my operations, and all my efforts to
-shake them off have been unavailing. Then, I did not understand the
-causes of their firmness, but now I do. The notice read at the Academy of
-Science gives me the key to their calculations. They are in possession of
-the secret you have failed to find. They are in a position to exploit the
-Trémont powder, and the Dalgetty patent is worth nothing! This is the net
-result of all your intrigues. You have indeed something to be proud of!”
-
-“What will all this cost you?” asked Agostini, coldly.
-
-“How much will it cost me?” exclaimed the banker, furiously. “Almost all
-I possess! You seem to look at things in a very philosophical light! It
-is easy to say to a man one has ruined, ‘How much has it cost you?’ Can I
-rely on my physical attractions? To have money I must work, and it has
-been so with me for the past forty years!”
-
-“Come, Lichtenbach,” said Hans, “don’t cry about it. We are aware that
-you will lose considerably, in case the affair does not succeed. But
-there will be something left. I will offer you ten million francs for
-whatever remains, if you like!”
-
-“Stupid rogues as you are!” exclaimed Elias. “You are speaking of what
-you know nothing about! This filthy affair of yours, managed by such
-silly dolts, has cost me the labour of half my life, and even more—my
-pride! For I, who have always had the upper hand of Baradier and Graff,
-am now at their mercy. Your famous Sophia has, indeed, been brilliant in
-this matter! A man-eater who has never failed. A flower of rottenness,
-one need only breathe to be intoxicated, such corrupting ferments does
-she exhale! A simple young man is given into her hands; a mere
-child’s-play for her, and here she remains, inactive and powerless,
-either unable or unwilling to make him give up his secret. Meanwhile, I
-have been losing all my money. You idiots! You stupid rascals! Will you
-give me back my money? I know of nothing in the world more despicable
-than an imbecile bandit! And that is what you are, both of you, and your
-Sophia into the bargain!”
-
-Hans’ countenance remained unchanged. Agostini, with sombre look, flung
-away his cigarette, and said—
-
-“There is some truth in what you say, Lichtenbach, so I will overlook
-your insolent words. But for that, I would have made you pay dearly for
-what you have just said.”
-
-“Not another word!” growled Lichtenbach. “I defy you!”
-
-“You will be foolish to do so,” continued the Italian. “A Count Cesare
-Agostini will not receive a gratuitous insult from a Lichtenbach.”
-
-“Gratuitous? Indeed!”
-
-“Come! Peace!” said Hans, in tones of authority. “We are not here to
-exchange compliments with one another, but to find some solution to the
-difficulty. It is true the Baroness has failed. We know the reason now,
-when it is too late. She has been stupid enough to fall in love with this
-young man, and has only half accomplished her mission. When she led him
-on to talk confidentially to her, she was afraid that he would despise
-her later on. To sum up, the _coup_ failed. The young man is now on his
-guard; he will say nothing more, unless I undertake, as a last resource,
-to question him. For the present, however, the situation is as follows:
-We possess an excellent patent, similar, as regards the composition of
-the powder, to the one taken under the name of Trémont. But we are in
-ignorance of the trick of working it. Our powder is a brutal explosive.
-The Trémont powder is graduated in action. There is the real value of the
-discovery. Under these conditions, Dalgetty could establish a claim, and
-accuse of counterfeit the exploiters of the Trémont patent, which was
-taken out after ours. The result—scandal, trial, blackmailing. This is
-the line we must follow, and it may serve as a means for a settlement.”
-
-“In what way?” asked Lichtenbach, interested.
-
-“By sending a trusty ambassador to Baradier and Graff to offer them terms
-of peace.”
-
-“They will not accept!”
-
-“How do you know? It all depends on the manner in which the proposal is
-made; you may have to concede to them both material and moral advantages,
-in order to reach a fusion of the two affairs.”
-
-“That would mean safety, and even triumph!” exclaimed Lichtenbach. “Just
-let me get them into my power, and they shall not escape so easily!”
-
-“Then I will rely upon you! Ah! You sly rogue, you have come back to life
-again.”
-
-“The fact is, the idea of being their dupe was killing me! The whole of
-my life would have been spent in vain! Ever since I have been in Paris, I
-have only had one desire—to injure them! Give up this joy! I could not!
-Whom shall I send them?”
-
-“A priest,” insinuated Agostini.
-
-“The Abbé d’Escayrac, if he would do me this service! Fine idea! He well
-knows how to lull one’s conscience by moulding a man’s intelligence to
-his will. But what can we offer Baradier and Graff?”
-
-“Anything you imagine they might decently accept. What will it cost you?
-Have you not a daughter? She has been carefully brought up, and is of an
-amiable disposition, so I am told.”
-
-“Well!”
-
-“Offer her to young Baradier, with an enormous dowry. If Sophia were only
-willing, she would arrange the matter well enough!”
-
-This time, Agostini manifested symptoms of violent discontent. He brought
-his hand down forcibly on the table, and, looking at the others with
-murderous eyes, said—
-
-“And what is to become of me in this combination? Are you forgetting that
-Mademoiselle Lichtenbach is my affianced wife?”
-
-“The engagement can easily be broken,” replied Hans, coldly.
-
-“Do you intend to jest with me?”
-
-“I never jest with any one to no purpose.”
-
-“Then you are seriously thinking of overthrowing all my plans?”
-
-“What use will your plans be to you, if Lichtenbach is ruined? Besides,
-you silly fellow, do you think Elias is a man likely to trouble himself
-with you, if you are no longer of any use to him? Already you have gone
-down several notches in his esteem. If an arrangement has to be made with
-you, we will offer you money. I know where to find it.”
-
-The handsome Italian laid his hand on his heart.
-
-“And what compensation will be large enough to satisfy me?”
-
-“Ah, ah!” jeered Hans. “We are well aware that your conscience is as
-tender as it is delicate!”
-
-Lichtenbach, who had remained silent, after hearing the suggestion
-concerning his daughter, now said—
-
-“A Baradier marry a Lichtenbach! Is it possible? Never would the Graffs
-and Baradiers consent to such a thing! For my own part, I ought to
-protest with all my might against such a proposal.”
-
-He remained silent, as though absorbed in thought, and then said slowly—
-
-“Still, my daughter is well worthy of entering such a family. They are
-honest people, after all! And she is a charming and proud child. If only
-they would consent! My daughter would be certain of a happy future. She
-would have a peaceful and tranquil life. These Baradiers are honest and
-respectable, after all! If they would receive my daughter as their own,
-they would treat her well, and she would not be the prey of an
-adventurer! True, I hate them, and wish to do them harm, for all the
-humiliations they have inflicted on me. But if they would accept my
-daughter!”
-
-A tear shone on the cheek of this hardened man—a tear more precious than
-a diamond, for it owed its source to a father’s love. Hans interrupted
-the scene; he was not a man to understand such tender feelings.
-
-“So you adopt my plan? You will make an attempt at conciliation with our
-opponents. Offer them what you like, that is your own affair, and if we
-succeed, we will unite the two patents. You alone carry on the
-transaction, though, naturally, you reserve us our share. You see, this
-young Count Cesare might turn out troublesome. Is it agreed upon?”
-
-“Yes.”
-
-Hans and Agostini took their leave. Elias walked to and fro about his
-study, then he proceeded to his daughter’s room. Marianne was seated near
-the window overlooking the garden, working. She rose on seeing her father
-appear. Wearing a blue dressing-gown ornamented with quipure lace, her
-fair hair tied up in bands, she had about her a kind of virgin
-gentleness, which caused her father’s heart to swell with love and
-tenderness. Sitting by her side, he drew her near to himself, and entered
-into conversation.
-
-“You have now been settled down here some considerable time. Are you
-satisfied? Is everything progressing as you wish?”
-
-“Yes, father, I should be very ungrateful if I were not satisfied. You
-let me do whatever I want. But I hope you are well pleased yourself,
-also.”
-
-“Certainly, little one, and I wish us always to remain so. But, you know,
-some day we shall be obliged to separate.”
-
-Marianne looked serious; her smile vanished.
-
-“A day in the distant future, father; there is no hurry.”
-
-“You will marry. Would you not like to be married?”
-
-“That will depend on the husband.”
-
-A silence followed. The controller of men felt ill at ease before this
-child, whose future he had disposed of by calculation. He did not dare
-speak to her of Agostini, whom he had introduced to her, and praised in
-her presence only the night before. It was Marianne who took it upon
-herself to explain the precise situation of things.
-
-“I am rather troubled, I confess, at the favour you accord this young
-Italian count, and at the way in which you speak to me of him.”
-
-“My dear child!” exclaimed Lichtenbach.
-
-“No! Let me continue,” interrupted Marianne. “Afterwards you may praise
-your candidate as much as you like. But allow me to speak to you quite
-freely. Your _protegé’s_ conduct and habits make me uneasy. He does not
-seem to me frank; he is too polite, and full of compliments. There is
-something suspicious about this man who is always smiling and flattering.
-Besides, his voice has no genuine ring about it. His cold, cruel looks
-belie his handsome face and gentle words. Lastly, dear father, he is a
-foreigner. Are there no more Frenchmen to marry in France that one should
-be obliged to look for a _fiancé_ for one’s daughter on the other side of
-the frontier? He is a count, but I have no ambition in that direction. He
-does not work, and I should not care to marry any one without business of
-any kind. Papa, if you wish to please me and consult my tastes, you will
-choose another suitor. Your daughter is something to you—that you have
-often given me to understand; you have, perhaps, insisted rather too much
-on the fact, for I might have formed too good an opinion of myself.
-Luckily, I am reasonable and modest in my demands. Do not marry me to an
-idle man, who is also ambitious and wicked. If you want me to be free
-from anxiety, send away this handsome Italian. He is not the man for me!”
-
-Lichtenbach smiled good-humouredly and said—“Then who is?”
-
-Marianne blushed, but made no reply.
-
-“Ah, ah!” continued Lichtenbach. “So there is a secret, is there? Better
-tell your father all about it, little one. Have you met some one you
-like, my dear? Tell me everything; don’t be afraid. You know very well I
-will do nothing opposed to your wishes. If you do not like Agostini, why
-did you not tell me so sooner? Come, now, tell me all!”
-
-With downcast head she said—
-
-“No, no! It is useless. I have only one wish—to stay by your side just as
-I am. I shall be very happy.”
-
-“You are not telling me the truth,” exclaimed Lichtenbach, excitedly.
-“You must tell me what you mean. Do you imagine there are difficulties in
-the way? Yes? Of what kind? Is it some one I know?”
-
-“Let us say nothing more on the subject, father,” said Marianne. “I was
-wrong in introducing the subject. It can be nothing but a painful one for
-both yourself and myself. You had given me warning. But it was too late.
-The subject shall never be brought up again between us; that I promise
-you.”
-
-“You could not speak to me otherwise if it were my greatest enemy. Is it
-so?”
-
-He did not utter the name of Baradier, but Marianne read it upon his
-lips. She raised her eyes up to her father’s face, as though to ask
-pardon from him for what he must consider a kind of treason. She did not,
-however, find in his countenance that angry and threatening expression
-she dreaded to see there. He was passive and calm, and sat there for a
-moment without uttering a word. Then, in accents of great deliberation,
-he asked—
-
-“We are thinking of Marcel Baradier, are we not? Yes, it must be he. I
-was wrong to let you visit Geneviève de Trémont. That was very imprudent
-on my part. However, it cannot be helped now. We must try to arrange
-matters.”
-
-“Arrange matters!” stammered Marianne.
-
-“Yes, my dear child. We must make an attempt. I would do anything to make
-you happy.”
-
-“Forget your bitter feelings of the past?”
-
-“I will try to make the Baradiers forget theirs.”
-
-“Oh, father, dear father!”
-
-She flung her arms around his neck with such a burst of joy, that
-Lichtenbach turned pale with shame. For the first time in his life, he
-had a very clear impression of the significance of a cowardly action,
-doubtless, because his victim in this case was his own daughter. At the
-same time, he felt that the evil deeds of a whole lifetime accumulate,
-and that, at some time or other, the interest must be paid, in
-humiliation and suffering. He looked at Marianne tenderly, and said, in
-accents of sincerity—
-
-“Ah! is it so serious as that? Very well, my child, I will do everything
-possible to make you happy.”
-
-After kissing her, he returned to his room, ordered his carriage, and
-drove away to call on the Abbé d’Escayrac.
-
-
-
-CHAPTER IV
-
-
-ABOUT five o’clock Madame Baradier had just returned, and was reading in
-her small salon; her daughter, Amélie, and Geneviève de Trémont were
-working at the table, chatting pleasantly the while, when the servant
-entered, and said—
-
-“There is a priest here, who wishes to speak to you, madame.”
-
-Madame Baradier, lady patroness of several charitable institutions, was
-continually receiving appeals to her generosity. She made no distinction
-between the clergy and the laity, but received all with equal
-benevolence. Accordingly, she ordered the visitor to be showed in. The
-first glance she gave him showed her a fine, intelligent face, the
-general aspect being rather that of a fashionable and carefully dressed
-priest. The first words he uttered confirmed this judgment—
-
-“Madame,” said the visitor, “I am the Abbé d’Escayrac, secretary of the
-Issy establishment, which is under the lofty patronage of the Bishop of
-Andropolis.”
-
-“Superior of the Absolutionists, unless I am mistaken.”
-
-“You are not mistaken, madame.”
-
-“What can I do for your work, Monsieur l’Abbé?”
-
-“You can do much, madame. But, first of all,”—here the Abbé lowered his
-voice—“I have information of special importance to communicate to you,
-and it might be better, if you have no objection, if we were alone.”
-
-“As you please, Monsieur l’Abbé.”
-
-The two girls had been well brought up. On a look from Madame Baradier,
-they arose, bowed, and left the room.
-
-“You may now speak freely, Monsieur l’Abbé.”
-
-“I am well aware, madame, how you are animated by a sincere Christian
-fervour,” continued the priest, “and it is on the certainty that all
-apostolic work must receive your cordial assistance that my mission is
-based. As you know, we are devoted heart and soul to the service of the
-poor. Poverty and misery, nay, even vice itself, have an exclusive claim
-on our interest and attention. To us a criminal is a brother we try to
-restore to the path of virtue, just as we use our best efforts to save a
-sick man. In this way a vast amount of misfortune and crime is revealed
-to us. We are the confidents of the most painful of physical vices, the
-most lamentable of moral back-slidings. We offer help to all, without
-exception, and often serve as intermediaries between those who have the
-power to punish and those who wish to be spared. We are never deaf to
-repentance, and try to turn it to the advantage of our holy religion.”
-
-He spoke with grave earnestness, and an insinuating voice, turning on one
-side the obstacles in the way, preparing his ground, and gradually
-attempting to win over to his side the intelligence of the wife, so as to
-make of her an ally against the husband. Madame Baradier, astonished at
-this lengthy introduction, was beginning to wonder what was the meaning
-of it all, so she asked—
-
-“Is it pecuniary help you want, Monsieur l’Abbé? If so, you will find us
-very sympathetically disposed towards your work.”
-
-“We shall be very grateful, madame, for whatever you may do for us, but
-money is not at present the object of my visit. Recently, we have founded
-in the Var an important establishment, where we propose, in imitation of
-other powerful religious orders, to open a business establishment. To
-facilitate our efforts, we have received very important assistance. We
-are full of gratitude towards those who have helped us, and, the
-opportunity of doing them a service now offering itself, I, your humble
-servant, have been appointed to bring to you a message of conciliation
-from a man who, for many years, has been in a state of hostility with
-your family, but who now wishes to end his life in concord and peace.”
-
-Madame Baradier, for the last few minutes, had been manifesting serious
-symptoms of uneasiness. She saw that the interview was assuming a form
-which did not please her; accordingly, she cut short the speech of the
-amiable Abbé, and said—
-
-“Will you kindly tell me what you wish, Monsieur l’Abbé? The man’s name
-will, I believe, explain the affair far better.”
-
-The young priest smiled; and, with the suppliant look of a martyr, he
-said—
-
-“I am a minister of charity and pardon, madame. The man’s name is M.
-Lichtenbach.”
-
-“I suspected it.”
-
-“Am I to imagine that his personality will render all understanding
-impossible, even in the interests of religion?”
-
-“It is not my place to form such a resolution, Monsieur l’Abbé. I cannot
-forget that there are in this house two men who are alone entitled to
-reply: my husband and my brother. Permit me to call them.”
-
-“I am at your disposal, madame.”
-
-“No. Monsieur l’Abbé, do not speak so. Whatever happens, be sure that we
-all rightly appreciate the mission of conciliation you have accepted. We
-shall not confound the mission with its agent.”
-
-Bowing to the priest, she left the room. The Abbé remained motionless in
-his armchair, buried in thought. He was fulfilling a mission useful to
-his order in a double sense. No preoccupation foreign to his religious
-duties troubled him. He rightly appreciated Elias, but the evangelical
-spirit would not allow him to neglect the salvation of even the most
-despicable of men. Had not Christ permitted the kiss of Judas? Did not
-the Holy Father lave the feet of the filthiest of beggars? Besides, the
-interests of the Church inspired him. The door opened, and Graff
-appeared. Coming up to the young Abbé, he bowed—
-
-“My sister, Madame Baradier, has just informed me of your presence,
-Monsieur l’Abbé. My brother-in-law, Barassin, is busy in the office, and
-begs to be excused. Besides, I have full permission to act as I think
-best. Will you explain?”
-
-“Has not Madame Baradier told you?”
-
-“In a few hasty words. You are sent by Lichtenbach? Good! That does not
-astonish us in the least. So long as he was the stronger, he did us all
-the harm he could. Now that we have the upper hand, he is trying to stop
-the game. Let us hear what he wants.”
-
-M. d’Escayrac smiled.
-
-“It is pleasant to talk to you, monsieur; one knows at once where one is
-going.”
-
-“Very well, Monsieur l’Abbé; since you know, proceed at once to facts.”
-
-“By chance, your firm and that of Lichtenbach have met on the same ground
-concerning the exploitation of a patent.”
-
-“You call that chance? Good! Good! As for the ‘same ground,’ there is
-some truth in that, since, in order to obtain the patent in question,
-they have exploded a house, that of one of our friends; set fire to a
-manufactory, our own; assassinated two men, and risked killing several
-others. It is a ‘ground’ sprinkled with blood, Monsieur l’Abbé! But,
-still, it is that abominable ‘same ground!’”
-
-The priest crossed his hands with an expression of horror.
-
-“Monsieur, I knew nothing of what you are now revealing to me. Were it
-any one but yourself who were speaking, I should think he had taken leave
-of his senses. It is impossible that the man, in whose name I am here,
-should have committed the frightful acts you now reproach him with.”
-
-“Let us understand one another,” replied Uncle Graff, eagerly. “I do not
-accuse Lichtenbach of having shed blood. He is incapable of it for
-several reasons, the best of which is that he would not dare to do such a
-thing. But the patent of which you speak has been obtained by the means I
-have just informed you of. Monsieur l’Abbé, you have been beguiled into a
-disagreeable enterprise. Still, in us you have to deal with those who
-have too much respect for religion for you to need to fear any
-responsibility. You may explain yourself without any further beating
-about the bush. Whatever may be said between us will not be repeated.
-After all, this interview may have some useful result, who knows?”
-
-“I have no doubt whatever of that,” said the Abbé, considerably troubled
-all the same. “Oh, monsieur, how pleased I am to have to discuss the
-interests entrusted to my charge with so benevolent a man as yourself!
-God be praised! If possible, we will bring about a perfect understanding.
-If only you knew what I myself dread! In very truth, M. Lichtenbach is
-not so responsible for all that has happened as you suppose. He is not
-his own master in this matter; he has to deal with powerful personages,
-who will not lay down their arms, and who, I am afraid, will have
-recourse to the most extreme measures to obtain the supremacy over you.”
-
-“We have nothing to fear!”
-
-“There are poisoned weapons which will kill even the most invulnerable.
-Be on your guard, monsieur, against the plots to which your adversaries
-at bay may have recourse. I speak to you in all sincerity. I was not
-aware of the past, but I have been terrified at the glimpse into the
-future that has been permitted me.”
-
-“By whom? Lichtenbach?”
-
-“Oh! He was terrified himself; and begged me to come and speak to you,
-simply knowing me to be one whose character could offer him sufficient
-guarantee for discretion. I can assure you that in him you no longer have
-an enemy to deal with. Of that he is ready to give you whatever proof you
-wish.”
-
-“He is deceiving you, Monsieur l’Abbé. You have been his dupe, and know
-him well. What does he want?”
-
-“He proposes the complete fusion of the two enterprises by the
-exploitation of the two patents. Though the Dalgetty is previous to the
-Trémont patent, the two discoveries, being almost similar, shall be
-considered as equal.”
-
-“What is that?” exclaimed Uncle Graff. “Lichtenbach is, indeed, very
-kind. One is genuine, the other counterfeit. The Trémont patent is the
-result of work and intelligence; the Dalgetty patent is the result of
-fraud and theft.”
-
-“My dear sir,” exclaimed the Abbé, uneasily, “official declarations are a
-guarantee of faith. One cannot go against facts. The Dalgetty was taken
-out by an English company before the Trémont.”
-
-“And how does that affect us? The Dalgetty has no value; those who have
-sent you here are well aware of that fact. We have them in our power, I
-tell you; they can do nothing. Their patent is not worth the money they
-have spent in taking it out. For months past Lichtenbach and ourselves
-have been adversaries over the Explosives Company. We hold the right end,
-that he well knows. He will soon have to undertake a liquidation. And
-then?”
-
-“He offers to stop his bear operations.”
-
-“He cannot continue them any longer.”
-
-“He will take at half price the shares of the Explosives of which you are
-the holders, and pay for them at once.”
-
-“I dare say he will; they will rise at a leap to two hundred francs
-each!”
-
-“He is ready to offer you a pledge of his frank and, henceforth,
-invariable co-operation. If, in your family, you had a person belonging
-to his family, if an alliance united your common interests, would you not
-consider that an absolute guarantee of his sincere cessation of enmity
-against you?”
-
-Graff turned pale, but succeeded in mastering his emotions, and, wishing
-to know his opponent’s inmost thoughts, he said—
-
-“Who is the person in question on Lichtenbach’s side?”
-
-“Mademoiselle Marianne, his daughter.”
-
-“And on ours?”
-
-“Your nephew, M. Baradier.”
-
-“So these two would be married, and Baradier, Graff, and Lichtenbach
-would form one single family.”
-
-“I do not know whether or not you are acquainted with Mademoiselle
-Lichtenbach. She is a charming young lady, brought up under the loftiest
-religious influences, and calculated to offer your nephew the most
-serious guarantees of happiness possible. It would be a joy to us to have
-contributed to the reconciliation of former enemies, separated by
-quarrels, which might, doubtless, easily be forgotten in the midst of
-general satisfaction. Concord and peace instead of enmity; no more fears
-or threats. One common and complete prosperity! Come, my dear sir,
-pronounce the words of redemption and hope, make an effort over your
-pride, and give the world an example of gentleness and charity.”
-
-Graff had silently listened to the priest’s earnest pleading. His bent
-forehead and closed eyes gave the Abbé d’Escayrac to believe that his
-words were having their due effect on the old man’s thoughts. There was a
-moment’s silence. Then the uncle looked the Abbé straight in the face,
-and, in firm tones, said—
-
-“Monsieur l’Abbé, in the cemetery of Metz, there are Graffs who would
-leap from their tombs if one of their descendants were to demean himself
-so far as to marry the daughter of a Lichtenbach!”
-
-“Monsieur!” exclaimed the Abbé in surprise.
-
-“Then you do not know the Baradiers and Graffs, or you would not propose
-to them an alliance with a Lichtenbach? Do you know who Lichtenbach is?
-Between Lorraine and Paris, there is not a mile of ground which has not
-been strewn with French blood, on account of this wretch. A spy, to lead
-the enemy to victory; food-supplier to the foe; when our troops were
-dying of hunger, he fattened on war, and enriched himself on treason. He
-sold his brothers of France—the Jews, who fought in our ranks and died
-like brave soldiers, double Judas as he was! And after receiving the
-reward for his treason, he turned Christian, and set about defiling
-another religion, by the disgusting intransigence of his apostate zeal!
-There you have a picture of Lichtenbach, Monsieur l’Abbé. Must I now tell
-you who Graff and Baradier are?”
-
-“Oh, I know well, my dear sir! Your honour and patriotism are universally
-respected. But what animosity and rancour! Is this what I shall have to
-tell the one who sent me?”
-
-“Tell him he is an impudent rascal for having charged such a man as
-yourself with such a mission. Tell him our scorn for him is only equalled
-by his hatred against us. Assure him we have not the slightest fear. If
-he wishes to slander us, we will pay him back in the same coin; if he
-dares to strike us, we will defend ourselves. In the latter case, let him
-be careful!”
-
-“Monsieur!” said the Abbé, in tones of entreaty. “Reflect? Anger is a bad
-counsellor.”
-
-“Monsieur l’Abbé, I am perfectly calm. You do not know me. I never give
-way to passion. If I did, the result would be terrible. But a great deal
-would be needed to bring about such a state of things!”
-
-“Must I then leave you without obtaining any result? I am well aware that
-you are exposed to the most terrible dangers.”
-
-“I thank you for warning us. We shall be on our guard.”
-
-“Is that your last word?”
-
-“No, Monsieur l’Abbé. Never has a priest entered this house without
-taking away, for himself and his work, a testimony of our respectful
-deference and humble piety.”
-
-Graff took from his pocket a cheque-book, wrote a few words, and, handing
-the piece of paper to his visitor, said—
-
-“For your poor parishioners, Monsieur l’Abbé.”
-
-“Oh!” exclaimed the priest. “This is princely liberality. I will pray for
-you, monsieur, with all my heart.”
-
-“Thanks, Monsieur l’Abbé,” said Graff, with a smile. “But pray, above
-all, for Lichtenbach.”
-
-And, opening the door, he conducted the priest out.
-
-That same evening, about nine o’clock, after dinner, Lichtenbach
-descended from his brougham, close to the entrance of the Boulevard
-Maillat. It was a brilliant night, and the groves in the Bois, under the
-silvery light of the moon, raised their dark masses against the horizon.
-The banker hurried along, not without some anxiety, for the spot was a
-deserted one, and a likely haunt of undesirable characters. After walking
-about a hundred yards, he halted in front of the ivy-covered gate of a
-villa, and knocked. A few seconds passed, then a small door turned on its
-hinges, and a woman appeared. It was Milona. Recognizing the banker, she
-stepped backwards, without uttering a word, and led the way into a garden
-in front of the house.
-
-“Is madame at home?” asked Elias.
-
-“She is expecting you,” said the Dalmatian, in guttural accents.
-
-“Good. Have the others arrived?”
-
-“Yes; an hour ago.”
-
-They proceeded along a flower-bed, the flowers of which gave out fragrant
-odours on to the night air. The servant mounted a flight of steps,
-followed by Lichtenbach. On reaching a dark ante-chamber, Lichtenbach
-handed his overcoat and hat to Milona, who opened a door, and out of the
-darkness he passed suddenly into the light of the salon, the windows and
-curtains of which were hermetically closed. Seated at a table, Hans and
-Agostini were playing at piquet and drinking grog. On a divan Sophia
-reclined, in an elegant white deshabillé. The two men scarcely raised
-their heads on hearing Lichtenbach enter. The Baroness slowly sat
-upright, nodded graciously, and said—
-
-“Sit down by my side. They are finishing their game. How did you come? I
-did not hear the wheels of your carriage.”
-
-“I left it near the Porte Maillot.”
-
-“What precautions! Can you not trust your coachman?”
-
-“I trust no one.”
-
-“And suppose some night prowler had struck you to the ground, to teach
-you not to walk about alone at night in these parts?”
-
-Elias raised the butt-end of a revolver from his pocket, and said—
-
-“I should have been able to speak to him in his own language.”
-
-“I see; then you never travel without an interpreter?”
-
-“I cannot let myself be murdered for a paltry twenty francs; it would be
-altogether too stupid!”
-
-The conversation was interrupted by an exclamation from Cesare, who, in a
-passion, threw the cards down on to the table. Hans laughed to himself,
-and made a rapid calculation on a piece of paper.
-
-“That makes thirty-five louis for you to pay. You have lost fourteen
-hundred points!”
-
-“It is enough to make one believe in the Evil Eye!” growled the handsome
-Italian. “Ever since this Marcel Baradier cast his eyes on me, I cannot
-touch a single card without losing, at no matter what game!”
-
-Glancing angrily in the direction of Sophia, he said—
-
-“This must come to an end!”
-
-“Come, now, peace!” ordered Hans, authoritatively. “What noise you make
-for nothing at all! What news have you, father money-bags? Has your
-jesuit d’Escayrac seen our friends?”
-
-“He has. They refuse.”
-
-“Refuse what? Be precise. Your daughter or our affair?”
-
-Elias changed colour, and his eyes flashed. However, neither anger nor
-chagrin appeared from his voice.
-
-“They refuse both alliance with me and co-operation with you. Everything,
-in short!”
-
-“Donnerwetter!” growled Hans. “Are they mad?”
-
-“No; they are aware that you have nothing, and they have everything. This
-they prove by sending us about our business.”
-
-“You take all this very calmly,” exclaimed Count Cesare. “I have seen you
-less resigned than you now appear.”
-
-“I am not in the habit of fighting windmills. You have tricked me into an
-absurd and dangerous business; now I am simply leaving it, that is all.”
-
-“Leaving your feathers behind.”
-
-“As you say. But as few as possible. I have already turned round about
-and effected a counter-operation.”
-
-“You rogue! You will end by earning money, where we lose everything!”
-replied Agostini, pale with anger.
-
-“If I do so, it is because I am not so stupid as you, who can do nothing
-but spend it.”
-
-Hans burst into a laugh. As Agostini seemed to be on the point of losing
-his temper, he laid his hand on his arm, and forced him to keep his seat.
-
-“Old money-bags is right; but we must not act like horses when there is
-no hay in the rack, and begin to fight. Let us study the situation, and
-see what can be done. First of all, what does the beauty say? Up to the
-present she has not spoken a word. Still, she must have an opinion on the
-matter; we will allow her to give it first.”
-
-The Baroness appeared to awake from a reverie, and she said, in
-disdainful tones—
-
-“It is not my custom desperately to follow up badly-conceived operations.
-You know what I have always told you since the Vanves night: that there
-was an evil spell over the whole affair. You will arrive at no successful
-end. After all, you have obtained half of what you wanted—the war powder.
-Follow the example Lichtenbach sets you. Give it up, and pass on to
-something else.”
-
-“Something else, indeed!” growled Hans. “No, I shall not let go an affair
-which has cost me so dear. Some one must pay me for the arm I have lost!”
-
-“Well, what plan have you to offer?” asked the Baroness, impatiently.
-
-“You will arrange to strike up a fresh acquaintance with Marcel Baradier.
-Bring me the young man here one of these evenings. He knows the secret of
-the manufacture, and he shall either give it up to you of his own free
-will, or I will undertake to force him to do so.”
-
-Lichtenbach’s hands trembled nervously. Sophia remained impassive.
-
-“Well, what do you say to my proposal?” asked Hans, in jovial tones.
-
-“I will have nothing further to do with the matter!” declared the
-Baroness.
-
-“Ah! take care!” exclaimed Agostini. “I know why you refuse to help us
-against young Marcel. You are afraid for him. That is the difficulty.”
-
-“And what if it were so?”
-
-Hans made no reply. He appeared to reflect deeply. Then, with feigned
-good temper, he said—
-
-“After all, you may be right. In any case, we can do nothing without
-you.”
-
-Lichtenbach heaved a sigh of satisfaction. The conciliating attitude
-suddenly assumed by Hans seemed to be full of meaning. Wishing to know
-what this terrible partner of his really thought, he judged it useful to
-dissimulate his own ideas.
-
-“Come, we will say nothing more on the matter! What this affair has cost
-me I will pass through the profit and loss account. Still, it is a pity
-we could not find that secret trick of manipulation. There was a great
-deal of money to be earned by it, after all!”
-
-Hans bit his lips, but made no reply; whilst Agostini turned gracefully
-round to Lichtenbach, and said—
-
-“And my marriage? What is to become of it?”
-
-“What has become of this affair of ours,” replied Elias, roughly,
-“nothing. The one fell with the other! My fine fellow, you have no longer
-a prospective dot. I took you with the Trémont powder, and the only
-powder now left is blinding dust!”
-
-“Ah! You treat me in this way. I may give you reason to repent it!”
-
-“And if I wished, you would not be allowed in France another twenty-four
-hours. Let us be going,” added Lichtenbach; “it is already late.”
-
-“We will accompany you to the toll-gate, for fear something may happen to
-you. This quarter is not very safe at nights. Good night, Sophia.”
-
-“Good night.”
-
-She held out her white hand, which her dreaded ally touched with that
-iron hand of his, covered with a glove.
-
-“May I not stay a few minutes, Sophia?” asked Agostini.
-
-“No,” said the Baroness, emphatically. “Good night!”
-
-Ringing the bell, Milona appeared.
-
-“Show these gentlemen out, Milo.”
-
-Silently they left the house, preceded by the Dalmatian, who held a round
-lantern to light the way through the sinuous turnings of the path leading
-to the little ivy-covered door. This she opened, and then disappeared.
-They proceeded along the Avenue Maillot in silence, each occupied with
-his own thoughts. Suddenly Hans stopped, and said, in low accents—
-
-“Sophia is tricking us. But things shall not happen as she imagines. I
-pretended to give way, the better to deceive her. Now this is what we
-will do. Cesare will send a letter in a disguised hand-writing to young
-Marcel Baradier, fixing a rendezvous at the Boulevard Maillot about ten
-o’clock at night. I shall be there to receive him, with others on whom I
-can rely, and I will undertake to introduce the pigeon into the dovecot.
-Once there, Sophia must be forced to employ her wiles, whether she will
-or not. It is the same plan I mentioned just now, and which she refused.
-The only difference is that I do not ask for her permission before
-putting it into practice.”
-
-“But suppose Baradier does not come?” said Cesare.
-
-“What? Not come? Can you imagine that he would not come to a rendezvous
-fixed by the Baroness? He will fly to it at once. And when we have him!”
-
-“What will you do?” asked Lichtenbach, in quivering accents.
-
-“That is my own business. Just trust to me to loosen this young man’s
-tongue!”
-
-“Violence?”
-
-“A mode of persuasion he cannot resist.”
-
-“And suppose he denounces you on leaving the house?”
-
-“If only he will speak beforehand he will have plenty of time to say what
-he wishes afterwards.”
-
-Lichtenbach shuddered. He felt that Hans had made up his mind to kill
-Marcel Baradier, and that the bandit was pursuing a double end:
-possession of the secret, and revenge for his mutilation.
-
-“For the future,” he said, “I will have nothing more to do with your
-actions, in which I repudiate all share. I do not wish even to know the
-result of your attempt. You seem to have gone mad!”
-
-“Ah! don’t think we ever relied on you for anything else than an advance
-of funds?” said Count Cesare, jeeringly. “To us you have been the hen
-which laid the golden eggs; now that you have stopped laying, go your own
-way!”
-
-“No tricks with us, Lichtenbach,” said Hans. “If we succeed, the Dalgetty
-patent will have its full effect, you know; consequently you will share
-in the profits. What you say now is only another instance of your
-hypocrisy; you reject the responsibility, but are willing to accept the
-profits. Very well, my friend, you shall have them!”
-
-They had reached the spot where Lichtenbach’s carriage stood. Agostini
-gracefully opened the door, saying—
-
-“Good night, my prince, pleasant dreams!”
-
-Meanwhile, M. Mayeur had acted in accordance with information received
-from Baudoin and Colonel Vallenot. For a week now he had known the
-details of Count Cesare’s life. Of very good birth, belonging to an
-illustrious family, Signor Agostini had been obliged to leave the Italian
-army after an affair of honour.
-
-Concerning Hans, nothing could be discovered. The Baroness had been
-tracked, through Agostini, to her rooms in the Boulevard Maillot. The
-hotel had been let furnished. She lived very quietly, under the name of
-Madame de Frilas. M. Mayeur had sent an intelligent agent to the Baron
-Grodsko at Nice, and obtained from him full information concerning her.
-
-Provided with his notes, M. Mayeur had returned to the War Office to
-communicate them to Colonel Vallenot, and ask of him the result of his
-personal investigations. Introduced at once into the Minister’s cabinet,
-the magistrate had seen the results of his examination confirmed by
-supplementary details. In proportion as light was thrown on the
-personality of the different actors in the drama, the gravity of the
-affair became more and more evident. They discovered, beyond the faintest
-shadow of doubt, that they had to deal with an association of
-international espionage, which had been working for at least ten years on
-behalf of foreign governments, probably exploiting them in turn, and
-betraying them to the profit of one another.
-
-It was possible that the whole of Europe had been duped by these clever
-rascals. The least false step might alarm the culprits and cause them to
-disappear! M. Mayeur grew pale at the restraint placed on him. But how
-was it possible to neglect such imperious political necessities? Colonel
-Vallenot was the first to speak out clearly on the subject—
-
-“From this moment, General, it is certain we hold the Ténébreuse, as our
-agents call her. This is the woman of whom I spoke to you at the outset
-of our investigations some months ago, the one involved in the Cominges,
-Fontenailles affairs, etc. We have only to order, and she is in our
-power. Is it possible that we can let her escape?”
-
-“It is these deuced formalists, with their politics!” growled the old
-chief. “If the matter were in my hands it should not be allowed to linger
-in this way. These lawyers and quibblers astonish me! I only regain
-possession of myself when in the midst of my officers. What do you say,
-Monsieur le Juge?”
-
-At that moment the door opened, and the porter brought a card to Colonel
-Vallenot. The latter handed it to the Minister, who exclaimed—
-
-“Marcel Baradier! Show him in!”
-
-The young man entered, bowed, and, addressing the General, said—
-
-“I undertook, General, to keep you _au courant_ of anything fresh that
-might happen. I have come to keep my promise.”
-
-“Very good, my friend, explain.”
-
-“This morning, General, I received this letter.”
-
-He placed on the desk a sheet of paper, which the Minister examined
-attentively.
-
-“No date, very common paper, an evidently counterfeit handwriting, and no
-signature. Now let us see what it says: ‘If you wish to see once more the
-one who still loves you, go to-night, at ten o’clock, to the Place de
-l’Etoile, at the corner of the Avenue Hoche. A carriage will be stationed
-there. Enter it, the coachman will ask no questions, and will take you
-where you are expected.’”
-
-“Good. The classic mode of procedure, except that you are not asked to
-submit to having your eyes bandaged. What have you made up your mind to
-do?”
-
-“I shall go to the rendezvous.”
-
-“Ah, ah! Without the slightest apprehension?”
-
-“That is another matter, General. All the same, I shall go. I am
-determined to have the solution to this enigma.”
-
-The magistrate interrupted him in gentle tones—
-
-“Permit me to remark, monsieur, that this resolution of yours is an
-exceedingly imprudent one. Ninety-nine chances to a hundred they are
-attempting to entrap you. Do not add to our trouble by exposing yourself
-to danger for an uncertain result.”
-
-“If it is she who has written to me, I have nothing to fear.”
-
-“The deuce!” exclaimed the General. “You are very affirmative!”
-
-Marcel replied gently—
-
-“You may have concerning this woman whatever opinion your information has
-permitted you to form. False with the others, she was truthful to me. She
-betrayed the rest. To me she has been faithful and devoted.”
-
-“Listen!” exclaimed the General. “He is convinced of the truth of what he
-says. She persuades each and every one of them that she is sincere, and
-they all believe her!”
-
-“I will run the risk!”
-
-The old soldier brought down his fist on to the desk—
-
-“Well, you are a brave fellow! I like this obstinacy, Vallenot. The deuce
-take me if I would not have done the same thing at his age. Well, it is
-understood, go to the rendezvous. But we, too, shall take precautionary
-measures to protect and defend you, if necessary.”
-
-“Oh! General, do nothing whatever, please! The slightest intervention
-would ruin everything! If it is really Sophia who has written the letter,
-I have no need of an escort or protection of any kind. If it is a trap,
-those who have prepared it have their eyes open, and will notice all your
-preparations.”
-
-“Do you know where the lady lives?” asked the magistrate.
-
-“No, sir; as you see, no address is given in the letter.”
-
-M. Mayeur then said in measured tones—
-
-“My dear sir, your reasons are not bad ones at all. True, I have
-recommended you to be prudent, but if you will go to the rendezvous, go.
-Still, as we must always look at things from a practical standpoint, what
-result do you expect to obtain?”
-
-“Monsieur,” said Marcel, gravely; “General de Trémont was my friend; his
-death has not been avenged. Our works have been fired; my uncle Graff, my
-servant, and myself were almost burnt alive. This crime has not been
-punished, any more than the assassination of Laforêt. I intend to throw
-light on all these facts, though it be at the peril of my life.”
-
-“Very good, sir, all I can do is to wish you good luck.”
-
-Marcel bowed and shook hands with the three men.
-
-“He is a true Baradier! But he is too venturesome!”
-
-As soon as the door was closed, M. Mayeur rose from his seat,
-exclaiming—.
-
-“Here is an opportunity, General, to seize all these rascals at once. Of
-course, you know as well as I do that it is their object to entice M.
-Baradier into the house in the Boulevard Maillot, and there force him to
-give up his secret. Just now you said that these villains must be induced
-to resist, and then massacred. Without going to that extremity, we have
-now an opportunity of simplifying the whole proceedings.”
-
-“But you promised Marcel you would not interfere!” said Colonel Vallenot.
-
-“I don’t intend to interfere. He shall do as he likes. But I cannot take
-no interest in these preparations, nor will I, like young Baradier, be
-chivalrous with bandits. This is my plan: The rendezvous is for ten
-o’clock. You know the situation of the Boulevard Maillot; there is a
-ditch separating it from the Bois de Boulogne. A splendid hiding-place to
-hide a posse of police entering by the wood. I know a detective officer
-who is as intelligent as he is determined. I shall give him instructions
-to post himself there, and keep watch. In case M. Baradier is right, and
-there is nothing to fear, my men will simply have passed a night in the
-open-air. If he is mistaken then the danger will be a real one. You heard
-him say that he would be armed and ready to defend himself. At the first
-cry or shot my men will invade the house. If they are threatened they
-resist, if they are struck they will fire. Whether diplomacy wishes or
-not, if the villains are caught in the act the matter must take its
-course.”
-
-“Whatever happens, do not let young Baradier be killed, and above all try
-to lay hands on the woman.”
-
-“What do you think of the plan, General?”
-
-The old soldier looked at the magistrate, then at Vallenot. He noticed
-the impassive countenance of the latter, and replied—
-
-“You need not ask for my advice. All these judicial operations are out of
-my province. Act as you think best; I have nothing to say.”
-
-The magistrate shook his head, with a mocking smile; then, taking up his
-hat, he said—
-
-“Ah, I know what you mean! So long as the affair is not over, no one
-wishes to have anything to do with it. If it succeeds, then I shall be
-the only one to be left out of it all. But that matters little. It is my
-duty, and I will not hesitate. Your servant, General.”
-
-And he left the room accompanied by Colonel Vallenot.
-
-
-
-CHAPTER V
-
-
-IT was about half-past nine, and Uncle Graff had dined in the Rue de
-Provènce as usual. Baudoin approached him, and whispered in his ear—
-
-“Two ladies have called, and one of them wishes to speak to M. Marcel.”
-
-“What kind of a woman is she?” asked the uncle.
-
-“A very respectable-looking person, sir. The other must be a governess or
-a lady’s maid.”
-
-“Where are they?”
-
-“In the ante-chamber.”
-
-“Turn on the electricity in my room, and show them in.”
-
-Baudoin did as he was ordered. Uncle Graff continued his descent,
-murmuring to himself—
-
-“Another of Marcel’s escapades! I wonder what it is this time.”
-
-On approaching his room he saw, standing by the door, a young lady
-dressed in black, and wearing a veil. Uncle Graff’s first impression was
-a favourable one. Pointing to a seat, he said kindly—
-
-“My nephew, madame, is not at home. Cannot I—”
-
-He was not allowed to finish the sentence. The young lady said in
-beseeching tones—
-
-“Monsieur, it is a question of life or death.”
-
-“For whom?” asked Uncle Graff, anxiously.
-
-“For your nephew!”
-
-“How have you been informed of this? And who are you?”
-
-The visitor replied immediately—
-
-“I am Mademoiselle Lichtenbach, monsieur, and I place myself entirely at
-your disposal.”
-
-As she spoke she removed her veil. Uncle Graff, stupefied, recognized the
-daughter of his enemy. She was pale and trembling, but resolute.
-
-“Who has sent you?” he asked.
-
-“My father! He thought that if he came himself, perhaps you would not
-receive him. At this very moment, perhaps, your nephew is running the
-most serious danger. My father, who has just received news of it, begged
-me to come and tell you.”
-
-“But how did he receive his information?” asked Graff, suspiciously.
-
-“Ah, monsieur! begin by taking the necessary measures to help M. Marcel,”
-said Marianne, eagerly. “Afterwards you may ask what questions you
-please.”
-
-“At whose hands lies the peril?”
-
-“At the hands of the same band which killed General de Trémont. My father
-has been informed of these intrigues. Act without losing a moment.”
-
-“But what can we do?” exclaimed Uncle Graff, carried away by the young
-lady’s eagerness.
-
-“I will explain to you. Wait a moment.”
-
-Passing her hand over her forehead, she said in piteous accents—
-
-“Yes, that was it. A woman he knew at Ars.”
-
-“The Italian?”
-
-“Yes, doubtless. He loved her, and they knew he would be pleased to see
-her again.”
-
-She paused. The pallor of her face increased. What she was relating
-seemed to torture her.
-
-“So they wrote to him to fix a rendezvous. And they are expecting him
-this very evening, in a solitary out-of-the-way house. But he will not
-find the one he expects to meet, but, instead, a band of villains,
-determined to employ the most violent measures to force him to reveal a
-secret that they cannot fathom. Now do you understand?”
-
-“Yes. ‘Where is this house?”
-
-“See, here is the address written on this piece of paper.”
-
-Graff read—
-
-“Boulevard Maillot, 16 bis. And you say that he was expected there about
-ten o’clock?”
-
-As though in obedience to his words, the timepiece struck the hour at the
-very instant.
-
-Graff rang the bell. Baudoin appeared.
-
-“Quick, Baudoin, a carriage! You will accompany me. Have you a good
-revolver?”
-
-“Yes, sir.”
-
-“Then bring it with you. Do not say a word to any one. I will rejoin you
-in the yard. Ten o’clock! We will be there, all the same, and if they
-have harmed the child, let them beware!”
-
-Baudoin had already left the room. Marianne, motionless, watched Uncle
-Graff make his preparations. He took up a bundle of bank-notes, a
-revolver, and a heavy steel-headed stick. Then he appeared to remember
-that Mademoiselle Lichtenbach was in the room. Coming up to her, he said
-kindly—
-
-“My child, I thank you for the service.”
-
-“Oh, monsieur!” exclaimed Marianne, her eyes gleaming with suppressed
-tears; “save him, that is the main thing!”
-
-“He shall be informed, mademoiselle, of what you have risked for his
-sake. I know what this errand must have cost you.”
-
-Marianne smiled sadly.
-
-“I am returning to-morrow to the convent, doubtless for ever. Life is
-full of sadness and pain.”
-
-Graff waited no longer, but rushed out into the street, as the brougham
-of Mademoiselle Lichtenbach vanished in the distance. Baudoin was
-standing near the cab. Graff leapt into the carriage and said—
-
-“To the Porte Maillot! You, Baudoin, mount with me. I want to speak to
-you.”
-
-                                * * * * *
-
-Marcel had never felt so calm as on the evening he made his way towards
-the Place de l’Etoile.
-
-When he entered the carriage it immediately started off along the Avenue
-de la Grande-Armée, wheeled round at the Porte Maillot, and, after a two
-minutes’ further run, came to a halt in a dark-looking avenue, near a
-garden gate. Marcel stepped out, and the carriage disappeared. A small
-door, hidden in the ivy, was now opened, and a valet in livery appeared.
-Marcel followed him in the direction of a house which raised its sombre
-mass in front. A single light shone from a window on the first floor.
-Mounting a flight of steps, he entered an ante-chamber. Suddenly an
-exclamation was heard in the next apartment, a rapid step was heard, a
-door overhung with tapestry was flung open, and Sophia, her face
-convulsed by the violence of her emotion, appeared. Her looks expressed
-the terror she felt, but not a word did she utter. Taking Marcel by the
-wrist, she drew him into the room she had just left—a bedroom—quickly
-turned the key in the lock, bolted another door, and, seizing the young
-man in her arms, whispered in his ear—
-
-“Wretched man that you are! How did you come here?”
-
-At the same time, and without appearing to be able to help herself, her
-lips sought Marcel’s neck, and she kissed him with a delirious rapture.
-
-“Then it was not you who summoned me?”
-
-“I! _Grand Dieu_! I would give ten years of my life if you were anywhere
-but in this house at this moment. Ah! the wretches! They have deceived
-me!”
-
-“Who are the wretches you speak of?” asked Marcel, firmly.
-
-“Ah! Do not question me! I cannot, must not, speak!”
-
-“Are you jesting?” said Marcel, ironically.
-
-“Poor child! You do not know them!”
-
-“Madame, is your brother among them?”
-
-She laid her hands on his mouth, those beautiful white hands, and he
-remained silent. Then, clasping him to her breast with passionate ardour,
-her eyes filled with tears—she stammered out—
-
-“Oh! Marcel, Marcel!”
-
-A sudden pallor came over her; she clung to him to prevent herself from
-falling, and her shapely head, with its wealth of raven hair, lay on the
-shoulder of the one she loved with hopeless passion.
-
-A sharp knock on the door brought them back to the reality of life.
-
-“Listen!” said Sophia.
-
-She drew near the door, asked a short question in a foreign language, and
-received an immediate reply. Apparently reassured, she opened the door,
-saying to Marcel—
-
-“It is Milo.”
-
-Milona entered, and the door was carefully closed again.
-
-“Have they sent you?” asked Sophia.
-
-“Yes, mistress.”
-
-“What do they want?”
-
-“To come to an understanding with you.”
-
-“I shall not go.”
-
-“They have provided for that contingency.”
-
-“Well?”
-
-“They have told me to repeat to you their demands from the young master.”
-
-“Silence! I do not wish him to know them!”
-
-“Would you rather they mount the stairs and kill him?”
-
-A deep silence followed. Sophia twisted about her arms, and groaned in
-despair. Her beautiful features were convulsed by powerless rage and
-exasperated dismay. Grinding her teeth, she flew to the mantel-piece,
-seized a short, sharp dagger, which she brandished aloft with a terrible
-skill.
-
-“Milo, you will not abandon me?”
-
-“Never! I will die for you, that you know well!”
-
-“Marcel is armed; so we are three! Oh! I will defend him with my last
-breath!”
-
-“Against them?” said Milona. “Can you hope to do such a thing? It would
-be impossible to resist them. They are all waiting below, in the
-dining-room, ready for anything!”
-
-“Oh! _Mon Dieu_! How mad I am! Do I not know them? Oh! Marcel, why did
-you place yourself at their mercy?”
-
-Flinging her poniard on to the ground, she sat down, overcome with
-emotion, buried her head in her hands, and burst into tears. Marcel,
-turning to the Dalmatian, asked, in calm accents—
-
-“Tell me, in a word, what it is they want from me?”
-
-Milona cast a questioning glance at her mistress. As Sophia made no sign,
-the servant explained—
-
-“They want the famous secret, which will give value to the powder they
-stole from you!”
-
-Marcel smiled, and then frowned in disdain.
-
-“Ah! that is what is puzzling them. I am glad to know that they have not
-succeeded in discovering what they were so interested in knowing. Milona,
-you may tell them that they will never learn it from me!”
-
-“We shall see about that before long!” exclaimed Agostini, passionately,
-from behind the door.
-
-“Ah! you are listening, you villain?” said Marcel, in vibrating tones. “I
-am very pleased to know it, for such a procedure simplifies things
-considerably! Tell your acolytes that I am not afraid of them; I have in
-my hand a revolver which will answer for the lives of six men. If they
-like, I will open the door, and the dance shall begin.”
-
-“Take time for reflection!” replied a deep, guttural voice—that of Hans.
-“Do not do anything stupid!”
-
-“Who is that?” asked Marcel. “He does not appear so stupid as the
-others.”
-
-“One would think you know us!” railed the bandit. “Patience! We will give
-you half an hour in which to decide. If, within thirty minutes, you have
-not given us satisfaction, I will undertake to make you speak. The night
-is damp—there is a good fire below!”
-
-Steps were now heard descending the staircase. Milona silently left the
-room, and Marcel and Sophia remained alone. The time-piece pointed to ten
-minutes past ten.
-
-“You heard them,” said Sophia. “Now you know what they propose to do.
-They want your secret.”
-
-“Very well! I have told them they shall not have it!”
-
-Looking at the young woman, he saw that a shudder came over her. Laying
-his hand on her shoulder, he added—
-
-“But I wish to know yours.”
-
-“Mine?” exclaimed the young woman, with a terrified gesture.
-
-“Yes! Who and what are you?”
-
-She smiled sadly.
-
-“A broken-hearted woman who loves you!”
-
-“Empty words! You say you love me. The only proof of this confession I
-ask for is that you be sincere with me.”
-
-Hiding her face in her hands, she exclaimed—
-
-“Never! You would hate me if I told you!”
-
-“Then it is true that you are the most abominable creature on earth?”
-
-“Oh! my darling, do not insult me!”
-
-“You will not speak? Then I will ask your accomplices downstairs. I
-imagine it will be a pleasure to them to give me information about you.”
-
-He started towards the door. She leapt forward. “Madman! You do not know
-the danger you are running! Stay here by my side.”
-
-He looked steadily into her eyes, and asked again—“Who are you?”
-
-She groaned.
-
-“Why are you so pitiless?”
-
-“If you do not speak, it is because you are well aware that my scorn for
-you would be so great, that nothing but disgust would remain in my memory
-from this past happiness!”
-
-She stood up, and proudly answered—
-
-“Poor Marcel, you are mistaken—you would still love me. If I pleased,
-nothing could withdraw you from me!”
-
-She looked at him as she spoke, and under the influence of her glance
-Marcel felt all his resolutions melt away, a feeling of languor came over
-him, and he lost the faculty of will-power.
-
-“Death is all around us,” she whispered. “Let us forget everything. Do
-not think any more, my love—leave your poor tortured heart in peace.”
-
-Suddenly a sound of footsteps was heard throughout the house, and cries
-coming from outside. Then came a sound as though a door had been torn
-from its hinges, followed by a revolver-shot. At the same time was heard
-a voice, which Marcel knew well.
-
-“Help! Baudoin, help!”
-
-Then another shot, followed by a volley of oaths. Marcel, on his feet,
-exclaimed—
-
-“It is my uncle Graff! _Mon Dieu_! They are killing him!”
-
-“Stay here, do not stir!” said Sophia, in beseeching tones.
-
-He made no reply, but rushed forward into the corridor, found the
-staircase, and, in the semi-darkness, saw in the hall, on the ground
-floor, a group of three men, in a hand-to-hand conflict with Graff, who,
-half-stifled, and encircled by their arms, was trying in vain to make use
-of his revolver. In front of the entrance-door Hans and Baudoin were
-engaged in a fierce struggle. The brave servant had his forehead gashed
-open, and the blood was flowing freely, but he had obtained a firm hold
-on his terrible opponent, and succeeded in holding him harmless for the
-moment.
-
-Standing above the balustrade, Marcel took aim at one of the three men
-who were strangling his uncle. A flash followed, and the man fell. At the
-same moment a shot was heard behind Marcel, and a ball whizzed past his
-ear. Turning round, he found himself face to face with Agostini, who was
-preparing to repeat the shot. With a sudden blow he dashed aside the
-weapon, seized the Italian by the waist, and, his strength doubled by the
-fury and rage which now possessed him, raised him in the air, and flung
-him over the rails of the staircase.
-
-At this exploit, Hans, powerless to strike Marcel, who was descending the
-steps four at a time, gave a howl of fury. He shook Baudoin with such
-energy that he forced him to abandon his hold. Then he placed him under
-his knee, and his iron arm was already raised to deal the deathblow, when
-Marcel rushed to the rescue with a terrible blow in the body, which
-hurled the colossus to the ground. He immediately rose to his feet,
-however, and, taking up a position in a corner, shouted out aloud—
-
-“Help! Here, you others! Help!”
-
-But the others had by this time too much to do. The police, attracted by
-the firing, invaded the house. Uncle Graff, at liberty, now came up with
-his revolver. But Baudoin, in hoarse tones, exclaimed—
-
-“Monsieur Graff, leave him to me—he is mine! It is he who killed my
-General!”
-
-He then took from the old man’s hand his steel-headed stick, disdaining a
-firearm, which would have made the combat unequal, and fell upon Hans.
-The bandit swore frightfully on seeing that all was lost; he struck a
-blow with his iron fist, but Baudoin lightly stepped aside. Then the
-stick whizzed through the air, and the steel head descended. Hans, struck
-on the temple, rolled over the flag-stones, and fell like an ox to the
-ground. This was a signal for a general rout. The three men who still
-resisted now leapt through the open windows, and vanished like shadows
-into the garden.
-
-“All escape is cut off; do not trouble about them,” exclaimed the head
-detective. “Let us see after the wounded and the dead.”
-
-Uncle Graff wished to take Marcel into his arms, question him, and assure
-himself that he was safe and sound; but, on turning round, he found
-Baudoin wiping away with his handkerchief the blood and perspiration
-flowing from his forehead. Marcel, as soon as the issue of the struggle
-left no room for doubt, had immediately thought of Sophia. Now that
-danger for him had disappeared, it loomed forth with a terrible aspect
-for her. The police, who had restored the situation by intervening to
-save him, would now appear on the scene for her ruin. He mounted the
-stairs more quickly than he had descended, for he felt that the time in
-which anything could be done was short indeed.
-
-Rushing into the room, the door of which was still open, he drew the
-bolts on Sophia with as much fear and solicitude as she had drawn them on
-himself. She had remained standing, leaning pensively against the
-mantelpiece, as though devoid of interest in what was taking place on the
-floor beneath. Milona stood by her side; she had doubtless told her of
-the defeat of her companions. Marcel, in terrified ardour, rushed up to
-her.
-
-“The house is in the hands of the police, do you not know? Why are you
-still here?”
-
-“I was waiting for you,” replied Sophia, calmly. “But it means ruin to
-you!”
-
-“How does that affect you?”
-
-“I will not consent to it! I cannot endure the idea that you should
-suffer threatenings and torture for having defended me.”
-
-A light came into Sophia’s face.
-
-“Then will you still allow me to see you?”
-
-He replied, firmly—
-
-“Impossible! After what has taken place between us, I must never see you
-again! I cannot, I must not! For your own sake!”
-
-Her tranquil, careless look returned.
-
-“Then leave me to my fate!”
-
-“No! I will not do that! You, ruined on my account, when— Will you
-torture my thoughts by the frightful memory of the past?”
-
-“Oh, Marcel, if I could only please you! If you would only love me! How
-dearly I would pay you for such happiness!”
-
-She smiled. Tears filled her eyes, and she looked so beautiful that a
-shudder ran through his whole body. Turning aside, he said—
-
-“Wretched woman! what will become of you?”
-
-She showed him a ring, the bezel of which was made of a bead of chased
-gold.
-
-“Look at this bead of gold; it contains liberty and death at the same
-time. Pour its contents into a glass of water, and all is over, without
-suffering.”
-
-She stretched out her hand towards a tray containing a bowl of water and
-a glass.
-
-“I forbid you!” cried Marcel, dismayed.
-
-She looked at him with a terrible intensity, whilst her face shone with
-superhuman ardour.
-
-“Nothing without you!” she said. “Everything with you! Decide!”
-
-“Impossible!”
-
-With a sorrowful smile, she continued—
-
-“Reflect! You know what I am. If you wish, I will live, but only to be
-yours. I will come whenever you want me, and will not trouble you in any
-way. Oh! every expiation and sacrifice, every grief and pain imaginable,
-to be yours once more!”
-
-Steps were heard mounting the staircase. Marcel, terror-struck, said—
-
-“They are coming! They will take you! If you wish to save your life,
-leave the room at once!”
-
-“Let them come! They will only take me if I am willing. I have nothing to
-fear from any other than yourself. Do you wish me to live? Swear that you
-will see me again!”
-
-At that supreme moment the pale faces of General de Trémont and poor
-Laforêt, of Agostini, dead, and Hans, lying on the blood-stained stone,
-rose before Marcel’s imagination, and an insurmountable horror came over
-him. He bent his head without a word. A slight noise of something
-touching glass caused him to look up. He saw Sophia drinking the poison.
-Rushing up, he dashed from her hands the empty glass. Smiling, she said—
-
-“Too late!”
-
-“Open! Open!” exclaimed several voices behind the door.
-
-Sophia found sufficient strength to say—
-
-“Open now, Milona!”
-
-The Dalmatian obeyed. A veil came over Sophia’s eyes, her cheeks turned
-deadly pale. Milona, terrified, fell to the ground, her dark, dishevelled
-hair falling round her face like a funeral veil.
-
-“Where is the woman?” shouted M. Mayeur from the staircase, as he came on
-the scene, panting and triumphant. “She has not been allowed to escape, I
-hope!”
-
-He appeared, accompanied by Graff, and stood, as though petrified, on the
-threshold.
-
-Marcel, pointing to Sophia, who had just breathed her last, said—
-
-“Here she is!”
-
-The Ténébreuse, ever elusive, had this time taken refuge in the darkness
-of eternal night.
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VI
-
-
-THE affray of the Boulevard Maillot was prudently passed over as a drama
-founded on jealousy. Two men quarrelling over a woman, and the rivals
-killing one another over the corpse of the fair one—such was the account
-furnished to the reporters. Imagination did the rest. Paris dwelt with
-passionate interest for twelve hours on this magnificent butchery, the
-horrors of which were described all the better from the fact that no one
-had been admitted to see them. M. Mayeur alone made a complete search all
-over the house, but discovered nothing calculated to throw any light on
-the identity of Hans. Neither the anthropometric service nor the most
-experienced detectives could find out the slightest indication as to the
-mysterious personality of the dreaded bandit. Certainly he was the same
-man whose arm had been carried off at Vanves, when he had appeared there
-with Sophia, on the evening the General’s house had been destroyed. But
-what was he besides? The international police, on being questioned, said
-nothing. Either they knew nothing, or were unwilling to give information.
-
-Sophia and Agostini were identified. The Princes of Briviesca undertook
-to inform the magistrate concerning the one member of their family they
-were well pleased to see themselves rid of. Count Grodsko could relate
-nothing more than he had already told to the agent who had questioned him
-at Monte Carlo. The examining magistrate enraged at finding nothing,
-thought for a moment of bringing a charge against Lichtenbach. He
-summoned him to his study, questioned him, and tried to obtain from
-Baradier and Graff revelations concerning him. But the former would not
-impeach, as was expected, their old enemy. Rivalry in business affairs,
-quibbles in banking relations, but nothing legally guilty. If a charge
-could be brought on these heads, then they would be obliged to surround
-the Place de la Bourse, from twelve to three every day, and arrest all
-who were raising those frightful cries beneath its columns. Besides, the
-highest circles had immediately interceded in favour of Lichtenbach, and
-the examining magistrate saw at once that he was on a wrong track.
-Accordingly, this time the Vanves affair was definitely shelved, and
-classed amongst the legal mysteries of the year.
-
-But though these tragic events were not destined to have any material
-consequences for Lichtenbach, serious moral results rapidly followed.
-Within a week following the death of Agostini and Sophia, Mademoiselle
-Lichtenbach entered the Convent des Augustines of the Rue Saint Jacques.
-She had had a two-hours’ conversation with her father. Pale, but
-determined, she was seen to leave her father’s study. Elias followed her,
-trembling, and with bowed head, tears streaming down his cheeks. On the
-landing he tried to stop his daughter, and stretched out his hands
-beseechingly as he stammered—
-
-“My child, do not be inexorable; have pity on me!”
-
-Marianne bowed her head as she replied—
-
-“I wish I could, father; but how will you redeem the past?”
-
-Without turning round, she descended the stone staircase, at the foot of
-which the carriage was waiting to conduct her to the Rue Saint Jacques. A
-moan of pain escaped the old man’s lips as he leaned over the iron
-balustrade. For a moment he seemed as though he would fling himself over.
-Then he cried out in heart-piercing accents—
-
-“Marianne! Marianne!”
-
-She raised her head. Stretching out his hands, he groaned—
-
-“You are the only one I have left in the world! Will you forget your
-father?”
-
-The young girl shook her head sadly, but did not give in. What terrible
-explanation could have taken place between father and daughter? What had
-Lichtenbach been forced to confess, for Marianne to show herself so
-inexorable? She made the sign of the cross, as though to strengthen her
-fainting heart. The pallor of her face increased, though she replied in
-firm accents—
-
-“I shall not forget you, father. I will pray for you.”
-
-She mounted the carriage, a rolling of wheels was heard, then followed a
-long silence. Lichtenbach returned slowly to his room, and sank down in a
-reverie.
-
-All the same, he did not give up business. On the contrary, he seemed to
-show a greater ardour than before for finance. His position on the
-Explosives settled, he regained the ground he had lost by a formidable
-campaign on gold mines. Never had his speculations been more brilliant or
-lucky than they were during the six months following his daughter’s
-departure. One would have thought that his grief had brought him good
-fortune, for everything succeeded which he undertook. All the same,
-nothing seemed to give him pleasure, and he changed greatly in physique.
-No longer could he mount the steps of the Bourse without halting for
-breath. Society had no further attractions for him.
-
-One winter evening, the _valet de chambre_, as he entered his master’s
-room, found Elias leaning over his desk, apparently asleep. Calling him
-by name, he received no reply. Terrified, he drew nearer, and touched his
-master. The banker remained motionless, whilst his hand clasped a short
-letter from his daughter. The few words he had been reading were still
-moist with the tears he had shed. He was dead, a victim to the only
-sentiment by which he had ever been vulnerable; the love of a father.
-
-Six months later, at twilight, in the study of the Rue de Provènce, Uncle
-Graff and Marcel were seated together. After signing all the letters for
-the evening’s post, Baradier had retired to his own room.
-
-The darkness gradually deepened, and uncle and nephew, seated in their
-armchairs, without a word, looked like vague, uncertain silhouettes. The
-clerks had all left, and silence reigned around.
-
-“Are you asleep, Uncle Graff?” asked Marcel.
-
-“No; I was just thinking.”
-
-“What about?”
-
-“About all that has happened the past twelve months. It is no mere
-trifle!”
-
-“No, indeed. And what is the result of your reflections?”
-
-“That we have had the most extraordinary luck; we had to deal with
-enemies who seemed destined to triumph over us time after time; and that
-we have manifestly been protected by a divine providence.”
-
-“Uncle Graff, you are rather illogical; extraordinary luck on the one
-hand, and divine providence on the other. They do not go very well
-together.”
-
-“Oh, you are too sceptical. It is your generation which makes you so. You
-no longer believe in anything.”
-
-“I do not believe in chance, no!” said Marcel, ironically. Then he added,
-in tones of sudden gravity, “But I believe in the firm, steadfast will of
-human beings. If we have been protected, as you say truly enough, it is
-because it was so willed. But for that—”
-
-Silence followed. The darkness had now become complete.
-
-“It was so willed,” repeated Uncle Graff. “You are alluding to that
-woman?”
-
-“I am alluding to ‘that woman.’ It was she who defeated the plans of her
-acolytes, and saved me.”
-
-“Because she loved you?”
-
-“Because she loved me.”
-
-“Well, then, tell me what passed between you for a woman of this stamp to
-sacrifice herself for a man she first intended to dupe, and afterwards to
-rob. For you cannot doubt the fact that she had plans concerning you?”
-
-“I am quite aware of the fact.”
-
-“She had had considerable experience in life, and yet—”
-
-“And yet she fell in love with a young man like myself. Well, probably
-because I was a change from all her other acquaintances. A cup of milk to
-a drunken man, for instance.”
-
-“And she killed herself for your sake, under your very eyes?”
-
-“Yes, Uncle Graff, because I would not promise to see her again.”
-
-“And yet you loved her?”
-
-“I both loved and hated her. Had I seen her again she would have obtained
-renewed dominion over me and ruined me. I determined it should not be
-so.”
-
-Uncle Graff sighed—
-
-“And do you sometimes think of this woman?”
-
-“Always.”
-
-“Do you know what you ought to do now, if you wish to turn over a new
-leaf?”
-
-“I know very well, my father spoke to me yesterday. And it is doubtless
-because I received his overtures coolly, that you are now returning to
-the same subject.”
-
-“You are right, my child. If you would only marry, now that you are
-reasonable and settled in life.”
-
-“Marry Geneviève de Trémont?”
-
-“Yes. She is the wife your father and mother have always intended for
-you. It would give them great pleasure, if you would marry her.”
-
-After a moment’s silence, Marcel said—
-
-“When Mademoiselle Lichtenbach came to warn you that a snare had been set
-for me, was she excited?”
-
-“Greatly excited.”
-
-“And you thought, when you saw her, that this extraordinary emotion was
-caused by some special interest she took in myself. At any rate, you said
-so to me.”
-
-“Certainly. I promised I would tell you. Besides, the child pleased me.
-She was anything but commonplace. And her determination the following
-morning confirmed the good opinion I had formed of her.”
-
-“Her resolve to enter the convent?”
-
-“You are right.”
-
-“In a word, then, Mademoiselle Lichtenbach has abjured the world for my
-sake. This child will have been recompensed for her devoted tenderness by
-the loss of everything happy and pleasant life had in store for her; and
-she is now destined to die poor; wearing a nun’s robe, with shorn hair,
-attending to the wants of the destitute?”
-
-“Yes.”
-
-“Uncle Graff, in your opinion, are children responsible for the misdeeds
-of their parents?”
-
-The old man did not reply.
-
-“You do not reply,” urged Marcel. “My question troubles you?”
-
-“It troubles me greatly. One day, in this very room, I told an envoy of
-Lichtenbach’s, who made us an offer of the hand of his daughter for you,
-that all the Graffs would rise in their graves if a Baradier were to
-marry a Lichtenbach.”
-
-“What!” exclaimed Marcel, greatly agitated. “Such an offer has been made,
-and you never informed me of it?”
-
-“What would have been the use? You know how we felt just then for me to
-have given such an emphatic and stupid reply. Your father—Oh! I believe
-he would have preferred to see you in your grave rather than married to a
-Lichtenbach. Just think of it! The General had just been killed—the works
-were still in flames! No, no! It was impossible.”
-
-“But now, Uncle Graff?”
-
-“What! Can you think of such a thing?” asked the sentimental old fellow,
-in trembling accents.
-
-“I think of it so much,” said Marcel, firmly, “that if Mademoiselle
-Lichtenbach does not consent to become my wife I will never marry
-another.”
-
-At that moment a slight sound was heard, and the door closed.
-
-“Who is there?” asked Graff, eagerly.
-
-“Do not excite yourself,” said the voice of Baradier.
-
-“Were you listening?”
-
-“No; I have just come. But I heard your last words. How long are you
-going to remain in this darkness?”
-
-At the same moment he turned on the electric light. The three men looked
-at one another for a moment; they were very grave and serious, but a look
-of contentment was visible on their countenances. Baradier did not bow
-his head with that obstinate mien his son and brother-in-law knew so
-well. He was perfectly self-possessed. Sitting down at his desk, he said—
-
-“What difference would there be between us and mere nobodies or
-good-for-nothings if we were incapable of showing gratitude? It is not
-sufficient to appear honest and delicate in the eyes of the world—one
-must be without the slightest reproach before one’s own conscience.”
-
-He fixed on his son a look of perfect satisfaction, though his face paled
-with the emotion which had taken possession of him.
-
-“Marcel has spoken like a real Baradier or Graff. We must do as he has
-said.”
-
-At these simple words the three men quivered, consecrating as they did
-their successor with the worthy renown of his predecessors. Tears of joy
-and pride shone in his uncle’s eyes. Marcel, without a word, flung
-himself into his father’s arms.
-
-                                * * * * *
-
-                                 THE END
-
-     PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BECCLES.
-
-
-
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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 69149 ***
+
+This etext was transcribed by Les Bowler
+
+
+
+
+
+                                   THE
+                             WOMAN OF MYSTERY
+
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+                                    BY
+
+                              GEORGES OHNET
+
+            AUTHOR OF “THE IRONMASTER,” “DOCTOR RAMEAU,” ETC.
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+                    TRANSLATED BY FRED. ROTHWELL, B.A.
+
+                       [Picture: Publisher’s logo]
+
+                              A NEW EDITION
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+                                  LONDON
+                             CHATTO & WINDUS
+
+                                   1904
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+                                PRINTED BY
+                    WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,
+                           LONDON AND BECCLES.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                  PAGE
+PART I               1
+PART II            135
+PART III           260
+
+
+
+
+PART I
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+IN his study, situated in the Rue Saint-Dominique, the Minister of War
+was walking to and fro. In furious fashion he twisted his moustache,
+which seemed even redder than usual, as he nervously fingered his
+eyeglass, in a manner which promised anything but a cordial welcome to
+any who entered his presence. Doubtless, his officers were well
+acquainted with the reasons of his ill-humour, for a profound silence
+reigned all around, and the great man’s solitude was undisturbed save by
+the querulous twitterings of the birds in the garden. A minute later, he
+seemed to lose all patience, and, marching to the mantelpiece, he pressed
+an electric bell. An usher, with anxious mien, at once approached.
+
+“Has Colonel Vallenot returned?” exclaimed the Minister, in fierce tones.
+
+The servant shrunk away, as though he would have liked the earth to open
+and swallow him; then he stammered, faintly—
+
+“I do not think so, sir—I will ask—”
+
+The General became purple with rage. An oath burstforth from his lips
+like a bombshell, then a second, the third was useless. The door was
+again closed, the servant had vanished.
+
+“What can Vallenot be doing all the time he has been gone?” muttered the
+Minister, as he resumed his pacing about the room. “Ah! This is the way I
+am served!”
+
+Before he could finish, the usher had opened the door, and announced—
+
+“Colonel Vallenot.”
+
+A man of fifty years of age, tall and thin, with blue eyes and light
+moustache, marched briskly into the room, and, after saluting his
+superior in friendly wise, said—
+
+“You seem to have lost all patience, General. I found an officer waiting
+for me at the very door of the War Office. The fact is, this has been
+anything but a small matter. After all, I have done everything possible—”
+
+“Indeed!” interrupted the Minister, impatiently. “You have just come from
+Vanves?”
+
+“Yes, General.”
+
+“Alone?”
+
+“No; I took with me one of our cleverest detectives. You had not given me
+this authorization, but I took upon myself the responsibility.”
+
+“You have done quite right. But are you sure he is trustworthy?”
+
+“Absolutely. He is a former sub-officer. Besides, I did not reveal to him
+the real object of my researches; he knows nothing important, and
+imagines he has simply been my auxiliary in an inquiry into the causes of
+a catastrophe hitherto ill-explained. We have nothing to fear in this
+direction.”
+
+“Well, what has been the result of your researches?”
+
+“If you will allow me, General, we will divide the inquiry into two
+parts, one consisting of moral circumstances, the other of material
+facts. The affair is more complicated than you at first thought, and when
+I have finished, your embarrassment, instead of having lessened, will
+probably have increased.”
+
+“Impossible!”
+
+He sat down before the desk, leaned over on his elbows, and, motioning to
+the Colonel to take a seat in an armchair by his side, said—
+
+“Now, tell me everything.”
+
+“The house tenanted by General de Trémont is situated above the village
+of Vanves, near the fort. It was the night-watch which gave the alarm,
+and the garrison which organized first aid when the fire broke out.
+Nothing worth mentioning remains of the building. The explosion of the
+combustible matter contained in the laboratory has disorganized the very
+foundations, and the effect has been formidable. Stones hurled into the
+air have been found more than a mile distant, and the surrounding gardens
+belonging to the peasants are covered with _débris_. Had there been
+houses in the neighbourhood, the loss to property would have been
+enormous—”
+
+The Minister interrupted.
+
+“The effects of melinite, probably?”
+
+“No, General, something quite different! Increase a hundred-fold the
+effects of the powder actually employed in charging our bombshells, and
+then perhaps you will have the equivalent of the destructive power
+revealed by the explosion of General de Trémont’s laboratory.”
+
+The Minister shook his head.
+
+“Yes; that is what he told me the last time I saw him at the Artillery
+meeting. He was on the trace of a discovery destined to give to our
+cannons so crushing a superiority that we were to become for long the
+arbiters of victory. The struggle against us would have been marked by
+such massacres, accomplished with such absolute precision, that our
+military supremacy would have been certain once more. Has this had
+anything to do with the discovery?”
+
+“Then you admit, General, that malevolence may not have been entirely
+foreign to this mishap!”
+
+“I admit nothing, Vallenot. I suspect everything. When you have told me
+all you know, we will talk it over. Continue.”
+
+“On reaching the spot, we found a body of troops, who had been ordered by
+the Ministry to proceed there, guarding the approaches of the property.
+There was already collected a crowd of three or four hundred people,
+discussing the matter, without counting a score of journalists, who made
+more noise than all the others together. They were complaining that they
+were not allowed to visit the spot _where_ the explosion had taken place
+among the still smoking ruins of the villa. But there was in command a
+stern little lieutenant, who, in quite military fashion, had maintained
+order. Probably the press will be against us, but in the mean time we
+shall not have been interrupted; and that is something to be thankful
+for. Inside, there was only the secretary of the Prefecture of Police and
+the head of the detective force. My agent and I had come at the right
+moment. The researches were just beginning—”
+
+“_Where_? In the house?”
+
+“On the site of what had been the house, and which now offered to the
+gaze nothing but a gaping hole, at the bottom of which appeared a cellar,
+the vaults of which had been burst open. A staved-in barrel of wine
+formed a red pool on the floor. Not a trace of the staircase remained.
+The very steps had disappeared, and the stones were broken up into
+fragments as large as pigeons’ eggs. Never should I have thought such a
+crumbling possible. Wonderful to relate, one side of a wall which must
+have belonged to a wash-house remained standing, along with a narrow
+window, in the iron bars of which a cloth-rag was waving. We were all
+staring at this solitary vestige of the disaster, when the chief of the
+detective force cautiously approached the spot. Raising his stick, he
+touched the shapeless rag hanging there, picked it up from the ground
+with an exclamation of surprise, and exposed it to our gaze. It was a
+human arm, still covered with both coat and shirt sleeves, cut off at the
+elbow, and covered with blood, the hand quite black.”
+
+“Most extraordinary!” exclaimed the Minister.
+
+“Rather sinister, General,” continued Colonel Vallenot. “I have seen
+hundreds of men killed on the field of battle, and thousands of wounded
+carried off in ambulances. At Gravelotte, I saw the head of the captain
+of my squadron roll at my feet, and the eyes wink repeatedly in the dust.
+It had been carried off by the bursting of a shell. In Tonkin I have
+found soldiers cut in four, their faces still grinning in spite of their
+torture. But never have I been so impressed as I was by this human arm,
+the sole remaining vestige of the drama we were trying to understand. The
+Government agent was the first to regain his _sang froid_, and he said,
+‘Gentlemen, this is an important piece of evidence. This arm has
+evidently been hurled across these bars by the explosion. But to whom did
+it belong? Is it one of the ill-fated General de Trémont’s arms?’ ‘The
+General did not live alone in the villa,’ observed the detective. ‘There
+was a cook and a man-servant. Let us at once eliminate the supposition of
+the cook. This is a man’s arm; accordingly, it belonged either to the
+General or to his valet. Unless—’ There was a silence. The Government
+agent turned towards him and said, ‘Well, finish. Unless it belongs to
+the author of the catastrophe himself.’”
+
+“Ah!” said the Minister; “then he, too, thought the affair might be the
+result of a crime.”
+
+“Yes, General; and, as he spoke, he examined with the most minute
+attention the smutty, blackened hand. Carefully separating the fingers,
+he drew from the fourth finger a ring, which none of us had noticed; and,
+holding it aloft in triumph, said, ‘The question is decided, if this ring
+belongs to the General. If not, we still doubtless possess a valuable
+piece of circumstantial evidence, which will permit us to unravel the
+mystery.’”
+
+“A ring! The deuce! I never remember seeing Trémont wearing a ring! No! I
+would take my oath on it. He never wore an ornament of any kind in his
+life, much less a ring. It would have been absurd in a man who was in the
+habit of handling acids from morning to night! No metal would have
+resisted the oxidising action of the substances he used in his
+experiments. But what kind of a ring was it?”
+
+“An engagement ring, General. When rubbed with a glove-skin, the gold
+circle shone out, freed from the soot which tarnished it. Our agent
+fingered it a moment, then pressed it with his nail, and the ring
+separated in two. ‘Look here, gentlemen!’ he exclaimed. ‘There are
+letters engraved in the interior. Whatever happens, we now hold a clue.’”
+
+“This fellow has, indeed, proved himself very clever, Vallenot,” said the
+Minister. “Up to the present, I find that he is the only one who has
+shown any initiative. I must remember it.”
+
+“Wait a little, General. I have not yet reached the end. The Government
+agent had taken up the engagement ring, and was examining it. He finally
+placed it coolly in his pocket, with the words, ‘We will look into this
+later on.’ And there we all stood, rather discountenanced by the strange
+intervention of the magistrate in leaving our curiosity thus
+disappointed. On due reflection, perhaps he was right in postponing for a
+more thorough examination the information destined to result from this
+discovery, in not publishing proofs which might be of supreme importance.
+Still, if he wished to keep the secret of his investigations, he was
+disappointed, for at that very moment our agent, pursuing his inquiries,
+had removed the double sleeve, and laid bare the naked arm. This time it
+was no longer possible to conceal what he had found. On the forearm,
+between the wrist and the bleeding end, a blue tattooing appeared,
+representing a heart surrounded with flames, around which could be read
+the words ‘Hans and Minna,’ and beneath the German word ‘Immer,’
+signifying ‘Always.’ ‘Gentlemen,’ said the Government agent, fixing his
+eyeglass, ‘I demand of you the utmost discretion. A single word on what
+we have just discovered might have the most serious consequences. We may
+be in presence of an anarchist plot, or be obliged to suspect foreign
+interference. The affair is assuming quite unexpected proportions. In all
+probability a crime has been committed.’”
+
+“The deuce!” exclaimed the Minister. “I say, Vallenot, this is becoming
+serious! Perhaps we ought at once to inform the President of the Board
+of—”
+
+“The secretary of the Prefect of Police must have done so already. As
+soon as he saw how matters were turning, he did not wait for the end of
+the inquiry, but immediately rode off to the Place Beauvau.”
+
+“The first thing to do is to prevent the press from saying anything
+silly. If we have a crow to pick with foreign agents, for Trémont’s
+investigations were suspected in Europe, it is of the highest importance
+that no suspicions be aroused, so that we may try to seize the authors of
+this guilty attempt.”
+
+“That is what we thought, General, and, consequently, all arrangements
+have at once been taken. It was absolutely necessary to throw public
+opinion on a false scent. Accordingly, the theory of a chance accident
+was inevitable. It was at once decided that all communications made to
+the press should have this object in view. General de Trémont was rather
+eccentric, we must say, engaged in commercial chemical investigations,
+and it was his imprudence which had brought about the accident which has
+now cost him his life.”
+
+“Poor Trémont! So fine a savant as he was! Well! well! State reasons must
+predominate. But it is hard to contribute in heaping calumnies on an old
+comrade!”
+
+“Do not have such thoughts, General,” interrupted Colonel Vallenot, with
+a smile. “There are surprises in store for us which will, doubtless,
+lessen your regret.”
+
+“What do you mean?” said the rough soldier, frowning. “You do not intend
+to utter calumnies against my friend from childhood, my comrade in war?”
+
+“God forbid, General! I shall simply give you the facts on which you
+desired information. If I have the misfortune to displease you, you will
+not be angry with me; you are too just for that.”
+
+“What is the meaning of this silence? Continue right to the end, Colonel;
+speak freely.”
+
+“So I intend to do, General. Well, then, the secretary of the Prefect of
+Police had just undertaken to supply the version arranged by us to the
+numerous reporters waiting there, held in check by the line of troops,
+and to inform the Minister of the Interior, in case the police might have
+to be called in, when a great uproar arose from the direction of the
+village. A tumult of cries and shouts was heard. The lieutenant was
+preparing to go and see what was happening, when a man, breaking through
+the sentinels, ran up to us, bare-headed, with troubled countenance, and
+exclaiming, in tones of despair, ‘My master! O God! What has happened to
+the house? Not one stone left on another!’ Thereupon he halted, sank down
+on the ruins, and began to weep bitterly. We looked at him in silence,
+moved by his grief, and foreseeing some speedy enlightenment on the dark
+situation we were in. ‘Who are you, my friend?’ asked the Government
+agent. The man raised his head, passed his hand over his eyes to brush
+away his tears, and, raising up to us a countenance at once intelligent
+and determined, said, ‘The General’s head servant, sir, for the last
+twenty years. Ah! If I had been there, this disaster might perhaps have
+been avoided! At any rate, I would have died with him!’”
+
+“It was Baudoin!” exclaimed the General. “The brave fellow had escaped!
+Ah! That is fortunate. We shall learn something from him!”
+
+“Yes, General, but not the enlightenment we expected. Rather the
+contrary.”
+
+“In what way the contrary?”
+
+“I will explain. The night before, about six o’clock, the General was in
+his garden, strolling about, after working all day in the laboratory,
+when a telegram reached him from Vanves. He read it, continued his walk
+for a few minutes, with bowed head, as though in profound meditation,
+then he called Baudoin. ‘You must set out for Paris,’ he said to him. ‘I
+have an important order to give to my chemist, who lives in the Place de
+la Sorbonne. Give him this letter, then go to M. Baradier and pay him my
+respects. Then dine, and, if you like to spend the evening at the
+theatre, you may do so; here is a five franc piece. Return to-morrow
+morning with the chemicals.’
+
+“Baudoin, who knew what it all meant, understood that the General wished
+him to leave the house for the whole night. He was anything but pleased
+at this, because, he said, it was not the first time that it had
+happened, and always under the same circumstances: the arrival of a
+telegram, and the dismissal immediately following.
+
+“Still, the General did not give a holiday to the cook, with whom he was
+less cautious, as she was in the habit of going bed very early, which
+fact rendered any surveillance she might have exercised almost null. So
+the General needed to be alone from time to time. And he took care to
+send away the faithful servant, on whom he might have relied for the most
+complete discretion. What reason had he? This was what troubled Baudoin,
+and displeased him. So little was he accustomed to conceal his thoughts
+from his master that the latter noticed his sulky mood, and said to him:
+‘What is the matter? Don’t you want me to send you to Paris? Are you to
+be pitied for the opportunity of going and enjoying yourself?’ ‘I don’t
+care about going to the theatre,’ Baudoin had said, ‘but I do about
+performing my duty.’ ‘Very well, you are doing your duty; you are obeying
+the order I have given you, to fetch for me some chemical products,
+dangerous to handle, but which I must have; besides, you are to call on
+my friend Baradier. Now go. I do not want you before to-morrow morning.’
+‘Very well, sir.’
+
+“But Baudoin was anything but pleased, a secret anxiety troubled him.
+Proceeding to the kitchen, he said to the cook, ‘Last time the General
+sent me to Paris, what happened during the night? Did the General dine as
+usual? Did he shut himself up in his study, or did he go into the garden?
+At what time did he retire for the night? Did nothing happen out of the
+ordinary?’
+
+“The woman said she knew nothing, she had noticed nothing unusual, and
+was very much astonished at his questions. He saw she was a thousand
+leagues from suspecting anything, so he did not press his questions.
+Still, although deeply respecting his master’s wishes, his interest in
+his welfare made him less strictly obedient, and he resolved to feign a
+departure, then take up a post outside, so that he might see what took
+place once the General was sure there was no inconvenient observer to be
+dreaded. The weather was exceedingly mild. Not a breath of air, and the
+gardens, filled with roses, shed forth exquisite odours as night
+approached.
+
+“Baudoin, after dressing himself, went to take leave of his master,
+received from him a list of the chemical products to be purchased, a few
+lines for his friend Baradier, and then took his departure. He went
+straight to the station, dined in a small restaurant close by, and, after
+nightfall, returned towards the house of his master. He dared not enter
+the garden, as he was afraid he would be noticed by the General, so he
+slipped into a cottage garden, the owner of which was his friend, and
+concealed himself in a small hut used for storing tools.
+
+“From this spot he could keep an eye on the approaches of the villa, and,
+along a thick hedge, come right up to the wall adjoining the General’s
+property. He sat down, lit his pipe, and waited. A few minutes before
+eight, the roll of a carriage was heard on the road. Baudoin, in ambush
+behind the hedge, was keeping a sharp look-out. By the light of the
+lantern he saw a brougham, drawn by two horses, pass by. Something told
+him that this carriage contained the persons the General was expecting.
+He ran along, right to the wall of the villa, and reached it the very
+moment the brougham came to a stop before the door. But he was not the
+only one on the look-out, for scarcely had the horses, still panting from
+the steep ascent, come to a halt, than the lofty form of the General
+showed itself through the darkness. At the same time, an impatient hand
+opened the door, and a man’s voice said, in foreign accents, ‘Ah!
+General, so you have come to meet us?’ M. de Trémont simply replied, ‘Is
+the Baroness there?’ ‘Certainly,’ replied the voice of a woman. ‘Could
+you imagine otherwise?’ The man was the first to descend. But the General
+gave him no time to help his companion to descend; he sprang forward with
+the eagerness of a lover, and, almost carrying off the lady in his arms,
+exclaimed, with extraordinary ardour, ‘Come, madame, you have nothing to
+fear—no one can see you.’ The man uttered a brutal laugh, and said, in
+guttural tones, ‘Do not trouble about me, I will follow you,’ and all
+three disappeared into the garden. Baudoin, astonished, had only time to
+place on the wall a ladder which happened to be there. As soon as he
+could look into his master’s garden, the alleys were empty, but the large
+window of the laboratory was shining through the darkness. The faithful
+fellow said to himself, ‘What is to be done? Enter the house? Play the
+spy on the General? Disobey his orders? For what reason? Has he not the
+right to receive any one he pleases? What am I thinking about? Is it
+likely that the people he receives are objects of suspicion? Their
+carriage is waiting at the door, a sign that they will not remain long,
+but will return to Paris immediately. Here I am, troubling my head for
+nothing in all probability! All I can do now is to obey my master.’ He
+descended the ladder, proceeded along the hedge, left the garden, and
+reached the railway. His master’s orders were now literally followed,
+except that the drug store was closed when he arrived there, and he was
+obliged to return the following morning. When he reached Vanves, he found
+the approaches to the General’s property occupied by a guard, the villa
+in ruins, and his master vanished from the scene of the catastrophe.”
+
+Colonel Vallenot had finished. Profound silence, interrupted only by the
+twittering of the birds in the neighbouring trees, reigned in the
+Minister’s study. The old soldier, leaning forward on his desk, his head
+resting on his hand, was buried in reflection. After a short pause, he
+said, with a sigh—
+
+“How surprising all this is! Doubtless here is the key of the whole
+matter. These two unknown characters, one with a foreign accent, coming
+mysteriously by night to see Trémont, and their visit followed by such a
+frightful cataclysm; what does it all mean? Is it an accident or a crime?
+And, if a crime, what motive inspired it?”
+
+Rising, he crossed to the window, with anxious mien, then returned
+mechanically to his desk, resumed his seat, and, again fixing his eyes on
+the Colonel, said—
+
+“Well! Vallenot, what happened after this honest fellow had finished his
+tale? What measures were taken?”
+
+“A squad of soldiers from the fort had been sent for, and the ruins were
+carefully searched, under the supervision of the police. Nothing,
+however, was found. The destruction was too complete. With the exception
+of the side of the wall still standing, not a single piece of anything
+was left whole. Still, after a couple of hours’ examination of the
+_débris_, from which arose a very strong odour of fulminate of mercury,
+the diggers brought to light an iron chest, with broken hinges, the
+bottom of which was curiously pierced with thousands of holes as though
+with an auger.”
+
+“That is one result of the explosion,” interrupted the Minister. “You are
+aware that we have in our shrapnels similar cases of rupture. It is quite
+possible the initial explosion took place in this chest. Has it been
+kept?”
+
+“It was handed over to the Government agent.”
+
+“We may need it again when we undertake an analysis of the substances
+which occasioned the deflagration. Finish your explanations. What became
+of the carriage stationed in front of the door?”
+
+“The carriage must have left before the accident. There was not a trace
+of it on the road near the villa. The customs officers, on being
+interrogated, declared that a brougham, driven by two horses, returned to
+Paris about eleven o’clock. To the question, ‘Have you anything to
+declare?’ a female voice had replied, ‘Nothing.’ As for the explosion,
+the guard at the fort reports that it took place about three o’clock in
+the morning.”
+
+“Then the man with the foreign accent had remained, after the departure
+of the carriage?”
+
+“Most probably.”
+
+“You are not certain?”
+
+“I did not wait for the end of the investigations; I came away to inform
+you of what I had learnt, leaving behind me our agent, with orders to
+return here at once, after the final statement had been made.”
+
+“Perhaps he is here now?”
+
+Colonel Vallenot pressed the electric knob, and the usher appeared.
+
+“Has Laforêt returned?”
+
+“Yes, Colonel, a minute ago.”
+
+“Send him here.”
+
+Closing the door with considerable precaution, the agent, with firm step,
+a sonorous cough, and head raised in military fashion, as he stood at
+attention, appeared before his principals.
+
+The Minister examined for a moment the man’s frank, martial face; then he
+asked briefly—
+
+“Colonel Vallenot has reported all that had taken place up to the time of
+his departure from Vanves. Complete his version by telling us what you
+have learnt since. Take a seat, Vallenot.”
+
+“Monsieur le Ministre,” said the agent, “I will come at once to the most
+important point: the body of General de Trémont has been found.”
+
+“In the ruins?”
+
+“In the garden. At first no one thought of searching beyond the house and
+the _débris_. It was whilst exploring the bushes that the body of the
+General was discovered, close to the entrance gate.”
+
+“What! Had the explosion projected him so far?”
+
+The agent replied—
+
+“The body had not been projected by the explosion. It had remained on the
+very spot where it had been struck by a knife under the left
+shoulder-blade. The General was dead when the explosion took place, and
+certainly the explosion was caused by the assassin.”
+
+“The man with the foreign accent? The companion of the lady the General
+called ‘Baroness’?”
+
+The agent kept his countenance before these bold questions. For a moment
+he appeared to be reflecting; then he said—
+
+“Yes, the one who has left his arm in the ruins of the villa, and who in
+forcing open the chest escaped death only by a miracle. The man named
+Hans, in short.”
+
+“But what makes you say that he escaped death?” asked the Minister.
+
+“Because I found tracks in the garden continued outside on the road he
+followed, leaving his blood behind at every step. The man must be endowed
+with indomitable energy to have had the strength to escape, mutilated as
+he was, to reach the fields, and there, doubtless, find some market cart
+or other to pick him up and carry him to Paris; but this is an additional
+inquiry to be made, and a track to be followed up.”
+
+“In your opinion, then, it is the man who came with the woman who killed
+the General?”
+
+“Yes, Monsieur le Ministre; most likely when the General was conducting
+them back to the carriage. The murder took place close to the gate. The
+sand is trodden down as though a struggle had taken place, and the body
+had been carried off behind the bushes. The traces of the trailing legs
+are quite visible. The woman probably helped. At any rate, once the
+murder accomplished, she must have left, whilst the man stayed behind. He
+robbed the General of his keys, which never left him, and which have not
+been found; in addition, he took his watch and portfolio, so that it
+might be believed that a murder, the motive of which was robbery, had
+been committed; then he entered the villa, and worked in the laboratory.
+It was with the laboratory that he had to do.”
+
+“How do you know this?”
+
+“From what Baudoin, his valet, said. It appears that, one day, whilst
+placing things in order, in the cabinet of the General, the latter
+entered on his way from the laboratory. He took a few paces in the room,
+rubbing his hands together; then he said almost to himself, ‘This time
+our fortune is made! What will Hans say?’ For a week the General had been
+working hard at an experiment, which had hitherto failed, and from which
+he expected great results. On different occasions, formerly, he had
+temporarily dismissed his valet, certainly with the object of receiving
+his mysterious guests at night.”
+
+“Good; we will admit what you say regarding the man,” said the Minister,
+captivated by the explanations of his agent. “But, in your opinion, what
+shall we think of the _rôle_ played by the woman?”
+
+“That is much more evident, Monsieur le Ministre; both indications and
+proofs abound. The General de Trémont has been the victim of a too tender
+disposition. I know nothing of the General’s secrets or researches,
+though the journals have on different occasions spoken of his
+investigations. He was a member of the Academy of Science, and his
+reputation as a savant was fully established. Suppose for a moment that
+M. de Trémont had made a discovery of interest to the future of European
+armies, and that some one Power wished to obtain information as to the
+value of his invention—obtain possession of it, perhaps. Do we not know
+that women have been, only too often, the best political agents employed
+in our country? In spite of his age, the General remained very
+susceptible. A young woman, beautiful and intelligent, is placed in his
+path. He meets her by chance, falls in love with her. But the fair one is
+guarded; she is obliged to take great precautions. A complaisant friend,
+relation, perhaps, under the cover of science, facilitates the interviews
+by accompanying the lady, so as to throw some imaginary rival off the
+track. Whilst the old lover is paying his court, the benevolent
+companion, observes, takes his measures, skilfully questions, and obtains
+the confidence of the one to whom he is rendering a service. Passion
+lulls all fear, and a sweet smile and caressing eyes drive one to acts of
+folly. Then, one fine night, the General de Trémont, who has, doubtless,
+finished his discovery, is visited by the unknown couple. The woman tries
+to obtain the secret. She does not succeed. Then the man, as a last
+extremity, decides to strike. The General falls under the dagger; his
+accomplice takes to flight. The assassin returns with the keys, searches
+the laboratory, and tries to open the chest containing the precious
+products. But the dreaded powder, unskilfully handled, avenges its maker,
+and, in a terrible explosion, annihilates at the same time both formula
+and the one trying to steal it. This is how it is possible, Monsieur le
+Ministre, to make a guess at the events now occupying our attention.
+But—I do not wish to deceive myself—this is only conjecture. There may be
+other versions, more certain, if not more likely. What is an absolute
+fact is that General de Trémont has been assassinated, that the murderer
+was one of the two persons received that night at the villa, and that the
+explosion following on the crime has been caused by the imprudence of the
+man we may name Hans, who has been grievously wounded.”
+
+The Minister and Colonel Vallenot looked at one another for a moment in
+silence. Then the Minister said to the agent—
+
+“I thank you for your report, but do not trouble any further in the
+matter, which is in the hands of the police. If we have any additional
+investigations to make, I will send for you. Now go, and do not say a
+word to any one on the matter.”
+
+Laforêt bowed, gave a military salute, and, with the same tranquil
+precision, left the room. The two principals sat there absorbed by what
+they had heard, going over once more all the details of this drama, which
+was becoming materially so clear, but remained morally so obscure. The
+precautions taken by the two accomplices appeared so perfect, that it was
+doubtful whether the truth could be learned concerning them. One hope
+remained—the wounded man, with his arm cut off, might be found, half-dead
+with exhaustion on the road. By questioning the inhabitants of the
+neighbourhood, the man might be discovered; doubtless the police were
+already on the track, and the most adroit detectives as well.
+
+“You know, Vallenot, Trémont was my senior. He retired before the age
+limit, the more easily to devote his time to scientific research; as he
+had serious money difficulties.”
+
+“And now,” said Colonel Vallenot, “we have reached the point I wished to
+come to, when I said, at the beginning of my report, that, after
+examining the material facts, we should deal with the moral
+considerations of this affair. The examination of facts is over. There
+has been the death of a man, probably an attempt at robbery, and finally,
+the complete destruction of an inhabited house. But under what conditions
+have all these criminal acts been accomplished?”
+
+“I understand what you mean. You see in this affair something other than
+a criminal attempt. You suspect a plot of a special order, something very
+delicate, fastidious, dangerous even.”
+
+“Yes, General, because in this case, we have not our hands quite free in
+the search of the causes, hindered as we are by diplomacy, by politics,
+and often even by such unexpected complicities that we are first obliged
+to beat about the bush, then to withdraw, and finally, give up all idea
+of proceeding with rigour. Shall I enumerate the affairs in which we have
+come to no certain issue for several years?”
+
+“It is unnecessary, I am sufficiently well informed on the situation, and
+have a tolerably good idea of what you possess in the archives. How long
+have you been in the Ministry, Vallenot?”
+
+“Ten years, occupying different positions, with intervals of service in
+the regiments. We have never ceased being exploited by other nations,
+with a skill, an audacity, and a perseverance, against which all our
+efforts have been in vain. The most important captures have always been
+effected by women. Accordingly, when the servant of General de Trémont
+spoke of this nocturnal lady-visitor, my suspicions were immediately
+aroused.”
+
+“Explain yourself.”
+
+“It is not the first time, General, that we have had to deal with this
+mysterious woman, who comes and passes away, leaving ruin and bloodshed
+in her train. Her manner of procedure is always the same: she fixes her
+mind on some one whom she knows to be in a position to give up to her
+some important secret or other, then she seduces him, until, in the end,
+he betrays it. Then, she casts him off, like useless _débris_. A creature
+to be dreaded, if I may judge by the results she has already obtained,
+and a powerful corruptress. No heart is proof against her alluring
+temptations. She artfully graduates the doses of her love-philtre; and
+the noblest minds, the most upright consciences, and the staunchest
+courage bend and capitulate at a sign from her. Do you remember the
+ill-fated Commandant Cominges, who blew out his brains, without anything
+being publicly known as to the reason? The woman had come along. Cominges
+had become her slave. A part of our mobilization had become known. Before
+killing himself, Cominges swore that the documents had been stolen from
+his dwelling, whilst he was absent with this woman. He had made the grave
+mistake of taking them from the office to work on them, and the still
+graver one of saying that they were in his possession. But the poor
+fellow had confidence in her. He was a man of honour, a gallant soldier.
+A pistol-shot settled the whole matter.”
+
+“What was the woman’s name?”
+
+“Madame Ferranti. She took most careful precautions in seeing Cominges,
+presumably on account of her family. One of our agents, however, was
+acquainted with her. Within six months he died by an accident. He was,
+one evening, travelling by rail from Auteuil. They found him dead under a
+tunnel. Doubtless he had leaned out too far from the carriage.”
+
+“The deuce!”
+
+“The following year the young Captain Fontenailles, a fine young fellow
+we were all fond of, was induced by a woman, whom his comrades called the
+‘Ténébreuse,’ because no one of them ever saw her, to disclose certain
+confidences. Understanding the gravity of his conduct, he went to his
+superior and confessed everything. The latter succeeded in repairing the
+damage done by changing the key to the secret writings. Captain
+Fontenailles left for Tonkin, where he fell, fighting bravely, at the
+attack of Bae-Ninh. His fault was atoned for.”
+
+“And the woman is always the same?”
+
+“According to all these gentlemen. The Ferranti of Cominges was the
+Ténébreuse of Fontenailles. Then there was the Madame Gibson of the
+Aerostat affair, without speaking of several other cases only partially
+revealed. Always the same Ténébreuse, with the same method of procedure,
+corruption. In her train, ruin, tears, and blood.”
+
+“How long has she been engaged in this work of intrigue?”
+
+“Ten years, certainly, General; and under all these impersonations we
+have not been able to lay our hands on her. She is only known by her
+professional names.”
+
+“What a deep-dyed scoundrel! We must try to cut short her career.”
+
+“Nothing more difficult. Once the _coup_ accomplished, she disappears, as
+does an eel, gliding about in the mud, in which it remains hidden until
+the water again becomes clear. She arranges in such a way as to cut off
+all communications behind her; that is her method. For instance, in this
+new affair, we shall have to struggle in the dark. Search will be made
+for some time, but no clue will be found. The accomplices, as well as the
+principal instigator of the crime, will now have got to earth. By degrees
+the search will calm down, and something else will be on the tapis. At
+any rate, it is in this way that the majority of these cases end,
+unless—”
+
+“Unless? Ah! You still hope something may happen?”
+
+“Unless this time the wounded accomplice affords us a trace. Let us
+merely hold one end of the conducting wire, and I promise you, General,
+we will arrive at some result or other, if only to avenge our poor
+comrades.”
+
+“And to prevent the repetition of similar accidents. For, after all,
+Vallenot, you will agree with me that it is rather too much for foreign
+Powers to become acquainted with our most secret affairs, as though they
+were matter of discussion on the public thoroughfares.”
+
+“We are as well acquainted with foreign affairs, General, as they are
+with ours,” said the Colonel with less sullen mien. “To sum up, there are
+always two at the game; it has ever been so. Ay, the very time, in 1812,
+when Russia was procuring information as to the efficiency of the
+Emperor’s troops, Caulaincourt sent to Napoleon the engraved copper
+plates of the map of Russia. I quote this fact of days gone by without
+alluding to contemporary events. But, taking everything into
+consideration, General, our secrets are scarcely secrets at all. If, in
+war, reliance were placed on nothing beyond mysterious preparations—”
+
+“Then we should have to start by abolishing the press,” muttered the
+Minister.
+
+“And that is impossible!” said Vallenot. “Still, in this special case
+before us, we must undertake the task of clearing the moral atmosphere,
+and employ every means possible, if we would succeed.”
+
+“That concerns the legal authorities now.”
+
+“Officially, General; but we also, on our side, may investigate, in a
+quiet way, and I have no doubt—”
+
+“The lesson to be learned is that our officers are becoming too gallant!”
+
+“If you know any means, General,” said Vallenot, with a laugh, “of
+suppressing that, please tell me.”
+
+“To think of this old General! Sixty years old, too! True, he did not
+appear more than fifty! In what position does he leave his daughter?”
+
+“General de Trémont was a widower?”
+
+“Yes, that is his excuse! But he has a daughter, still at school. She is
+eighteen years old, and without dowry. Luckily, Baradier is there.”
+
+“You mean Baradier and Graff, the bankers?”
+
+“Certainly. Baradier fought in the war of 1870; he is a true patriot, and
+his son, Marcel, a fine young fellow, just out of the Central School, has
+been working with General de Trémont. Marcel Baradier was principally
+occupied in investigating vegetable dyes, connected with the woollen
+weaving manufactures his father owns in the Aube. But the General opened
+his laboratory to him, and probably informed him of his own
+investigations. We may learn a great deal from this young man, I think.”
+
+“Is the Baradier family in good circumstances?”
+
+“Very wealthy; their fortune daily increases from industrial and from
+banking operations. It is Graff, Baradier’s step-brother, who deals more
+specially with finance, whilst Baradier manages the works. Both, however,
+are busily employed all day long, and the millions roll in,
+notwithstanding the rivalry of the firm of Lichtenbach, who is a mortal
+enemy of Baradier and Graff.”
+
+“Business rivalry?”
+
+“More than that. Personal hatred, dating from long back, and madly
+fomented. They say that Lichtenbach formerly wished to marry Mademoiselle
+Graff, and that he has never been able to swallow the insult Graff
+inflicted on him by refusing the proposal and bestowing his sister’s hand
+on his friend Baradier. Between these two families there is a whole
+series of differences and grievances, which makes them implacable
+enemies.”
+
+“Still, General, you see no relation between this hostility and the death
+of General de Trémont?”
+
+“Not at all. Lichtenbach is a fervent Catholic, in close touch with the
+Orleanist party, and, in my opinion, incapable of a dishonourable action.
+Besides, what could it matter to him whether Trémont lived or died?”
+
+“Might not the General’s investigations have a serious interest for the
+Lichtenbach firm?”
+
+“Doubtless! But we are well aware that Trémont has been specially
+occupied within the last few weeks with the manufacture of a war powder,
+the formidable effects of which we have seen in the Vanves explosion.
+True, the powder in question might become a source of great profit by its
+possible application to industry in modified proportions. In mines, for
+instance, or the blasting of quarries, it would certainly have replaced
+dynamite. There would have been a fortune in such an application of the
+powder, and this Trémont was well aware of. Now it is all vanished in
+smoke, and the General has taken his secret with him.”
+
+“Unless he had communicated it to the son of M. Baradier.”
+
+“Ah! that would indeed be strange!”
+
+Three o’clock struck; the Minister arose, and took up his hat, gloves,
+and stick.
+
+“You are going, General?”
+
+“Yes, I am going to speak to Baradier on the whole matter. Madame
+Baradier was particularly interested in Mademoiselle de Trémont. I intend
+to pay a visit of condolence, in person, to this young lady. Her father
+and myself were great friends, we made campaigns in Mexico and on the
+Loire together, whilst, on the retreat from Mans, Trémont saved all our
+lives, by an admirable battery arrangement in the rear of the army, which
+cut short the pursuit of the Prussians. A fine soldier! One who deserved
+to fall on the field of battle! But Fate decides such things. Everybody
+does not die the death he wishes! Well, I will see you to-morrow,
+Vallenot. And if you hear of anything fresh, ring me up on the
+telephone.”
+
+The Colonel accompanied his principal right to the large staircase,
+saluted, and returned to the office.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+IN an old hotel situated at the end of a large courtyard, in the Rue de
+Provènce, has been established, for more than fifty years, the banking
+firm of Baradier and Graff. Following on the war of 1870, it was usual in
+business to designate this establishment under the company name of
+Alsace-Lorraine. They are ardent patriots, and never since the annexation
+have they returned to Metz. Still, they have never been willing to sell
+any of their land property in the lost provinces. They have kept a foot
+on the soil torn from France, as though they had no doubt they would
+return to it some day, like masters after a long and sorrowful absence.
+Baradier is a man of fifty-five years of age, stout and short, with
+ruddy, pleasant face lit up by light blue eyes. Graff is tall and thin,
+dark-complexioned, and of stern forbidding mien and glabrous countenance,
+the complete opposite of his ally, both physically and morally. For
+Baradier, with his engaging exterior, is an influential and practical
+man; whilst Graff, with his cold and reserved aspect, possesses the fancy
+and sensitiveness of a poet.
+
+In other respects, admirably equipped, the imagination of the one
+moderated by the prudence of the other, and all rough points in the
+determination of the former being mitigated by the benevolent gentleness
+of the latter. In financial circles this fortunate want of similarity of
+disposition was well known. Never did a customer, after failing with
+Baradier, leave the house without calling at Graff’s office to appeal for
+his intervention, and obtaining a “just leave the matter to me, I will
+arrange it all” preliminary balm on the sore of displeasure, followed, in
+the majority of instances, by an arrangement profitable to both parties.
+For, in the long run, the two partners had reached such a point that they
+profited by the differences in their dispositions, and Baradier pretended
+to be altogether irreconcilable, well knowing that Graff would come in
+afterwards, and have the pleasure of arranging everything to suit all
+concerned.
+
+Baradier, hearty and happy-looking, had two children, a son aged
+twenty-six and a daughter of eighteen, both admirably brought up by their
+mother. Graff, solemn and sentimental, had remained a bachelor. As Marcel
+Baradier said jokingly, he would be the best uncle in France in point of
+inheritance. In fact, Madame Baradier’s brother loves the two children as
+though they were his own, and every time Marcel commits some grave act of
+folly he always appeals to Uncle Graff to settle things, as his father is
+rather strict with him. Father and son, unfortunately, have often been on
+anything but good terms, for Marcel, reared in the lap of luxury, and
+early discovering the mercantile value of his name, has not always given
+his family all the satisfaction that might have been desired. “Nothing
+important,” said Uncle Graff; “merely money difficulties!”
+
+It was so that the taciturn and modest banker, who would not have spent a
+farthing outside of his daily expenses on anything else than charity,
+called the debts which young Marcel periodically gave him the opportunity
+of paying. When his nephew comes for him at night, after dinner, before
+leaving for the club, where he goes to indulge in a game of cards, Uncle
+Graff knows at once his errand. He assumes his most gloomy aspect, sinks
+into his armchair, casts a veiled glance at his rather embarrassed heir,
+and, in sepulchral tones, demands—
+
+“Well, what is it this time?”
+
+Then, as Marcel develops his usual request—terribly bad luck at the
+races, or at baccarat, or some love difficulty—Graff looks at his
+sister’s son, and, without listening to a word, says to himself, What a
+handsome fellow! How could one with such a figure help getting into a
+scrape? He is popular everywhere by reason of his graciousness and
+amiability. He is only twenty-six, and is it not quite natural that he
+should enjoy himself while he is young? Why do Baradier and Graff engage
+in banking operations all day long, anxious as to what is happening at
+the London and Berlin Exchanges, as well as keeping an eye on the Bourse
+of Paris, if not for this charming and agreeable young fellow to enjoy
+himself whilst they are working? Well! Marcel, take your pleasure, and
+take my share as well, for am I not your steward? Off to the races in a
+fine turn-out, drawn by prancing horses, and take your place in the most
+exclusive society; your means, those of the firm of Baradier, will permit
+of all this. All the same, do not squander too much in gambling; do not
+wager in too extravagant a fashion, for this is an evil passion, and very
+harmful to those who recklessly give themselves up to it. In all things
+else do as you wish, and then come back and give your old uncle the
+pleasure of asking a service of him.
+
+All these reflections, however, crowding into his mind, and giving him
+the most perfect satisfaction, Uncle Graff kept wisely to himself. Aloud,
+he said, in that Lorraine accent he had never succeeded in abandoning—
+
+“How stupid you are, Marcel, to be swindled by a crowd of adventurers! A
+member of the firm of Baradier and Graff ought not to behave in this way.
+If your father knew he would be furious. What reply can I give him when
+he accuses me of encouraging your bad conduct? He is quite right, and I
+am wrong to give you money when you make such bad use of it. I shall
+finish by cutting off your allowance. Do you know how much you have
+received from me since the beginning of the year?”
+
+And as the old bachelor pretended to turn the leaves of his cash-book,
+Marcel, terrified, exclaimed—
+
+“Oh, Uncle Graff, it shall be the last time!”
+
+“It is always the last time!” replied the old uncle. “Well, tell me all
+about it.”
+
+And Marcel would enflame the old bachelor’s tender soul with his
+enthusiasm, and end by obtaining all he wanted.
+
+Still, Uncle Graff had some excuse. Marcel did not neglect his work.
+Admirably endowed by nature, the young man, as though they were a mere
+pastime, had advanced considerably in his studies. He had opposed the
+General de Trémont, who wished him to enter the Polytechnic School, and
+afterwards the Artillery. He had preferred the Central and the General’s
+chemical laboratory. Under the supervision of his father’s friend, he had
+made interesting researches into mineral colouring matters, and given
+Baradier the pleasure of saying: “We employ in our works dyeing
+processes, invented by my son, and which are absolutely unique.”
+
+It was one of Uncle Graff’s grand arguments when defending Marcel—
+
+“You know very well that your son is a remarkable man, and that our
+manufactures owe much to him!” Whereupon Baradier would reply, furiously—
+
+“Ah! If only he would be serious! He has every quality necessary, but he
+will not make use of his gifts. Our fine young fellow will work a month a
+year, and spend the other eleven in reckless folly!”
+
+For all that, for some time past, Marcel seemed to have sobered down, or,
+rather, his mind was occupied in investigations of more than usual
+interest. He no longer appeared at the club, scarcely ever went out at
+nights, and, but for the fact that he still went to the races on Sundays,
+one might have imagined he had entirely changed his life. Both Baradier
+and Graff were equally surprised at this transformation; the father was
+pleased, the uncle uneasy at it. They had spoken on the matter to the
+General, who had said to them—
+
+“He is an extraordinary young man; you will continually have surprises
+with him, but do not be anxious, he will turn out a fine man in the end.
+He has great gifts. Just now he is trying to discover some process of
+colour photography. Surprising results have already been obtained. Let
+him alone, do not hinder him, and you will see!”
+
+Graff’s triumph was a brilliant, Baradier’s a quiet one. Marcel had not
+even noticed the effect caused on his family. He had almost completely
+quitted Paris. For three weeks he had been living at Troyes, at the Ars
+manufactory, shut up in his laboratory, only returning to embrace his
+mother, and give the General an account of the progress of his work. The
+old chemist and the young inventor then spent delightful days in
+verifying prescriptions and practising experiments. The one communicated
+his calculations in the dosings of powders, the other explained his
+superpositions of plates to obtain the perfect stereotypes he sought.
+Then they would lunch together, and the General, as warmhearted as the
+young man, would relate his former escapades, and envy the youth, whilst
+admiring the strength and intelligence of this fine young fellow before
+him, who combined so perfectly the capacity for study and pleasure at the
+same time.
+
+In spite of the storms caused by Marcel’s caprices, life for Baradier and
+Graff would have flown along pleasantly enough had not destiny brought
+them in touch with Lichtenbach. Moses, the chief of the firm, son of a
+Jew marine-store dealer of Passy-sur-Moselle, had in past times been at
+school with Graff at Metz. Old Graff, who was a brewer, had dealings with
+Lichtenbach, “the rabbit-skin dealer,” as he called him jokingly, and
+sold him all his broken glasses and used-up barrels. He imagined him to
+be poor, and liked to give him the chance of earning a little money.
+Moses Lichtenbach might have been seen in the streets of Metz driving an
+old grey horse, harnessed to a waggon, in which the marine-store dealer
+piled up all kinds of goods and rubbish. He was a kind of wholesale
+rag-picker, who helped house-wives to get rid of utensils which were no
+longer of any use, and were becoming an encumbrance. He bought them
+cheap, but not for nothing. Sometimes, almost ashamed of loading him with
+corroded stove-pipes, broken shovels, worn-out carpets, and even old
+straw, or shavings, they would say to him, “Take it, Moses, for the
+trouble of carting it away.” He would reply, “No! no! Everything has some
+value or other; I pay little, but I pay.”
+
+It was a point of honour with him to pay. Several people shrugged their
+shoulders, with a smile, as they said to themselves, “The old madman that
+he is! What use will he make of all that rubbish?” They were in the
+wrong. Everything had a value, as Moses affirmed, and this was proved
+when, after the war, the old man left Metz, and settled in Paris, in the
+rue de la Chaussee d’Antin, in a small shop, above the door of which he
+had painted the sign: “Lichtenbach, money-changer.” It was in this modest
+counter that the Passy dealer, leaving Lorraine, which had become part of
+the Empire, had commenced his new business, ceasing to buy and sell old
+iron in order to buy and sell money. But one grave event had happened,
+which had in no slight degree contributed to the exodus of the
+Lichtenbach family from Passy to Paris, and to the change of business.
+
+The first cannon-shots of the war, fired at Forbach, had been, for the
+majority of the inhabitants of Metz and its environs, the signal for
+departure. The farmers and peasants strictly bound down to the land were
+the only ones to remain in the villages. All who were free of action had
+loaded the waggons with their trunks, and reached the towns, to shelter
+themselves from the enemy, whose approach was announced by defeats and
+disasters. The highways in the direction of Thionville, Metz, and Verdun
+were covered with carts and flocks. The majority of the fugitives made
+their way towards the interior, making forced marches, to escape the
+invasion, which, according to them, must, of necessity, halt, crushed
+before the strongholds of the East. Contrary to the general impulse,
+Moses, decided on leaving Passy, had not bent his steps towards the
+centre of France. Instead of moving away from the invader he had marched
+towards him, and leaving behind in the shop everything cumbersome and
+worthless, had reached Metz with six baggage waggons, carefully covered,
+and had settled in a small street near the cathedral, with his wife and
+son, Elias.
+
+Moses had been well received. Through seeing him, along with his waggon
+and old horse, all over the town, everybody knew him. Some, more cunning
+than others, said, “Old Moses is a sly fellow. If Metz is besieged he
+will buy the broken fragments of German shells as old iron, and continue
+his business.” But they were wrong. Old iron was not now the end of
+Lichtenbach’s ambition. He had guessed that a stout siege and an
+energetic defence would take place, that victuals would soon become
+scarce for the town population, and that whoever had the disposal, at a
+given time, of special food products, might, by selling them at a high
+price, make a considerable profit.
+
+Accordingly he had entered the town with his six waggons, whilst in his
+cellar were carefully stored quantities of brandy, coffee, sugar, ham,
+and a dozen barrels of salt. He had spent a portion of the ready money he
+possessed in procuring these stores, and had awaited results. Meanwhile,
+all the Lorraine youth left. The male population which had not become
+enrolled in the army, as being under age, undertook to resist the
+invaders. The old martial blood boiled in French hearts, and the young
+Graff, returned from the town hall, a cockade in his hat, when he met on
+the square Elias Lichtenbach, walking about smoking a pipe.
+
+Scores of times, extending over long years, whilst old Moses was
+stationed at Graff’s door loading old iron, or buying the skins of goats
+or hares killed by the brewer the previous Sunday, had the two boys
+played together. Antoine carried off young Elias into the garden, and,
+between them, to the great wrath of Madame Graff, they would climb the
+wall and steal the fruit, still unripe. They often played at marbles, but
+in spite of Elias’s utmost efforts, he could never succeed in
+transferring his glass ones for Antoine’s agate ones. He was the only boy
+in the town he had not succeeded in exploiting. One day even Antoine
+proved himself the more cunning, and succeeded in getting Elias to take
+an old broken sword in exchange for six enormous marbles quite new. Moses
+was obliged to confess, with a feeling of humiliation, that the young
+Graff had proved himself more shrewd than the young Lichtenbach.
+
+It must be stated that, on that occasion, Catherine Graff was present,
+and, with the object of dazzling his friend’s sister, Elias had shown
+unwonted generosity. This young girl had even then the power of troubling
+the young boy.
+
+As he saw his former companion pass by, proud of his patriotic
+determination, Elias had taken the pipe from his mouth, and said—
+
+“Where are you going, Antoine?”
+
+“To join the 27th line regiment at Chalons.”
+
+“What! Have you enlisted?”
+
+“Yes, like every one else of my age. Are not you going to do the same?”
+
+“I don’t know; my father has said nothing to me about it.”
+
+“Are you to wait for your father’s orders before doing your duty?”
+
+Elias scratched his head, whilst his whole face expressed uncertainty and
+embarrassment.
+
+“But he needs me for the business.”
+
+“France also needs you, and more urgently than your father.”
+
+“I am only nineteen years old.”
+
+“And I, not yet twenty.”
+
+“Yes, you are right, I will go and speak to my father about it.”
+
+“If I do not see you again, good-bye.”
+
+“Good-bye, and good luck.”
+
+Elias, in greater trouble than he had ever been before, made his way to
+his father’s shop, and found old Moses in the cellar in the act of
+bottling brandy. The son was warmly received by his father, and
+Lichtenbach, filling a goblet, held it out to his son and heir.
+
+“Taste this cognac, it is very palatable! In a short time it will fetch
+twenty francs a litre; there will be only ourselves who will drink it for
+nothing, my son!”
+
+“You will drink of it, perhaps, father,” said Elias, troubled. “But I—”
+
+“What! You? What is the meaning of this?”
+
+“Shall I be by your side when the cost of this good liquor has mounted to
+that price?”
+
+“Well! Where will you be?”
+
+“Where all the youths of the village are—in the army.”
+
+“You in the army, Elias; what will you do there?”
+
+“Fight, like the others.”
+
+Old Moses, by the light of the candle, which lit the cellar, looked at
+his son in utter bewilderment. He could not believe his own ears. Still
+he said—
+
+“Fight? Why fight?”
+
+“To defend the country.”
+
+“What country?”
+
+“France, where I have lived and been brought up, whose language I speak,
+and where all our clients and friends are.”
+
+Old Lichtenbach shook his head, and remained a moment without speaking.
+Then, in trenchant tones, he said—
+
+“My son, we do business in this country, but we have not been born here.
+I was in Switzerland, with your mother, in Geneva, when you came into the
+world. My birthplace is Hanover, your mother’s Baden. Your name appears
+on no official register, and you are free to do what you like. We are
+German by birth, French by habit and everyday relations; we belong no
+more to one side than to the other. The best thing we can do is to keep
+out of the quarrel. What could we gain by fighting? Blows for you, pain
+and suffering for both of us. And how would it benefit any one, if Elias
+Lichtenbach were killed in battle, and old Moses were left to finish his
+life all alone? Does any one even know why all these people are fighting?
+Do they even know themselves? They have quarrelled, like tipplers on
+leaving the grog-shop after having absorbed more than is good for them.
+And now they fly at one another’s throats. What have the Germans done to
+you to make you want to fight them? What advantage will you gain from
+having defended the French?”
+
+“But all the young men are off, father. Antoine Graff, whom I have just
+met, has received his papers.”
+
+“He is a fool!”
+
+“But the son of Rabbi Zacharias is also going.”
+
+“Great good may he get from it!”
+
+“To-morrow there will only be left in the town the aged and infirm. I
+shall be the only one remaining, and everybody will laugh me to scorn.”
+
+Old Moses sighed as he said, “Yes, you have your full share of
+self-respect; you have been brought up in the schools of France, in which
+a great deal is related on the subject of honour. Listen, Elias, and
+remember all your life long, all this teaching is sheer nonsense. Honour
+consists in paying what one owes, and in meeting one’s bills when they
+fall due. Outside of that, believe me, everything is false. Patriotic
+legends have been invented to lead men to butchery and slaughter to the
+strains of the ‘Marseillaise.’ They consist merely of sounding words,
+with which mankind is deceived in the interests of rulers and states. One
+ought not to let one’s self be the dupe of such tricks and artifices.
+When it is all over, none of the sly rascals who have persuaded the rest
+to fight, and carefully kept out of the way themselves, will give you
+even a single word of pity for your misfortunes. I have seen the world,
+and I know life. Beware of enthusiasm, it is the most false and dangerous
+thing on earth.”
+
+There was a moment’s silence in the dark cellar, where the countenances
+of the two men showed red in the flickering flames of the candle. The
+dripping of the brandy, as it fell into the tub beneath the barrel tap,
+was the only sound audible. The dark, cold air which enveloped Elias
+began to calm the ardour, with which he was burning a few minutes before.
+The old man continued after a moment’s silence—
+
+“Besides, I well understand that you do not care to remain alone here
+when all your acquaintances are leaving the town. You shall leave, too.
+But there are other things for you to do than risk your skin, or try to
+endanger the lives of others. Great profits may now be made in food
+supplies. In a short time the whole of Alsace and Lorraine will be
+invaded. The armies will have to live—the French armies, I mean, for the
+Germans, who are the conquerors, will lack nothing. We must make it our
+duty to collect provisions on the side of Chalons, towards Paris. You are
+not yet of age, you owe nothing to any one; besides, the services you may
+render are a thousand times more important than those of these
+simpletons, who are intending to shoulder muskets. I will prove my
+confidence in you by giving you the means to show what you are worth.
+Come here; bring me the light.”
+
+Moses went to one corner of the cellar. Removing a couple of barrels, he
+took up a spade, and, digging a hole in the ground, laid bare an
+iron-bound box. Raising it with considerable difficulty, he took from his
+pocket a bunch of keys, opened the lock, and showed his son the interior
+full of carefully arranged rolls. Tearing away the paper envelope of one
+of these rolls, he poured the contents into his son’s hands. They were
+twenty-franc gold pieces.
+
+“Here,” said Moses, “are forty thousand francs in gold. You are strong
+enough to carry off the box. Early to-morrow morning you will take the
+train for Troyes. Deposit this money with Baradier, the banker, but do
+not accept either bank-notes or drafts. Before long gold will be at a
+premium, and you will benefit by the exchange. With the capital I now
+place at your disposal buy sheep and cattle, and offer to supply the
+management with beef and mutton. Owing to the disorder in which the
+invasion will throw agriculture, cattle will be sold at a loss of
+seventy-five per cent. In the embarrassment in which the army will find
+itself for victuals, the contractors will sell again at a profit of cent.
+per cent. Do you understand the affair? Then act according to these data.
+If you do, by contributing to feed the troops you will be of far more
+service than marching in red trousers, under the orders of a stupid
+corporal. You, too, will be defending your country. And do not forget to
+betake yourself to the drug-store to-night to proclaim it aloud.”
+
+“But suppose some one asks me in what corps I am to serve, what reply
+shall I give?”
+
+“You will say, ‘I am going to Rhetel. It will be settled there.’”
+
+“Very well, father.”
+
+“Take hold of one of the handles of the box, and help me to mount it to
+the shop.”
+
+“Leave it to me, father.”
+
+Whereupon, seizing in both his arms the heavy box, filled with gold, he
+raised it on his stout shoulder, and, preceded by Moses, who held aloft
+his candle to light the staircase, he bore away without flinching all his
+father’s fortune.
+
+The double combination conceived by Lichtenbach succeeded, as all simple
+ideas do. Within Metz, besieged and filled with troops, stored provisions
+were not long in coming to a premium. The salt Moses thought of selling
+at a moderate price gave him a great surprise. It proved more valuable
+than sugar. The want of salt caused keen suffering to the soldiers, who
+had become disgusted with horseflesh. The brandy, largely adulterated,
+also sold well. Still the old man’s profits did not recompense him for
+lack of news of his heir. Elias’s last letter, delivered on the evening
+of the Battle of Borny, announced the young man’s arrival in Paris. He
+had left thirty thousand francs in gold with the firm of Baradier, at
+Troyes, and was preparing to make for Orleans, as he did not consider
+himself in safety in Paris, which would infallibly soon be blockaded.
+
+He had introduced five thousand sheep into the town. But he did not
+consider it necessary to continue business with the Government, which was
+too economical and avaricious. After the 14th of August not a word did
+the old man receive. During those long, sleepless nights, whilst
+listening to the cannon of Saint Julien or of Plappeville thundering away
+at long intervals, the old man reflected bitterly that his son was very
+young and inexperienced, that he might be robbed, and that the sum he had
+entrusted to him represented twenty years’ wanderings along the roads of
+Lorraine, buying up all the old iron in the province. Still, he had the
+consolation of thinking that Elias was not taking part in the terrible
+and bloody battles, doleful and desperate tidings of which came across
+the outposts right to the besieged town. He saw his neighbours and
+clients pass along with bowed heads, wondering uneasily, and asking one
+another—
+
+“What news? Have you heard anything of your son? Where is he? If only all
+our boys are not dead!”
+
+He at least could reply, “I do not know,” with comparative assurance. But
+the others? Old Graff especially was an object of pity. He seemed as
+though he would go mad. One evening he had gone out bareheaded into the
+streets, when the weather was icy cold, saying to all he met, “If Antoine
+does not come back, I shall have been his murderer. Why did I send him to
+the war; he was not even of age? He ought to be here by my side. All this
+time they have been fighting around Paris. A presentiment comes to me
+that my son is dead!” and he wept bitterly. They were obliged to take him
+back home by force, whilst little Catherine hid herself behind her
+mother’s skirts. Moses congratulated himself for the prudent resolution
+he had imposed on Elias, though he did his best to lament with the rest
+on the dangers run by this brave and valiant band of youth gone out in
+defence of their country.
+
+One evening, on returning homey the inhabitants of the district around
+the cathedral found ambulance carriages in the streets and assistants
+carrying wounded men into private houses. No more beds were to be had at
+the hospitals. All the untenanted houses had been requisitioned, and now
+the military authorities appealed to the patriotism of the inhabitants of
+Metz for lodging the victims of the last sortie. A captain of light
+infantry belonging to the Guards had just been carried to the house of
+Moses, and Graff had taken in a captain of artillery, named M. de
+Trémont. As he was bringing back his battery from the hills of Servigny,
+the young officer had received a ball in the thigh.
+
+Anxiety for the health of his patient, the remedies he needed, and other
+little attentions, caused a happy diversion to the ever-present anxiety
+of Antoine’s father. As he saw this handsome young officer, who had
+fought so heroically, and who under such solicitous care, was about to
+recover his health under his roof, Graff began to hope once more. He said
+to himself, “If my own son is wounded, why should not he also be so
+fortunate as Captain de Trémont? He has been brought a long distance,
+with his wounded thigh, but he will be quite well again in less than a
+couple of months. They do not all die who are wounded in war. I feel sure
+Antoine will come back now.” And his spirits returned with renewed hope.
+The captain, well cared for by Graff and his wife, was soon able to leave
+his bed, and after dinner, at night, he would relate to them his
+campaigns in Algeria and Mexico. He explained to his hosts the reasons
+why France was coming off the worst in this disastrous campaign,
+attributing all the advantages of the Germans to their remarkable
+organizing capacity, and the perfection of their artillery.
+
+“You see, the whole future of war consists in war material. We have to
+give way before breech-loading cannons, which have, from the very first,
+given proof of a marked superiority over our grooved arms. The moral
+effect on our troops has been decisive. The first thing to be done after
+the war, will be to investigate a new kind of cannon and explosives of a
+terribly destructive power. The question of explosives will be of capital
+importance. This ought to be the main end of our efforts in the
+artillery.”
+
+With remarkable clearness he explained all that modern chemistry offered
+in cunning combinations, such as would guarantee victory to that
+adversary which could most scientifically assure massacre and death. So,
+in the evening silence in that large town, besieged by the conquering
+enemy, the conquered were already engaged in thinking of preparations for
+revenge.
+
+The siege came to an end, and all the brave soldiers who would have
+defended Metz to the death were surrendered alive to the enemy. The
+flags, a prey to famine, were carried off to form trophies of victory in
+Germany. Paris fell in her turn, then the final armies of France, driven
+back across the snow, stained with blood, not so tired of death as
+exhausted with the fight, stopped at the country’s call. And on that
+immense battlefield, two hundred leagues square, the victors’ shout of
+triumph mingled with the despairing cry of the vanquished. By degrees
+news arrived, bringing sorrow to some and joy to others. Among the brave
+young fellows who had gone forth to fight, so ardent and proud, many
+never returned, whilst the numbers of prisoners and wounded will never be
+known.
+
+One morning, Graff, in the dining-room, was taking breakfast with his
+family and Captain de Trémont, who was still a convalescent in Metz, when
+the outside door was opened, a rapid step was heard on the staircase, and
+father, mother, and little Catherine, looked at one another with pale
+faces. Not a word was uttered as they listened tremblingly to this quick,
+seemingly joyful ascent. They had all been struck by the same thought; he
+who comes hastening to us in this way, without asking any questions, who
+enters as though he were master of the house, and mounts the well-known
+steps four at a time, must be Antoine! Before they had time to give
+expression to their thoughts the door opened, and a tall, bearded young
+man, so thin and terrible that they did not recognize him, but whose eyes
+were instantly flooded with tears, appeared before them.
+
+“Father! Catherine! Mother!”
+
+They all rose to their feet, mad with joy, for they could not mistake the
+voice, and the long-expected child for whom so many tears had been shed,
+was taken in their arms and covered with kisses, amid the cries and sobs,
+questions and exclamations, of parents and servants, whilst the Captain
+looked on with a smile at this family scene. Finally, Antoine escaped
+from their arms, and his first words were the following—
+
+“Good heavens! How hungry I am!”
+
+As he spoke he cast hungry looks on the coffee and cake with which the
+table was spread. In a trice he was seated there, and served and fed so
+well, that he was obliged to beg them to desist. Then explanations began,
+and long accounts of events, interspersed with questions as to the fate
+of such and such a one. He himself, after fighting at Sedan, had escaped
+by Mézières, reached the North, where, with Faidherbe, he had passed the
+whole campaign. He had not slept in a bed for three months. But he had
+fought at Pont-Noyelles, Bapaume, and Saint Quentin, and had been lucky
+enough to come out without a scratch, with the grade of sergeant-major;
+disgusted all the same, with the soldier’s profession for the rest of his
+life. His father said to him—
+
+“Well, it is all over now! You shall never begin again. Our unhappy
+country is crushed. It will take a score of years to bring things to
+their former condition. Ah, my poor Antoine, how ill I have slept the
+last six months! I may say, with truth, I have not had a single hour’s
+peace of mind since you left. But here you are back again once more, and
+all is forgotten.”
+
+Then the incidents of the campaign would begin again. Captain de Trémont
+questioned the young soldier on the details of the campaign in the North,
+and Antoine could not dwell too long on the valour of the calm and
+indefatigable Faidherbe, the bravery of his companions, and the services
+rendered by François Baradier, a volunteer like himself, the son of a
+banker of Troyes, who had saved his life, snatching him away from the
+hands of the Prussians of Manteufel on the evening of the battle of
+Bapaume, within a farm which the shells had set on fire, and where he was
+surrounded by a dozen of the enemy.
+
+“He will come and see you—he promised me so—and you will appreciate such
+a fine brave fellow as he is.”
+
+“Your rescuer? Certainly, he shall be welcome. But let me look at you, my
+poor child. Who would have recognized you? You look like a brigand! Had I
+met you in the street, I should have been afraid!”
+
+All day long the Graffs were visited by whole lines of relations and
+friends, who had called to congratulate them, to admire the returned
+soldier, and to listen to the hundredth account of the episode of the
+Battle of Bapaume, whilst tumblers of beer and glasses of kirsch-wasser
+were served, bringing to their height the overwrought feelings of Graff,
+who was usually sober enough, though, on this occasion, he had completely
+lost his bearings.
+
+The following morning fresh stirrings in the quarter. Elias Lichtenbach
+made his appearance in a cab. He looked well and hearty, and, after
+greeting his family, immediately entered into conference with the German
+authorities. The rumour soon spread that young Lichtenbach had been sent
+by the authorities of Bordeaux, and had become a person of importance
+during the war. In reality, his mission concerned the re-victualling of
+the army on the frontiers of the East. The delegate to the war, who
+appreciated the services rendered by Elias, his skill as an intermediary,
+and his facility in avoiding difficulties, had sent his agent to the
+enemy’s headquarters. He was now full of self-importance, and proudly
+looked down upon his compatriots, worn out by privation and hunger,
+though furious at defeat.
+
+After the first few hours of astonishment full fling was given to
+curiosity. Where had Elias come from, looking so strong and well? Of all
+who had left at the same time as himself, he was the only one who had
+returned looking better than when he left. All the rest were pale and
+savage-looking. Inquiries were set afoot. At the very first question the
+representatives of the authorities replied, with circumspection, that M.
+Lichtenbach had rendered eminent service to the country, and that the
+delegate for the war considered him with the most benevolent esteem. What
+kind of service? It was young Baradier who, on reaching Metz, on a visit
+to Antoine and his family, began to throw light on the obscure conduct of
+the boasting Elias.
+
+Sergeant Baradier, ruddy of complexion, full of life and vigour, was as
+firm in disposition as Antoine was gentle. His open frankness pleased
+everybody, and amongst all these good people he was immediately at his
+ease. Twenty-four hours had not passed before he was on very good terms
+with Captain de Trémont, and had grouped together all the volunteers of
+Metz to a banquet to celebrate their return. Elias had had the calm
+audacity to give in his name, like the rest, and had put in an appearance
+at the Hotel de l’Ours, to take part in the banquet. But his reception
+had been a cold one. All who were present, though in civil dress, as the
+German authorities had forbidden the uniform, knew in what regiments they
+had served, in what battles they had been wounded. Elias alone lost
+himself in vague explanations. He pretended to have been everywhere—with
+the armies at Chanzy and Bourbaki, at the camp of Conlie, and near
+Garibaldi. This gift of ubiquity astonished everybody. Sergeant Baradier
+undertook to give an explanation clearer than all those behind which
+Elias had sheltered himself.
+
+“Are you not the Lichtenbach who did business with the firm of Baradier
+at Troyes?” he asked old Moses’ son, point-blank. “Is it not you who
+bought sheep in the Ardennes, and drove them through Belgium into
+France?”
+
+“Yes, it is myself,” replied Elias, cautiously.
+
+“Well! No wonder you have been everywhere during the war, since you were
+buying meat from every available spot, on behalf of the management.”
+
+As Elias became agitated and turned pale, Baradier continued—
+
+“Oh, I am not reproaching you, I am simply stating a fact. These
+gentlemen just now did not appear to understand the part you played. I am
+explaining it to them. M. Lichtenbach is a patriot in a fashion. Instead
+of fighting he undertook to feed the fighters. If not a glorious
+employment, it is, at least a useful one.”
+
+“But I risked my life like the rest,” exclaimed Elias, red with anger.
+“Had the Germans caught me they would have shot me!”
+
+“It is most extraordinary that they allowed you to move in and out so
+freely through their lines, for they did not generally show themselves
+over confident. The good reception, too, they gave you must have appeared
+very strange.”
+
+“What do you mean!” exclaimed Elias.
+
+“Simply what I say; nothing more,” replied Baradier, coldly. “But if you
+wish me to explain, I merely remark that remaining out of the reach of
+sabre cuts and musket shots, whilst others are fighting, being warm and
+comfortable, and deprived of nothing, whilst your companions are dying of
+cold and hunger, seeing in the misfortunes of one’s country only an
+opportunity of making a fortune, is not what one would call the height of
+heroism.”
+
+“You insult me!”
+
+“I am ready to give you satisfaction.”
+
+“Good! you shall hear from me.”
+
+“Do not cry out so loud; I can easily be found. I am staying with M.
+Graff, and am the son of M. Baradier, your banker at Troyes. Now we will
+change the subject.”
+
+Immediately Elias found himself alone. Everybody turned their backs on
+him. Flinging on his adversary a look of hatred he left the room. As he
+closed the door he heard Graff exclaim—
+
+“Now that there are none but good patriots left let us drink to the
+health of France!”
+
+The following morning Baradier, accompanied by Captain de Trémont and his
+friend Graff, waited for Lichtenbach to put in an appearance. They waited
+in vain. The prudent Elias, having avoided wounds during the war, seemed
+quite determined not to run the risk of receiving any in times of peace.
+Still, as though by chance, M. Baradier at Troyes, received in his house
+a supplement of twenty Hessian hussars, to board and lodge, and old Graff
+was summoned thrice in a single week to reply to denunciations
+representing him as having spoken in insulting terms concerning the
+German army. Finally, Baradier received notice to leave Metz within
+twelve hours.
+
+It was quite possible that chance alone might have caused the increase of
+the burden laid on the banker of Troyes, and the expulsion of Baradier
+might have been the consequence of the banquet, at which more was said
+than the circumstances warranted. But old Graff was convinced that his
+neighbour Lichtenbach’s son was an agent of the enemy, and that the rogue
+had simply turned informer against him. All the same, Elias bowed to him
+in the street with the greatest deference, and he always showed himself
+very polite to Antoine.
+
+The quiet and taciturn heir to the firm of Graff avoided, as far as
+possible, his former companion. He did not openly break with him, his
+nature being opposed to violence of every kind. But very few words were
+spoken on either side, and he avoided transacting business with him. The
+firm Graff stored up large quantities of wool, which were sold to the
+manufacturers of Champagne and the Ardennes. The Baradiers, who had just
+bought a large factory at Ars, were great customers of theirs. Elias, who
+continued his father’s wholesale business, bought and sold everything in
+the nature of a business transaction, and had often made offers to the
+Graff for the wool of Germany. The latter had always declined his offers.
+Still, in spite of such evident ill-will, Elias was not discouraged, and,
+with that tenacity which is one of the virtues of his race, he
+periodically visited Graff and his son, in the hope of bringing off a
+bargain.
+
+Thus, after two years spent by Mademoiselle Graff in one of the best
+boarding schools in Nancy, Elias, one fine morning, found himself in
+front of her in the garden, whilst waiting for Antoine. He was stupefied
+and completely dazzled. The child had become a young lady, tall and
+graceful, with dark eyes, light hair, and brilliant complexion. He dared
+not speak to her, and could only bow as she passed. On returning home he
+mentioned the incident to his father, and, with a wealth of biblical
+comparison, he depicted the maiden, like Rebecca appearing to Jacob. He
+left his father in no doubt that he was passionately in love, and that
+if, as the shepherd had served Laban, he should have to serve Graff, he
+would submit to it for love of the fair Elise.
+
+Old Moses remarked that, being a Jew, and the Graffs being Christians,
+there was no chance of being accepted by them, without prejudice to the
+grievances they had manifested against him ever since the war. Elias
+replied that he could abjure his religion, and by his conversion give
+great prestige to the Catholic faith, that he had earned sufficient
+money, and that a young fellow of twenty-two years of age, who would
+place four hundred thousand francs on the table when the contract was
+signed was not a suitor to be thrown over so easily.
+
+Moses warned his son that he was entering upon a perilous negotiation. He
+did not dissuade him from changing his religion, if he found any
+advantage in such a course, but he warned him that, whether as Christian
+or Jew, he would not obtain the hand of Mademoiselle Graff, and that he
+would gain nothing but the shame of his apostacy. Elias, however, had a
+will of iron; he astonished the archbishop by his determination,
+conciliated him by his piety and generosity, and, with remarkable skill,
+brought over to his interests all the high Catholic powers. At a time
+when German pietism was struggling in the conquered provinces, with a
+clergy of purely Protestant tendencies, the conversion of Elias was a
+political event.
+
+Had Elias not been so well known he might have become popular. All the
+same, he met a thorough refusal at the hands of the Graff family, and, as
+though to intensify the insult offered to him, before six months the
+beautiful Elise married the former sergeant, Baradier. At the same time,
+a rumour spread abroad that the Graffs were leaving the town. Antoine
+followed his step-brother to Paris, and entered with him into the banking
+establishment of Baradier senior.
+
+It was too much for Elias. He lost his sleep, and one day, after meeting
+the Graffs, who were being escorted to the station by all their friends,
+he returned home, and was taken suddenly ill. Old Moses, terrified, put
+his son to bed, summoned the doctor, and learnt that the new convert was
+at the point of death. A furious delirium had taken possession of him;
+during its course he negotiated fabulous bargains with imaginary buyers
+and sellers. A semblance of reason returned only when he poured forth
+floods of insults and threats against the Baradiers and the Graffs,
+whilst his father calmed him by saying—
+
+“Yes, Elias, you shall have your revenge on these rascals! You shall ruin
+them! You shall crush them under your heel!”
+
+Then a happy smile came over the patient’s lips; he slept a few hours,
+and awoke feeling much better. One may affirm that it was the intensity
+of his hatred that kept him from dying. Plans of revenge haunted his
+fevered brain, and when the doctor, in astonishment, declared that the
+young man was convalescent, the first words Elias uttered were, “All the
+better! Had I died, the Baradiers and Graff’s would have been too glad!”
+
+To tell the truth, the latter paid not the slightest heed to the feelings
+of rancour they had so violently aroused. They had assumed the direction
+of the firm, had extended the business, and founded additional woollen
+factories. Marcel Baradier and his sister Amélie were born. Complete
+harmony seemed to exist in this happy family, when Elias Lichtenbach, his
+father having died, came to establish himself in Paris.
+
+A singular metamorphosis had been wrought in him. The first time Baradier
+and his rival met at the Bourse the banker did not recognize Lichtenbach.
+He saw before him a thin, stooping man, almost bald, with cold,
+passionless eyes, hidden behind gold spectacles. His very voice had
+changed. M. Lichtenbach spoke little, said only what was absolutely
+essential, and remained impassive before the most important news. A
+contraction of the jaws alone betrayed his emotion, giving to his
+countenance a character of singular ferocity.
+
+Lichtenbach’s connection with the firm of Baradier and Graff was full of
+meaning. He caused them to lose three hundred thousand francs in a single
+morning on a contract for wool, concluded at the Bourse of Troyes. Elias
+sold wool from Hungary at so low a rate that Baradier and Graff, who had
+speculated on a rise, were obliged to sell out rapidly to limit their
+risks. It was the first clear flash from the cloud. Henceforward an
+enemy, always on the watch, was ever ready to strike the Baradier firm in
+its most vulnerable part. Lichtenbach’s evil intentions, though
+concealed, were none the less certain.
+
+When attacked they ingeniously defended themselves, took needful
+precautions, and trusted nothing to hazard. Lichtenbach was very powerful
+and dangerous. Left a widower, with one daughter, whom he had sent to the
+Sacre-Coeur, there to be brought up according to the principles of the
+most rigid devotion, Elias was a type of the renegade who had become more
+Christian than the Pope himself.
+
+Still, if Lichtenbach was dreaded, he was received everywhere, and his
+influence in society was as secret as it was sure. He rendered priceless
+help to ruined families. Instead of aiming his financial batteries
+against the established Government, he divided his attempts, placed his
+hands on all the syndicates of Europe, and by means of the capital he
+collected caused diverse speculations not only to benefit himself, but
+all his friends in addition.
+
+The simplicity of his life was extreme. He lived in a gloomy mansion in
+the Rue Barbet-de-Jouy, attended by servants from Lorraine, who spoke
+German better than French. He never received visitors, whilst a game of
+whist seemed to form his only distraction. It was at his office, right in
+front of the Bourse, that he received his clients. Although only
+forty-five years of age, he seemed to have lost all interest in the fair
+sex, as though all women were an object of terror for him. The little
+Duchess de Bernay, who, thanks to speculations conducted by Elias, had
+been able to pay her debts, one day said to her friend, the Marchioness
+de Premeur—
+
+“I must find out what Lichtenbach really thinks. After all, the manner in
+which he treats us is almost humiliating.”
+
+For some evenings, in the presence of all her friends, she flirted with
+Elias, without succeeding in thawing him. Then suddenly she ceased paying
+attention to him. To her companions’ ironical questions she replied,
+evasively—
+
+“I have lost my time. It is no use.”
+
+But it was noticed that her style of living changed; that she spent large
+sums of money, and that, according as she ceased joking with the
+financier, she became more and more settled in money matters. Elias,
+distant and silent as ever, continued to speculate in the four corners of
+the globe, to advise the Prince, manage his journal, and prove to
+the-firm of Baradier and Graff, as well as to those in any way connected
+with him, that the enmity he was nourishing would be with him as long as
+he lived.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+ON reaching the Rue de Provènce, the Minister of War descended from his
+brougham with the eagerness of a young man, crossed the court-yard,
+entered the offices, and, in loud tones, asked the office boy—
+
+“Is M. Baradier in?”
+
+The office-boy instinctively stood at attention, and replied—“Yes,
+General; I will announce you at once.”
+
+The Minister, with nervous steps, strode to and fro in the ante-chamber,
+behind whose windows the Havas despatches gave the current rates of all
+the Exchanges of Europe. Suddenly a door opened, and a stout man with
+ruddy complexion entered the room with outstretched arms.
+
+“Ah, it is you, General! What trouble you have taken! Just step into this
+room.”
+
+The Minister entered, and as soon as the door was closed he exclaimed—
+
+“Ah, my poor friends! How sad it all is!”
+
+“We cannot get over the shock, Baradier and I,” said Graff, rolling
+forward an armchair. “Take a seat, General.”
+
+“Who has told you the news?”
+
+“Baudoin, who was sleeping here last night, and came in terrified this
+afternoon with the dismal tidings. What has happened down there? The
+whole circumstances are even more serious than the disaster itself. Graff
+and I have been questioning and discussing with one another, without
+succeeding in settling the frightful problem.”
+
+“If only Marcel were here!” moaned Uncle Graff. “He would enlighten us.
+He is so well acquainted with Trémont’s life and habits, his weaknesses.”
+
+“His weaknesses?” asked the Minister. “A woman? Is that what you mean?”
+
+“Yes, General.”
+
+“You are taking the paltry side of the matter,” said the old soldier,
+firmly. “It is no question of a mere _passade_. The affair before us is
+far more than a paltry intrigue. The woman—yes, indeed, she has had a
+_rôle_ to play. But she has only been the agent, perhaps unwittingly, of
+an attempt, carefully thought out and boldly executed.”
+
+“With what object?” asked Baradier. “Tell me everything, General. Let us
+communicate our suspicions to one another, in an attempt to throw light
+on the affair.”
+
+“Ah! It is evident that the object of the attack was the discoveries made
+by Trémont. In this abominable plot, which has ended in the murder of a
+man we loved, a remarkable _savant_, I see—but do not let this go beyond
+the three of us here present—the hand of the foreigner.”
+
+There was a moment’s silence. Baradier and Graff looked at one another,
+uneasily, and as though undecided. But the impetuous Baradier could not
+long keep to himself the idea working in his brain.
+
+“We, too, General, seem to recognize in the blow which has fallen on our
+friend some hateful intention against him and against ourselves at once.”
+
+“Baradier,” intervened Graff, “you are going too fast and too far! How
+can you risk such a charge, on suppositions alone?”
+
+“Ah! You still hesitate!” exclaimed Baradier. “You are still bound down
+by scruples! The deuce! I feel there is treason and infamy in all this!
+I—Let me continue! I would swear that Lichtenbach is at the bottom of it
+all!”
+
+“You have no right to speak in that way!” exclaimed Graff, rising to his
+feet and quivering with emotion. “How can you insinuate that a man
+against whom nothing can be said from either a professional or a moral
+point of view, is a party to a crime, simply because he is our enemy? It
+is abominable! We must give some place to justice!”
+
+Baradier, boiling over with excitement, rose in his turn, and began to
+walk to and fro, speaking in snatches.
+
+“For the last two hours, General, we have been disputing in this way,
+Graff and myself, and the only reply he can give me is that I am not
+just! As though that were a matter of concern when an imperious instinct
+cries out to you: ‘There is the culprit. He is not seen; he is well
+masked, cunningly concealed, and appears in nothing.’ Probably he will
+not be found out, but it is he all the same who has done the deed,
+because it was to his interest and hatred combined to do it! No! With his
+justice, humanity, and philanthropy, you can have no idea how stupid
+Graff is, at times!”
+
+In spite of the gravity of the situation, the three friends burst into a
+loud laugh, and Graff, bending forward his great body, exclaimed—
+
+“Thanks!”
+
+The Minister then intervened to give a little order to the debate.
+
+“Come, Baradier, explain yourself. As your brother-in-law says, vague
+presentiments are not sufficient to establish an accusation. Presumptions
+lead to investigations, and if guilt results from information obtained,
+then one may proceed. Besides, I will observe to you that the authorities
+have been notified, an examination has been commenced, and if you have
+proofs to furnish—”
+
+“Impossible!” interrupted Baradier. “To you I have been telling my inmost
+thoughts; to an examining magistrate I would not repeat what I have just
+said.”
+
+“Ah!” triumphed Graff; “what did I tell you?”
+
+“For me to quit my reserve, such discoveries ought to be brought to
+light, that the proofs—moral as they are—upon which I lean, should have
+material coincidences. But do not think I am retreating. I will make
+inquiries, and if I find—”
+
+“You will not find anything. If your suspicions are true, we have to deal
+with those who are stronger than ourselves.”
+
+“We shall see about that!”
+
+The General intervened again.
+
+“Is this Lichtenbach, of whom you speak, the great merchant-prince who is
+allied with the clerico-royalist party?”
+
+“Yes, the same man.”
+
+“And you imagine him capable of a crime?”
+
+“I believe he is capable of anything.”
+
+“Doubtless you know that he is very influential with the Ministry, and
+obtains whatever he wishes.”
+
+“He is very powerful everywhere; his arms stretch in all directions.”
+
+“But what interest would he have in trying to circumvent Trémont, in the
+first place, and, afterwards, in bringing about his disappearance?”
+
+“Well, General, what do you think of the investigations into explosives?
+Lichtenbach is at the head of the French syndicate of mining
+exploitations. In Russia, Austria, and Spain, he has considerable
+interests. Now, in the composition of a powder, easy to control in
+results, capable of being handled without harm, and of very moderate
+cost—and all these advantages were claimed by the Trémont powder, as was
+seen from the report read by the General, at the Academy of Science, six
+months ago—was there not something to tempt the covetousness of business
+men, ever on the look-out for progressive and remunerative processes?
+Trémont had received splendid offers, but had always refused even the
+initial overtures. Then he explained to Graff and myself his intention of
+promoting a company, the working of which should be exclusively French.
+It was a point of honour with him that his own country should profit from
+his discovery.”
+
+“The fine fellow! Just like him!”
+
+“He was well aware that he had found an opportunity of making a fortune,
+but he did not wish foreign money to have a hand in it. Besides, at the
+same time, he had almost completed his investigations into a new
+war-powder. He would not throw the commercial affair on the market until
+he had given his new explosive to the Government. He said to us: ‘Both
+powders at once. The one that will make me rich, and the one that will
+make us conquerors. In this way I shall be pardoned for the benefits I
+shall reap from the first, in favour of the prestige the second will give
+our Army.’”
+
+“Yes; secret experiments had already taken place with his war-powder.
+Never had my colleagues or myself seen such destructive effects. Nothing
+could have resisted an artillery firing projectiles charged with this
+powder! And the secret has vanished in smoke! It is a great misfortune
+for France!”
+
+A strange smile passed over Graff’s mouth, and, with a gesture of
+dissent, he said—
+
+“Ah! Who knows?”
+
+“What do you mean?”
+
+“Yes, it is not absolutely certain that the secret is lost! Perhaps some
+one possesses the General’s formulæ in duplicate.”
+
+“Who?” exclaimed the Minister.
+
+Graff rubbed his hands together and replied—
+
+“My nephew!”
+
+“Marcel? Has he said anything to you?”
+
+“Yes. A week ago.”
+
+At these words Baradier turned pale. Turning to his brother-in-law, with
+a look of anguish, he exclaimed—
+
+“Never let the slightest suspicion of this be known! Repeat to no one
+what you have just said! They have killed Trémont! Do you want them to
+kill my son?”
+
+“Ah! Baradier, have you no courage left?” asked the General. “You are
+afraid of your shadow now. Do you imagine that, if your hypothesis be
+true, and I am much inclined to share it, those who have dealt the blow
+will be disposed to recommence without delay? We have time to act, and we
+are warned. Why the deuce should we be afraid? Just now, the authors of
+the crime have carefully gone to earth, for they can have no doubt that
+the police are on the look-out for them. Do not be alarmed, and let us
+speak frankly.”
+
+“My dear General, if the possession of the secret of the powders has been
+fatal to Trémont, whom they thought simply of robbing, what is not to be
+feared for Marcel Baradier, if this terrible intrigue is conducted by the
+implacable enemy of all his family? They would have spared Trémont’s
+life, could they have obtained possession of his formulæ. Marcel can
+expect no pity, for it is Graff and myself—it is his own mother whom they
+will reach in striking him.”
+
+“We shall be there to defend him,” said Graff, in trembling tones. “I am
+not an evil-disposed person, but still I feel myself capable of the
+utmost ferocity in preventing any harm befalling my nephew!”
+
+“You understand,” said the General, “that if the police have no clue to
+your suspicions, I will take it upon myself to inform them.”
+
+“It would be wiser not to do anything of the sort,” interrupted Baradier.
+“If, as we imagine, it is Lichtenbach who has directed the frightful
+plot, you may be certain beforehand that it will not be brought to light.
+Both he and his accomplices are free from all responsibility. The woman
+who appears to have acted as a decoy will have disappeared. The man whose
+arm has been torn off will be carefully attended to in some dark spot,
+perhaps abroad, and the coachman who accompanied the accomplices to
+Vanves is a trusted member of the band. Nothing will be discovered, you
+may be sure. The examining magistrate may prepare at once to shelve the
+whole affair.”
+
+“I think as you do. But that is no reason for not making investigations.
+In the first place, if Lichtenbach is watched, perhaps some proof will be
+discovered. But all that concerns the police. We will change the subject.
+General de Trémont has left an only daughter, without support.”
+
+“I beg your pardon, General. We will console her and pay her all possible
+attention.”
+
+“Yes, my dear friend, I know the poor child may rely upon you. But she is
+without fortune. Trémont left very little property; his pension was
+almost all that he had.”
+
+“Reassure yourself. She shall never lack anything. This very morning my
+wife went to her to the Sacre-Coeur, and brought her here. She shall stay
+with my daughter and be treated as though she bore my own name.”
+
+“All the same, I will obtain for her a pension from the Ministry.”
+
+“Certainly, if you wish; but it will simply be to ease your conscience.
+She will have every want fulfilled. I take charge of her as though she
+were my child.”
+
+“Can I not speak to her? Is she in a fit state to receive me?”
+
+“She is in great grief, but very calm. Graff will tell her that you are
+here.”
+
+The uncle left the room. Baradier drew his chair nearer the General’s, as
+though afraid the walls would hear what he was about to say.
+
+“Between you and myself—for Graff is too sentimental—is this a matter
+that concerns other countries?”
+
+“How can we tell, so long as we have not laid our hands on the culprits?
+Even if they are found, how can we throw light on that question? We can
+never hope for absolute certainty in this respect, as foreign agents
+always keep themselves aloof from direct responsibility, and disclaim all
+connection with abroad, if they are caught. We shall never get beyond
+probabilities. Our artillery material and explosives are at present, and
+will long remain, a matter of anxiety to rival Powers. Our armaments are
+well known, though our projectiles are continually being perfected. It is
+certain that the artillery which made use of the Trémont powder would
+have had an overwhelming advantage. Hence the attempt against the
+inventor, evidently.”
+
+“So you attach a great value to the formulæ discovered by the General?”
+
+“A very great value. Its possession would render our country an immense
+service.”
+
+Baradier became serious. Bowing his head, he continued resolutely—
+
+“I am a good patriot, General. I fought for France to the very last hour
+of the war. All the Baradier family, Lorraines from Metz, went into
+voluntary exile so as not to live in the midst of our conquerors. If my
+country needed my life, I would not hesitate to give it up. I will do
+more, I will risk my son’s life. If Marcel knows Trémont’s secret, I give
+you my oath you shall have the powder.”
+
+A flash of joy shone in the old soldier’s eyes. Stretching out his hand
+to Baradier, he exclaimed, in trembling tones—“Thank you. You are a brave
+soldier.”
+
+At this moment the door opened, and the General gave a sonorous hum, and
+regained his composure. Madame Baradier and Mademoiselle de Trémont
+entered the room, followed by Graff. Still slender and graceful, Madame
+Baradier now showed a few silver threads among the beautiful blonde
+tresses of her youth. But her frank look and smiling lips revealed the
+young girl beloved of Elias Lichtenbach. Mademoiselle de Trémont, wearing
+a blue convent dress, slender and dark-complexioned, showed in her
+countenance, overwhelmed with grief, the charming grace of her sixteen
+years. Without the slightest awkwardness or hesitation, she walked
+straight to her father’s friend. At the first words the old soldier
+addressed her, however, her eyes filled with tears, which silently flowed
+unheeded down her cheeks. She listened with eager satisfaction to the
+consoling words of praise, consecrated to him who had just disappeared,
+and the silent nod she gave from time to time seemed an acquiescence of
+resignation and grief, in the bitterness of life now beginning for her.
+
+Alas! she had scarcely known her father. A widower very soon after the
+birth of his daughter, he had been obliged to entrust her to the care of
+pious and devout women. She had scarcely ever tasted of the delights of
+home. Geneviève often tried, in vain, to recall the sound of her mother’s
+voice. How sad it was! She had never felt on her heart the caressing
+warmth of an ever-present affection. Isolation, in the midst of
+strangers, kind and benevolent though they were, had been her lot, right
+to the day on which death had broken the slender bond which still
+attached her to her father. And now what a sorrowful end, in this
+catastrophe, at once stupefying and terrible, which left her an orphan,
+and filled her mind with thoughts of violence and massacre!
+
+She had not even the supreme consolation of thinking that the one she
+mourned had had a calm and peaceful death. As a soldier, he had not
+fallen on the field of battle; as a _savant_, he had not succumbed, a
+victim to his investigations. In a base and cowardly fashion, he had been
+assassinated by bandits. She heard the Minister telling her that she
+might rely on his protection. Stammering out her thanks, and blinded by
+tears, she left the room with Madame Baradier, almost heart-broken at
+being made to understand more vividly, from the expressions of condolence
+addressed to her, the extent of her loss.
+
+The Minister, on leaving the room in his turn, found General de Trémont’s
+servant awaiting him in the antechamber. He looked with interest at the
+latter’s intelligent and energetic countenance.
+
+“Well, my poor Baudoin, this is a great loss for us.”
+
+“It is a great crime, General.”
+
+“They had sent you away, my good fellow; but for that, all this would not
+have happened.”
+
+“Ah, General, it is always the fair sex who ruin everything!”
+
+“Come, come! Don’t say anything more on the subject.”
+
+“Pardon me, General. I do not mention it from lack of deference for my
+poor master, but if attempts are not made to find the scoundrel, the
+woman who controlled the whole affair, nothing will be discovered, and my
+master will remain unavenged.”
+
+“Do you know the woman?”
+
+“Ah! If I had known her, I, too, should have been dead!”
+
+Baradier, Graff, and the Minister looked at one another. What Baudoin had
+just said was so clear a confirmation of Baradier’s fears, concerning his
+son, that the threatening power of the mysterious woman instantly forced
+itself on the Minister’s thoughts. He was already so well acquainted
+personally, and through his predecessors, with these fortune-hunters,
+always in quest of a speculation or intrigue to work out, or a secret to
+be stolen, from the sellers of crosses of honour, to searchers of
+official desks. He could have named several of them. And the experience
+of the past: all these acts of imprudence and folly, were there to prove
+the truth of what the simple and devoted Baudoin now said. The Minister
+continued—
+
+“I heard her voice, General, last night, and I will warrant that if she
+uttered a word in my hearing, I should recognize it.”
+
+“Ah, a voice, my poor fellow, a voice heard for a single moment, uttering
+a few sentences only. How could one dare to accuse another on such feeble
+evidence? Do you know, there are voices so similar that one may be
+mistaken, even when one is familiar with their owners. If you have no
+other proof to give, my poor Baudoin, you had better say nothing at all.”
+
+“We shall see, General.”
+
+“Ah, you are obstinate!”
+
+“A little, General.”
+
+“Well, well! What can I do for you? You have been a good soldier, and a
+devoted servant. I imagine your master would have recommended me not to
+abandon you. Would you like to enter the office of the Ministry?”
+
+“Thank you, General. M. Baradier has offered to take me into his office,
+and I have accepted. But if you would be good enough to—”
+
+“Well, speak!”
+
+“Could you please tell me the name of the Ministerial agent who has been
+conducting the investigations? He seemed to me a very intelligent man,
+and I should like to speak to him.”
+
+“His name is Laforêt. But keep the name to yourself. I have sufficient
+confidence to mention it to you; still, it must not be generally known.”
+
+“You may rely on my discretion, General. I will say nothing.”
+
+“Well, good day!”
+
+The Minister shook hands with Baradier and Graff, and rode away in his
+brougham. When the two partners returned into the hall, Baudoin, to whom
+they wished to speak, had disappeared.
+
+As soon as he learnt the agent’s name, Baudoin had taken his hat, and,
+leaving the hotel by the servants’ exit, had made his way to the
+Ministry. On reaching the entrance he made inquiries. Being an old
+soldier, he knew how to speak to soldiers. The orderly he met in the hall
+pointed out to him the building he wished to enter, right at the end of
+the court, staircase C. There the porter had stopped him; no one could
+enter without authorization. He had none; he must accordingly ask for
+one.
+
+“I simply wanted to speak to M. Laforêt.”
+
+The porter looked at him with suspicion. Then he said—
+
+“M. Laforêt? You will not find him at the Ministry, call at his private
+residence.”
+
+“Where is that?”
+
+“You must inquire.”
+
+It was quite evident there was nothing to be gained here. Bowing, he
+thanked the porter and took his departure. In the Rue Saint-Dominique, at
+the corner of the Rue Martignac, he noticed a small café. He entered with
+the object of making inquiries, as the porter had recommended. Four
+customers, under the complaisant eye of the proprietor, were playing at
+cards. At the far end was a room, containing a billiard-table. The
+players could be seen, though indistinctly, each time they passed before
+the door. There appeared to be spectators present. Probably a pool was
+being contested.
+
+“A bock. Is there a billiard academy here?”
+
+“Ah, sir, we have some very fine players. Some of these gentlemen from
+the Ministry come every evening. M. Trousset, the head clerk, though an
+amateur, would be a match for the best players in Paris, and even from
+abroad!”
+
+“Indeed! And may one watch the game?”
+
+“If you wish, sir, I will carry the beer into the next room.”
+
+Baudoin had already entered the billiard-room, which contained two
+tables. Taking a seat, he looked on. One of the players was a stout,
+jovial fellow, who accompanied his cannons with stale jokes. The other, a
+tall, thin dark-complexioned man, was Laforêt himself. Baudoin gave
+himself a slap on the thigh, took out a cigarette, and exclaimed to the
+astonishment of his neighbour—
+
+“I am lucky this time!”
+
+As he was looked at inquisitively, he said no more, but lit a cigarette,
+and began to sip his beer. The stout player said to his opponent, with a
+wink—
+
+“The balls are in the corner; now for the final!”
+
+Whereupon he made a series of seventeen cannons, and missed the
+eighteenth. Laforêt, without being disconcerted, took up the cue, but
+only scored five points. His adversary exclaimed—
+
+“If I score fifteen now, I win the set.”
+
+He won without the slightest effort, turned down his shirt-sleeves, put
+on his coat, and, holding out his hand to his opponent, said:
+
+“No ill feeling?”
+
+“None at all. You have played very well, M. Moussin,” said Laforêt. “My
+revenge next time.”
+
+“Whenever you like.”
+
+Laforêt, with perfect indifference, approached Baudoin, exclaiming in
+loud tones—
+
+“Waiter, a bitter.”
+
+Then, turning towards the General’s servant, he asked—
+
+“Are you waiting for me?”
+
+“Yes; so you recognized me?”
+
+“That is my business. Anything fresh?”
+
+“No; all the same, I wish to speak to you.”
+
+“Good!”
+
+The few loiterers gradually filed out into the other room, which was
+lighter and more pleasant in appearance. A few players alone remained,
+and Baudoin and Laforêt found themselves isolated.
+
+“You may speak here, no one will pay any attention to us.”
+
+“Well! This morning, when I saw you, in the presence of all the others, I
+had an impression that you were a man to be relied upon, and that, in
+case it were necessary to appeal to any one concerning something
+difficult or dangerous, one would run no risk with you of being left in
+the lurch. Am I mistaken?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“If I think rightly, you do not work under the same conditions as the
+agents in the service of the Prefecture, who are entirely allied to the
+Administration. You are, I suppose, a kind of volunteer of the police, at
+liberty to give information as you please, consequently free as regards
+initiative.”
+
+Laforêt interrupted him.
+
+“If you wish to speak to me on the Vanves affair, I must stop you at
+once. My principal ordered me not to take any further steps in the matter
+for the moment. The Public Prosecutor is in possession of the
+information. Every one to his own department. We shall not take up the
+matter again, provisionally.”
+
+“But if I simply asked you to enlighten me on certain points?”
+
+“One can always give advice.”
+
+“Good! The police are about to make a search for the authors of the crime
+of which my master has been the victim. But I, also, should like to
+investigate.”
+
+“There is no one to prevent you.”
+
+“Ah! One must know how to go about it. One does not become a detective by
+instinct. Which end shall I begin with, to unravel the skein?”
+
+“Come! Had your master any family?”
+
+“A daughter.”
+
+“She had no interest in wishing to be rid of him?”
+
+“Not the slightest.”
+
+“Had he any visitors?”
+
+“Very few; he was so distrustful! The woman who called on him only came
+mysteriously by night, on which occasions he always sent me away.”
+
+“That is the same woman who came last night?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Do you know if M. de Trémont had any enemies?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Was there any one who had reasons for injuring him?”
+
+“In a certain sense, yes.”
+
+“Why do you suspect this?”
+
+“I judge from personal observation, confirmed by the conviction of one of
+my master’s friends.”
+
+“A man who can offer good guarantees?”
+
+“Perfect.”
+
+“Very good! Search must be made in that direction.”
+
+“If only you knew what difficulties I am likely to meet with.”
+
+“That is the most interesting part about it. It is not very clever to
+arrest a coal-dealer who has been thrashing his wife in his shop, or a
+hair-dresser who has cut his lady’s throat with one of his razors! What
+excites one is the struggle and pursuit, the necessity of employing
+trickery and invention. We are men of imagination, and novelists often
+make us laugh by the poverty of their combinations.”
+
+“That is because you like your profession. It is not so with me; I am not
+inquisitive. Were I not mad with grief at seeing my master, whom I was so
+fond of basely murdered, I should take good care not to meddle with other
+people’s affairs. But vengeance seems a kind of duty my master would
+impose on me, could he do so. Had he had time to think, the moment he was
+struck, he must have said to himself: ‘Ah! If only Baudoin were here he
+would defend me with his last breath.’ You see, I must find his
+murderers. I shall have no rest till I have succeeded in this pursuit.”
+
+Laforêt had become thoughtful. After a moment’s hesitation, he said—
+
+“You are a brave fellow. But you do not possess the qualities necessary
+for the unravelling of an affair like this one. You will spoil everything
+by putting on their guard the very people you suspect. Do not stir; just
+wait. Patience is the first duty of a detective. Time is a precious
+auxiliary. At first, a criminal is very cautious; he takes every
+precaution. By degrees, as his feeling of security increases, his
+prudence lessens, he trusts himself out of his lair once more, and it is
+then that there is a good chance of catching him. Instead of undertaking
+a campaign, remain inactive. If you have to deal with powerful and
+determined men, be sure they will keep a watch on you, in proportion to
+their unwillingness to be caught. You will do more for the success of
+your side by giving them to believe that you do not suspect them, than by
+plotting against them, without knowing how to out-trick them. Go back
+home, warn those who, like you, wish to avenge the General, and wait and
+see the trend of events. Be sure something will happen which will put you
+on their track. Then go ahead boldly. If ever you need me, come here
+about five o’clock. You will find me regularly at this hour. My principal
+may be disposed to allow me to co-operate with you.”
+
+Baudoin rose from his seat.
+
+“Very good. I will follow your advice. If you have anything to tell me,
+send to Messieurs Baradier and Graff.”
+
+“The bankers of the Rue de Provènce?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Strange! My principal has just gone to see them, on leaving the
+Ministry. I heard it from the coachman. Good! Everything will turn out
+for the best, when the right moment comes. _Au revoir_!”
+
+The two men shook hands, and Baudoin returned home.
+
+Marcel, summoned by wire, had just returned from Ars. He was closeted
+with his father and uncle. Walking to and fro about the room, he gave
+brief replies to the questions asked him. Tall and slender, of fair
+complexion, with long moustache, and blue eyes, he offered a perfect
+pattern of the Lorraine type, in its full purity and strength. He was a
+very fine-looking young fellow, and his Uncle Graff watched him with a
+glow of pride and satisfaction.
+
+“Well, then, what did Trémont tell you, the last time you saw him?”
+
+“From a scientific point of view, we spoke of nothing but my
+investigations on the subject of aniline.”
+
+“Nothing concerning his powders?”
+
+“He had already told me the results he had reached. I shared his opinion
+that the main difficulty was solved. In the composition of explosives
+there was nothing more to do besides introducing a few details of
+manipulation.”
+
+“And you knew his formulæ?”
+
+“I know every one of them.”
+
+“You could prepare them?”
+
+“Without the slightest difficulty.”
+
+“That is what I was afraid of,” exclaimed Baradier, sorrowfully.
+
+“What! Afraid of? But it is very lucky for us all. For Geneviève, for
+whom a fortune is assured; for the Army, which will possess the Trémont
+powder; and for the General’s memory, by reason of the glory attaching to
+so important a discovery.”
+
+“Well, Marcel, I beg of you,” said Baradier, in trembling tones, “for the
+sake of us all, for the time being, not to breathe a word to any one
+concerning what you have just revealed to us. It is a matter of life or
+death. So long as those who have killed Trémont remain at large, and
+unpunished, there will be no safety for those who might be suspected of
+being in possession of his scientific secret. It was to rob him of this
+that the blow fell. In Heaven’s name, be very careful not to let it be
+known that you have been taken into the confidence of our friend.”
+
+“Do not be uneasy,” said the young man, with a smile. “No one in the
+world knows, except my uncle and yourself. I feel no inclination to
+proclaim it on the housetops. But I cannot refuse to refrain from
+profiting by it, when the right time comes, even though there may be
+risks to run.”
+
+“Nor do we. But let us continue our investigations. Trémont was very free
+with you. He spoke to you of his private life. He told you of his
+adventures in the early days of his military career.”
+
+“Poor man! That was his only weakness. His heart remained as young as
+ever. His imagination was very inflammable, and he gave way to it with
+unparalleled facility. I was often obliged to stop him.”
+
+“Did he mention nothing that had happened recently?”
+
+“No; he appeared preoccupied and less expansive than usual. Probably he
+had been recommended to be very discreet, and his promise had been given.
+I must say that his passion for the fair sex rather disgusted me, and I
+gave no encouragement to tales which appeared to me unworthy of our
+friend’s noble mind. Latterly, therefore, finding him reserved and quiet,
+I did not encourage him to speak. I preferred him to say nothing on the
+subject.”
+
+“What a pity! Just the time when his explanations would have been so
+useful.”
+
+“It is always so!”
+
+“Had he made no fresh male acquaintances? Was there no name you could
+catch?”
+
+“He spoke to me of no one except a foreign savant, with whom he had
+struck up a friendship, and who seems to have been an extraordinary man.
+He suspected him of being a nihilist, and that worried him. But he spoke
+of him with the utmost admiration.”
+
+“Was he a Russian?”
+
+“I do not know. His name was Hans.”
+
+“Hans!” exclaimed Baradier. “That was the name of the man whose arm was
+torn off! It is the name on the ring worn by the man who caused the
+explosion of the house at Vanves. This is the first flash of light.”
+
+“So the General was acquainted with this Hans? Still, Hans is a German
+name!”
+
+“Only a German Christian name. As you are aware, there are several
+Russians of German origin. If the Hans in question is the author of that
+catastrophe, the end he aimed at by obtaining access to the General might
+well be the possession of the formulæ of the explosive found by him. But
+then, how had he become acquainted with the discoveries the General kept
+strictly secret?”
+
+Graff, who had not yet spoken, but had been listening in a reverie to the
+observations exchanged between his brother-in-law and his nephew, raised
+his hand, and slowly began, as though following the slender thread of a
+still fugitive idea—
+
+“You are getting lost. The motives of the instigators of this crime—for,
+certainly, there are several of them—are of a much higher order than you
+imagine. You are looking for robbers trying to obtain possession of some
+exceedingly fruitful discovery, or of anarchists on the scent of some
+powerful means of extermination. All this is very vulgar and commonplace.
+You have to deal with criminals of a higher stamp. The care they took to
+rob Trémont after killing him prove that his murderers wished to throw
+one off the scent. When one has a house to pillage, he does not linger
+behind to steal a watch or a pocket-book. The mysterious proceedings of
+those who effected the _coup_ are those of political conspirators, and
+the thing that gives the whole plot its special character is the presence
+of a woman. Every undertaking of interest to foreign politics, for the
+past century, has been carried on by women. From my point of view, this
+is in a large measure what must have taken place. One or several European
+States have been acquainted with the investigations carried on by
+Trémont. His communications to the Institute may have sufficed to give
+the alarm. Immediately, means have been sought for becoming intimate with
+him, or obtaining his confidence. Our friend’s nature has been studied,
+and a young woman, clever and beautiful, has been fastened on him, soon
+to serve as intermediary between the General and Hans. The latter is no
+Russian, but probably some native of Baden. The woman is a spy in the
+service of our enemies. The man, introduced into the premises by the
+woman, failed in his attempts to obtain, by trickery, Trémont’s secrets;
+accordingly he had recourse to violence. Be certain the whole _coup_ was
+entered upon for interests far higher than you imagine. You see a
+Lichtenbach in the affair, and imagine that it is in his interests that
+Hans and the mysterious woman have been playing each a perilous game. You
+attach to him more importance than he deserves. You must seek higher, or
+rather not seek at all, for nothing will be found now.”
+
+“I cannot deny,” replied Baradier, “that Graff’s explanation possesses
+some semblance of likelihood. Graff is a man of imagination, who often
+sees things that do not exist. Still, in the present circumstances, he
+would be a bold man who would say that he was mistaken. Perhaps his
+supposition and mine both contain part of the truth. What cannot be
+doubted is that the authors of this audacious plot are persons who will
+shrink before nothing. Accordingly we must be prudent, and not appear to
+suspect them, living in just our usual manner. Apparently we must abstain
+from all participation in the work of justice. If the police succeed we
+shall be satisfied, without having been involved in the affair. If they
+find nothing, as is very likely, then our turn will come. In my opinion
+clever and cool-headed criminals it is almost impossible to run to
+ground. It is only by their imprudence that they betray themselves. It is
+when they begin to be no longer on their guard that there is a chance of
+finding some clue to their guilt. So, after all, the most prudent and
+skilful plan will be to wait. Marcel will return to Ars—”
+
+“Not until I have seen Geneviève.”
+
+“Of course, you will dine and sleep here, and take the train to-morrow
+morning. Your mother and uncle will not be sorry to see a little of you.”
+
+“And my father?” asked the young man, smiling.
+
+“And your father. Now come along with me to see your mother. Graff, you
+are staying in the office?”
+
+“For a few minutes. Then I return home, but will be back in time for
+dinner.”
+
+Proceeding along an inner staircase, father and son reached the private
+rooms, and were astonished to find in the hall a tall footman waiting
+there.
+
+“Your mother has visitors,” said Baradier. “How has that come about;
+to-day is not her reception day?”
+
+They entered Madame Baradier’s small salon. There she sat, pensive, near
+the window, her needlework lying idly in her lap.
+
+“What! You here?” said Baradier. “I thought you were receiving.”
+
+“The visit is not for me.”
+
+“What is the meaning of this? No one can have called for Amélie. Then it
+must be for Mademoiselle de Trémont?”
+
+“You are right,” said Madame Baradier.
+
+“What is the matter with you?” asked the banker. “There is something
+extraordinary going on. Explain.”
+
+“It is, indeed, very extraordinary. It is a schoolmate of Geneviève, who
+has come especially from the convent to assure her of her sympathy and
+affection; a trusted servant came with her, since her father could not
+come in person.”
+
+Baradier’s face turned crimson, as he asked with a frown—
+
+“Then it is—?”
+
+His wife did not give him time to continue. They understood one another
+at a glance.
+
+“Yes, my dear, it is Mademoiselle Lichtenbach.”
+
+A silence fell throughout the room. Marcel had gone straight to his
+mother, to embrace her. He now stood looking at his father, who, standing
+before the mantelpiece, was endeavouring to fathom the meaning of this
+unexpected visit.
+
+“What is she like?” asked Marcel.
+
+“I scarcely looked at her, I must confess, my child. When her name was
+announced I was very much astonished. Amélie and Geneviève were with me
+at the time. I left them in the salon as soon as Mademoiselle Lichtenbach
+entered. She appeared to me to be tall, and rather good looking. It was,
+however, her voice, a sweet, charming voice, which impressed me most
+favourably.”
+
+“It is different from her father’s, then,” growled Baradier.
+
+“And how long has she been here?”
+
+“Half an hour, at least.”
+
+“And my sister is with them?”
+
+“She could not help staying with them, otherwise it would have been a
+show of hostility quite out of place. Parents’ enmities, I hope, form no
+necessary part of children’s inheritances.”
+
+“Mother, what you are now saying is contrary to all poetical tradition.
+Look at Romeo and Juliet. What would become of literature were there no
+hereditary enmities? They form part and parcel of romantic
+stock-in-trade. The deuce! We must not diminish it, as it is becoming
+less and less quite fast enough!”
+
+Baradier was not listening to his son; he remained still plunged in his
+own reflections. At last he murmured—
+
+“What has she come for? Why has Lichtenbach permitted her to come?”
+
+“Shall I go and ask her?” asked Marcel.
+
+“Try to be serious, Marcel,” exclaimed the banker. “This is no matter for
+jest.”
+
+“Oh, I know that well enough. I wonder what it is that upsets you so
+much? Here is my mother as pale as death, and yourself in a fever-heat,
+and all because a young girl has come to sympathize with her school-mate!
+There is something extraordinary going on.”
+
+Baradier glanced sideways at his son, and replied in a tone of
+irritation—
+
+“Don’t be such a fool, Marcel. You are incapable of understanding!”
+
+Marcel bowed, in mock humility.
+
+“Thanks! What do I owe you for that?”
+
+But Baradier had no time to give way to his increasing irritation. The
+door of the salon opened, and Amélie appeared on the threshold.
+
+“Mamma, Mademoiselle Lichtenbach would like to say good-bye to you before
+leaving.”
+
+“She seems to be very well bred,” said Marcel, in low tones. “Are you
+going, mother? I will accompany you. I should like to see what she looks
+like.”
+
+It was in vain that Baradier shouted to his son—
+
+“Marcel, stay here; I forbid you!”
+
+Already the young man, with a laugh, had slipped behind his mother into
+the salon.
+
+“The young rascal will never have any common sense,” moaned Baradier. And
+he sat down in the seat his wife had just left, vaguely listening to the
+sound of voices, which now reached him.
+
+At the very first glance Marcel Baradier noticed that Mademoiselle
+Lichtenbach was of a very elegant figure, with a countenance of great
+gentleness. On further examination he did not find her pretty. Her
+features were irregular, but her face was lit up by eyes of limpid blue,
+radiant with frankness and amiability. She was standing there, an upright
+and slender form, in her sombre school-dress, with the blue ribbon on her
+breast. On Madame Baradier introducing Marcel to her she made a
+respectful bow, and said in delightful accents—
+
+“I could not take my leave, madame, without thanking you for your kind
+welcome. Mademoiselle de Trémont and myself are very fond of one another.
+For a year we have been close companions, and I sympathize with her
+present suffering, as though her loss were also mine. It is a great
+relief to me, now that we are obliged to separate, to know that she will
+be with one who loves her. I hope you will permit her to speak to you of
+me, so that she may not forget me too soon, and, perhaps, instil into
+your mind a little of the sympathy her heart feels for me.”
+
+Marcel was still under the charm of the voice that uttered these gentle
+words, when those clear, luminous eyes fell on him. He returned the look
+with an inquisitive and, perhaps, rather bold glance, for she immediately
+turned aside. At the same time a slight blush, as though accompanied with
+a shudder, passed over her smiling face, which suddenly became serious.
+
+“I must thank you, mademoiselle, for the sentiments you express regarding
+our dear Geneviève. For ourselves,” continued Madame Baradier, “rest
+assured we shall not endeavour to influence her in her affections.”
+
+Mademoiselle Lichtenbach bowed, gave a graceful nod to Amélie, and, on
+passing in front of Marcel, heard the latter say to her, in troubled
+tones—
+
+“Permit me, mademoiselle, to show you the way.”
+
+Opening the door of the salon, and, taking the mantle the young girl had
+left in the hall, he placed it over her shoulders. Then, walking by her
+side, his mother and sister looking on in stupefaction, he descended the
+steps, followed by the footman. On reaching the bottom he said, with a
+charm full of grace—
+
+“Mademoiselle de Trémont’s departure will doubtless make your stay at the
+convent seem rather sad to you now, mademoiselle?”
+
+“Yes. I hope Geneviève will not forget me, but come and see me.”
+
+“After all, probably you will not stay long yourself at the Sacre-Coeur.”
+
+“I was like Mademoiselle de Trémont, alone with my father. Geneviève will
+find a mother in Madame Baradier, whilst I—”
+
+She left the sentence unfinished. Marcel, however, well understood the
+sadness of her meaning—“I shall remain abandoned, as I have been all my
+life. My youthful years will pass away behind the sad walls of a convent,
+under the cold, methodical surveillance of nuns, most excellent persons,
+but incapable of giving me that warmth of affection I need to be happy.
+My friend is leaving me, and all the sweetness of my life is past.”
+
+She looked so melancholy and resigned that Marcel was moved with pity at
+her grief. They had now reached the brougham, the door of which was held
+open by the footman.
+
+“No, mademoiselle,” said Marcel. “Rest assured Geneviève de Trémont will
+not forget you.”
+
+He fastened his eyes on Mademoiselle Lichtenbach’s face, which now, in
+feature, seemed delicate and charming in its modest grace; then, bowing,
+he added, in lower tones—
+
+“I do not think you are one of those whose fate it is to be forgotten.”
+
+Mademoiselle Lichtenbach smiled and bowed. Then, entering the carriage,
+she said to the servant—
+
+“Drive back home.”
+
+Not another word was exchanged, whilst the footman climbed to his seat,
+and the coachman put the reins in order. Marcel, with head uncovered,
+stood there on the footpath in the Rue de Provènce, looking through the
+window of the brougham at this young girl, who appeared so simple and
+attractive to him, though he had never seen her until an hour before.
+Mademoiselle Lichtenbach sat there with bowed head, while a smile played
+on her lips. The carriage started, and the charm was broken.
+
+On returning to the house Marcel reflected: If the father is a rogue, the
+daughter, at any rate, is a very charming person. After all, she is not
+responsible for her father’s misdeeds. But all this has nothing to do
+with me. In all probability we shall never meet again, so she may be what
+she likes. All the same, he could not get over the idea that Mademoiselle
+Lichtenbach, daughter of the declared enemy of Baradier and Graff, was a
+very striking character.
+
+“Well,” said his father, who was awaiting his return, “you show yourself
+very polite. You could not be more gallant to a princess.”
+
+“Probably not,” said the young man, calmly.
+
+“Will you have the goodness to explain why you show yourself so obliging
+towards the daughter of our enemy?”
+
+“For the sole reason that she is the daughter of our enemy.”
+
+“It may be very chivalrous on your part, but to me it appears stupid.”
+
+“Do you intend to introduce the fair sex into your quarrels?”
+
+“I should like to see how Lichtenbach would treat your mother and sister
+if ever they fell into his power!”
+
+“Let us hope we may never experience it. Still, Baradier and Graff are
+not obliged to act like Lichtenbach. Ask my uncle what he thinks about
+it.”
+
+“Oh, your uncle is too sentimental. For the last hour I have been trying
+to find motives for this intervention. Evidently Lichtenbach wishes to
+throw us off the scent by this demonstration of affection for
+Mademoiselle de Trémont, but it is this very thing which awakens my
+suspicions. Do you know what Barentin, of the Supreme Court, told me
+lately? Not twenty-five per cent. of the criminals are ever discovered,
+and then only by their own folly. The rich calculate, and are almost sure
+of impunity.”
+
+“My dear father, if the whole might of the law cannot seize a murderer,
+how can you expect Baradier and Graff to succeed? We must be sensible,
+and not attempt impossibilities. We will do the best we can—you by
+protecting Mademoiselle de Trémont, and I by assuring her the fortune her
+father promised her. For the rest let us trust in Providence.”
+
+“In Providence!” growled Baradier. “Trust rather in the devil! Attend to
+what I tell you, Marcel. Your mother, yourself, and myself are all
+involved in the quarrel between Lichtenbach and your uncle. Lichtenbach
+is one of those revengeful _men_ who strike both their enemies and their
+enemies’ offspring. Trémont has met his fate; it will be our turn next.”
+
+“No, father, our turn will never come,” said Marcel, energetically. “At
+the very first threat, the faintest attempt, I will go to Lichtenbach
+myself, and settle all our accounts with him at a single time. That I
+swear!”
+
+Graff, clean shaven and elegantly attired, now entered the office.
+Baradier signed to his son to say no more, and all three mounted to the
+salon to join the ladies.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+IN his study, soberly furnished, Elias Lichtenbach, seated in front of a
+large Louis Fourteenth bureau, was speaking in low tones, as though
+afraid of being heard, to a priest, lolling at ease in an enormous
+armchair. By the light of the setting sun, the sharp, bony face of the
+banker, with his _keen_ eyes and thin, well-shaven lips, could be faintly
+distinguished. He was no longer the stout healthy-looking Elias of former
+days. The cares of life had withered the flower of youth on his cheeks,
+and wrinkled the once careless brow. The jaws were still pronounced, but
+hard and thin, like those of a powerful and ferocious man-eater. The
+hairy hands, long and grasping as they lay there on the desk, revealed
+unusual love of wealth. A black skull-cap covered Lichtenbach’s bald
+forehead. His visitor was a young and elegant ecclesiastic of graceful
+and intelligent mien. He spoke with a southern accent, which gave his
+voice a kind of hilarity in sound.
+
+“It will be a very profitable undertaking. The property we have in view
+has no value whatever at present, nothing but waste land and marshes. The
+purchase will be effected in your name, and when we have signed an
+emphyteutic lease with you, we shall at once commence building. We want
+an advance of three hundred thousand francs.”
+
+“There will be no difficulty there,” said Lichtenbach. “I have clients
+disposed to lend—”
+
+“You need not go very far, eh?” said the young priest, with an ironical
+glance at the drawer of the desk, over which the banker spread his
+formidable hands.
+
+“No, Monsieur l’Abbé, not very far, indeed; but, all the same, not here.
+It is a principle of mine never to advance money on securities which
+cannot immediately be realized. Now, the matter you have just been laying
+before me offers no actual guarantee. But that does not matter. You wish
+me to find the capital.”
+
+“After all, this is the main point. Still, we have to rely on others than
+yourself. These gentlemen will not place their confidence lightly. They
+trust you, as they are certain of you, but they would not listen to
+strangers.”
+
+“These gentlemen, as usual, will only have to deal with me,” said
+Lichtenbach, with deference. “I know what I owe them, and they will
+always find me at their service.”
+
+“Then, as soon as the land is bought, and placed at our disposal, we
+immediately commence excavations, which will reveal the presence in the
+subsoil of the layers of ore I have been speaking to you about. At a
+bound the value of the land will be increased tenfold. You will sell back
+a small part of the ground, and with the profits, without further
+expenditure, we shall have paid for the establishment of our community.”
+
+“If the tenor of the ore is such as you state, the exploitation, once
+granted to a company, will bring you in large revenues for several
+years.”
+
+“That is what Monseigneur said on receiving the report of the engineer
+who undertook the soundings. Oh! we need a great deal of money to make
+the work a success,” sighed the young priest. “Our religion is attacked
+with such violence that if we do nothing but defend it we are lost. We
+must carry the war into the enemy’s territory.”
+
+“That is my own opinion, Monsieur l’Abbé. As you see, my journal has
+zealously undertaken the campaign.”
+
+“Yes, it is doing good; but your _panache blanc_ is not sufficiently
+dogmatic as regards pure doctrine. Too much space is given to speculation
+and business enterprise. Your columns smack too much of the Bourse.”
+
+“Monsieur l’Abbé,” replied Elias, roughly, “I do not possess, as these
+gentlemen do, the art of conducting business in a double-faced manner.
+But I will learn from them.”
+
+“Come, do not play the jesuit, my dear Lichtenbach,” said the young
+priest, airily. “We appreciate your services; that you have had proof of,
+and shall have again. By-the-by, who is this wounded man we picked up
+yesterday at Issy? The poor fellow was in a bad way. He came under your
+recommendation.”
+
+Elias turned pale. In tones of alarm he exclaimed—“Not so loud! Monsieur
+l’Abbé—not so loud! No one must suspect that—”
+
+“Oh! what a state you are in! Rest assured. The Superior and myself alone
+were taken into the poor wretch’s confidence. After all, he said very
+little. He was completely exhausted by the efforts he had made in
+dragging himself to our door. It was four o’clock in the morning, and the
+whole brotherhood was at matins. It was, accordingly, possible to
+introduce the wounded man without any one seeing him. It was quite time,
+for, as soon as he was put to bed, he fainted away.”
+
+“Who is attending to him?”
+
+“Our Superior himself; he has a thorough knowledge of medicine. Besides,
+the arm was cut off as though by a thermo-cautery, and all that had to be
+done was to dress the wound. The man has given evidence of the most
+heroic courage. But now he is ravaged by fever, and he speaks.”
+
+“What does he say?”
+
+“A most extraordinary mixture of things. He mentions, in almost the same
+breath, a fortified camp in the Vosges, and a war powder possessed of
+extraordinary virtues. His object is to carry off the plans of the
+former, and obtain possession of the formula of the latter.”
+
+“Does he mention no names?”
+
+“Yes, the name of a woman, whom he calls Sophia, and sometimes the
+baroness. He consults and threatens her in turn. She appears to be his
+accomplice in some underhand work or other.”
+
+“Has he expressed himself more clearly?”
+
+“No, he beats about the bush, and it is impossible to understand his
+meaning. After all, you have nothing to fear.”
+
+Elias gave a sigh of relief.
+
+“Monsieur l’Abbé, I am not afraid for myself, but for others. I am
+engaged in great international relations, as you are aware. The interests
+entrusted to my care represent not merely immense capital, but a great
+number of human lives. It is accordingly my duty to be very prudent.”
+
+The young priest gave a gesture of protest. His countenance assumed a
+serious expression.
+
+“I do not want to hear anything about it, M. Lichtenbach. These
+gentlemen, as you are aware, are thorough Frenchmen. Everything that
+happens beyond the frontiers is foreign to them—I might almost say
+hostile. Outside of France, which we love with deep and enlightened
+tenderness, and wish to save from the corruption of revolution, we
+recognize only the Pope, Sovereign of all Catholics, and our chief, whom
+we blindly obey. Keep your secrets; we will respect them, as you are
+serving us. But do not expect from us any help in the success of
+enterprises which would not concur towards the triumph of the cause to
+which we are devoted—monarchy and religion. In all else you will find us
+neutral. That is all you may expect of us.”
+
+“Have you been commissioned to tell me this?” asked Elias, in tones of
+anguish.
+
+“No, my dear Lichtenbach; I was only to speak to you of the ground
+purchase.”
+
+“Thanks, Monsieur l’Abbé. Tell them I will send my agent to-morrow to
+Grasse, to bring the matter to a conclusion, and that before the month is
+over we shall be in possession.”
+
+“Very well!”
+
+The young Abbé rose from his seat. He stopped, and, in negligent tones,
+said—
+
+“Ah! I was forgetting. Have you heard of that frightful catastrophe which
+took place at Vanves? The explosion even shook the buildings here at
+Issy. Were you not acquainted with this General de Trémont?”
+
+Lichtenbach looked paler and more sombre than ever, as he replied
+stammeringly—
+
+“Yes, Monsieur l’Abbé, I knew him a long time ago.”
+
+“It appears he was a dangerous maniac, dabbling with chemical experiments
+which were destined to kill him in time. A person of doubtful morality as
+well, according to public rumour, and who, even at his advanced age, gave
+himself up to the most degrading debauchery. He will not be missed. They
+say he was assassinated and robbed, before his house blew up. That is
+what comes of investigating in explosives! Well, _au revoir_, my dear
+Lichtenbach. When you come to see the patient give me due notice, and I
+will introduce you to him privately.”
+
+Lichtenbach made no reply. He showed out his visitor with a semblance of
+respectful humility. Then he bowed, as to a superior, and said—
+
+“Assure your friends, Monsieur l’Abbé, of my devotion to their
+interests.”
+
+“Good! Though it is scarcely necessary,” replied the young priest,
+carelessly; and, slowly descending the staircase, he disappeared.
+
+Lichtenbach, in thoughtful mood, returned to his study. It was now almost
+dark. Where the Abbé had just been sitting, a female form now sat
+stretched out in the armchair. A fresh, clear voice said—
+
+“It is as dark as in an oven here, Lichtenbach; let us have a little
+light.”
+
+“What! You are here, Baroness!” exclaimed the banker, eagerly.
+
+“Yes, I have just arrived. Was that the little Abbé d’Escayrac you were
+just taking leave of?”
+
+Lichtenbach had turned on the electric light, bringing into view the
+unceremonious visitor Elias had just called Baroness. She was a
+light-complexioned young woman, of exceeding beauty, with proud profile,
+blue eyes, intelligent forehead, though there was an expression of
+harshness in her small mouth, with its charming red lips, as well as in
+her strong chin. She was very elegantly clothed in black, and wore a
+hooded lace cloak. Patent leather shoes covered her charming feet.
+
+“Have you been here long?” asked Elias abstractedly.
+
+“No, I have only just come, I say. Your servant showed me into the salon,
+and I came in here when I heard your visitor leave. Do not be uneasy, I
+was not listening to what he said.”
+
+“Oh! I have no need to be on my guard against you.”
+
+“Yes, you mistrust me, as you do every one else. I do not blame you for
+it. It is a sign of prudence. Though, all the same, you have nothing to
+fear from me, and neither have I from you.”
+
+“Oh! Baroness, you know that I belong to you, body and soul,” exclaimed
+Lichtenbach.
+
+“Yes, yes, and you would not be sorry if the converse were true, would
+you?” interrupted the young woman, with a mocking smile.
+
+The banker’s pale face lit up with passion; he drew near the Baroness,
+and, taking her hand within his own, said—
+
+“And yet, Sophia, if you would only—”
+
+Withdrawing her hand, she tossed her head with an air of disdain, and
+replied—
+
+“Yes, but I will not, there!”
+
+“Never?”
+
+“Who can tell? If ever I am in great pecuniary difficulties, perhaps I
+may apply to you. Would you advance me money, Lichtenbach, if I needed
+any?”
+
+As she spoke she looked at the banker with a bewitching glance and a
+smile full of promise. The latter, as soon as mention was made of money,
+regained possession of himself. Placing his hand on her lap, he said, in
+a tone of assurance—
+
+“I will give you as much as you need.”
+
+“You undertake a great deal. Take care! After all, there is no hurry; the
+time has not come yet.”
+
+As she spoke, she drew back slightly from Lichtenbach’s presence. The
+latter sighed—
+
+“Ah, Sophia, you are a terrible flirt—your only pleasure consists in
+making men mad.”
+
+“I? You are dreaming, Lichtenbach. Have you ever seen me trouble about
+any man unless it were to my interest to do so? And yet you say such
+silly things. One would think you did not know me!”
+
+“On the contrary, I know you well. Even better than you imagine, for
+there are portions of your short life-which, all the same, has gone
+through so many sensations—which you leave in a favourable light, so that
+I have understood them. You are very clever and bold. I, too, am very
+tenacious and patient, and have an instinctive knowledge of what it is
+useful for me to know, as well as the means of obtaining information.
+Accordingly, I am well aware what you are to-day, Baroness Grodsko. But I
+also know what you were before.”
+
+Sophia’s eyes flashed, and her lips contracted, giving her face an aspect
+of terrible import. Looking boldly at Elias, she said, dryly—
+
+“Ah, ah! Tell me all about it. I should be very pleased to know what you
+have learned about me. If it is true I will not deny it, upon my honour I
+will not. If false you may stop the wages of your informers. When one has
+spies in one’s pay one should always try to have reliable and intelligent
+ones.”
+
+“Mine never deceive me; it is not to their interest to lie.”
+
+“We shall see about that. Well—”
+
+“Well, before becoming the wife of Baron Elmer Grodsko, a Hungarian
+nobleman, who quarrelled with his family in order to marry you, you were
+dancing and singing at the theatre of Belgrade, in a touring troupe,
+directed by an adventurer, half villain, half rogue, named Valaque. It
+was there that Baron Elmer, on his way from Varna, saw you, fell in love,
+and carried you off, after shooting down Escovisco, who pursued him with
+a poniard.”
+
+The young woman’s lips quivered, as she said with a look of disdain—
+
+“Then that is all you know? You cannot go back any further than the
+theatre of Belgrade, and the Escovisco affair? You are making much ado
+about very little!”
+
+“Oh! I was proceeding in order. I could go back further, and tell you of
+the mysterious strange death of Madame Ferranti, a charitable lady of
+Trieste, who had taken you, almost dead with hunger, from the streets
+into her service. You were sixteen years of age. Your benefactresses had
+a son. On the day his mother died—she was said to have been poisoned,
+though there was no definite proof of this—young Ferranti left home with
+you, carrying off all the ready money, negotiable deeds, and jewels of
+his dead mother. Was it you or he who gave Madame Ferranti the cup of tea
+she drank before she fell asleep never to wake again?”
+
+“Indeed it was neither he nor I. It was an old servant, who had been
+twenty years in their service. Besides, she confessed it, and as there
+was no proof against her, nor against any one else, she was released.”
+
+“Whilst you set out for Venice, and had a pleasant time with your
+companion. Ah! He had a fine way of mourning for his mother, the young
+Ferranti! It was at the Café Florian, on the Place Saint-Marc, that, one
+evening when he was drunk, the young ninny picked a quarrel with an
+Austrian major, who, the following morning, on the Lido, ran six inches
+of steel into his body, killing him on the spot.”
+
+“Quite true! Poor Ferranti! He was a handsome fellow, who waltzed
+divinely, but was too fond of absinthe. It _was_ that which killed him,
+or rather the stoccata of Major Bruzelow—a fine man, whose moustaches
+went almost round his head, but as stupid as his sabre, and as dangerous.
+It was he who forced me to leave Venice, where I was enjoying myself so
+well! I could not even speak to a man without the Major challenging him.
+He would have called out the whole town; I was obliged to go.”
+
+“The Austrian police had something to do with it, had they not?”
+
+“I have always hated the Tedeschi, and they have always paid me back in
+the same coin!”
+
+“So that you cannot return to Austria, even now?”
+
+“No, all by reason of that fool of a Grodsko.”
+
+“And what has become of this excellent Grodsko, who broke his mother’s
+heart all for your sake?”
+
+“The excellent Grodsko spends the summer in Vienna, and the winter at
+Monte Carlo. Both winter and summer he gambles to pass the time, and when
+he has lost he drowns his disappointment in drink.”
+
+“Does he always lose?”
+
+“Yes, so he is always drinking.”
+
+“Here are a few corpses already, if I know how to count, to your credit,
+without mentioning the grief, despair, and shame of others. You have
+lived a very exciting life, though you have scarcely yet reached the age
+of thirty.”
+
+“I was twenty-eight last week,” rectified the Baroness, coldly.
+
+“You have trampled on humanity as on a carpet to gain your objects:
+luxury, pleasure, domination. And here you are to-day more brilliant,
+better loved, and more powerful than ever, with a strength of will which
+shrinks before nothing, and a conscience ready for anything. Am I right?”
+
+She looked boldly at Lichtenbach, then, drawing from her pocket a
+cigarette-case of chased silver, she took out an Oriental cigarette,
+which she lit with perfect coolness; then she replied in gentle tones—
+
+“Quite right, though incomplete. I am far more to be dreaded than you
+imagine. You are well aware of it, but are afraid of displeasing me by
+depicting me as I really am. You are in the wrong. I have such a scorn
+for mankind that you cannot vex me by declaring me to be ready to profit
+by it, as though it were a piece of merchandise. In my opinion, men are
+no more interesting than cattle destined for slaughter. They serve to
+feed and enrich me; it is for that they toil and die. Apparently, it is
+their function, since they cannot escape this fate, and as soon as one
+disappears another offers to replace him. Are you going to say that I am
+a destroying flail? Possibly. All over the world there are beings born
+for work, sacrifice, and suffering; as there are others born irremediably
+for idleness, egoism, and enjoyment. It is nature which has made it so.
+To some instinct manifests itself, leading to servitude, to others
+leading to tyranny. Beings exploited and exploiting, beasts of burden and
+beasts of prey. Is not that the sole social classification founded on
+common sense? Look all around you, Lichtenbach, it is an invariable rule:
+a flock of simpletons led away, fleeced, and strangled by a few audacious
+individuals. Will you reproach me for being of the number of those who
+strangle, rather than of those who fleece? We are both at the same game,
+Lichtenbach; the only difference is, I am bold enough to confess it,
+whilst you are hypocritical enough to say nothing. Our object is the
+same—the exploitation of the human race for our greatest mutual profit
+and pleasure. There you are! If I am wrong, prove it to me now.”
+
+She had spoken without raising her voice, and the calm tone in which
+these terrible theories had been expounded as they came from that
+charming mouth formed so strange a contrast with the ferocious cynicism
+of the confession that Lichtenbach, who, although he appeared to have no
+illusions left concerning his beautiful and dangerous partner, was placed
+for a moment out of countenance. He had very few scruples, this
+trafficker in all kinds of goods, who had commenced by despoiling his
+country in its hour of trial, and who continued speculating on social
+poverty and infamy. But now he found himself confronted by a creature
+more audacious and violent, if not more redoubtable, than himself, And he
+weighed in imagination the perils she might make him incur and the
+advantages she could bring him. This beautiful, intelligent, and
+unscrupulous woman was an admirable instrument. He knew what she was
+capable of, but he had no wish to run so great a risk as she ran without
+any need. The adventures which offered the Baroness Sophia her most
+certain means of existence were not open to him; other matters, those of
+a man on the eve of becoming a Deputy, perhaps a Minister, and those of
+this industrial cosmopolity, coining money with filth and blood. His
+coolness returned. He had said too much that was foolish at the beginning
+of the conversation. The time had come to mitigate the confidence of the
+beautiful Sophia, and to give her to understand that, between herself and
+himself, their existed a stout barrier of respectability and of millions
+of francs.
+
+“On the whole, my dear Baroness,” he said, “there is some truth in what
+you have just said, though your manner of explaining yourself is rather
+exotic. Your pompous and declamatory cynicism is of the Orient. All you
+have declared a few moments ago may be summed up in a very few words;
+human inequality is unchangeable. There are fools and rogues. The first
+are exploited by the second, under the surveillance of the police and the
+control of the law. In your theory, you have not granted sufficient
+importance to police and law. I could not recommend you too strongly to
+pay more attention to them. They are one of the most important factors in
+the problem you are spending your life in solving. If you consider them
+as a neglectable quantity, one of these mornings you will receive a rude
+awakening.”
+
+She smiled disdainfully—
+
+“The small fish are caught in the meshes of the net, the large ones break
+through and escape. I am afraid of no thing or person except myself. I
+alone am capable of doing myself any harm. That, of course, I never think
+of doing.”
+
+“Not just now. But you have gone through moments of anxiety. I heard that
+in London two years ago.”
+
+A dark cloud came over Sophia’s brow. She suddenly flung her cigarette
+into the fire, and in changed accents, said—
+
+“Yes, I have committed acts of folly, for I was in love. And a woman in
+love becomes as stupid as a man.”
+
+“The object of your affections was an actor, I believe, the handsome
+Stevenson?”
+
+“Yes, Richard Stevenson, the rival of Irving.”
+
+“You were madly in love with him, but he played you false. Accordingly,
+one evening you found means to entice your rival on board a yacht you had
+hired, lying at anchor on the Thames. Since that time she was never heard
+of.”
+
+“Ah! You are acquainted with that anecdote? Indeed you have been well
+informed. Do you also know that Stevenson, to whom in a fit of madness I
+had said that he would never see her again, beat me with his cane, and
+left me almost dead on the spot?”
+
+“The stick presented to him by the Prince of Wales, doubtless. You must
+have felt highly flattered. It did not prevent you two days later from
+going to the Empire, and cheering your brutal persecutor.”
+
+“Yes, I loved the wretch; but now, luckily, all that is over.”
+
+Lichtenbach burst into a laugh.
+
+“What have you done with the handsome Cesare Agostini?”
+
+“Ah! He forms a mere pastime for me. I must interest myself in some one
+or other. That is no passion at all.”
+
+“All the same, he costs you a great deal, I suppose?”
+
+“Enormous sums! These Italians are terrible spendthrifts. This one knows
+one good way of making money, and ten better ways of spending it. In the
+first place, he is a gambler, and then, he cannot see a fine ring without
+buying it. But then, he has a few good qualities. He is no novice at
+either pistol or sword.”
+
+“He is simply a bravo.”
+
+“At your service, if there is any one you wish to be rid of.”
+
+“Is he bold and intrepid?”
+
+“Yes; but, above all, to be relied on. Try him, you will be well
+satisfied.”
+
+Lichtenbach’s countenance grew dark, as it always did every time a
+subject was mentioned which did not please him, and he said in arrogant
+tones—
+
+“Much obliged, but I do not deal in drama; comedy is sufficient for me.”
+
+“Ah! You’re fond of a joke. You are still one of those good apostles who
+insinuate a crime, have it executed, and then exclaim in candid tones, ‘I
+have had nothing to do with it!’ Have you had nothing to do with this
+affair at Vanves, I should like to know?”
+
+This time Elias became quite angry.
+
+“Silence! What are you thinking of to cry out in such a loud voice? Are
+we the only ones in the house?”
+
+She burst into a laugh.
+
+“Well, well! You amuse me! For an hour you have been telling me my own
+history, without the slightest precaution, and when I make the slightest
+allusion to your’s you tremble with fear. You do not mind compromising
+me, but not yourself. Very kind of you.”
+
+“My daughter is here, and I have no wish—”
+
+“For her to know you under your real aspect. For you are a regular
+scoundrel, Lichtenbach, and of the very worst kind, one who wishes to
+keep up appearances, even with one’s accomplices. Do you think you can
+deceive me, eh? Your jesuitism has no affect on me; I am well acquainted
+with your lubricity. In the whole world there is no more villainous
+character than yourself, and yet you wish to be taken for a man of honour
+and virtue!”
+
+Lichtenbach, pale with fear and anger, exclaimed—
+
+“Baroness! Really, you wish to throw me into a passion.”
+
+“Oh no, no! Now I will be very nice with you. Listen, my voice is a mere
+whisper. Lean over and listen. I need a hundred thousand francs to-night,
+to have Hans carried off to Geneva. He can bear the journey now. Cesare
+has gone to see him.”
+
+“Do you think he will survive?” asked Lichtenbach.
+
+“Yes. That vexes you? You would rather be well rid of him? Calm yourself,
+he would bite off his tongue rather than betray a companion. Besides,
+what does he know? That your interests were the same as ours, and that,
+had he found the formula for the explosive for commerce, you would have
+paid as much for them as those for whom we are working would have paid
+for the war explosive. The _coup_ missed. Hans is maimed. But, thanks to
+me, you are free from all suspicion.”
+
+Looking calmly at Elias, she said—
+
+“A hundred thousand francs, on account.”
+
+“On account?”
+
+“Yes, on account. And do not waste any time. General de Trémont, whom you
+hated so strongly, has been killed for you. How much would you give for
+Baradier and Graff.”
+
+“Nothing, nothing!” groaned Lichtenbach. “What crimes are these you are
+laying to my account? That I desired the death of General de Trémont and
+am anxious to harm Baradier and Graff? You are wandering! It is sheer
+madness! Certainly they are my enemies, and have done me a great deal of
+harm. But, commit a crime on that account! Never, never! If they were to
+die, ah! I should consider it as a divine providence, but hasten their
+last moments by a single hour or minute, I, great God!”
+
+“Of Abraham, of Jacob, and of Moses! Yes, my fine renegade! My good
+Lichtenbach!” said the Baroness, with a look of scorn. “Yes, you are
+quite ready to accept the favours of providence, incarnated under the
+features of the Baroness Grodsko, but you will not take the initiative
+yourself. Hypocrisy again! You ask for nothing, but you accept all! Well,
+your unuttered prayer shall be granted!”
+
+“Baroness! In the name of God, do not compromise me. Do not proceed
+without instructions.”
+
+“Ah, ah! How terrified you are. You remind me of old Trémont when I
+handled his chemical products after dessert. ‘Don’t touch that, it is
+deadly!’ he would say. Meanwhile, I tried to take in wax the impress of
+the lock of the iron casket, which Hans succeeded in opening, but which
+cost him his arm. And all for nothing. The box exploded, and destroyed
+the secret in the midst of the flames. But some one has this secret, and
+I must find it out. Whatever it cost I will obtain possession of it!”
+
+“What have you been promised for it?”
+
+She looked at him, with a laugh.
+
+“You are very inquisitive! Don’t think I shall tell you, however.
+Professional pride apart—for, after all, one does not care to fail in a
+mission of this importance—the affair is worth all the trouble I am
+taking. Meanwhile, my hundred thousand francs!”
+
+Lichtenbach opened a drawer, took out ten bundles of bank-notes, and held
+them out to the Baroness.
+
+“Here they are.”
+
+“Thanks. Now, Lichtenbach, what would you say if it were young Marcel
+Baradier who was the depository of old Trémont’s formulæ?”
+
+Elias sat up with renewed interest.
+
+“What! What makes you think—”
+
+“Ah, ah! Cannibal, you have just smelt human flesh, and have become quite
+young again in consequence.”
+
+“Baroness, you will kill me with anguish.”
+
+“Ah! Yes, you look as though you would die, indeed! Hate, Lichtenbach,
+hate is a far stronger sentiment than love, is it not?”
+
+He made no reply. The only thing that was now of importance to him was
+the supposition Sophia had just given utterance to. He saw nothing,
+except that the son of his deadly enemy might possibly be in possession
+of this secret they were so anxious to fathom. If only it were possible!
+Suppose chance were to give him the opportunity of crushing the very
+people he hated with all his soul, and, at the same time, depriving them
+of a fortune. He asked the Baroness in eager tones—
+
+“What makes you think the General took Marcel Baradier into his
+confidence?”
+
+“In the first place, they saw one another constantly; the young man was
+admitted into his laboratory, a most exceptional favour. I know well he
+worked there with Trémont, who had entire confidence in him. However
+mysterious a man may be, however close and sullen, a fatal hour is sure
+to come, when he is forced to unburden himself. The General would never
+have imparted his plans to a man, even to his best friend, for he was as
+cunning as a fox. But, after dinner, with a good cigar between his lips,
+he felt strongly impelled to dazzle me, and as he could not do this
+either by his youth or his beauty, he attempted to win me over by his
+genius. In this way, on different occasions, he let slip several small
+incidents, which, collected and coordinated by a good memory, form a
+certainty.”
+
+“Then all is not lost?”
+
+“Nothing is ever lost.”
+
+“Then what are you going to do, Baroness?”
+
+“You shall know when it is to my interest to tell you.”
+
+“You have no confidence in me?”
+
+“Under what pretext should I have confidence in you? I know you only too
+well. You will serve me until the time comes when you find it more to
+your advantage to throw me over.”
+
+“I!”
+
+“You, Elias Lichtenbach; but that is all the same to me—I hold you now.”
+
+“Do you hope to succeed?”
+
+“I always hope to succeed. Look at me now, please.”
+
+She threw back her head with a movement of voluptuous grace, which seemed
+to intensify her beauty a hundred-fold. She smiled, and her eyes and lips
+assumed an expression of passionate ardour, which sent a thrill through
+the veins of Lichtenbach. Who could resist this creature’s imperious
+power? She well knew the extent of her charm. At a sign from her men
+became changed into slaves. She was the magician who loosened human
+passions and appetites, and led lost creatures to folly, shame, and
+crime.
+
+“Yes; you will succeed in whatever you undertake,” murmured Lichtenbach,
+fascinated by her charm.
+
+“No exaggeration! I am not infallible, as you know, since Trémont escaped
+me. Still, I will do everything a human being can do to succeed. Have
+confidence, and keep calm, that is all I ask.”
+
+A rolling of wheels was heard under the carriage gate, and a trampling of
+horses’ hoofs announced the return of Mademoiselle Lichtenbach.
+
+“It is my daughter returning,” said the banker.
+
+“Then she is at home for the present?”
+
+“She wished to assist at the funeral of the General de Trémont, whose
+daughter is a friend of hers.”
+
+A smile flitted across the lips of the Baroness.
+
+“Chance or precaution?”
+
+“Chance,” said Lichtenbach, coldly. “They are both at the Sacre-Coeur.
+They found themselves thrown together, and a mutual attachment sprang
+up.”
+
+“And now that you know of it, you encourage this intimacy?”
+
+“I never oppose my daughter.”
+
+“That is true; I forgot. You are a good father, Lichtenbach. It is the
+last concession you have made to humanity. And it is there that you are
+still vulnerable. Take care!”
+
+“My daughter is an angel, who prays for me. I dread nothing. She has her
+mother’s goodness and grace.”
+
+“And she imagines you to be a good and honourable father. Suppose the day
+were to come when her eyes were opened about yourself?”
+
+Elias stood upright in threatening attitude.
+
+“Who could do that?”
+
+“One of your enemies; you do not lack them now. Perhaps a friend; the
+world is so wicked.”
+
+“His boldness would cost him dear!” growled Lichtenbach.
+
+The Baroness arose. She walked about the room for a few seconds, as
+though undecided to leave. Then she asked—
+
+“Before I go, could I see your daughter?”
+
+Lichtenbach looked steadily at her, then he replied rudely—
+
+“No.”
+
+“Why not?”
+
+“Because it is useless.”
+
+“Are you afraid that I shall corrupt her by speaking a few words to her?”
+
+“Perhaps.”
+
+“Bravo! Well, you are frank now, at any rate.”
+
+Lichtenbach raised himself to his full height, and, repaying Sophia in a
+single moment for all the insolent expressions she had been so prodigal
+with the last hour, said—
+
+“Mademoiselle Lichtenbach can have nothing in common with the Baroness
+Grodsko.”
+
+Sophia gave a gesture of indifference.
+
+“Very well. As you please. _Au revoir_, Lichtenbach.”
+
+She was going in the direction of the hall when he stopped her.
+
+“Not that way.”
+
+Opening a door, concealed behind some folds of tapestry, he said—
+
+“Go down this staircase, you will meet no one.”
+
+“There is no trap-dungeon at the bottom?” she asked, laughingly.
+
+“No; there is only the concierge’s room.”
+
+“Adieu. No ill will?”
+
+“I should think not; you ought to be well satisfied. You carry away with
+you indulgences to the extent of a hundred thousand francs. _Au revoir_.”
+
+She disappeared. He returned to his desk in dreamy mood. This woman, so
+dangerous and depraved, always disturbed him, though he knew her well.
+
+A knock at the door threw him from his reverie. Rising to open it, an
+expression of pleasure came into his face. It was his daughter, who had
+come to see him.
+
+“Am I not disturbing you?” she asked, with a shade of uneasiness in her
+voice.
+
+“No, my darling, you never disturb me. Have you had a pleasant visit?”
+
+“Very pleasant. They were all very kind to me.”
+
+Lichtenbach said nothing; his eyes fell on the ground. He did not wish
+his daughter to catch their expression.
+
+“Madeline is very fortunate to find such devoted friends in her trouble.
+Madame Baradier is an excellent lady. She is going to keep the poor girl
+with them. Although I am very sorry she is leaving the convent, since we
+shall be separated in future, I am very glad to know that she has found
+such good friends. It will be like a renewal of life for her.”
+
+“You are so sympathetic, my little Marianne.”
+
+“The blow which has struck Madeline is so terrible. Can anything more
+terrible happen to a child than to lose its parents? And when one has no
+longer one’s mother, as was the case with both of us.”
+
+The young girl’s voice shook, tears stood in her eyes. Lichtenbach turned
+pale, but kept his eyes still fixed on the ground.
+
+“It was this similarity of situation which, from the very first day, drew
+us together. Our common sorrow has been the source of our affection. It
+seemed to us that, as we were less loved than the rest we ought to be all
+the dearer to one another. She had for her father the same affection I
+have for you. It seems he was a great _savant_. Did you know him?”
+
+He was obliged to reply. In tremulous tones he said—“No; I have only
+heard mention of him.”
+
+“He was a very close friend of M. Baradier, and the godfather of his son
+Marcel. They all bewail his loss.”
+
+Lichtenbach raised his eyes from the ground; he looked at his daughter
+with keen look—
+
+“Who has told you all this?”
+
+“Madame Baradier and Madeline.”
+
+“You have spoken to Mademoiselle Baradier?”
+
+“Yes; and to her mother as well.”
+
+“And the son also, perhaps?”
+
+The sudden harshness of tone in Lichtenbach’s questions troubled
+Marianne. She stopped astonished—
+
+“But, papa, I assure you, everybody was exceedingly kind to me. M. Marcel
+Baradier accompanied me right to the carriage. Was it not quite natural?”
+
+“Yes, yes, perfectly natural. Repeat to me all they said to you. Did they
+make no mention of me?”
+
+“Not once. Your name was not even pronounced. I was surprised at that,
+for the Baradier family must know you. You formerly lived in the same
+town.”
+
+“Yes, we lived in the same town, and left it together. But we did not
+travel the same road. For, I ought to tell you, there was no friendship
+between us. My father and the Graffs had been hostile to one another.
+Graff is Baradier’s brother-in-law.”
+
+“But all this happened so long ago that it is doubtless forgotten.”
+
+“No, my dear girl,” said Elias, solemnly. “Nothing is forgotten.”
+
+“So you are not well disposed towards Madeline’s friends?”
+
+“Had I been ill disposed, should I have permitted you to call on them?”
+
+“Then it is they who wish you ill? That must be unjust on their part, for
+you are so good and kind. There must be some misunderstanding, and you do
+not know one another sufficiently.”
+
+“It is not so, my child. We have long known one another very well, and
+have always been opposed to one another. You are grown up now, and in a
+position to learn what life has in store for you. Very well! From the
+Baradiers and Graffs you have nothing favourable to expect. Every time
+you have dealings with them be on your guard. I had made up my mind to
+enlighten you some day on the situation this inveterate hostility has
+created between us. To-day is as good a time as any. I permitted you to
+enter the house which has received Mademoiselle de Trémont that you might
+not be in a position to accuse me of having concealed from you the least
+fraction of truth. Now you have seen the Baradiers, and you are convinced
+that I can treat with them on equal terms. Your grandfather Lichtenbach
+suffered a great deal at their hands in days gone by. He was an honest
+man, who commenced life in a very humble way. They humiliated and
+tortured him. When I was a poor little trader they spread abroad all
+kinds of calumny and slander about me. But I repaid them for all their
+insolence to old Lichtenbach. All this happened before we had left
+Lorraine—long before you were born. Still, this kind of hatred leaves an
+almost indestructible ferment in the heart. Whatever goes back to days of
+childhood and youth remains graven more firmly in the memory than things
+that happen in mature life. The Baradiers and Graffs came to Paris, so
+did I at a later date. We have been separated by life more completely
+than by immense distances, for in this great city, from street to street,
+quarter to quarter, one is more separated than from province to province.
+And yet, we have never forgotten the past. The Baradiers and Graffs are
+the inveterate enemies of the Lichtenbachs. Keep that well in your mind,
+my child, and let it be the rule of your conduct under every circumstance
+in life.”
+
+Marianne looked at her father uneasily.
+
+“Then you wish me to espouse your quarrel?”
+
+“God forbid! I love you too well to endanger your peace of mind, and I
+will do all I can to protect you from anything which might cause you pain
+and suffering. I have opened your eyes, for you must know how to discern,
+at a given moment, the causes of certain events, and the bearing of
+certain expressions. Leave to me the responsibility of assuring your
+security and happiness.”
+
+“Can I go and see Madeline again?”
+
+“Why should you? If you do not call on her what will prevent her coming
+to see you?”
+
+“I shall be at the convent.”
+
+“Not for ever.”
+
+The young girl gave her father a beseeching look as she said—
+
+“Ah! If you would only let me stay with you, how pleased I should be.”
+
+Lichtenbach’s face lit up with an expression of joy and gladness.
+
+“What would you do here?” he asked good humouredly.
+
+“I would keep the house for you. There is great need of it, though I do
+not wish to criticize. A woman would not leave this fine mansion in so
+gloomy and so dismal-looking a condition. So little would be needed to
+arrange the rooms so as to make them comfortable and agreeable. Besides,
+you could devote yourself entirely to your own work, and you would see
+how much better everything would go. It is not a man’s _rôle_ to give
+orders to servants. Would you not like to have some one about you who
+would ever be affectionately on the watch to attend to your every need
+and comfort? I am eighteen years old now; they no longer know what to
+teach me at the convent. Very soon it will be I who will be giving
+lessons to the pupils. Have I been born into the world to be a teacher at
+the Sacre-Cœur? You have a daughter; she does not belong to others, she
+is your own. Why don’t you keep her to yourself?”
+
+As she spoke she flung her arms round him and pressed him to her breast,
+so that the paternal instinct of Elias warmed gently under the influence
+of her fond caresses. This man, harsh-natured and ferocious as he was,
+became filled with generous and tender sentiments as his child looked
+down upon him. A sigh escaped his lips.
+
+“If I were to listen to you, should I not be doing something very
+imprudent? One should be alone and untrammelled if he wishes to remain
+strong and safe.”
+
+“But what are you afraid of? To listen to you one would imagine you were
+in a state of war with enemies lying in ambush for you. Is life so full
+of dangers? Is there no protection in this world from one’s foes?”
+
+Elias smiled.
+
+“Simple upright minds never see anything threatening to be afraid of.
+They are blind. But sagacious observers look at everything with anxious,
+uneasy eyes, and see danger all around. Look at the sea; at the first
+glance all you can distinguish will be an immense sheet of water,
+azure-blue, the mirror of the sky, furrowed all over by vessels, and
+troubled by the winds. Then lean over, and try to pierce the ocean’s deep
+bed, and you will see frightful reefs, whose existence you never
+suspected, and terrible monsters ever on the watch. _Débris_ and wrecks,
+the lamentable remains of ships and seamen, will prove to you that danger
+is ever present, that catastrophes are everyday events, and to avoid
+them, unceasing attention and prudence are needed. It is the same with
+society, which you believe trustworthy, and with life, which you judge so
+easy. The surface is smooth and attractive, but beneath everything is
+monstrous and terrifying. Still, I am here to watch over you, do not be
+uneasy. By my side you will be sheltered from danger, and as you wish to
+stay at home, my dear child, you shall do so. Your presence will be a
+consolation and a joy to me in the decline of life.”
+
+Holding out his arms, she threw herself on his breast with a cry of
+gratitude. Lichtenbach, rather ashamed at having given way to such tender
+emotions, said briefly—
+
+“Well, that is settled. I will send to the convent for your wardrobe and
+all your belongings, and you shall settle down here at once.”
+
+“Oh, my dear father, it would scarcely be worth while to take back the
+few garments I have; they may be disposed of in charity. There are only a
+few personal souvenirs I should like to keep. You will give me some
+money, will you not, as a present for these excellent nuns who have taken
+such good care of me?”
+
+“But you are rich, my darling,” said Elias, with a smile. “You have your
+mother’s fortune, which has been accumulating interest. Besides, I must
+give up my accounts to you.”
+
+Marianne went up to her father, and, kissing him tenderly, said—
+
+“This will serve as a receipt for everything!”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+M. MAYEUR, examining magistrate, was seated in his study, near the
+fireplace, whilst his clerk, in listless mood, was engaged in questioning
+one of the agents, charged with investigating the Vanves affair. M.
+Mayeur was terribly bored; he was accustomed to carry through sensational
+affairs, without giving himself much trouble. The results were obtained
+with regularity, and as though by enchantment. Chance seemed to favour
+him, and he was reputed to be the luckiest judge on the bench. He had
+become accustomed to his good fortune, so, when the Vanves affair had
+been placed in his hands, he gave a smile of satisfaction and confidence,
+whilst his clerk, rubbing together his hands, with a look of pity for the
+culprits, said—
+
+“We shall not need to spend much time over this matter!”
+
+And yet matters were dragging along slowly. For a whole week, M. Mayeur
+had multiplied his investigations, sent out detective after detective,
+summoned witnesses, and fulfilled judicial commissions. Nothing came of
+it all. As he expressed it, he was moving about in a thick fog, from
+which he could not escape. Every evening the Government agent sent for
+him, and asked in satirical accents—
+
+“Well, Mayeur, where are we now?”
+
+And the magistrate, accustomed as he was to success, found himself
+obliged to reply—
+
+“Ah, sir, we are still on the look-out, but we have found nothing yet.”
+
+“Ah, ah! The deuce! A week already flown since the crime was committed.
+Your chances are diminishing. In proportion as time passes, false tracks
+appear, and the scent becomes fainter. I expected a better result from
+you! As a rule, your inspiration is clearer.”
+
+“But there is nothing whatever to take hold of—not the slightest clue in
+the cursed affair!”
+
+“What! Nothing? You have the corpse of the victim, the house in ruins,
+and the arm of the assassin! What are you doing with this latter? It
+ought to reveal something.”
+
+“For the present it is in the frigorific apparatus,” growled M. Mayeur.
+“But neither corpse, nor house, nor arm gives me the slightest results.
+An evil genius seems to have passed over everything, carrying with it
+death and mutilation, and leaving nothing behind. It is enough to drive
+one mad!”
+
+“Gently, Mayeur, keep a cool head, whatever happens. Persevere. You have
+been spoiled by success, but do not be discouraged; at any moment light
+may flash on the whole affair, and clear up everything.”
+
+What caused M. Mayeur the greatest chagrin was that he was perfectly
+aware of the secret pleasure his want of success gave all his colleagues.
+A magistrate who had failed in so important an investigation; how could
+he expect to be nominated to the Assize Court, contrary to all normal
+promotion, if he had no longer his invariable good luck as his supreme
+justification? And, seated in his study, with his back to the light,
+looking vacantly into the fire, whilst his clerk ran the risk of
+dislocating his jaw with too much gaping, M. Mayeur, to satisfy his
+conscience, in mournful accents, questioned one of his agents, who had
+returned after a fruitless search.
+
+“So there was no trace of the wounded man having passed through the
+cottage gardens, nor on the road to Paris?”
+
+“No, sir. I have visited all the inns frequented by the quarrymen and
+gardeners of the district. No one could give me any definite information.
+One would imagine the murderer had been annihilated by the explosion
+itself.”
+
+“Nothing of the kind! He was tracked to within three hundred paces from
+the Trémont property, and there a trail of blood, quite visible, which he
+had left all the way, suddenly disappeared. Did he, at that spot, find
+his accomplices waiting for him? Was he carried off? How and where?
+Nothing but darkness and obscurity!”
+
+“Those who committed the crime are not professional thieves, although the
+General has been robbed of objects of value he carried on his person.
+Accordingly, they will not be found so easily. That is where the whole
+difficulty comes in.”
+
+The magistrate gave a gesture of discontent, as though to signify that he
+knew all that. Stroking his beard, he said, with a sigh—
+
+“You may go now. Send me Baudoin, the General’s servant, whom I have sent
+for afresh.”
+
+The agent bowed, and left the room. A moment after the door opened again,
+and the valet’s resolute, intelligent face appeared. He already
+sympathized with the clerk, who gave him a friendly nod. The magistrate
+said, in sulky tones—
+
+“Take a seat, M. Baudoin. I have disturbed you once more, with the object
+of explaining certain details which I find incomprehensible.”
+
+“Do not apologize, sir; it is no disturbance if it is for anything
+concerning the General. Ah! I should only be too happy if I could give
+you any efficient help in your task!”
+
+How could this servant throw light on a mystery which he, Mayeur, could
+not succeed in unravelling? Well, it could not be helped. The clerk
+seemed overjoyed at his master’s humiliation. He had been worrying him
+long enough with his lack of capacity. A striking failure would make him
+less self-confident, and he would be a little more indulgent towards his
+subordinate, whom he always appeared to look upon as an imbecile. Fume
+away, my good master! That will not help you much. And the clerk gave
+another mighty yawn.
+
+“This woman you saw leave the carriage at the door of the house—was she
+tall or short?”
+
+“Rather tall. But as she was wrapped in a large mantle I could not say
+precisely. By the way in which she descended from the carriage, I should
+imagine she was rather slender in build.”
+
+“And her companion?”
+
+“Oh! her companion; I saw him distinctly. He was a strong man, with a
+thick beard, light-complexioned, and brutal in appearance. He wore a grey
+felt hat and a dark suit. His accent was foreign, and—”
+
+“Do you think it is the man your master called Hans?” asked the
+magistrate.
+
+“It could be no one else. The General received no one, except his
+friends, Messieurs Baradier and Graff. The people who came on different
+occasions at night to the villa must have been regular villains for him
+not to permit me to stay with him.”
+
+“What do you consider the reason of this precaution on the part of M. de
+Trémont?”
+
+“The fact that he would see me trying to fathom the plots of this lady
+and her acolyte.”
+
+“Then, in your opinion, it is a feminine intrigue which is at the root of
+the matter?”
+
+“Apparently, yes.”
+
+“And in reality?”
+
+“It was their object to steal from the General his formulæ for the
+manufacture of his new powders.”
+
+“Then the woman was only an intermediary?”
+
+“An intermediary, no. They well knew the General would never consent to a
+bargain. A bait, yes. I did not see the woman, but every time she came
+she left the General’s study impregnated with a peculiar perfume of a
+very captivating odour. Oh! I should recognize it amongst a hundred! The
+woman’s voice, too, was caressing and seductive. Ah! my poor master! She
+knew what power she had over him. That woman was capable of anything—of
+driving mad a brave warm-hearted man like my master, of pouring over him
+the poison of her looks and smiles, and having him cruelly killed for
+some cause I know nothing of. As for the man Hans, he was only an agent—a
+well-informed man, for the General respected his opinions, and could
+speak with him of his discoveries, but not of the same social position as
+his accomplice. He was an ordinary, even a rough individual. The woman’s
+prestige must have been demanded to have had him received by M. de
+Trémont, who was so aristocratic.”
+
+“And you could never find out, by means of the cook, who remained in the
+house, what took place when you had left the house?”
+
+“No, she was of a very dull intellect. Outside of her work, there was
+very little to be obtained from her. That is the reason M. de Trémont had
+no cause to mistrust her. All the same, she saw the woman on several
+occasions, and told me that she was a miracle of beauty—young,
+light-complexioned, with eyes that would have damned a saint. She spoke
+with the General in a foreign language. Now the General could only speak
+English and Italian.”
+
+“Was your master rich?”
+
+“No, sir, he had a very modest fortune—about twenty thousand francs
+income. But his discoveries were very valuable. And it was these the
+woman was aiming at. In all probability, whilst she was with the General,
+her accomplice was examining the papers and searching among the
+products.”
+
+“You never found any paper dealing with the relations of the General with
+this woman?”
+
+“Never.”
+
+“What became of the telegrams the General received telling him of the
+arrival of his visitors?”
+
+“The General burnt them himself. I saw him do it. Ah! Every precaution
+was taken by my brave master not to compromise the fair Baroness. God
+knows how he loved her! He trembled like a student at the idea of seeing
+her!”
+
+“And yet he never gave up to her the secret of his discoveries?”
+
+Baudoin’s face became serious.
+
+“Ah! He was reserving his secret for France. I heard him say so more than
+once, after an experiment which satisfied him: ‘Baudoin, my good fellow,
+when our artillery has this powder, we shall no longer be afraid of any
+one.’ Certainly the General was passionately fond of this woman. But he
+loved his country far more, and between the two, he did not hesitate.
+Besides, that was certainly the cause of his death. They could not
+succeed in taking his secret by fair means, so they attempted to obtain
+possession of it by force.”
+
+The clerk had ceased yawning; he was listening to Baudoin with
+sympathetic interest all the while he was writing his deposition. He
+wrote down the main outlines only, for it was the third time M. Mayeur
+was having the same thing repeated to him, as though he hoped to discover
+among expressions already heard, some special signification which would
+permit him to unravel the truth. And it was always this love intrigue,
+cloaking the criminal attempt, the bearing of which he could not succeed
+in gauging. Was it a matter that concerned international politics or was
+it mere spying? Or simply a bold attempt to seize a commercial product of
+considerable value? Still, before whatever hypothesis he stopped, there
+was obscurity with regard to cause, ignorance concerning details, an
+impenetrable mystery which maddened him, and which seemed as though it
+would compromise his career. Flinging himself back in his chair, he said—
+
+“Yes, the criminals have taken great precautions. The General is dead,
+the servant, too, is dead, and you had been sent away. The wounded man
+has disappeared, as though buried in the bowels of the earth. And the
+unknown woman is mocking at our researches.”
+
+Baudoin shook his head.
+
+“So long as attempts are made to find her, she will hide, and nothing
+will be discovered. If the matter concerned me, I know what I should do.”
+
+M. Mayeur, in his distress, flashed at the valet a look of curiosity.
+When he, the examining magistrate, so famous for a resourceful
+imagination, no longer knew what expedient to try, a simple witness
+pretended to understand the position, and point out the means to be
+followed. He was on the point of crushing him with official disdain, by
+telling him to trouble with what concerned him, when he thought that,
+after all, advice was not to be neglected, and he might despise it
+afterwards, if necessary. He accordingly asked, in mocking tones, to
+safeguard his dignity—
+
+“Then, what would you do, M. Baudoin?”
+
+“Please pardon me, sir, if what I say is foolish, but if the affair were
+in my hand, instead of sending out in every direction, seeking
+information everywhere, I would not stir a step. I should let it be known
+that I had given up the pursuit, and was engaged in something else. You
+must know what takes place in a barn, where there are mice. There is a
+general rush to the holes as soon as the sound of entering feet are
+heard. If you remain quiet, after a few moments the mice are seen to be
+risking out again, and playing about the floor as before. Well, I believe
+it would be the same in the present case. I beg pardon, if I interfere in
+the matter, but I, too, am bent on finding the rascals who killed my
+master, and if I can contribute towards their capture it will be the
+brightest day of my life.”
+
+M. Mayeur no longer cast a disdainful glance at the General’s valet. He
+smiled at him in most amiable mood. For, in a flash he had furnished him
+with the means of taking advantage of the difficulty in this cursed
+affair. When the Government agent should say to him, that very
+evening—“Well, my dear Mayeur, where have you got to now? Nothing yet?”
+instead of replying in a tone of vexation, “Nothing at all,” thus
+confessing his inability to discover, and even the absence of grounds on
+which to found his researches, he would be able to reply: “This matter
+has been badly begun, I undertake to recommence everything _ab ovo_. We
+have to deal with rogues who are exceedingly cunning. I intend to change
+my plans entirely.” This time he would no longer appear incapable, as
+though he were entrusted with a task too difficult for his capacity. He
+would secure an honourable retreat, and gain time as well.
+
+Resuming his stiff and formal gravity, he said—
+
+“There will be plenty of time to act as you suggest. But I have still at
+my disposal many other means of throwing light on the subject.”
+
+His clerk, pen in mouth, could not help laughing outright. When Mayeur
+was at bay, without a single idea in his head, befooled by the culprits
+when he had not the slightest idea where to look for them, he still
+pretended to “throw light on the subject.” Light on the subject! It was
+enough to make any one laugh! He gave Baudoin a wink, and noisily rattled
+his desk.
+
+M. Mayeur, as though he guessed the secret hostility of his subordinate,
+said to him—
+
+“Just go and see if Colonel Vallenot has come from the Ministry.”
+
+The clerk stretched himself; showed Baudoin his cigarette-case, with a
+grimace which signified, “I’m just going to smoke one,” and left the
+room. M. Mayeur followed him, bolted the door, and returning to Baudoin,
+said—
+
+“I would rather we were alone in discussing the subject I am engaged on.
+The slightest indiscretion in so delicate a matter might ruin everything.
+Just now you gave me a piece of advice which I might follow to advantage.
+Still, you did not tell me everything. You are better informed than you
+have yet shown. Perhaps they are only suspicions, still, I am sure you
+are quite determined to help justice in an energetic pursuit of your
+master’s murderers. Why have you not perfect confidence in me? We have
+the same object in view. Come, M. Baudoin, be frank and open. You imagine
+you have discovered some means of laying hands on the culprits?”
+
+Baudoin raised his head, and looking fixedly at the magistrate, saw that
+he was in passionate earnest. He thought that he had really an ally in
+him, and that professional secrecy guaranteed his discretion, and
+accordingly made up his mind to speak.
+
+“Well! yes, I have a means by which we shall lay our hands on the
+culprits.”
+
+“What is it?”
+
+“First of all, swear that what I am about to say shall not be repeated.”
+
+“But—,” protested the judge.
+
+“Take it or leave it,” declared Baudoin, bluntly. “I am risking my life
+and that of others as well. I shall say nothing, unless you give me your
+word of honour not to repeat to a living soul what I am going to entrust
+to you.”
+
+“Not even to my chief?”
+
+“Not a word to any one! Do you give me your promise?”
+
+“Very well! I promise.”
+
+“Well, then! as I told you before, in matters concerning scientific
+research, the General had confidence in no one except a young man whom he
+loved as though he were his own child, M. Baradier’s son. I have reason
+to believe that M. Marcel knows M. de Trémont’s formulæ. If, therefore,
+the villains we are on the look-out for have the slightest suspicion that
+they might in this direction try the _coup_ which failed with the
+General, as soon as they are reassured as to the result of the present
+search, they will set to work afresh. It is there my task will begin. I
+am entering the service of M. Marcel, and I shall not leave him a single
+moment. Besides, I have a friend, who is accustomed to such work. I am
+taking him with me. The two of us are organizing a continual
+surveillance. If the plot recommences, we let it develop, and intervene
+at the critical moment. That is my plan. That is why I made bold, a few
+minutes ago, to advise you to give up the game, to all appearance. With
+villains like those with whom we have to deal, there may be a great deal
+of trouble. Now, you may do all that is necessary to give me a hand, and
+as soon as developments have come to a head, I will immediately lay the
+matter in your hands.”
+
+The examining magistrate reflected for a moment, then said—
+
+“All this is outside of legal precedent, but the situation is an
+exceptional one. Above everything, we must succeed! If we have to deal
+with determined criminals, as I imagine is the case, this is not their
+first attempt, and perhaps we shall capture a whole gang. Put into
+performance, therefore, the plan you have indicated, and, at the
+slightest difficulty, come to me, and I will summon all the forces of the
+law to your aid. You need simply show me the beginning of the thread, and
+I will go right to the end.”
+
+“Good; you shall hear from me at the right time. Not another word, for
+here is your clerk returning.”
+
+The clerk knocked at the closed door, and the magistrate opened it.
+Colonel Vallenot stood in the passage, and M. Mayeur addressed him—
+
+“Come in, Colonel, take a seat.”
+
+Turning towards Baudoin, he said—
+
+“You may now retire, M. Baudoin; I don’t think I shall need you for some
+time to come. All the same, if you leave Paris, give M. Baradier your
+address, so that the summons I shall address to you may reach you in good
+time.”
+
+Baudoin bowed to the magistrate, saluted the Colonel in military fashion,
+and left the room. When he was gone M. Mayeur returned to Vallenot, with
+a smile on his face; he could not allow his discouragement to appear in
+public.
+
+“The Minister of War delivered a very solid speech last night in the
+House.”
+
+“Yes; they try to mystify him, but he is able to defend himself. He knows
+what he is talking about, and a direct attack always succeeds with
+Parliamentarians.”
+
+“_Imperatoria brevitas_,” sneered the magistrate.
+
+After a short pause he asked in honeyed tones—
+
+“Have your researches come to a point yet?”
+
+The Colonel replied bluntly—
+
+“Not at all; they are no further advanced than yours.”
+
+M. Mayeur smiled faintly.
+
+“Ah, ah! Then we make no progress?”
+
+“If I were not afraid of offending you I should say that we were going
+backwards.”
+
+“That appears to be exactly as the matter stands,” said Mayeur, with a
+look of intelligence.
+
+“Ah! Have you obtained some clue at last?” asked Vallenot, perplexed.
+
+“I am not in a position to explain, but have patience; a surprise is in
+store for you.”
+
+“How delighted the chief will be! The whole affair has put him in such a
+nervous condition that the whole staff suffers in consequence. He is
+never out of a temper; one does not know how to manage him.”
+
+“To return to our investigations abroad, what result have they given?”
+
+“We have obtained the certainty that, if an attempt has been made to
+obtain possession of the formulæ of General de Trémont, the Triple
+Alliance has had nothing to do with it. Ever since the last espionage
+affair, the different Governments have given orders to their agents to
+observe the strictest reserve. If there really has been a plot it can
+only have been made by the English. You are well aware that their
+artillery is quite out of date, and they are trying to recover ground.”
+
+“So there are nothing but suppositions; no proofs?”
+
+“None whatever. In Paris, or, at any rate, in France, there are half a
+dozen women well known for their international intrigues, and who might
+have been suspected of having acted the _rôle_ of the Baroness with the
+poor General de Trémont. Those known to have been in France have been
+strictly watched. Besides, the majority form part of our
+counter-espionage, and could have informed us, whilst still in the pay of
+another nation. So far as Hans is concerned, a police report from
+Lausanne announces the arrival in Geneva of a wounded man, whose arm has
+been amputated. He is from Baden, and is named Fichter. The accident took
+place in a wire mill in the neighbourhood of Besançon. Accordingly, he
+could not be at the same time in the Jura and at Vanves. All the same,
+the description of him corresponds exactly with that given by Baudoin. If
+this Fichter is the man we are seeking, the proprietor of the wire mill
+must have given accommodation certificates, or a substitution must have
+taken place on the way between the two men. All this is very improbable.
+So, you see, the matter is involved in greater obscurity than ever.”
+
+“Yes, yes,” hummed the magistrate, who appeared so absent-minded that the
+Colonel looked at him in amazement.
+
+“You take all this very calmly!” said Vallenot.
+
+“What is the use of getting excited? It never serves any useful purpose.”
+
+“Then you have not lost all hope?”
+
+“Why should I?”
+
+“The deuce!”
+
+“Ah! my friend, success often comes at the very time you think everything
+is lost.”
+
+“You magistrates are very lucky; it is not so in the Army. When you
+expect Grouchy it is always Blucher who comes!”
+
+“Well, we shall see.”
+
+“What do you intend to do?”
+
+“Let the whole affair slide for some time. It is too premature to do
+anything yet.”
+
+“In other words, you are shelving it?”
+
+“Yes, I am shelving it provisionally.”
+
+“Then you abandon the whole affair?”
+
+The magistrate looked gravely at Vallenot and, to the profound amazement
+of his clerk, said humbly—
+
+“I do, if no fresh incident happens.”
+
+“Have I to inform the Minister of this?”
+
+“Please do so. Tell him I am sorry, and wish I could have done better.
+That has been impossible. Still all is not lost, in my opinion. We shall
+see at a later date.”
+
+The Colonel stood there rather disconcerted by this unexpected solution,
+and as he took his leave he shook his head, saying—
+
+“A pleasant message you send me with. I shall be received like a dog in a
+game of skittles.”
+
+“Nonsense! You are the favourite. I am off to the Government agent. He
+will not grumble; on the contrary, he will poke fun at me. Still no
+matter. He laughs best who laughs last!”
+
+Shaking the Colonel by the hand, he conducted him to the passage, and
+returned to his office. He signed several sheets of paper handed to him
+by his clerk. The latter, devoured by curiosity, said—
+
+“Then the matter is really finished, sir! Are you giving it up?”
+
+“One cannot do what is impossible,” said Mayeur, negligently. “A house
+cannot be built without scaffolding. Here we have no grounds to work
+upon. I am not strong enough to invent what I am ignorant of. It is
+already difficult enough to obtain benefit from certain proof.”
+
+A look of pity came over the clerk’s countenance. So long as the
+magistrate had manifested a tranquil assurance of success he had, in his
+conscience, violently criticized him. Now that his master showed himself
+modest and simple he disdained him. Nothing but a poor fellow, after all,
+who was very lucky when things went well, but gave up the struggle at the
+very first difficulties.
+
+“Just put away that brief into my case. I am going to the Public
+Prosecutor’s office,” said the magistrate. “Afterwards you may go; it is
+five o’clock. I will see you to-morrow morning.”
+
+Colonel Vallenot, meanwhile, was rolling away in a cab in the direction
+of the Ministry. On entering his chief’s ante-chamber he came across
+Baudoin, who was leaving the Minister’s cabinet. Stopping him, he said—
+
+“You have just seen the General?”
+
+“Yes, Colonel.”
+
+“Is he in a good temper?”
+
+“Yes, Colonel. You had better hurry, sir, if you wish to find him in.”
+
+“What! He is going out?”
+
+“I heard him say that he was going to the Chamber.”
+
+“You had something to ask him, Baudoin?”
+
+“No, Colonel. I wished simply to speak to him of the affair of General
+Trémont.”
+
+“In what respect?”
+
+“The magistrate makes no progress, and seems to me as though about to
+abandon the matter altogether.”
+
+“You told this to the Minister?”
+
+“Yes, not five minutes ago.”
+
+“And how did he receive the communication?”
+
+“He whistled softly; then said aloud, ‘After all, perhaps it is better
+so.’”
+
+Colonel Vallenot looked at Baudoin, as though to make sure he was not
+making fun of him. Then he shrugged his shoulders, as though he did not
+understand, and declared, in vexed tones—
+
+“Good! Good! Well, we will say no more about it.”
+
+With a friendly gesture to the former soldier, he said—
+
+“Good night, Baudoin. If you need anything send for me. We were all very
+fond of M. de Trémont.”
+
+And he passed along, muttering to himself—
+
+“Everybody I meet seems to have lost his head.”
+
+Baudoin descended the large staircase. He went out into the street, after
+shaking hands with the concierge, and made his way towards the small
+café, where, in condescending fashion, Laforêt watched the billiard
+players, during the absinthe hour, eagerly playing pools. He was seated
+in his usual place, smoking his pipe, and speaking to a neighbour, a
+retired business man, who was telling him his domestic worries.
+
+“Yes, sir; a woman who is always out of the house, and has never enough
+money. The vaults of the Bank would not suffice for her. And whenever I
+remonstrate with her she rouses the whole house with her cries. We cannot
+keep servants, for she will not pay them, and when she is not pleased,
+then there are blows! I have already been several times before the
+Justice of the Peace on her account. The life she leads me is a regular
+inferno!”
+
+“Divorce her,” said Laforêt, curtly.
+
+“But the greater part of our common stock is hers!”
+
+“Then put up with her!”
+
+“I can do it no longer.”
+
+“Well, treat her as she treats her servants.”
+
+“Ah! No! The deuce! She would pay me back in the same coin!”
+
+Baudoin’s arrival interrupted the consultation. The unhappy tradesman
+arose, and said—
+
+“The only place where I have a little quiet is here.”
+
+“Well, that is something. Good-bye, sir. Consider me at your service if I
+can be of any use to you.”
+
+Baudoin had taken a seat. Laforêt leaned over in his direction.
+
+“Well, anything fresh?”
+
+“Yes. I want you. But we had better leave here.”
+
+The agent arose, took his stick, and left the café, accompanied by
+Baudoin.
+
+“Where shall we go?”
+
+“Where we shall be neither disturbed nor overheard.”
+
+“Then come along with me.”
+
+They proceeded along the banks of the Seine, and, on reaching a quay,
+Laforêt led the way down a flight of stone stairs leading to the
+embankment. Under the shade of the elms, which twisted their knotty
+boughs above the slimy, swift-flowing river, they sat down. On the
+opposite bank the gardens of the Tuileries exposed to view their lovely
+verdure. Lighters were unloading sand fifty yards on the left.
+Ferry-boats sped swiftly along, crowded with passengers, and the distant
+rolling of carriages formed a rumbling accompaniment to their words.
+
+“Here we are certain that whatever we say will be heard by none other
+than the birds or the fishes,” said Laforêt. “This is the spot I
+recommend to you whenever you have any secrets to communicate to any one.
+There is not even a single fisherman about. Now then, what have you to
+tell?”
+
+“Well, after three weeks’ researches, the examining magistrate is obliged
+to confess that he has not made the slightest progress. Clearly, if left
+to himself, he will never effect anything. Besides, the cleverest of them
+would have been no more fortunate. There is nothing to seize hold of. The
+culprits have plunged, and everything is quiet again. The upshot of the
+matter is that our magistrate is about to stop all investigations, and
+now I am free to go where I like, as I shall no longer have to spend all
+the day walking about the corridors of the Law Courts. Accordingly, I am
+leaving Paris.”
+
+“Ah! Where are you going?”
+
+“To stay with the son of my master, M. Baradier, who is at the works near
+Troyes, in Champagne. The district is called Ars, noted for alkaline
+springs and thermal waters, visited every summer by invalids.”
+
+“Are you going to your master with the object of forgetting your
+troubles?”
+
+“No! Rather to keep watch over him. Since I have been in the house I have
+spoken with his father, and learnt several things. M. Baradier is
+informed that his son has received communications from the General de
+Trémont, and now the famous formulæ can only be obtained from Marcel. M.
+Baradier, I believe, would give a large sum if his son had never entered
+the General’s laboratory. But that is a fact which cannot be undone. The
+only important thing now is to defend the young man. This trust has been
+confided to me. M. Baradier said to me: ‘Baudoin, Marcel is my only son,
+and although he is not so steady as he might be, I am all the same very
+fond of him. I do not want him to come to any harm. As soon as you are
+free go down to Ars, and do not leave him.’”
+
+“But why does this young man, who is so rich, and of whom his family is
+so fond, shut himself up in a quiet provincial town? Why does he not stay
+in Paris?”
+
+“For several reasons. The best one is that his father considers it more
+prudent for him to be at Ars than in Paris. Surveillance is more easy in
+the country. Besides, M. Marcel, from what I have learned, has been
+living rather too fast, and his father has cut off his supplies; but for
+his uncle Graff, the young heir would have nothing whatever. Just now he
+is desperately bent on finding a chemical process of wool-dyeing, and,
+though he is rather a hare-brained fellow, as the General called him, he
+has an extraordinary aptitude for scientific research, so that his work
+will be sufficient to keep him away from all kinds of distractions.”
+
+“He is rather a strange character.”
+
+“The finest young man you would meet anywhere. Generous and lively in
+disposition, not proud in the least. Ah! he will please you, I know, when
+you meet him.”
+
+“Then I am to make his acquaintance?”
+
+“Certainly.”
+
+“In what way?”
+
+“Listen. As soon as I learned that I could leave Paris I rushed off to
+the Minister to explain what I wanted to do, and asked him, if he wished
+the affair to succeed, to give me permission that you should come down to
+Ars whenever I need you.”
+
+“I must have permission first.”
+
+“You have only to see Colonel Vallenot, who has received instructions,
+and he will give you your papers.”
+
+“Good. And what shall I have to do afterwards?”
+
+“According to circumstances. It is my firm conviction that the
+catastrophe of which my poor master has been the victim, is nothing but
+the beginning of a drama. Many important events will take place, and we
+must arrange so as to prevent them from being harmful to the intended
+victims. Serious interests are at stake. We shall probably have to deal
+with matters that are anything but attractive. But then, afterwards,
+everything will be cleared up. We must succeed. By the way, you must know
+how to disguise yourself.”
+
+Laforêt smiled.
+
+“Do not be uneasy on that score. I will be there at the rendezvous you
+appoint; but I will not vouch for your recognizing me when you see me.”
+
+“That is all right, then. Unfortunately, I am not to be relied upon for
+playing a double _rôle_. But I can well maintain my own, which will be
+that of a watch-dog.”
+
+“Then everything is settled?”
+
+“So it seems. When I have a communication to make I will send my letter
+to the Ministry.”
+
+“Very good. Now let us get back.”
+
+Mounting the stone staircase, they reached the quay, and took leave of
+one another.
+
+Laforêt made his way towards the Rue Saint Dominique; Baudoin crossed the
+Pont de la Concorde, and returned to the Rue de Provènce by the Rue de
+Richelieu and the boulevards. Messieurs Baradier and Graff were in their
+office, along with the cashier of the firm, who was making inquiries
+concerning the collection of debts. The cashier was saying—
+
+“Do you know, gentlemen, that the ‘Commercial Explosives’ Company,’ of
+which M. Lichtenbach is chairman, is on its last legs? The shares have
+gone down considerably. It seems that there is an American company
+competing with them.”
+
+“Yes, so I have heard,” said Graff. “The Americans have found a product
+of very simple composition, costing fifty per cent. less than dynamite.
+They have already taken very large orders for Australia and South Africa.
+That is the reason of the fall of the Lichtenbach Company.”
+
+“Do not be uneasy, Bernard,” said Baradier to his cashier. “It will not
+affect Lichtenbach, but his shareholders. You have no more letters to be
+signed?”
+
+“No, sir.”
+
+“Well, then, you may go now. Good night.”
+
+“Good night, gentlemen.”
+
+Baradier rose from his seat, and stood with his back to the fire.
+
+“You see,” he said to his brother-in-law, “here we have a clear proof
+that Trémont has been killed as much to rob him of his commercial as of
+his military secret. Do you now understand how Lichtenbach would be
+interested in being in possession of the formulæ of an explosive which
+would be less costly than the American product, the discovery of which is
+ruining the French company, and would be as effective though a hundred
+times less in volume? For this is the real value of the discovery made by
+Trémont, and which Marcel has explained to me. Accordingly, if
+Lichtenbach, by some means or other, came into possession of the unknown
+formulæ, he would only have to take out a patent, and secretly buy back
+all the shares of the company which have now fallen so low. The day after
+he had swept everything before him he would sell to the company all
+property in the new explosive, and make millions at a single stroke,
+without speaking of the future success of the product.”
+
+“Yes, it would be a fine _coup_ worthy of him. He might give up to his
+confederates the profits from the war powder, for they would be little
+compared with those of the commercial product. Governments are not in the
+habit of remunerating philanthropists who afford them the means of
+marching triumphantly forward to a universal massacre.”
+
+“Oh, don’t make any mistake. Marcel affirms that this discovery made by
+Trémont is followed by the most frightful results. It is a kind of paste,
+which, according to the way in which it is prepared, causes a formidable
+detonation or else burns, without the slightest noise, even when in
+water.”
+
+“Greek fire?”
+
+“Something like it. Or, rather, like an up-to-date cannon compared with
+one of the fourteenth century. Torpedoes loaded with this paste, and lit
+by means of a well-graduated mechanism, might at will envelop a ship in
+flames at a single moment.”
+
+“That would mean the suppression of all naval supremacy!”
+
+“Ah! You understand. Now, do you think there exists any real security for
+the possessor of such a secret? A State would have to be governed by
+angels if it did not use its utmost endeavours to procure this monstrous
+power of annihilating all its enemies and subduing all its rivals. This
+is why Trémont was put to death, and why I have lost my sleep at the
+thought that my son has openly worked with him and may be suspected of
+having possession of this mysterious agent of destruction and greatness.”
+
+“Send him away from France, on a cruise.”
+
+“He would be in much greater danger away from France. The place where he
+runs least risk is here among his friends. Ah! How glad I should be were
+he rid of this heavy burden! I have begged him to hand over the General’s
+formulæ to the Minister. It would have been announced in all the journals
+that Marcel Baradier had handed over to the Technical Committee of
+Explosives all notes relating to the experiments of General de Trémont.
+After that he would have been free, and no further risk would have been
+run. Do you know what reply he gave me?”
+
+“No; tell me.”
+
+“He said to me, with a smile, and in tones of calm assurance: ‘My dear
+father, the General’s powder is still lacking in one slight detail. I
+know what he intended to do, for he explained everything to me. Well,
+then, I will continue his experiments, and when everything is complete I
+will hand over the formulæ to the State, according to his
+clearly-expressed will, and form a company with the commerce explosive to
+enrich the General’s daughter.’”
+
+“Does Marcel know what a risk he is running?” asked Graff.
+
+“I became hoarse in telling him. But he is a Lorraine; he’s as obstinate
+as a mule. To all my arguments he offered an imperturbable resistance. ‘I
+alone,’ he said, ‘can manage the affair successfully. If I give the
+General’s notes to the Technical Committee, one of those sharp fellows on
+the Board will boast that he has made the discovery himself, and obtain
+all the credit for it. Unless he spoil the invention by absurd additions,
+which is at bottom a very likely thing. As for the commercial product, if
+I open my mouth before taking all necessary precautions, it will be
+stolen in an instant, and the General’s daughter will lose her fortune.
+For these reasons, and others, I do not intend to abandon the work I have
+begun.’
+
+“‘But you are risking your life?’
+
+“‘Is it so very precious? You spend your time in telling me I am a
+rascal, that I am ruining you, and shall bring your name into dishonour.
+Very good! You will be well rid of a guilty and unworthy son!’”
+
+Graff struck his hands against one another.
+
+“You see! That is the result of your harshness towards the poor child.
+How can you expect him to listen to you?”
+
+“Ah! Leave me alone!” exclaimed Baradier, pale with anguish, “I am
+sufficiently worried with all this! You do not intend to make me
+responsible for it, into the bargain! I love Marcel as well as you do!
+The only difference is that I am not always fawning on him and giving him
+money! We should have been in a fine state had you been the only one to
+set him an example! All you did was to encourage his evil inclinations!
+If he has done wrong, it is all your fault!”
+
+“Yes! I, who have set an example to him, and practised what I preached!”
+exclaimed Graff. “I being his evil genius, as everybody knows. Really,
+Baradier, I wonder if you have gone mad!”
+
+Baradier walked excitedly about the room, then, returning to his
+brother-in-law, placed his hand on his shoulder, and said in trembling
+tones—
+
+“You are right! I believe I am losing my senses. Pardon me, this anxiety
+has completely overwhelmed me. We have only Marcel, Graff. Think of what
+would become of us, if destiny willed it that—”
+
+Graff rose quickly from his seat.
+
+“Not another word! It is unlucky to predict disaster. We must not even
+admit that there is a disaster at all. Still, I cannot blame Marcel for
+doing what he considers his duty. Did he act otherwise, he would be
+neither a Baradier nor a Graff. He is acting very courageously. All the
+same we must keep watch over him, and defend him against his own folly.”
+
+At that moment, a knock was heard at the study door. Baradier went to
+open it, and seeing Baudoin on the threshold, said—
+
+“Ah! You have come at the right moment. First of all, tell us how things
+are going at the courts.”
+
+“Everything is at a standstill, sir. The examining magistrate can find
+nothing. The culprits have left a vacuum behind them.”
+
+“Well?”
+
+“Well, M. Mayeur, in despair, unable to arrest the criminals, is simply
+stopping all investigations, and shelving the affair.”
+
+“That’s a fine idea! Is it his own?”
+
+“No, sir.”
+
+“What fool could have suggested such a course?”
+
+“I did.”
+
+“I congratulate you. Now, the rascals who have killed your master,
+believing themselves sure of impunity, will recommence—”
+
+“I am relying on their doing so!”
+
+“But! Marcel? My son! What is to become of him? Have you even thought of
+such a thing?”
+
+“I have thought of nothing else. Here I am free. If you will allow me, I
+will leave Paris this very night, and be at Ars about midnight. The news
+of the affair being abandoned will not appear in the journals for a
+couple of days. I shall have organized my surveillance by that time. I
+promise you nothing shall happen to M. Marcel, or, at any rate, they will
+have to begin with me.”
+
+“Very reassuring!” growled Baradier. “But what can one do with such a
+madman as my son? He is in danger everywhere. Ah, the cursed powder! What
+need had Trémont to tell him of his inventions? If this explosive is as
+dangerous to those against whom it is used as it is to its inventors,
+there will be fine butcheries the next war.”
+
+Baudoin philosophically paid no heed to these paternal recriminations.
+
+He understood how correct they were, but could he do more than devote
+himself to the defence of him who might at any time, be so gravely
+threatened? When M. Baradier finally sat down, in consternation, Graff
+decided to speak in his turn.
+
+“After all,” he said, “as the wine is drawn, we must drink it. The thing
+to guard against is not to poison one’s self with it. Forewarned is
+forearmed. The situation is not the same as it was for the General. With
+a little prudence it will be easy to make everything turn out right.
+Patience brings all things about.”
+
+“Have you finished with your proverbs, which have no meaning whatever?”
+exclaimed Baradier, exasperated by his brother-in-law’s optimism.
+“Without so much palaver, all that is needed is to give Baudoin
+permission to summon the police in case he sees anything suspicious in
+Marcel’s surroundings. For my part, I have more confidence in armed might
+than in providence.”
+
+“If you are interrupting me to say such nonsense,” replied Graff, “you
+might have held your peace. Let Marcel work on. The sooner he has
+finished the sooner he will be out of danger. Until that time, Baudoin, I
+entrust him to your care.”
+
+“Do not be uneasy, Monsieur Graff. I will answer for him with my life.
+Besides, I am not trusting in myself alone. I am going to send for a
+companion, who in himself is worth a score of men. I need say no more.
+Trust to me.”
+
+“Yes, my brave fellow, I will trust to you,” said Baradier.
+
+“Very good,” said Baudoin, rubbing his hands. “Have you any message to
+send to M. Marcel?”
+
+“Tell him to be very careful; give him our best love, and ask him to
+think of us at times.”
+
+“By-the-bye, have you any money for the journey?”
+
+“I have all I need, sir, thank you. Your servant, sir. _Au revoir_!”
+
+Bowing, he left the room. Father and uncle remained behind, silent and
+grave, plunged in reverie. After a time Graff stood up and said—
+
+“Nothing ill will happen. Of that I am sure. I feel it. You know I am
+never mistaken. In business, every time we have had a loss I have always
+had a very clear intuition of it beforehand. Be assured, Baradier, we
+shall come out of it without loss or damage.”
+
+The anxious father replied—
+
+“Heaven grant you may be right! But so long as there is a woman in it I
+cannot be at rest concerning Marcel. Ah! if it were only you or I, there
+would be no danger. But this young madman!”
+
+“The oldest are not always the wisest. Look at Trémont.”
+
+“Well, well. It is all in God’s hands!”
+
+Holding out his hand to his brother-in-law—
+
+“We will have no more quarrels; they serve no useful purpose, and only
+cause us pain!”
+
+“Ah! Speak to me as harshly as you like!” exclaimed Graff, greatly moved.
+“It does not hurt me, and it relieves you! But be careful to say nothing
+to your wife. There is no occasion that she should worry herself about
+the matter.”
+
+They left the office, and, as they crossed the court they saw Baudoin,
+portmanteau in hand, starting off, with alert and happy step, for the
+station.
+
+
+
+
+PART II
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+ARS is a small town of six thousand inhabitants, a distance of four
+leagues from Troyes. On the manly declivities to the South stretch miles
+upon miles of vineyards. The mineral springs of Ars are distant half a
+mile from the town, on the road to Lusigny, as is also the thermal
+establishment.
+
+It was whilst engaged in sounding for ore, in land which did not contain
+the slightest trace of it, that M. Reverend, chief engineer, unexpectedly
+discovered the alkaline and chalybeate waters, rivalling those of
+Plombieres and of Aix. But, after all, Ars is too near Paris for patients
+to have confidence in the healing virtues of its springs. It is
+frequented only by people of limited income, and hotel-keepers who are
+not in the habit of fleecing travellers. Near the forest of Bossicant,
+close by, a few villas, almost lost amid the trees, are every year placed
+at the disposal of wealthy invalids. These are modest-looking, quiet
+houses, offering their peace-loving guests nothing but the smiling
+solitudes of the forest. The weaving and spinning mills belonging to
+Messrs. Baradier and Graff are situated on the Barse, the rapid current
+of which turns the dynamos, which supply both light and motive-power. The
+private residence is separated from the works by a large court-yard and a
+beautiful garden. The road to Vandoeuvre passes in front of the house,
+whilst, on the other side of the road, through meadows in which large
+numbers of cattle are grazing all the year round, runs the railroad, past
+Chaumont, right to the German frontier. Ars is an important working
+centre. The quarries and mines give work to a large proportion of the
+male population.
+
+Two hundred men, a hundred women, and a large number of children are
+employed at the works of Baradier and Graff. The manager of the
+establishment, M. Cardez, is a native of Lorraine, who came from Metz
+with his masters. He had married at Ars, and was now a widower with two
+grown-up sons, devoted to duty, and kind towards his workmen, but of a
+taciturn disposition, and ruling with almost military discipline. One of
+his sons is in the Army, the other assistant-manager in the works at La
+Barre.
+
+A very good fellow, on the whole, whom Marcel Baradier, from his
+childhood, had been in the disrespectful habit of calling “the bear.” The
+“bear” and Marcel could never understand one another. There was the same
+distance between them as between Pascal, the inventor of the
+wheel-barrow, and the workman whose duty it was to roll it along the
+highway. Marcel likes Cardez well enough, though he is fond of poking fun
+at him. Cardez is very respectful towards the son of his master, though
+he deplores his light-heartedness and frivolity. The two might live
+together for years without the slightest affinity being manifested
+between them. As Marcel says, with a smile, the one is negative, the
+other positive. Cardez is none too glad at Marcel settling down at the
+works, for his presence is a cause of trouble for the workmen. The
+master’s son is too ready to listen to their complaints, and discipline
+suffers in consequence. The military order no longer reigns, and Cardez,
+more bearish than ever, never ceases railing at what he calls “the
+encouragement given to the rebellious instincts of the workmen.”
+
+Marcel’s researches in the colouring of cloth leave the director
+sceptical. He considers there is no necessity to change a system which
+has succeeded so well for so many years. A dye-shed always seemed useless
+to him. The raw thread, which brought so ready a sale, was quite
+sufficient for their requirements. All these new inventions, costing so
+dear, only served, in his mind, to introduce an element of trouble into
+the working of a business already prosperous. The laboratory at the end
+of the garden, in an isolated pavilion, was the object of raillery on the
+part of the director, who called it “the Capernaum.”
+
+Since Marcel had come to settle at Ars, contrary to his usual habit, he
+scarcely ever appeared at the works. He shut himself up in the
+“Capernaum,” or went off in search of recreation, with a gun and his dog,
+into the forest of Bossicant. Baradier and Graff owned two hundred acres
+of waste land, very picturesque, and abounding in game. Certain of the
+uplands of Bossicant remind one of Scotland, in point of wild,
+picturesque view, dry, arid heather, and the clear freshness of the
+invigorating air.
+
+Half-way down the hollow rose a villa, in the form of a chalet, buried in
+the trees—a red spot in the midst of so much surrounding verdure. It was
+gloomy and silent, and almost always uninhabited, by reason of its
+distance from the town, and proximity to the wood. One morning, as he
+passed by this villa, Marcel was surprised to see that the shutters were
+down, and that a servant was busily sweeping in front of the door. She
+was rather elegantly dressed, and appeared to be a stranger in the
+district, doubtless attending to some invalid who had come to effect a
+cure. Marcel was not inquisitive, and went his way.
+
+It was three o’clock when he reached the plain, which he began to cross
+with careless steps. The movements of his dog, however, drew his
+attention. He slipped a couple of cartridges into his gun, and mounted to
+the side of the slope. After a moment’s interval, on climbing the
+opposite bank, Marcel saw a rabbit bent on reaching the open. He took
+aim, pulled the trigger, and the rabbit rolled over to the foot of the
+descent. The dog was not far away; he seized the dead animal by the back,
+and brought him to his master.
+
+Marcel relieved the dog, placed the game in a light bag he carried over
+his shoulder, uncocked his gun, and, considering that he had done enough
+damage for the time being, sat down on the sand, at the foot of a fir
+tree, and looked dreamily away at the distant forests in the east. A
+delightful torpor, induced by the dull silence of the woods, took
+possession of his body, whilst his more active thoughts, as though freed
+from all material bond, began to dwell on his past life. He saw again the
+house in the Rue de Provènce, in which his father and his uncle Graff had
+quarrelled so often about him; and his mother’s salon, where Amélie,
+seated near Mademoiselle de Trémont, dressed in deep black, was quietly
+working.
+
+Suddenly his reveries were interrupted by a bark of his dog. The
+pattering step of some animal or other made him turn his head, and there,
+close by, he saw a small terrier, no larger than his two fists, a silk
+ribbon tied in a knot round his neck, advancing in his direction. A
+little farther away, a woman, dressed in black, slowly followed. He had
+no time to examine the newcomer, for the little dog, with a furious yelp,
+leaped towards the other, with the unthinking audacity of a rat attacking
+a tiger. A gentle voice exclaimed, “Bob!” It was of no use. Marcel’s dog
+stood up against his tiny adversary, and rolled him over into the dust.
+
+“Bob! Oh, _Mon Dieu_!” exclaimed his mistress, anxiously, as she rushed
+to the spot.
+
+Marcel heard the cry, saw a pair of beautiful eyes, and, without waiting
+longer, bounded forth, and seized his dog by the skin of his neck,
+flinging him over on to the ground. Then, picking up the terrier, still
+panting with the shock, but quite uninjured, he exhibited him to the
+lady, with a smile—
+
+“Do not be anxious, madame; your savage little animal is safe and sound.
+Still, we were only just in time. Please excuse us, and take into account
+that we were not the aggressors.”
+
+The lady put the dog under her arm, gave him a gentle tap, saying, in
+scolding tones—
+
+“Oh! _Che bestia_! A fly trying to devour a wolf!”
+
+Marcel could now see her at leisure, as she was tenderly scolding her
+terrier, and he stood there, filled with admiration at the gentle beauty
+of the unknown lady. Her face was of a perfect oval, surrounded by golden
+hair; her dark eyes were languishing and gentle, whilst she had the
+chaste and timid mien of a young girl. All the same, she was dressed in
+mourning, like a widow. Fixing her eyes on Marcel, she said, in quiet,
+gracious accents—
+
+“A thousand thanks, sir, for your timely intervention. I am sorry for
+your poor dog, which did quite right in defending itself.”
+
+“There can be no comparison, madame,” said Marcel, “between this charming
+little animal of yours and this large-pawed dog of mine, accustomed to
+brambles and thorns. I am sorry I have stopped your walk, but now you may
+continue in perfect safety; I will chain up my dog.”
+
+The young woman bowed her head in token of thanks.
+
+“If I am trespassing on your property, I beg you to excuse me. I am a
+stranger, and have only been in these parts the last two days. I am
+acquainted with no one to inform me as to what I have a right to do.”
+
+“Here, madame, you may do as you please. Doubtless you are living at the
+Villa de la Cavée?”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“Then these woods are easily within your reach. There are very few
+passers-by, and you may come whenever you wish.”
+
+She murmured, in constrained accents, “A thousand thanks.”
+
+Thereupon she moved away at a slow pace. Marcel stood there motionless,
+unable to remove his eyes from the ravishing figure, now slowly
+disappearing from view. Then he whistled for his dog, stroked him gently,
+as though to atone for his rough treatment a few moments previously, and
+returned, in pensive mood, to the works. After dinner he strolled about
+the garden, smoking, till nine o’clock; then, completely tired out,
+retired to rest for the night.
+
+The following morning he spent all his time in the laboratory. Suddenly
+the door opened, and Baudoin appeared.
+
+“Holla! You here?” said the young man. “Has my father sent you?”
+
+“Yes, sir. I am requested by all the family to convey to you their best
+love. Besides, I have come to stay by your side.”
+
+“For what purpose?”
+
+“To be your servant.”
+
+“Very good, Baudoin; make yourself at home. Your presence will be very
+useful here, in making things go all right. The inhabitants of this
+district are fine people on the whole, but not over-intelligent.”
+
+“We will put all that in order for you.”
+
+He walked round the laboratory, looking attentively at the objects on the
+table, and the alembics, with their copper spirals, on the stove.
+
+“So it is here that you are working! Who arranges things in this
+laboratory?”
+
+“No one enters the place but myself.”
+
+“So I see. However, I will clean your utensils; I know how to go about
+it. Are you working at the General’s formulæ?”
+
+“Not yet; I have had other things to attend to. Still, I intend to
+commence shortly. I am very glad you have come, for you will be at hand,
+in case I want any help. See here, Baudoin, these are blue, pink, and
+green dyes which I have fixed lately. They are capable of giving wool an
+unchangeable colour.”
+
+As he spoke, he handled hanks of a strong and harmonious shade,
+stretching them out before the light of day, and showing all their
+reflections.
+
+“Our poor General put this idea into my head. Ah! if he had only
+contented himself with undertaking industrial researches, we should still
+have had him alive and well among us, and in possession of a large
+fortune. But he disdained such productive discoveries; he thought only of
+the State. He would work for nothing else.”
+
+“After serving it so long, M. Marcel, it was second nature with him.”
+
+“Well, well, Baudoin! Settle down here, and commence your duties this
+very night.”
+
+Marcel stayed behind in the laboratory, inactive, as though some dull
+preoccupation would give him no peace. _He_ sat down in a large leather
+armchair he had gaily baptized the “alchemist’s armchair,” and, with open
+window to allow the sun to enter, he sat there in a reverie, until five
+o’clock struck.
+
+He went down into the garden, walked past beds of rose-trees, and halted
+by the banks of the river, watching in the crystal waters a jack chasing
+a shoal of roaches, which, to escape the dreaded pursuit, leapt out of
+the water, like silver arrows. The clock at the entrance, as it struck,
+disturbed his thoughts, and he saw approaching him, and preceded by the
+porter, a tall, elegantly dressed young man, of very handsome features
+and blue eyes. As he drew near he took off his hat, bowed with
+considerable deference, and said, in a sing-song Italian accent—
+
+“Have I the pleasure of addressing M. Marcel Baradier?”
+
+“That is my name, sir,” said Marcel, examining the stranger with a sudden
+interest. “To what do I owe the honour of this visit!”
+
+The young man gave a sidelong glance to assure himself that the porter
+had left the room, then, in haughty tones, said—
+
+“As I have no one to present me, allow me to introduce myself. I am Count
+Cesare Agostini, of the Princes of Briviesca. I live at the Villa de la
+Cavée with my sister, and I have called to thank you for the kindness
+with which, yesterday, you—”
+
+“What I did, sir, was merely natural; it was quite by chance that I met
+your sister. She is a stranger in these parts, and appeared to be sad,
+and in search of rest and quiet. All I did was to simply comply with her
+wishes so far as I could.”
+
+Count Cesare bowed gracefully; a cloud came over his handsome face, and
+in accents of sadness he continued—
+
+“My sister is, indeed, very sad; she has had a great deal of trouble. She
+has spent her strength in attending to the needs of a husband far older
+than herself, and whom she had the misfortune to lose some time ago. With
+the object of regaining her health, she has come into this valley, to
+seek calm and quiet. The waters of Ars, too, have been well recommended
+to us. But it is chiefly fresh air my sister needs, after being confined
+for long months by the bedside of a dying man.”
+
+The handsome Italian several times shook his head, and said—
+
+“Oh, it is very sad, very sad indeed!”
+
+“And you have come from Italy with your sister?” asked Marcel.
+
+“No,” said Cesare. “Madame Vignola was living in Paris, where I have
+recently been to see her. We intend to return to Naples, and settle down.
+Not before autumn, however. Yes, it is very sad indeed!”
+
+Marcel saw that the Count Cesare did not appear to wish to take his
+leave, and, as he was interested in what he related, he led the way to a
+green arbour, with rustic seats, sheltered from the rays of the setting
+sun.
+
+“Will you take a seat, sir?”
+
+The Italian chose an armchair, and drew from his pocket a gold
+cigarette-case, which he held out to Marcel. “A cigarette?”
+
+“Willingly.”
+
+They began to smoke, and the tobacco seemed to render Cesare even more
+loquacious.
+
+“This villa where my sister now lives is far from the village. Is the
+country round here quite safe?”
+
+“Perfectly safe. Your sister will have nothing to fear from any one.”
+
+“All the better! I myself am not staying here long. My business takes me
+back to Paris, and the idea of leaving her alone with a chamber-maid and
+a servant-girl whom I do not know makes me very anxious, that I will not
+deny. Is Ars always so quiet as at present?”
+
+“Always, at this time of the year. The season begins in June, and it is
+now only April. In a few months the hotels will be filled, and the roads
+overrun by all the stage waggons in the district. That is the time I
+shall choose for going away.”
+
+“You do not stay here the whole year round?”
+
+“No; I only call here at rare intervals. My home is at Paris; I am at Ars
+on business.”
+
+“Your works are very large?”
+
+“One of the largest in the department. My grandfather founded the
+industry. It is the cradle of our family and the source of our fortune.
+Accordingly, my father, who is a banker, could never make up his mind to
+give it up, although he has far greater interests in other enterprises.”
+
+“I see he has trusted to you the responsibility of managing the works.”
+
+“Oh no. My father is represented by a director. I am simply the master’s
+son, and interfere in no way with the weaving. Here I have a laboratory,
+in which I undertake chemical experiments. But all the people in this
+district will tell you that I am an amateur, anything but serious, and
+that I spend more money on experiments than my pretended discoveries will
+ever bring me.”
+
+As he spoke he laughed gaily. The handsome Italian joined, and said, in
+his sing-song voice—
+
+“Rich men’s eldest sons are always ill-judged. When one is wealthy it is
+extremely difficult to get one’s self considered as a serious worker.
+Because one has no need of money, people are only too ready to conclude
+that one is incapable of earning any. And yet, why should not a rich man
+be a genius?”
+
+“Ah, sir, then what would become of other poor wretches?”
+
+“So you pretend, yourself,” said the Count, with a graceful wave of the
+hand, “to despise these investigations, though they probably interest you
+greatly?”
+
+“Almost as much as the experiments of a dyer. I have woollen stuffs
+steeped in coloured vats, and I try to fix the tints indelibly, so that
+the stuff sold in future will not become discoloured under the influence
+of either light, rain, or wind. The tapestries placed on furniture or
+walls, nowadays, are scarcely in their places than they have to be taken
+down—they are already quite faded. All the same, the stuffs of former
+times lasted, and exist even now. Our ancestors were in possession of
+dyeing processes superior to ours, and yet modern chemistry offers us
+mighty resources. That is what I am working at, sir. It is very
+commonplace, as you see.”
+
+“Evidently, it is not the philosopher’s stone! Still, all researches have
+their value. Have you obtained satisfactory results?”
+
+Marcel bowed in mock humility.
+
+“You are very polite, sir, but you wish to take advantage of my vanity.
+Inventors always like to speak of their investigations, you are thinking;
+and I wish to repay this gentleman for the kindness he has shown my
+sister. But it would doubtless serve you right if I bored you with my
+discoveries, took your curiosity seriously, and showed you my samples.”
+
+The Italian bent down his head, and, in contrite tones, said—
+
+“I am indeed sorry you imagined I was not sincere. All you have told me
+interests me greatly. Doubtless I am not so frivolous as your
+compatriots, and since you appear to defy me examining your results, with
+satisfaction to myself, I now ask you to have the kindness to show me
+them, unless you were joking, in which case I should not have understood
+you, as I do not always seize all the finesse of your language. In which
+case I must ask you to pardon me.”
+
+“Indeed, I was not jesting; I was perfectly serious,” said Marcel, gaily.
+“I still believe you will be punished for your curiosity. But since you
+insist, follow me; I will show you my laboratory.”
+
+“Many thanks!” exclaimed Cesare. “I was afraid I should vex you.”
+
+“In what way? You would believe in the most marvellous things, did I not
+show you my poor results. Take care not to soil yourself; everything here
+is not perfectly clean.”
+
+Opening the door of the summer-house, he introduced the Count into the
+panelled room, leading to the laboratory, and which he used as a
+workroom. A blush mounted to Cesare’s temples. He looked eagerly around.
+On a Louis XVI. bureau, leaning against the wall, were scattered some
+papers covered with figures. A half-opened drawer exhibited boxes of
+different sizes and colours, carefully labelled. A massive table
+supported wide-mouthed jars, on the rough glass of which could be read
+the indications: sulphuric acid, nitro-benzine, picric acid, and a whole
+series of chlorates. The Italian, pointing to the table, said—
+
+“Ah! Here are some chemicals you do not make use of for your dyes!”
+
+“No,” said Marcel, evasively; “those are for something else.”
+
+And, as his visitor drew near, stretching out his hand towards one of the
+wide-mouthed jars—
+
+“Do not touch these jars—they are dangerous. If, by any chance, you were
+to upset the contents, both yourself and myself might find ourselves in a
+very disagreeable position. Come this way!”
+
+Opening the door of the laboratory, he bade him take a seat in the
+alchemist’s armchair, by the window, as he said—
+
+“Here you may smoke, if you like, without danger; there is nothing
+explosive here.”
+
+“Whilst in the next room?” asked the Italian, carelessly.
+
+“In the next room, if you threw down a match in the wrong place, you
+might explode the whole works!”
+
+“Diavolo! Then I will stop smoking even here, my dear sir, for I have no
+wish to leave the place by way of the roof.”
+
+He patiently examined Marcel’s fine samples of dyed wool. Apparently he
+was listening attentively, but his awakened intelligence, his piercing
+eyes under his half-closed eyelids were busied with that “something
+else,” of which Marcel had spoken so briefly. But nothing in the
+laboratory appeared to have any reference to that mysterious task, which
+demanded the manipulation of such dangerous products.
+
+“I should like you,” said the Italian, “to give me some of these
+beautiful cloths, of such a rich and harmonious colouring. I will take
+them to my sister, who can embroider like a fairy. She will start some
+magnificent piece of work, which will sooth her solitude, and thus you
+will see the effect of your colours, artistically employed.”
+
+“If you will permit me, I will bring them myself,” said Marcel.
+
+“As you please. We are always at home about five o’clock. But do not
+delay, for I shall soon be leaving the neighbourhood.”
+
+“Very well! To-morrow, if that will not inconvenience you?”
+
+“Not at all. To-morrow, then.”
+
+The Italian rose from his seat. He walked round the laboratory, and drew
+near the window overlooking the river.
+
+“Ah! You are close to the water here. You might even fish from the
+window, without descending into the garden. Are you not afraid of some
+one entering the laboratory? A few marauders in a boat could enter the
+summer-house.”
+
+“Who would ever think of such a thing!” exclaimed Marcel. “Besides, as is
+well known, there is nothing to take. And, then, the inhabitants of this
+district are very honest people.”
+
+“But have you no foreign employees at the works?”
+
+“Very seldom. A few from Belgium or from Luxembourg. As few as possible,
+for they are difficult to deal with.”
+
+“You do not live in this summer-house? You never sleep here?”
+
+“No; there is no convenience—simply a barn above the ground floor, that
+is all. I live in the house opposite the manager’s. It is small, but very
+comfortable. My uncle Graff lived there several months.”
+
+“You are very fortunate to have family relations,” said Cesare, in
+sorrowful tones. “My sister and I are alone—private dissensions have
+alienated us from the Briviescas. M. Vignola had no relations. We are
+obliged to be all in all to one another.”
+
+“Your sister is a young and charming lady. She may marry again.”
+
+“She never thinks of it. After all the sorrow caused by her union with M.
+Vignola, she aspires after nothing but peace and rest. Oh, she has
+suffered so much! The diseased and unhappy Vignola was madly jealous. He.
+could not endure his wife to be absent from him a single hour. He must
+have her constantly before his eyes. He left her a great fortune at his
+death. Poor compensation for all the tortures he inflicted on her! But
+now he is dead. Peace to his memory!”
+
+“Your sister has no children?”
+
+“No, sir; that is her greatest sorrow.”
+
+The image of the young woman, in deep mourning, walking sorrowfully about
+the woods, was evoked in Marcel’s imagination. Very pretty to be
+inconsolate at the loss of an old husband! How old could she be?
+Twenty-five years, perhaps, at the most, and no knowledge of life except
+grief and sadness. Cesare arose, and took his leave. Marcel accompanied
+him across the garden to the gate, and there said, with a cordial smile—
+
+“Till to-morrow, then, sir, my respectful homage to your sister.”
+
+When he had gone, Marcel made his way towards the works, when he saw M.
+Cardez coming in his direction, even redder than usual, and with a dark
+frown on his brow.
+
+“Ah, M. Marcel, I was calling to see you! I have a great deal of worry,
+and am indeed very pleased that you are here, so that you may understand
+yourself, and inform Messieurs Baradier and Graff.”
+
+“What is the matter?”
+
+“The fact is, the dyers are not pleased with their working hours, and
+threaten to come out on strike.”
+
+“Ah! That is something fresh.”
+
+“Fresh? No, it has been coming on for more than three weeks; the plot has
+only been developing. I was in hopes that, summer coming on, and the
+hours of daylight being more numerous, some arrangement might be reached.
+Now there is another cause of grievance. Instead of working more, they
+want to work less and earn more!”
+
+“Ah! Are their claims justified?”
+
+The manager, standing upright, cast a look of indignation on the son of
+his master.
+
+“Are workmen’s claims ever justified? This class of people have only one
+programme: the minimum of work and the maximum of wages.”
+
+“After all,” said Marcel, calmly, “they are only like other men.”
+
+“Ah, sir, let their ringleaders talk in that way; do not speak so
+yourself.”
+
+“Why not?”
+
+“Because, with philanthropic theories, and _laisser-aller_ tendencies, we
+should soon be no longer masters of our own works; they would put us out
+of doors.”
+
+Marcel looked gravely at the manager, and replied—
+
+“My opinion is entirely opposed to yours. I think that if workmen were
+treated as partners they would work better and keep better discipline.
+There is a huge misunderstanding between Capital and Labour. They treat
+one another as enemies, when they ought to proceed in concerted action,
+like allies.”
+
+“Eh? That is downright Socialism.”
+
+“No! It is simply co-operation.”
+
+“And do you know,” said Cardez, looking slily at Marcel, “what is the
+principal reason of the discontent of the dyers?”
+
+“The principal reason? Then the grievances they have manifested are only
+a pretext?”
+
+“Nothing more. These workmen, in whose lot you are so interested, are
+full of deceit and treachery; they never show their real motives. Well,
+the dyers, in their secret meetings, rail at your inventions—they are
+displeased with your new dyeing processes!”
+
+“Ah! The fools!”
+
+An expression of triumph appeared on Cardez’s ill-tempered face.
+
+“What did I tell you! Here are processes they are not yet acquainted
+with; and they maintain that your object is to simplify the workmanship,
+and, consequently, to do without workmen. Now they want to strike, to
+obtain concessions regarding both work and wages.”
+
+“They have been ill-advised. When the real state of things is explained
+they will easily understand. Then they will see that, far from injuring
+them, the improvements I shall introduce into the manufacture are
+entirely to their advantage.”
+
+“They will never admit that.”
+
+“Suppose I prove it to them?”
+
+“Their ringleaders will prove the contrary.”
+
+“Who are these ringleaders?”
+
+“A few Belgians.”
+
+“Send them away.”
+
+“Ah, that would be very imprudent! Better have patience, and try to come
+to an understanding. These men are from the Wallon district, and when
+they have drunk one glass of brandy too many you may fear anything at
+their hands. It was one of these Belgians who struck the overseer with a
+knife last year. They are good workmen, but terribly exacting and
+disagreeable. There is nothing to fear for the present. They want an eye
+keeping on them. Now, if you would like to call them together and speak
+to them, you will see what you can make of the matter.”
+
+He spoke in sneering tones. Marcel well understood that the manager,
+speaking from experience, was thinking: Have a little experience of these
+brutes, my young novice, and you will learn to know them. Speak to them
+nicely, explaining that it is to their advantage to work without
+grumbling, so that you may have a fine profit at the year’s end, whilst
+they have had the greatest difficulty to make ends meet. Try to obtain
+their approval. Afterwards, come and tell me what result you have
+obtained. Unless you give them the works, and capital to keep it going,
+perhaps even guaranteeing them dividends, you will never make them
+satisfied!
+
+Marcel would not discuss any longer with Cardez. He did not consider it
+necessary to weaken the authority of the manager at such a critical
+moment. He determined to give him all possible help to avoid the
+difficulties he foresaw.
+
+“You may be sure, M. Cardez, that if I can do anything to help you, you
+have only to mention it. It is possible we may not have the same ideas on
+the way of settling Labour difficulties. Still, it is of no use waiting
+till the house is on fire before discussing the fire-brigade system by
+which the conflagration may most surely be extinguished. The best thing
+to do is to use the means nearest at hand. Consequently, do as you think
+best. Have you informed my father of the matter?”
+
+“No; indeed, I am not in the habit of tormenting _my_ masters with an
+account of the difficulties of the works here. There will be plenty of
+time, in case things become more serious.”
+
+“Very good; we will wait.”
+
+At that hour the Count Cesare Agostini reached the Villa de la Cavée, and
+after traversing the garden he entered a small salon on the ground floor,
+where the young lady, in mourning, lolling on an easy-chair, was lazily
+reading a novel. The setting sun, entering through the window, shed his
+golden rays on the reader’s face. She was no longer the melancholy and
+timid widow Marcel had met in the woods. Her hair, thrown back on to her
+forehead, gave her delicate profile a look of audacious pride. On hearing
+Cesare enter the room, she flung down her book, rose eagerly to her feet,
+and, in joyous tones, said—
+
+“Well, _caro mio_, you are back at last! Are you satisfied with your
+mission?”
+
+“As far as one can be. I have seen your pigeon. He actually holds out the
+wing, without being asked. You will obtain no merit in plucking such a
+confiding youth, Sophia.”
+
+She laughed outright.
+
+“Never mind merit! I can do without glory. Success will suffice for me.
+So you found the ground well prepared?”
+
+“I am afraid distractions are sadly lacking in this district, and that
+our appearance in the woods has already produced its effect on Marcel.”
+
+“Then he will come?”
+
+“Yes; and not later than to-morrow. I told him I was going away.
+Consequently you will have the field free to do as you please. Do not let
+this affair lag; you have your revenge to take.”
+
+“Ah, _mio caro_, the _coup_ missed the first time, all through Hans’
+stupid obstinacy. Had he left me to act as I pleased, the General would
+finally have offered me his formulæ on a silver plate, and kneeling into
+the bargain. Hans wished to rush everything through, and old Trémont,
+infatuated as he was, became distrustful. Sorry adventure, in which our
+friend lost his arm, and almost all of us just missed being compromised.
+The most stupid part of it was that the General had said to Hans, as he
+pointed out to him the steel box—a fine box of Fichet’s, supplied with
+one of those admirable locks, so very complicated, but which are of no
+use whatever: ‘Look here, my friend, it is impossible to open this
+without my permission. All my secrets are inside. On raising this lid all
+my formula would be found. But then one must know how to do it; otherwise
+one may die in the attempt.’ Ah, ah! Old Trémont spoke the truth! He had
+made his box into a kind of reversing bomb. One must know how to handle
+it. Hans perceived the necessity of this. All the same, he distrusted
+himself. He had taken the precaution to go out on to the perron of the
+house, and there he tried to open the box. Ah, _caro mio_, when the
+explosion took place the very earth trembled! I had already returned to
+Paris in the carriage. The vibration was so great that the very windows
+of the brougham shook. I thought to myself: There, Hans has smashed up
+everything! I had no idea I was so near the truth, for the house was
+entirely destroyed. I cannot possibly understand how Hans, who had
+succeeded in opening the lock of the box, and who, lying on the ground a
+score of yards away, behind a tree, drew off the lid with a cord, justly
+dreading some devilish trick or other, was not completely blown to
+pieces.”
+
+“But since the lock was opened, how was the explosion produced?”
+
+“It was when the lid was raised that the explosion happened. Did the box
+overturn? It was a very heavy one. Was there some special manner of
+placing it, when removing the lid, to prevent a prime of fulminate going
+off? Was it clock-work, arranged in a certain manner? All is mere
+conjecture. What is certain enough is that, in a second, box, formulæ,
+powders, house, Hans’ arm, and all our hopes disappeared at the same
+time. Our friend must have shown extraordinary energy not to have been
+surprised by all the people who came running up from all directions. You
+may believe me when I say that, so long as I was not assured that he was
+out of danger, I felt very anxious.”
+
+“Ah, you are an intelligent woman, Sophia—really clever and brave! Now we
+must make amends for a preliminary defeat, and nonplus this young booby
+of a Marcel.”
+
+“Just leave the matter to me. He seemed a very nice young fellow.”
+
+“You are right; but don’t go and fall in love with him, whatever you do.”
+
+She burst into a laugh.
+
+“I have other things to attend to. Besides, Cesare, is it so easy to find
+a rival to yourself?”
+
+The handsome Italian shook his head.
+
+“You are so strange, Sophia, whatever is difficult is the very thing to
+tempt you.”
+
+“A scene of jealousy between you and me, Cesare!” said Sophia,
+ironically. “Do we not know one another well enough to be _blasés_ as
+regards our mutual qualities and failings? Shall I be jealous, the day I
+have married you to Lichtenbach’s wealthy daughter? Just close your eyes,
+and leave me free to act. Besides, if you acted otherwise, that would be
+all of no use. You are well aware that I have never done anything that
+did not please me, even with personages far more redoubtable than
+yourself.”
+
+“Come, come, Sophia, do not get excited! If I do not stop you, you will
+be threatening me in a minute. Ah, you have a will of iron!”
+
+“Yes; and just now it is my will to completely subjugate this young
+Baradier.”
+
+“Poor fellow, you will succeed only too easily!”
+
+“Ah! Now you are going to pity him, are you?”
+
+They both laughed outright. Then the young woman asked—
+
+“Have you visited the dwelling?”
+
+“Yes. I have also obtained an entrance into the laboratory without the
+slightest effort.”
+
+“Did you see anything special?”
+
+“A number of spiders’ webs, several broken phials, and tubs of various
+colours, in which pieces of cloth were soaking.”
+
+“Nothing resembling the powders we are in search of?”
+
+“Nothing whatever. I must say that, in one of the rooms of the
+summer-house, the young man charitably warned me that if I touched a
+single one of the flagons lying on the table some catastrophe might
+result. Accordingly, it is there he manipulates his products, or, at any
+rate, conceals them. In the next room there is nothing suspicious. He
+said to me: ‘Here you may smoke, if you like, and that without the
+slightest danger.’”
+
+“That is worth knowing.”
+
+“Do you think of going to see him?”
+
+“I think of nothing and of everything. Does one ever know what means will
+have to be employed in the performance of anything? Wisdom consists in
+preparing several, so as not to be caught unexpectedly. I have undertaken
+to obtain possession of and hand over the formulæ of the General de
+Trémont. For me, it is a matter of self-respect, as well as a question of
+interest. I will not admit that I cannot succeed in anything I undertake.
+Our friends abroad would consider me as having depreciated in ability if
+I failed, and you know what their support is worth to me. So long as my
+influence lasts, the Baron Grodsko will remain aloof, and not trouble
+about me. If my protection were to cease to-morrow, Heaven knows what
+sort of account I should have to give him!”
+
+Cesare looked at the young woman in surprise.
+
+“Ah! You are almost overcome with emotion. Are you afraid of him?”
+
+Sophia became serious.
+
+“I am afraid of no one in the world, as you know. Still, Grodsko is a
+terrible man, especially when he is not drunk.”
+
+“But then he is always drinking. Is it because he likes drink?”
+
+“No! It is to forget,”
+
+“Forget what? You?”
+
+“Perhaps.”
+
+“He was passionately fond of you, I suppose?”
+
+“So were all the other men.”
+
+“Is it long since you saw him?”
+
+“Some years.”
+
+“And he is still at Monte Carlo?”
+
+“In the winter. During the summer he lives at Vienna.”
+
+“And he drinks both at Monte Carlo and in Vienna?”
+
+“Yes, and gambles as well. He has a way of drinking which leaves his
+brain perfectly clear, so that he is able to play.”
+
+“Does he win?”
+
+“Often. But then, what does that matter to him?”
+
+“Then he is so rich that he is indifferent to his winnings? Lucky man!”
+
+“Grodsko is proprietor of a whole district in Moravia. He owns forests,
+mountains, and villages. His forests furnish the finest pines in Europe.
+The mountains are bored through and through with mines from which copper
+and tin are extracted. As for villages, Grodsko, with the peasants on his
+domains, could, in case of war, furnish a couple of regiments.”
+
+“And you left this nabob?”
+
+“Yes, for a young man, who had nothing but his beauty to recommend him.”
+
+“What did Grodsko say to that?”
+
+“He said nothing, he set out in our pursuit, overtook us, and killed my
+companion.”
+
+“Whilst you?”
+
+“I had reached the frontier when Grodsko came up to me.”
+
+“And there followed—”
+
+“An explanation, in the course of which, as he dared to raise his hand
+against me, I planted in his arm one of the knives lying on the table, on
+which I had just finished lunch.”
+
+“What exquisite relations you had with one another! And did that satisfy
+him?”
+
+“No. He bound me with cords and took me back to Vienna in his carriage.
+There I succeeded in escaping from him, thanks to certain irresistible
+influences. It cost me very dear to regain my liberty. Still, from that
+day I had no longer anything to fear, and could travel all over the world
+as I pleased.”
+
+“What was the name of the great personage who rendered you this service?”
+
+Sophia looked at the handsome Italian mockingly; she clacked her fingers
+as though they were castanets, and replied—
+
+“If any one asks you, you will say you know nothing about it?”
+
+“Then you have no confidence in me, Sophia?”
+
+“I have confidence in no one, scarcely in myself. Acknowledge that I am
+frank with you. I might tell you all kinds of tales—that it was the
+minister of police, or an archduke, or a foreign ambassador, or all three
+combined, who set me free. Be assured, all the same, that I have
+contracted obligations towards those who served me, and whom I am serving
+in my turn.”
+
+“Whatever obligations you are under to them, they have done a very good
+stroke of business in obtaining such an ally as yourself. Is there
+another so good in the whole world? You have the genius of corruption,
+and I do not think there is a conscience anywhere strong enough to resist
+you. If seductive charm is needed, you will succeed in everything you
+undertake. Ah, your power is indeed very great and terrible!”
+
+Sophia smiled bitterly, she raised her head, and her countenance assumed
+a threatening expression.
+
+“All my power consists in my scorn of humanity. I believe men are capable
+of everything. The sole question is to find the way to make them act. I
+have seen men, though heroes in the face of death, turn pale and
+trembling at the idea of being deprived of their pleasures. The most
+rigid from the point of view of honour, brought into contact with
+poverty, become accessible to the basest compromises. To turn an honest
+man into a thief, all that is needed is a woman’s smile. To make the
+mildest of men shed the blood of another, you need simply arouse his
+jealousy. These poor wretches who people the earth act, and are
+unconscious of the influence inspiring them. Men are like puppets, the
+strings of which are held by firm, audacious hands, whilst they
+accomplish the most sublime or the most infamous actions at will. And all
+this, merely through some favourable or perverse influence, a string
+pulled on one side or the other. And man, irresponsible agent of a
+destiny he is unable to modify, is treated as a hero or a brigand,
+carried aloft in triumph or flung into the gutter.”
+
+“But virtue, Sophia, the love of right?”
+
+“Mere accidents, my friend. Do not make them into general rules. The
+majority of people are virtuous because they have never had the
+opportunity of being rascals. But have no doubt that they would have
+been, and very successful ones, with the greatest ease. The human soul,
+Cesare, is a ground ready prepared for vice and crime. It is simply a
+question of what seed you intend to sow there. Very well! I am a sower,
+as you have said. I excel in growing the fruit of corruption. Young
+Marcel Baradier is now going to be my experiment field.”
+
+“Great good may it do him!”
+
+“Had he been content with the profession of a banker, or the business of
+a cotton manufacturer, nothing of what is now being prepared would have
+happened; he would have lived a happy, quiet life. But he has dabbled in
+chemistry, and that has spoiled everything.”
+
+The sun had sunk behind the hill, and the small room was quite dark.
+Sophia and Cesare could no longer distinguish one another. At last the
+young woman arose from her seat, and said—
+
+“Come, we have had sufficient philosophy. What does all that prove? They
+are nothing but mere words. Fortune does not come to those who speak, but
+to those who act.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+AFTER Baudoin had been a fortnight at the works, he was astonished to
+find that Marcel had passed from a state of perfect calm to one of
+extreme agitation. The young man, who spent the greater part of his time
+in the summer-house, either working or indulging in day-dreams, had
+suddenly begun to leave the laboratory after lunch, and did not return
+before night set in. A more significant fact was that Marcel’s appearance
+had changed as well as his habits. Instead of a country costume—soft felt
+hat and heavy shoes—a quiet, refined elegance now characterized him. The
+expression of his countenance, too, was far different from the one he had
+assumed previously; his eyes shone more brightly, even his voice sounded
+more vibrating. Baudoin thought, “There is a woman at the bottom of all
+this.”
+
+He had had experience when with the General de Trémont, and was well
+acquainted with that tension of the nerves which enters into the
+slightest movements. He knew the meaning of that satisfied little humming
+and that firm step on the floor, of conquering though feverish sound.
+There was a woman at the bottom of it, without the slightest doubt.
+Baudoin felt anxious. In that quiet country district, how had his master
+found the opportunity of falling into a passion? He instituted a discreet
+inquiry.
+
+He had made the acquaintance of the landlord of the Golden Lion, the
+principal hotel of Ars, a former cook, who had served in the Army, and
+proudly wore at his buttonhole, on Sundays, a blue and yellow ribbon,
+brought from Tonkin. Whilst drinking a bitter, Baudoin chatted with him,
+and listened to all the local gossip he retailed. He questioned him: Were
+there any strangers in the district? Did his hotel contain any fresh
+arrivals? Had any fair ladies been seen lately in the town?
+
+All these questions received categoric replies. No one staying with him
+or anywhere in Ars could be suspected by any stretch of imagination of
+having disturbed Marcel’s peace of mind. The only thing to do was to make
+inquiries in the outskirts.
+
+“A young gentleman and a young lady,” said the landlord, “are staying at
+the Villa de la Cavée. But they are in mourning, and never visit the
+town, but live in very retired fashion. They have hired carriages on
+three occasions, for driving in the environs. The young lady has never
+shown herself at Ars, and I could not say whether she is pretty or ugly.
+My coachman, who drove them, said that they look very sad, and speak very
+politely to one another. He thinks they are brother and sister. At any
+rate, they are not French.”
+
+Baudoin could obtain nothing more. This, however, was quite sufficient,
+and he determined to secretly watch his master, to try to find out the
+object of his walks. The fact that the young Jady was very sorrowful and
+in mourning seemed no reason to him why his master should not fall in
+love with her. On the contrary; besides, he had an instinctive distrust
+of foreigners who passed as brother and sister.
+
+The following day, his friend of the Golden Lion said to him—
+
+“I have some news for you regarding the people at the villa. The young
+man left this morning. He was driven to the railway, and is going to
+Paris; his luggage was registered by the coachman. The young lady is now
+alone.”
+
+That evening Baudoin noticed that his master returned home later than
+usual, and on the coat he flung off he discovered small pieces of moss,
+as though Marcel had been seated in the woods. The following day, about
+two o’clock, the young man went out as usual. Baudoin, who had made
+arrangements to keep a watch on him, starting out before him, waited for
+him at the bottom of the Cavée, to make certain that he had proceeded in
+that direction. Seated under the arbour of an inn, close to the town, he
+did not lose sight of the Ars road, which mounts towards the woods of
+Bossicant. After waiting half an hour, he saw Marcel, wearing a grey
+suit, and with a new straw hat on his head, come along, at a brisk pace,
+his stick under his arm, and his face lit up with pleasure.
+
+“Ah, my friend,” said Baudoin to himself, “you are on the way to meet
+your lady-love! You would not be stepping out at such a brisk pace were
+your mission merely to gather herbs on the hills.”
+
+He allowed the young man to go on ahead, then he followed him with
+infinite precautions. Marcel was, indeed, going in the direction of the
+villa. Since he had been introduced to Madame Vignola, the whole tenor of
+his life had changed. He no longer thought either of chemistry, of the
+works, or even of his family. There was nothing in the world for him
+except the ravishing Italian. Could his uncle Graff have seen him, he
+would have said, “Ah, caught again! He has lost his head and his heart
+once more!” The fact was, he well knew that feverish state, which
+rendered Marcel incapable of thinking of anything else than his
+inamorata, and capable of the greatest acts of madness in the pursuit.
+
+But the special sign of love with this inflammable young fellow was the
+reasoning rigour with which he pursued the conquest of the loved one. He
+was an engineer and a mathematician even in his passion, neglecting
+nothing, and profiting by everything to advance his cause, and the court
+he paid was a veritable siege.
+
+Madame Vignola had only needed half a day, spent with Marcel, in her
+brother’s presence, to obtain sole possession of the young man’s mind.
+She had shown herself so charming and modest, and so cajoling, and
+chaste, that Cesare, who was, all the same, well aware what this
+remarkable actress was capable of, was quite stupefied at the result. The
+art of deception reaching such a stage of perfection became real genius.
+In dilettante fashion the handsome Italian had followed the progressive
+phases of his pretended sister’s manoeuvring. The two hours Marcel had
+passed at the villa had sped away like a flash of lightning. And the
+young swain, already love-smitten, had been obliged to retire, when he
+thought he had only been there a few moments.
+
+True, Madame Vignola, at her brother’s request, had seated herself at the
+piano, and, with penetrating and expressive tones, had sung a few
+Dalmatian airs in true artistic style. Marcel, an excellent musician
+himself, had accompanied the young woman, and afterwards offered some
+musical scores he kept at Ars as a distraction for the solitary evenings
+he often spent there. At his earnest request, Cesare had postponed his
+departure, and the following afternoon had been spent in the woods of
+Bossicant wandering along the narrow alleys, breathing the keen fresh air
+of the plain, and chatting in friendly fashion. That evening Cesare had
+pointed with a smile to his sister’s animated and healthy looking
+countenance, saying to Marcel—
+
+“You see what good it does her to have change and distraction. You would
+scarcely take her to be the same person. Ah! If only she could forget her
+grief every day in the same way, her usual health and good spirits would
+quickly come back.”
+
+“Then stay on; why should you go away?” asked Marcel.
+
+“Ah! It is not I who can give her the distraction she needs,” said the
+handsome Italian, heedlessly.
+
+A moment later he appeared to regret having spoken so frankly.
+
+“It is much easier for strangers, you see, than for intimates to obtain a
+fortunate change in the dispositions of people who suffer.”
+
+“But your sister is not suffering! Look with what an alert and supple
+step she is walking there, in front of us.”
+
+“Yes; but just now her nerves sustain her. This very night she will
+relapse into a feeling of melancholy, and be completely prostrated. I
+shall not be able to draw a single word from her.”
+
+“If you would authorize me to call and see her, and she also would permit
+me, I should find great pleasure in her company.”
+
+The Italian grasped Marcel effusively by the hand.
+
+“I do not know how to thank you for your kindness. But it would be
+expecting too much from you. Poor Anetta would quickly tire out your
+patience. She is a capricious child. You do not know her yet.”
+
+They had no opportunity to continue, for Madame Vignola turned towards
+them a questioning look, which asked—
+
+“What are you two plotting there?”
+
+“Count Cesare, madame, is handing over to me his authority over you
+during his absence,” said Marcel, gaily. “He is making me responsible for
+your state of mind. Accordingly, from to-morrow, I am in charge of your
+good or bad temper. But you must be willing to put up with my tyranny.”
+
+Her countenance became grave; in low but fascinating tones she said—
+
+“Yes, he is right. You must not leave me. When I am alone all kinds of
+gloomy thoughts come into my head. Be a friend to me. Cesare will not be
+long away, and then we will resume our walks in the woods. Until then,
+call for me at the villa; you will always be welcome.”
+
+Count Agostini had left, and Marcel, by invitation, was now calling at
+the Cavée. The nearer he drew the faster became his pace, and his temples
+were quite flushed. On reaching the villa he suddenly slackened his
+steps, for he had heard Madame Vignola’s voice. She was alone in the
+salon, the windows were open, and the passionate melody, in which both
+art and sentiment were wonderfully blended, had filled Marcel’s soul with
+a keen jealousy. It was the “Gipsies’ Cantilena,” by Marackzy, the great
+Hungarian artist, who died of grief when in full possession of his genius
+and glory—
+
+    “Viens sur ma levre parfumée,
+    Rose fremissante et pamée,
+    Trempée encore des pleurs d’amour,
+    Cueillir le baiser, dont la flamme
+    Fera de mon cœur a ton âme
+    Jaillir. . . . ”
+
+The song stopped suddenly, as though the voice were broken by sobs. It
+seemed to Marcel that the singer’s very heart had broken under the
+influence of some mysterious grief. Unable to contain himself, he rushed
+through the garden, and reached the salon. Madame Vignola was still
+seated at the piano. She was weeping bitterly, her beautiful pale face
+leaning on her hand. At the sight Marcel gave a cry of pain, which made
+the young woman suddenly look up. Holding out her hand to Marcel,
+apparently ashamed at being thus surprised, she said—
+
+“Pardon me. I ought never to sing when I am alone. These harmonious
+strains agitate me, and recall to my mind souvenirs that are too
+painful.”
+
+“_Mon Dieu_! What is the matter? Have confidence in me.”
+
+“No, no! Do not ask me.”
+
+Closing the piano, and summoning a smile to her face, she said—
+
+“Let us talk about you, not about me.”
+
+She looked at Marcel, and said, in tones of affectionate reproof—
+
+“How warm you are! You have been walking too fast, and the hill is so
+steep! It will be my turn to scold if you do not act sensibly. Now come
+out into the garden.”
+
+He quietly followed her. They walked along the small alleys of the tiny
+garden, then seated themselves under the shade of the blossoming lilacs,
+where they entered into a chat, talking of everything except of what they
+really thought.
+
+On the road, Baudoin had not lost sight of his master. When Marcel had
+entered the villa the servant had approached with considerable
+precaution. Madame Vignola’s singing had stopped as soon as Marcel
+appeared, so that Baudoin had heard nothing. He took good care not to
+pass in front of the door, but followed a footpath along the wall which
+continued in the direction of the wood, along a high copse crowned with
+large trees. On reaching the thicket he climbed the slope, and, concealed
+behind a bush, was able to catch a glimpse of the garden. The lilacs,
+under which Anetta and Marcel were chatting, grew at the foot of the
+mound which Baudoin had chosen as his observatory. There they were,
+seated with their backs towards him, about thirty yards away.
+
+Baudoin reflected. Who can this woman dressed in black be? She looks
+young, and of very good figure. Marcel loses no time once he sets out on
+a campaign. But perhaps all preliminaries have been facilitated for him?
+What is this young stranger doing here, and what interest is it of hers
+to place herself in immediate communication with M. Marcel? What are they
+speaking of, there, under my very eyes? Certainly it cannot be business.
+Then love must be the bait at the end of the line. The hook is well
+concealed, and will appear at the right moment.
+
+During this monologue the two friends continued their conversation. They
+sat there, near one another, but the sound of their words did not reach
+Baudoin. At the end of an hour they stood upright, and the young woman
+turned round so as to face Baudoin. _He_ examined her with astonishment
+and admiration, for seldom had he seen a more beautiful face. He was
+obliged to acknowledge that he had never seen her hitherto. After all,
+what resemblance had he expected? The “other” woman, the one of Vanves,
+he had seen only in the shadow of night, and so as to render it
+impossible to recognize her again. The only clues he possessed were that
+characteristic favourite perfume of hers, and the sound of her voice,
+which still vibrated in his ears.
+
+He thought, “If I could only hear her speak! A single sentence would be
+sufficient to enable me to recognize her.” His heart leaped with joy, for
+the couple were now slowly walking along the circular alley which passed
+close to the foot of the mound not a dozen steps from where Baudoin was
+concealed. They were speaking to one another without the slightest
+suspicion that any one was listening. The former soldier, like a hunter
+on the watch, who sees his long-expected quarry approach, with beating
+heart and slightly dimmed eyes, listened with all the attention he was
+capable of. He heard Marcel say—
+
+“Now that you are free, do you intend to take up these former plans of
+yours?”
+
+And the woman, in caressing tones, but with an Italian accent, replied—
+
+“What is the use? I am now quite old. I am twenty-seven years of age.
+Artistic triumphs would have no value for me now. Sing in a theatre, in
+public;—be the object of everybody’s gaze? Oh no. I no longer think of
+such a thing.”
+
+“And yet you would obtain a great success!”
+
+“For whom?”
+
+They passed by, and Baudoin was obliged to confess to himself that this
+woman in mourning had not the same voice as the “other,” the one who had
+brought death with her. He saw the two promenaders disappear into the
+house, then he heard the clear tones of the piano, and the pure vibrating
+voice of the young woman arose, filling the silence of the woods with its
+melodious accents. Thereupon Baudoin descended the mound, and returned to
+Ars preoccupied and reflective. As he passed in front of the post-office
+he entered and wrote the following despatch:—
+
+“Laforêt, War Office, rue Saint Dominique, Paris. Come to Ars, near
+Troyes. Ask for me at works. Baudoin.”
+
+After paying he watched the transmission of his telegram, and, slightly
+relieved, returned home. At seven o’clock Marcel arrived. He dined
+without uttering a single word, and immediately afterwards retired into
+the laboratory, where Baudoin heard him pacing to and fro, far into the
+night.
+
+Meanwhile Madame Vignola, seated in her small salon, an Oriental
+cigarette between her lips, was cutting a pack of cards under the
+complaisant looks of her chambermaid. The latter, a confidential
+companion rather than a servant, was a small, dark-complexioned woman,
+whom Sophia had had with her for the last ten years. Her name was Milona,
+but she was always called Milo. She had been born in the Carpathians, in
+the midst of a gipsy encampment. Her mother had died by the side of a
+ditch, leaving her, at the age of twelve, quite alone, and exposed to the
+attentions of a villain of the band, who had been smitten with the
+precocious grace of the child.
+
+Sophia, as she passed through Trieste, in the course of her adventurous
+life, had been present, in the court of the inn where she had put up, at
+a quarrel between Milona and her ferocious suitor. The little one boldly
+opposed the zingaro, who wished to compel her to follow him, and to his
+loud-voiced threats uttered in the Romany tongue, she replied by a
+determined denial and a flashing look of defiance. The whole band, the
+only relations Milona knew, supported the young bandit’s pretensions. But
+Milona continued her refusal, when the chief of the band, an old man with
+grey beard and white curly hair, a regular patriarch, whose chief
+business was to steal poultry from the villages they traversed, tried to
+reason with the young girl.
+
+Sophia, with her elbows resting on the window-sill, was enjoying the
+sight, and a feeling of sympathy came over her for this proud child who
+would not submit to the man’s tyranny. She appeared to understand the
+language these gipsies spoke, and smiled at the highly-coloured
+expressions of their speech.
+
+“Milona,” said the venerable poultry-thief, “you are not acting aright.
+You refuse Zambo, who belongs to the tribe, and loves you well, because
+you have been listening to this little Hungarian hussar who has lately
+been making love to you. And yet you are well aware that he is a dog, an
+enemy of our race, who will soon tire of you, and leave you all alone. It
+was to me your mother left you when she died. I have paid for your
+training and food, taught you to tell fortunes, and all about chieromancy
+and the composition of love philtres. Will you be ungrateful and refuse
+to be the wife of my little nephew Zambo?”
+
+“I do not love him,” said the girl, dryly.
+
+“But he loves you.”
+
+“That does not matter to me.”
+
+“But if you resist him, he will kill you.”
+
+“That is my business!”
+
+“Do you intend to leave us, then?”
+
+“Yes. I am tired of living on robbery, and being clothed in rags!”
+
+“Then pay for your freedom.”
+
+“I have no money. Wait, and some day the hussar will give me my hands
+full of money.”
+
+At these words, Zambo gave a terrible imprecation, and leapt towards the
+child with the words—
+
+“That is the last word you shall ever speak!”
+
+And, brandishing a long dagger, he threw himself on Milona. At that
+critical moment the Baroness Sophia gave a shrill, whistling sound, which
+drew the attention of the whole band, and speaking in their own tongue,
+she said—
+
+“That is quite enough. I intend to send for the police. You, old man,
+would you like to sell the girl?”
+
+“Yes, your ladyship.”
+
+“How much?”
+
+“Twenty golden ducats.”
+
+“You thief!”
+
+“I cannot take less, your Excellency!”
+
+A purse fell into the courtyard at the patriarch’s feet. He picked it up
+with the rapidity of a juggler, counted the money, and, after bowing to
+the Baroness, said to Milona—
+
+“Thank your noble benefactress. She has paid; you are free!”
+
+“Come up here, little one,” said Sophia.
+
+Immediately Milona, followed by the imprecations of her disconcerted
+lover, flew into the inn. The window of the Baroness was closed, and the
+gipsies, with vehement words and exaggerated gestures, tried to give
+Zambo to understand that girls were far less rare than ducats, and that,
+though his love remained to him on account, the till of the troupe would
+be filled for a whole year. Ever since this strange introduction, Milona
+had become attached, with a wild and savage affection, to her deliverer.
+She had served her indefatigably, and, with the exception of those
+terrible secrets which Sophia entrusted to no one, she knew the
+life-story of her mistress.
+
+Sophia exhaled a puff of blue smoke, and hesitated before the combination
+of her cards—
+
+“King of hearts, nine of spades, and knave of clubs,” said Milona,
+calmly, her finger pointing to the spotted cards. “And then, queen of
+clubs, knave of hearts, and seven of spades. Still the same reply. You
+will not succeed!”
+
+Sophia raised her bold though beautiful eyes up to her companion, and, in
+her ordinary accents, which were different from those in which she spoke
+Italian, said—
+
+“I must succeed, I tell you, I must, Milona: do you hear?”
+
+“Shall we try the water test?”
+
+“Yes, we have not tried it for some considerable time.” Milona took a
+crystal cup filled with flowers. She threw the bouquet on to the floor,
+and after extinguishing the wax candles in the chandelier, with one
+single exception, placed the cup on the table in such a way that the
+light might fall upon it from behind. Then, drawing out one of the long
+gold pins which fastened her hair, she crouched down on a stool, dipped
+the metal stem into the vase, and commenced a strange chant. In the
+water, through which the light penetrated, irisated eddies formed, and
+the two women attentively watched the broken fugitive lines, the tiny
+drops sparkling like diamonds, and the brilliant spirals of the water
+stirred to motion by the gold needle. Milona sang—
+
+“Water is nought but trouble and mystery, light is certainty and truth.
+Let the light penetrate the water, and cause its secrets to be revealed.
+Turn, needle; shine, ray; water, divide.”
+
+“Look, Milo, look!” exclaimed Sophia, excitedly. “The water is turning
+red, it seems to be turning into blood!”
+
+Milona continued her chant—
+
+“Blood is strength and life. The blood of the brain is victory. The blood
+of the heart is love. Turn, needle; redden, blood. Grant us victory and
+love!”
+
+Sophia, on her knees by the side of the table, was anxiously watching
+with ardent eyes the crystal vase in which the water was whirling round
+under the impulse given to it by the gold needle.
+
+“Look! Look again!” she exclaimed. “The water is turning green! It is
+shining like an emerald!”
+
+“The emerald is the colour of hope, and hope is the joy of life. Turn,
+needle; water, become glaucous, like the eyes of the sirens, whom a man
+follows to his death!”
+
+Milona withdrew the gold needle. The water, again restored to a state of
+calm, after having ceased turning around the sides of the crystal vase,
+first assumed a greyish tint, then turned to a dark colour.
+
+“Milo,” exclaimed Sophia, in dismay, “the water is black! It is a sign of
+mourning! Who is to die?”
+
+The servant, without replying, relit the candles, took the crystal vase
+and threw out of the window the water which had just been used for the
+experiment; then, in anger, she spat out into the night—
+
+“May he die who opposes you!” she said fiercely. “Fate announces love,
+happiness, and death. You have the privilege of not continuing the
+enterprise you have begun. The spotted cards say you will not succeed.
+The water predicts death! For whom? That we cannot learn. Stop, there is
+still time.”
+
+Sophia walked silently to and fro in the salon, then halted in front of
+Milona, who sat there, in pensive calm.
+
+“Do you believe in these predictions of yours?”
+
+“I do.”
+
+Sophia lit a cigarette.
+
+“What is the use of being superior in thought and courage, of a bold
+audacity that recognizes no obstacle, if one acts with the weak cowardice
+of an ordinary mortal? It is only in whatever is difficult, if not
+impossible, Milo, that there is any interest. How can one live like a
+common citizen when one possesses the soul of a sovereign of mankind? No!
+Cost what it may, one must follow one’s instinct, give evidence of one’s
+will. You know me, Milo; you know that I give way before no obstacle,
+once my resolution is taken. Why did you say to me just now, ‘Renounce
+what you are undertaking; there is still time?’”
+
+“And you,” said Milona, gravely, “since you are so firm in your plans,
+why do you consult cards, and ask the water to lay bare to you its
+secret?”
+
+Sophia smiled.
+
+“What you say is just. But, after all, little one, mortals are only
+human; that is to say, beings accessible to fear and superstition. Don’t
+you know that doctors—who, after all, are well aware how precarious and
+powerless is their art—call other doctors to their bedsides when they are
+ill? A concession to human frailty, Milo. Still, people do not think any
+the worse of them.”
+
+“And is all this in honour of the young man who has been coming here
+every day since the Agostini first brought him?”
+
+“The Agostini, as you disrespectfully call him, brought me this young man
+because I ordered him to do so. Do you not know that he obeys me without
+discussion?”
+
+“Oh, he will never discuss. But, some day or other, he may no longer
+obey.”
+
+“Poor Cesare is no favourite of yours,” said Sophia, gaily.
+
+“He is false, and a coward as well. If ever he tries to strike you, it
+will be in the back.”
+
+“But he loves me.”
+
+“And do you return his affection?”
+
+“Perhaps; though I am not very sure of it. Why do you call him a coward?
+You are well aware that he fought a duel at Palermo with the Marquis
+Belverani.”
+
+“Because he knew he was the stronger or the more skilful, and the other
+had struck him in the presence of fifty people at the club, after
+accusing him of having cheated at cards. And it was quite true; he did
+cheat!”
+
+“No one will ever say so again, now that he has killed a man for that
+very reason! Besides, the proof that he does not cheat is that he always
+loses.”
+
+“You know something about it?”
+
+“Ah, what should I do with my money if I did not give it to him?”
+
+“You are right. Money is vile; it should serve no other purpose than to
+satisfy one’s caprices. Its only value is in the pleasures it procures;
+in itself it is worth no more than the pebbles lying at one’s feet. Will
+the young man who comes now give it you or receive it from you?”
+
+“I do not think he would accept it, Milo,” said Sophia, laughing. “You
+are a regular barbarian, and incapable of understanding anything beyond
+bribery. There are honest people on earth, little one, and they cannot be
+paid for obtaining from them what one wishes. Other seductive means must
+be employed.”
+
+“Ah, that is why you sing when he is here! You will make him mad, like
+all the others. And yet he looks so gentle and charming!”
+
+“That is true, but he is our enemy, Milo; and if he were to discover who
+I am, and what I wish to obtain from him, I should run the most terrible
+danger.”
+
+“So the Agostini has brought him here to ruin him?”
+
+“In a way.”
+
+“And he already loves you? Ah, your power over men is irresistible. Take
+care, however, or some fine day you will be caught in your turn. Then it
+will be terrible for you!”
+
+“I have loved, as you well know. Love has nothing new to teach me.”
+
+“Your heart has never been touched, for all those you have loved have
+been your victims. Sincere and pure love is no assassin. It is a
+protection and self-sacrifice. Up to the present, however, you have had
+to deal with none but fortune-hunters, and it was pure justice to treat
+them as they had been in the habit of treating their own victims. The day
+you show the Agostini to the door, you may summon me to open it for him.
+I will do it most gladly!”
+
+“That day has not come yet.”
+
+“What a pity!”
+
+Sophia gave a weary toss of the head, and Milona understood that she must
+cease this light jesting tone. She said—
+
+“I am going to close all the shutters, mistress, do you need me any
+longer?”
+
+“No, I am going to write. You will hear me when I retire to rest.”
+
+Seating herself in front of the table, she took an elegant blotting-pad
+and began to trace, on perfumed paper, in a large masculine hand, the
+following lines:—
+
+    “MY DEAR CESARE,
+
+    “Since you left me, I have not been wasting my time, nor have you, I
+    imagine, been inactive. Let me know how your Lichtenbach affair is
+    progressing. Here everything is going along smoothly. Our young
+    Marcel came to-day, overflowing with enthusiasm, and surprised me
+    singing the most plaintive songs imaginable. Milona, who was on the
+    look-out for him, had signalled to me his approach, and I played the
+    _rôle_ of despair with extraordinary success. He seemed frantic with
+    grief at seeing my tears flow. You know that I can weep at will, and
+    that in the most seductive fashion. I led him away into the garden,
+    and there, made him talk about himself. He is a regular child, of
+    most disconcerting simplicity, and so frank and open that you would
+    smile. To tell the truth, there will be no merit in triumphing over
+    such innocence. This lamb will hold out his neck to the sacrificial
+    knife. And we shall have our formula willingly handed over, or I am
+    greatly mistaken. Besides, I am enjoying a delightful rest in this
+    abandoned spot, and never suffer from _ennui_, even for a single
+    moment. In the midst of such an adventurous life, it is long since I
+    had time for reflection, and now I am astonished at the result. The
+    joys and pleasures for which I have sacrificed everything hitherto,
+    form, I am afraid, only one of the phases of life. There is another I
+    did not suspect, far more seductive and beautiful. This afternoon, as
+    I was listening to young Marcel speaking to me of his father, his
+    mother, and sister, with such tender and delicate affection, a
+    feeling of sadness came over me. These are all good, honest people.
+    They are happy in a mutual love, and would be ready to undergo the
+    greatest sacrifices for one another. And, although nothing could be
+    simpler, more upright and monotonous than their existence, it cannot
+    be disputed that they find happiness in it.
+
+    “It is this lamb of a Marcel, who is the scapegrace of the family.
+    From time to time his father threatens him with his malediction, and
+    the poor fellow is very repentant for a whole week. He comes and
+    buries himself at Ars, like an anchorite in the desert. During his
+    penance he works in the laboratory, eats the most ill-cooked food
+    imaginable, and has quarrels with the manager of the works, who seems
+    to be a disagreeable fellow to deal with. It is during these periods
+    of repentance that the interesting discoveries on the dyeing of wools
+    and other industrial stuffs—which, it appears, have a certain value,
+    as he explains to me in rather too much detail for my liking—have
+    been due.
+
+    “But, after all, he is a very fine fellow. He actually asked me how
+    old I was! He does not imagine that I am older than himself, and I
+    should not be astonished in the slightest, if he were to cherish the
+    idea of marrying me. I lead him by a thread—he neither feels nor
+    sees—on towards absolute slavery. Then, after he has delivered up to
+    me his secret, as all the rest have done, I shall disappear. Once the
+    mourning weeds of Mme. Vignola flung aside, I shall again become the
+    Baroness Sophia, in which character I challenge my lover to recognize
+    the plaintive sorrowful widow he is paying court to just now. So, you
+    see, I am not neglecting business matters. I hope you are doing the
+    same on your side. The little Lichtenbach heiress will be a
+    multi-millionaire; that is well worth the trouble of whispering words
+    of love into her ear.
+
+    “A thousand kisses, Cesare. _Sempre t’amero_.
+
+                                                                 “SOPHIA.”
+
+She sealed the letter, took up a cigarette, and was preparing to retire
+to rest, when three slight taps on the shutters sent a shudder through
+her veins. She listened, an anxious frown on her face, and, after a
+moment’s interval, the taps were repeated. Opening a drawer, she seized a
+revolver, and, walking deliberately to the window, half opened it, and,
+speaking through the closed shutter, said in Italian accents—
+
+“Who is there?”
+
+A voice replied in muffled tones, “It is I—Hans; there is nothing to
+fear, Sophia.”
+
+A slight pallor came over her face, but she placed back the revolver in
+the drawer, and, without replying, left the salon. On reaching the
+outside door she drew the bolts, and noiselessly opened the door. A tall
+man entered. Without the exchange of a single word, she led the way to
+the salon, then carefully closed the door. The man removed the felt hat
+which covered his head, displaying a bold, rough countenance. He was a
+man of athletic build, and very broad-shouldered, whilst a reddish beard
+covered the lower portion of his face.
+
+Taking a seat, he cast a keen look at Sophia, and said—
+
+“Who is with you, here?”
+
+“Milona.”
+
+“Where is Agostini?”
+
+“In Paris. And where have you come from?”
+
+“From Geneva. Lichtenbach sent me your address.”
+
+“How did you enter?”
+
+“Over the wall.”
+
+“With your wounded arm?”
+
+“My arm is healed.”
+
+As he spoke he extended it with a threatening smile. The arm was indeed
+whole. A glove covered the hand. He continued—
+
+“The Swiss are very fine mechanics. They have made for me a jointed
+fore-arm which works like a natural one. The hand is of steel. It is the
+best fisticuff imaginable. A blow from that hand, Sophia, would kill a
+man.” With a sigh he continued. “But, after all, this arm is not worth
+the one I have lost. Still, those who have mutilated me shall pay for my
+flesh and blood.”
+
+As he spoke his face assumed a ferocious expression, and _he_ ground his
+teeth savagely. Sophia, in grave accents, replied—
+
+“Have you not already been paid? At the time you were struck, the General
+de Trémont was dead. Perhaps it was he who was taking his vengeance on
+you!”
+
+“The old fool! He had only to accede to your request when you were
+inducing him to tell you the secret of his safe. Then nothing would have
+happened!”
+
+“Hans, it all happened because you were in too great a hurry. You
+destroyed all my combinations through your brutality. Had you merely
+given me another week the poor fool would have given up to me his secret,
+his honour, and everything else. Your intervention put him on his guard;
+he recovered from his torpor, and all was lost!”
+
+“No reproaches, please. This mistake has cost me dearly enough. Now, how
+do matters stand here?”
+
+“If you will leave me to act in my own way, I shall succeed.”
+
+“Good! Good! I, too, am preparing a slight diversion, which will be of
+use. Besides, it will please Lichtenbach.”
+
+“What do you intend to do?”
+
+“Stir up the workmen at the manufactory.”
+
+“Then you intend to make a tool of socialism?”
+
+“Certainly. In it lies the future of society. The thoughtless, brutal
+mob, under the sway of a few bold leaders, will obtain for themselves
+universal dominion and rule.”
+
+“How long will this be your rule of conduct?”
+
+“Until everything in this execrably rotten society is destroyed.”
+
+“What will you put in its place?”
+
+“That is the secret of time. The revolution will tell it to us.”
+
+“I hate your opinions as well as those who maintain them.”
+
+“I know, I know,” interrupted Hans, with a loud laugh. “You are an
+aristocrat, Sophia, and equality is not to your liking. You must have
+luxury and superiority always around you. But how do you know that we
+shall not give them to you? We aim at levelling, but it is the levelling
+of those who rise above us. Have you ever seen a flock of sheep without a
+shepherd and his dog to guide them? Then how could nations live without a
+head? The great thing is to command. For this power must be snatched from
+the hands of those who now have it, by means of certain privileges we
+pretend to suppress because we do not enjoy them. Once power is in our
+hands, torrents of blood will have to be shed before it can be taken from
+us. Who would try to do so? Only revolutionists have any energy left, for
+they alone are governed by passion. Revolution is the only means of
+succeeding rapidly. To-day I am nothing; in the near future I intend to
+be everything. To attain to my object I suppress everything in my way.
+This is the meaning, expressed briefly, of all the burlesque rigmarole
+uttered by these apostles of humanity. Their love and thoughts are
+entirely for themselves. And that suffices.”
+
+Sophia laughed aloud.
+
+“They are mere brigands. You are another, but you must take care, Hans,
+for those you dream of spoiling will not let themselves be robbed so
+easily as you think. They have invented the police, a tolerably effective
+safeguard. But what are you preparing for these poor Baradiers and
+Graffs?”
+
+“For the past fortnight I have been exciting the workmen by means of my
+agents. I am going to turn their works upside down. That will divert
+their attention, for they are far too wide awake concerning what we are
+doing. I do not know who is informing the sly rogues, but they seem to
+understand Lichtenbach’s game with the greatest ease.”
+
+“Lichtenbach is such a coward! He has done something stupid again. I have
+sent Cesare to him, quite as much to keep a watch over him as to pay
+court to his daughter. But you cannot put courage into the heart of a
+coward.”
+
+“It seems the shares of the Explosives Company had fallen so favourably,
+thanks to the bear system undertaken by Lichtenbach, that the re-purchase
+was on the point of being effected under the most favourable conditions.
+Suddenly, without apparent reason, the brokers began to buy in enormous
+quantities on the Stock Exchange, and the shares rose by leaps and
+bounds. Lichtenbach held firm, but he had to deal with some one superior
+to himself. The threatening ruin was checked. He, personally, has lost a
+pile of money at the liquidation. And, from information received, it is
+the Baradiers and Graffs who have formed a syndicate, along with a large
+number of shareholders belonging to the threatened Company, with the
+object of checking the too complete depreciation of the shares. There is
+a rumour in business circles that, thanks to a new patent, you
+understand, Sophia, the prosperity of the affair is assured for the
+future. That is why I am here; direct competition against Lichtenbach
+means a challenge to us. The war has begun; it must be maintained, and
+the victory won. You all appear to me to be doing nothing but play here.”
+
+“Now, Hans, nothing rash this time,” said Sophia, firmly. “We are going
+along very well; take care not to spoil everything again. You have only
+one arm left to lose, my dear friend. Do not attempt too much.”
+
+Hans’ features contracted.
+
+“You are in a very gay humour, Sophia. I have only one arm, true; but it
+is the better one of the two, make no mistake. Little chance for him who
+comes within its reach!”
+
+“So you have come to settle down here?”
+
+“With your permission.”
+
+“You will be greatly in my way.”
+
+“Do not be anxious. I shall only be out-of-doors at night time. It is not
+to my interest to be seen in the open daylight. Darkness suits me better.
+You attend to your business, and I will attend to mine. All I ask of you
+is a room up in the garret, where I may write and sleep during the
+daytime. Milona alone will know that I am here. We can have entire
+confidence in her.”
+
+“Entire, unless there is harm threatening to myself.”
+
+“Who would think of doing you any harm? Not I, at any rate, so long as we
+have the same end in view.”
+
+They exchanged looks, and in their eyes could be read the memory of
+long-standing complicity and collusion. Sophia was the first to avert her
+glance, which she did with a sign of acquiescence.
+
+“Then follow me.”
+
+She opened the door, and showed the way to the man who appeared to her an
+object of mingled dread and hate.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+BAUDOIN had just finished arranging everything in the summer-house where
+Marcel lived, when he heard his name called by the concierge of the
+works. On showing himself at the window, the concierge bowed with
+deference, and said—
+
+“M. Baudoin, some one wishes to speak to you at the gate.”
+
+“Good; I will be down in a moment.”
+
+It was three o’clock in the afternoon, and, as Marcel had just set out in
+the direction of the woods, Baudoin was alone in the house. He had just
+placed the furniture in order, and now, after closing the window, he took
+off his apron, and went out into the courtyard. On reaching the entrance
+to the works, he saw standing in the street a ruddy-faced man, with
+untrimmed beard, dressed like a workman, and wearing a pair of large
+rough shoes. The concierge disdainfully pointed out the man, and said—
+
+“There he is!”
+
+At the same moment the man turned round, and, seeing Baudoin, came up
+with smiling face and extended hands. Baudoin, astonished, watched him
+draw near, ransacking his memory, but unable to call to mind if he had
+ever seen him before. He said to himself, “Who the deuce can it be? Some
+one who has made a mistake!” On coming close up to him, the man said—
+
+“Good day, M. Baudoin.”
+
+Then Baudoin recognized Laforêt. Taking him by the arm, he conducted him
+along the garden wall in the direction of the main road; then, sure that
+he would be out of the hearing of any one, he said—.
+
+“So you are here at last! What a perfect disguise! I had no idea who you
+were till you spoke.”
+
+“We must not remain in the open air, for no one must see us together. Is
+there no small inn where we can talk?”
+
+“Certainly; come with me to the Soleil d’Or. I know the landlord; he will
+let us have a small room to ourselves, where we shall not be disturbed.
+He is an old soldier, and to be relied upon.”
+
+“Very good!”
+
+Seated before a bottle of beer, the two men began their confidential
+talk—
+
+“It was quite time you came,” said Baudoin. “There is something new at
+last. M. Marcel’s solitude has been broken in upon by two strangers, who
+pass as brother and sister, jabber away in Italian, and who, from the
+very first week of their stay here, have found means of entering into
+friendly relations with my master.”
+
+“What kind of a woman is she?”
+
+“Ah, unless I am mistaken, she is a very cunning woman, like the one who
+called to see my poor General, and tricked him so cleverly.”
+
+“And the man?”
+
+“A foreigner. His first appearance. He calls himself a count, but he is
+probably a mere fortune-hunter. A handsome-looking fellow, though I have
+only seen him at a distance.”
+
+“And the sister?”
+
+“A splendid woman! Light-complexioned, with hair arranged in Madonna
+fashion. The most innocent, harmless-looking creature imaginable! In deep
+mourning, reminding one of ‘Mignon’ bewailing her country. What is her
+object in coming here just at this time?”
+
+“We will do our best to throw some light on the matter if possible.”
+
+“I can do nothing, you understand, for I am too well known here. At the
+very first sign of activity I gave, it would be equivalent to saying to
+these people, ‘Look out, I am watching you.’ They would be at once on
+their guard, and the game would be over! I have already hazarded a rather
+risky examination of the house in which they live, and the surroundings.
+But I cannot recommence without running the risk of being caught by M.
+Marcel; and, if he questioned me, what reply could I give him? To warn
+him of the toils being skilfully drawn around him would be to cut short
+the intrigue now in preparation, and which, in all probability, will give
+us an opportunity of laying hands on the villains we are on the look-out
+for. And not to warn him is to leave him exposed to the greatest dangers!
+I have been thinking of all this for some days, and the more I reflect,
+the more I hesitate. Accordingly I was very anxious to see you, as you
+can give me your advice in the first place, and afterwards we can
+deliberate as to the best means of defending M. Marcel in case he comes
+to be threatened.”
+
+“We must proceed methodically. Where is this house situated?”
+
+“Oh, it is very easy to recognize! It is half-way between Ars and the
+woods of Bossicant, and is named the Villa de la Cavée. Impossible to
+make a mistake, for it stands all alone.”
+
+“To-morrow morning I will take up my post at the door.”
+
+“How?”
+
+“That is my business. You will see how it is possible to keep a watch
+over people without appearing to do so.”
+
+“But there is no house for more than half a mile around.”
+
+“That will make no difference. How does the lady live?”
+
+“Very quietly. She never leaves the house, except to take a walk in the
+wood. Until lately, alone, or with her brother, but now with my master.”
+
+“Then he is bitten?”
+
+“Very badly.”
+
+“Good!”
+
+“And what, in your opinion, must we do as regards M. Marcel?”
+
+“Nothing.”
+
+“Not even warn him of his danger?”
+
+“Under no pretext. What danger does he run? I will keep watch over him
+outside, and you will look after him inside. No one has any interest in
+threatening him. If, as is very probable, according to usual tactics, a
+pretty woman has been told off to try to catch him, all he risks is
+falling in love with a worthless creature. Will it be the first time this
+will happen to him? You do not think so, nor do I. Meanwhile, we will set
+a few caltrops to try and catch our freebooters. Are you sure it is not
+the same woman who came to Vanves?”
+
+“She has neither the same voice nor the same accent. But then, can one be
+certain of anything when one has to deal with people of such cunning? As
+for the man, I can answer that it is not he, for I saw the man at Vanves.
+He was a head taller than this tom-tit of an Italian. His speech, too,
+was very peculiar. Oh! I should at once recognize the man who killed my
+General! And if ever he comes within my reach—”
+
+As he spoke his fists were tightly clenched, and a fierce glare shone in
+his eyes. Laforêt calmed him by saying—
+
+“Do not get angry! Especially in the matter now engaging our attention;
+we must keep cool heads. Suppose you suddenly found yourself in front of
+this man, what would you do?”
+
+“I would seize him by the throat, and he should not escape, that I would
+swear to before God!”
+
+“What folly! Your duty would be to pretend not to recognize him. You
+could follow him, find out where he lives, and keep a watch over him, so
+that we might capture both himself and his accomplices. My dear Baudoin,
+let us agree at once to some such course beforehand. For if we act in too
+sentimental a fashion, we shall fail utterly.”
+
+Baudoin sighed—
+
+“You are right; still, it would be very hard for me to keep my fingers
+away from the rascal’s skin! But then, you have had experience; I will
+obey you.”
+
+“Well, then, let us find some means of correspondence. For the future we
+must not be seen to have any communications with one another. See here;
+when I have anything to say to you I will go to the entrance door of the
+works, and write on the top of the gate on the left side the day and hour
+of the rendezvous in red pencil. For instance: ‘Tuesday, 4 o’clock.’ Then
+you will arrange to come round to this inn, where you will find me. If
+you wish to speak to me you will do the same on the other pillar on the
+right of the gate. I shall pass by every morning and evening to see if
+the rendezvous has to take place that evening or not.”
+
+“Very good.”
+
+“Then good-bye for the moment. When we leave here we no longer know one
+another. I will go now, and leave you to pay. Good luck, and keep cool!”
+
+“I will, if possible.”
+
+At that very hour Marcel was walking to and fro in the woods with Madame
+Vignola. The small terrier was running about along the path, which was so
+narrow that the young man and his fair companion were brought into close
+proximity to avoid the shooting branches which invaded the way. A feeling
+of languor seemed to emanate from the earth, gently warmed by the early
+spring sun. On reaching the edge of the plateau they halted by a rocky
+ledge overshadowed by large ash-trees.
+
+The whole valley of Ars lay before them. The tile roofs of the works, the
+large chimney-steeple with its plume of black smoke, and the church and
+houses capriciously grouped, formed a smiling and delightful picture. The
+young woman pointed out with the end of her parasol the different parts
+of the panorama, and Marcel named all the points of interest visible. It
+was a kind of taking possession of the country under the auspices of
+Marcel. He said to her, with a smile—
+
+“You are asking questions, as though you intended to settle down in these
+parts.”
+
+“It is a custom of mine,” she said. “I like to know where I am, and to
+make inquiries about the district. Things have no meaning or interest for
+me unless I know their names and purposes. For instance, you point out to
+me down there a railway line which passes into the plain. To the fact
+that it is a railway I am absolutely indifferent; you add, it is the line
+running from Troyes to the frontier, _viâ_ Belfort. Immediately my mind
+begins to work, and the precise representation given by the thing
+attaches my mind to the thing itself. As you see, I am of anything but a
+poetic nature.”
+
+“You appear to me to have an extraordinary intelligence.”
+
+“And one which is not of a very feminine nature, now confess.”
+
+“True, I find you anything but silly or fickle in disposition. But I give
+you credit for a good quality.”
+
+“In any case, confess that it is not a graceful one.”
+
+“Oh! You have so many others!”
+
+“I did not ask you for a compliment.”
+
+“You must accept it now, all the same.”
+
+She looked at him with an air of simple content, then shook her head.
+
+“That is not right of you; you have broken our agreement. It was
+understood between us that you should treat me as a companion, in return
+for which I would allow you to accompany me in my walks, and call on me
+unceremoniously. But you are a Frenchman, and it is impossible for you to
+give up all pretensions to gallantry.”
+
+“Would an Italian have stayed so long in your company without telling you
+how charming you are?”
+
+“Yes, if I had forbidden him to speak of such things. But he would have
+thought the more!”
+
+“How can you tell?” said Marcel, eagerly. “Do you think I am indifferent
+because, obeying you too well, I have addressed to you nothing but simple
+expressions of cold courtesy? Do not judge my feelings by my words; they
+are very different from one another.”
+
+“You have only known me for a week.”
+
+“Is a longer time needed to love for ever?”
+
+“For ever! What an engagement to make! And so quickly decided on!”
+
+“And so easy to keep when one first sees and afterwards comes to know
+you!”
+
+“And which can have no result, as I must soon leave, and go away far
+from—”
+
+“What need is there for you to follow out plans formed during the early
+days of sadness and solitude? Is it wise to decide for a whole lifetime
+in a single moment at your age, and with such a store of future
+compensations to draw upon? At the age of twenty-four to think that
+everything is lost, because destiny has separated you from a husband old
+enough to have been your father? Your life has only just begun, at the
+very time you think it is all over.”
+
+“Yes, my brother has often said the same thing to me. That is the usual
+way of looking at things. New tenderness to replace a dying affection.
+But then, how wretched to lend one’s self to such social arrangements,
+and undergo such an unexpected fate! And yet a heart cannot be swept out
+like a room for new tenants. The memories of the one who occupied it
+cannot be so speedily effaced; they remain. And is it not a kind of
+profanation for a delicate soul to allow itself to cherish a new
+affection, when it imagined the light had vanished for ever?”
+
+“I will reply in your own words: ‘For ever! What an engagement to make!
+And so lightly decided on!’ Can you be sure of keeping it? Let the world
+wag along. Your decision will not alter anything. There is nothing
+definite in this world, not even the sincerest grief.”
+
+She stood there silent for some time with downcast eyes. Her companion
+admired the graceful curves of her supple form, and the youthful grace
+that appeared on the beautiful countenance. She seemed scarcely twenty
+years of age. Her cheeks had all the appearance of a tempting and savoury
+fruit, Finally she continued, with a sigh—
+
+“If I listened to your protestations, what trouble should I be preparing
+for myself in the future? You are not dependent on yourself, as I am, for
+I have only a brother, though, after all, he is very indulgent towards
+me. You have a family which will claim you. When you leave this district
+where will you go?”
+
+“I shall return to Paris, where I generally live. What prevents you
+taking up your abode there also? Your interests are in Italy? What then?
+Your brother will look after them, and you will have nothing to do but
+consider your own happiness.”
+
+“Paris frightens me. That immense stir and commotion troubles me, and I
+imagine it would be impossible to live there in calm and quiet.”
+
+“What a mistake you make! The excitement of Paris life is very deceptive;
+it is only the surface that is troubled. Its depths, as in those of the
+sea, are quiet and peaceful, and the storms on the surface never disturb
+them. In Paris itself are peaceful corners, filled with verdure, light,
+and flowers, where a happy and gentle life may be passed. We would find
+such a spot for you, chosen with tenderest care, and there you would
+learn to spend your time free from melancholy and feverish anxiety. Far
+from noise and distraction of every kind, within easy reach of the utmost
+refinements of taste and intellectual pleasures, you will find out the
+most precious thing in the world: a quiet home, embellished by a love at
+once sincere and tender.”
+
+“That is a very seductive picture you have drawn, and you know how to
+present it in the best light. Is there a touch of the fairy about you?
+Are you in possession of an enchanter’s wand, to be able thus to dispose
+of the destiny of others? You summon up characters and scenes to suit
+your fancy. Were I to listen to you, would you be free to realize your
+programme? To me you appear to be building castles in the air. What would
+your parents and friends say of this arrangement?”
+
+“Oh! they would accept it, there is not the slightest doubt of that. If
+you only knew how fond they are of me, and how joyfully they would
+welcome anything giving proof of moderation and wisdom on my part! My
+father, though rough to outward appearance, is the finest man in the
+world. He is anxious about my doings, only because of his affection for
+me, and his anxiety regarding my future welfare. He never gave the least
+sign of egoism, even when we quarrelled. His own pleasure and peace of
+mind, even, were subordinated to my interests. Only when he saw that some
+action of mine which he judged harmful—would injure me in some way, did
+his anger burst forth against me. He loves me so well that, were he
+certain my happiness might be assured under honourable conditions, he
+would sacrifice his own without the slightest hesitation. As for my
+mother, she is the very embodiment of virtue and goodness.”
+
+She bit her lips, and answered with sudden harshness, as though tired of
+listening to this wealth of praise.
+
+“Very fine sentiments, indeed! Then you are not a dutiful son if you have
+not been in perfect accord with such loving parents.”
+
+“I have not been undutiful, though not always reasonable.”
+
+“Then what has been lacking to make you so?”
+
+“A serious love.”
+
+Raising a delicate finger, with threatening gesture, to Marcel, she said—
+
+“I am afraid you are anything but a model of virtue!”
+
+“Do not judge me ill for having spoken so frankly. That would be neither
+benevolent or just. For, really, you would form a false idea of me.”
+
+She continued, gaily—
+
+“Come! I see that you are quite a model, after all!”
+
+“Now, you are joking! How changing is your mood! How can one hope to get
+the better of you?”
+
+“Ah! my dear sir, did you think that a single word or look would suffice
+to seduce me? If so, I am more rebellious than you imagined. Did you
+suppose that the influence of spring, amid this charming scenery, an
+inactive solitude, and the length of the evenings, joined to your own
+particular qualities, would have induced me to fall down at your feet?
+You are going rather too fast. My melancholy mood cannot accommodate
+itself to such a rapid change! There, now, don’t look so down-hearted; I
+am speaking to you very gently. Had I wished I might have assumed an
+offended attitude, for, after all, you offer me your heart without taking
+the slightest precaution. Still, in this out-of-the-way place one cannot
+help feeling nearer the simplicity of nature. It is easy to return to
+habits and manners that are almost primitive, even without troubling
+concerning forms and customs, and saying what one really thinks and
+feels. I will forgive you, on condition you do not recommence.”
+
+Astonished at hearing the young woman speak in such a vivacious tone of
+raillery, Marcel wondered if she were really the same sorrowful
+languishing widow whose tender melodies were so often broken by sobs. Her
+face sparkled with a malicious harshness, and those caressing eyes of
+hers belied the coldness of her words. She offered so irritating a
+mixture of decency and profligacy, of modesty and sensuality, that Marcel
+no longer knew what to think. Suddenly the church-bell of Ars began to
+toll the evening Angelus, changing the trend of their thoughts. The young
+woman suddenly stood upright, exclaiming—
+
+“Six o’clock already! How time passes! They will wonder what has become
+of me.”
+
+“But you are quite alone!”
+
+“My servant—”
+
+“That extraordinary creature you call Milo.”
+
+“Do not speak ill of her; she likes you.”
+
+“Thanks for the favour!”
+
+“Oh! she is not fond of everybody. With you, however, she is like my dog,
+which licks your hand; he does not treat everybody the same way!”
+
+“Yes, I may charm the servant and the dog, but the mistress disdains me.”
+
+“Oh! the mistress. She is the one who orders, and the others obey.”
+
+“Then I will obey.”
+
+Giving him a charming smile, she summoned to her the little terrier,
+which was hid among the heather, and, walking slowly by Marcel’s side,
+returned in the direction of the villa. On approaching the gate they saw
+a man engaged in arranging on the road a pile of stones discharged from a
+tumbrel that very morning. A large sledge-hammer lay near his vest under
+a straw covering. Politely raising his cap to the two passers-by, and
+without appearing to bestow any further heed on them, he continued his
+task. Madame Vignola seemed vexed at this installation so near her home.
+She looked carefully at the man, and, as soon as the garden gate was
+closed, asked—
+
+“What does that person intend to do there?”
+
+“He seems to be engaged in breaking stones,” said Marcel. “Most likely a
+journeyman who will be working on the road for some time.”
+
+“Will he stay here long?”
+
+“A few days, perhaps.”
+
+“He has a villainous-looking face. Is there nothing to fear from such
+people?”
+
+“Nothing whatever, except the sound of their hammers breaking the stones.
+But you will not hear that from the house.”
+
+Madame Vignola did not appear to be quite satisfied by what Marcel said.
+A look of anxiety shaded her brow.
+
+“If the presence of this poor fellow disturbs you so much,” said the
+young man, “would you like me to request the authorities to have him
+removed? He will be sent to work a few hundred yards away. I have
+sufficient influence to obtain this change.”
+
+“Do nothing of the kind. I shall get accustomed to his presence. After
+all, he has his living to earn.”
+
+She held out her hand to Marcel, with a smile. Holding it for a moment
+within his own, he said, softly—“You are not angry with me?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“You will allow me to return to-morrow?”
+
+“Yes, I should like you to do so.”
+
+“And you will allow me to tell you that I love you?”
+
+“If it gives you pleasure to do so.”
+
+They said nothing more; night was falling, and a gentle obscurity was
+overshadowing all nature. Still, they were less alone than on the plain
+of Bossicant, and it was, perhaps, this very fact which rendered them
+more audacious. Marcel drew near to himself the young woman, without the
+slightest resistance on her part. The tissue of her black dress came in
+contact with Marcel’s shoulder. A kind of fever seized him, and for a
+moment he lost all notion of the surrounding world.
+
+A cry of pain, and an effort of resistance, recalled him to himself. He
+saw Anetta fleeing towards the house. On the threshold she halted, looked
+at him for a moment, as though trying to find something to say to him. He
+took a step forward, but she stopped him with a gesture. Placing his
+fingers to his lips, he sent a kiss to the enchantress who had so
+completely gained possession of his heart, and took his departure.
+
+A disagreeable surprise awaited him on his arrival at the works. The
+gates, usually open, were now closed, and small knots of men were
+collected in the street. They removed as he approached, only to form
+again a little further distant. What the manager had told him a few days
+previously concerning the evil dispositions of the workmen returned to
+his mind. In his eagerness to overcome his love difficulties he had
+forgotten business worries. Going up to the concierge, he asked—
+
+“What is the matter here? Why are the gates closed? What is the meaning
+of all these people in the streets?”
+
+“Ah! M. Marcel, there are troubles with the workmen. They went on strike
+at three o’clock to-day, and are scattered about in the cafés and inns,
+along with the strikers from the Troyes works, who have turned their
+heads.”
+
+“No damage has been done?”
+
+“No, M. Marcel. But the manager has been looking for you everywhere.”
+
+“I will go at once and speak to him.”
+
+He made his way towards the office. Through the closed shutters a ray of
+light announced the presence of M. Cardez in his study. Marcel entered.
+The manager was seated before his desk writing. On seeing the son of his
+master he rose at once, and, without waiting to be questioned, began—
+
+“Well! what did I tell you, M. Baradier? Here they are in open revolt!
+And that without the slightest plausible reason! Simply to do as their
+comrades! Their heads have been turned by the leaders of the strike. I
+have reasoned and talked gently to them, but all in vain; they are
+nothing but machines! Ah! you are interested in the workers, now you will
+learn to know them!”
+
+“What measures have you taken?”
+
+“I have closed the doors, so that no one may enter without our
+permission, or without incurring a penal responsibility. Now I am
+expecting a delegation of the workmen.”
+
+“Under what pretext have they ceased work?”
+
+“They demand the suppression of sweeping and lighting, the supply of
+needles at a lower price.”
+
+“Is the demand a just one?”
+
+“It is something quite new.”
+
+“But is it just?”
+
+“_Mon Dieu_! Concessions might, doubtless, be granted, but then others
+would immediately be made. Their grievances would never come to an end.
+We are only at the beginning. Is it wise to yield all at once?”
+
+“Why not give them the impression that we wish them well?”
+
+“They would look upon it as a sign of weakness.”
+
+Marcel remained pensive.
+
+“So the weavers of Troyes are on strike, and are inciting our workmen to
+follow their example?”
+
+“They were at Sainte-Savine yesterday, and to-day they are at Ars. They
+made sufficient noise; you must have been very busy not to have heard
+them.”
+
+“I was away from home,” said Marcel, embarrassed.
+
+“All the same had you been here; that would have made no difference;
+their plan of action is fixed. They would have insulted you, as they did
+me, that is all.”
+
+“Insulted?” exclaimed Marcel.
+
+“Listen.”
+
+A vague sound was heard breaking the silence of the night. The harsh
+untrained voices of the mob were heard singing a kind of workmen’s
+Marseillaise—
+
+    “Les patrons, les damnés patrons,
+    Un beau matin, nous les verrons
+    Accrochés au bout d’une branche!
+    En se sentant morts a moitié,
+    C’est alors qu’ils crieront pitié!
+    Mais nous leur repondrons: Dimanche!
+    Retroussez vos manches, luron!
+    Bientôt va commencer la danse.
+    Ayons la victoire, ou mourons
+    Pour notre indépendance!
+          Ayons la victoire, ou mourons
+          Pour notre indépendance!”
+
+A shrill clamour, mingled with the shrieks of women and children,
+followed this threatening refrain; then came a formidable hooting—
+
+“Down with Cardez! Down with the manager! To the gallows with him!”
+
+“Do you hear them?” said Cardez. “The gallows, indeed! And what have I
+done to them? Simply exact from them a conscientious amount of work, and
+respect for the regulations. The gallows! If they think they can frighten
+me with their threats they are mistaken. An old soldier like myself
+cannot be intimidated so easily. Besides, these are nothing but idle
+cries; no deeds will follow!”
+
+“Have you written to my father and uncle?” asked Marcel.
+
+“I have telephoned to them. They must, by this time, have entered into
+relations with the prefect to insure the protection of the works, and
+respect for the rights of labour. But for that troops will be needed, and
+no one can tell how far things will go with people of the character of
+these Champagne fools. We have a loyal police at Ars, who are well known
+and respected. I think that ought to be sufficient.”
+
+“Are you afraid of a conflict?”
+
+“I am afraid of nothing, but I am obliged to take every precaution. Our
+Ars workmen, as I said, are more noisy than evil-intentioned. But there
+are strangers who have incited them to action, and it is with them that
+we shall have to deal.”
+
+“A mob is a brute force, both blind and deaf. You cannot undeceive a
+hundred men. If they all clamour aloud at once, how can any possible
+understanding be reached?”
+
+“That is what leaders of strikes rely upon! Tumult and violence.
+To-morrow I shall receive a delegation of workmen, with whom, I hope, it
+will be possible to come to reasonable terms.”
+
+“I will help you.”
+
+“If you wish.”
+
+“Will there be any hostile manifestation this evening?”
+
+“No. Not before to-morrow.”
+
+“Then I will go and dine. Good night.”
+
+Baudoin was waiting for him. In serving his meal the devoted servant, to
+whom Marcel permitted a certain amount of familiarity, lingered near the
+table instead of returning to the kitchen. He looked carefully at his
+master, and seemed to wish to read his secret impressions on his face.
+Never had the young man been so silent and preoccupied as during the past
+few days. In solitude he lived over again the hours he had spent in the
+company of the beautiful Italian, and never appeared tired of thinking
+about her. Not a word did he say, but his countenance was illumined by an
+inner radiance. Still, in spite of his absentmindedness, Baudoin’s
+persistence in standing there before him, like a note of interrogation,
+struck Marcel at last. Looking at him for a moment, he said—
+
+“What is the matter with you, this evening, Baudoin? You seem quite
+agitated.”
+
+“One might be so with less cause. You are aware, sir, that the employees
+have assumed a very threatening attitude?”
+
+“Well! Are you afraid?”
+
+“No, indeed, sir, not for myself, at any rate!”
+
+“For whom, then?”
+
+“For yourself, sir. When I left Paris M. Baradier gave me precise orders
+to protect you from all harm. If anything were to happen I should not
+know what to do. That is what agitates me, as you say, sir.”
+
+“There is nothing to do, Baudoin, except wait.”
+
+“I beg your pardon, sir, there is something far preferable to that—that
+is, to take the first train back to Paris.”
+
+“And leave my father’s works exposed to the violence of his workmen?”
+
+“M. Baradier’s works are doubtless very precious, but not so precious as
+his son.”
+
+“Do not be uneasy, Baudoin; no one will harm either the son or the works.
+The deuce! Are there no laws in existence? The people of Ars are not
+savages.”
+
+“Neither are the people of Troyes, nor those of Sainte-Savine, savages,
+and yet, this very morning, they destroyed everything at the works of
+Messrs. Tirot and Malapeyre.”
+
+“Hard masters!”
+
+“The question is not whether they are hard or lenient masters, but simply
+whether they are masters at all. Your presence here, sir, is not
+absolutely necessary. It would be better if you would go and spend a week
+in Paris.”
+
+“They would say that I had run away. And old Cardez, who is none too fond
+of me, will say that I am good for nothing except making chemical
+experiments! That, when the works are to be defended, I am no longer to
+be found. No, no! Chance has brought me here, and chance will keep me. I
+shall even try to arrange everything for the general good.”
+
+“Then you will take all necessary precautions, sir?”
+
+“What precautions?”
+
+“A good revolver on your person, in the first place.”
+
+“What an idea! What would be the use of a revolver, Baudoin? If I have to
+deal with a crowd of men, I could not attempt to defend myself. With one
+or two men only, I shall run no danger.”
+
+“At any rate, if you have anything important here, sir, it might be
+useful to put it in safety.”
+
+They looked at one another in silence. Marcel had understood what the
+General’s servant meant. He became very serious.
+
+“You allude to the powders, I suppose, Baudoin?”
+
+“Yes, sir, I am aware that you possess the formulæ. Can nothing be stolen
+which would place the one who should be audacious enough to attempt the
+_coup_, in possession of the secret?”
+
+“The powders, even the formulæ might be stolen, Baudoin, without the
+secret being discovered. There is a peculiar trick of manipulation the
+General revealed to me, which alone constitutes the real value of the
+discovery.”
+
+“All the same, it was to obtain possession of the formulæ that my master
+was killed.”
+
+“No, Baudoin, he was killed because he refused to tell the proportions of
+the ingredients. It was madness at finding himself deceived that inspired
+the murderer’s arm. He imagined he could substitute his own for the
+genius of the inventor, and find out the mixtures himself. He wished to
+storm the mystery and brutalize science. It was then the General was
+struck.”
+
+“Is it not possible he may try again?”
+
+“Is he even alive? Come, Baudoin, are you attempting to discover some
+relation, however far-fetched, between these disturbances, which are
+putting the whole district in commotion, and this powder affair?”
+
+“I know nothing; but I am on my guard against everything that appears of
+a suspicious nature. There are strangers in the works. It is they who
+lead the strikers. Strangers were also in the powder affair. _Mon Dieu_!
+I may be stupid, sir, but I would give a great deal to be safe back in
+Paris with you.”
+
+“You are very imaginative, Baudoin.”
+
+“Well, then, as I see you are determined to pay no attention to what I
+say, I should be glad, sir, if you would give me the key of the
+laboratory. I will keep watch by day, and sleep there by night. In that
+way I shall be more completely at ease.”
+
+“Very well, Baudoin. You will find the key in my room, over the
+mantelpiece. If that will restore your peace of mind, it is easy enough.”
+
+“That will not restore my peace of mind entirely, sir; but, at any rate,
+it will give me a certain amount of satisfaction.”
+
+The dinner being now at an end, Marcel went out for a stroll in the
+garden and along the river bank. It was a cool evening, and the stars
+shone forth in undimmed brilliancy. At times a dull, rumbling sound was
+heard coming from the inns and cafés of the town, where the workmen were
+celebrating the strike in numerous bumpers. A feeling of sadness came
+over Marcel at the thought of the women and children awaiting in their
+poor dwellings the return of the father for the evening meal, whilst the
+latter, under the persuasion of raillery or threats, lingered before the
+table covered with glasses, and drinking the most poisonous and maddening
+liquors imaginable. What wretchedness would result from this interruption
+of work! The paltry savings of the thrifty would vanish, the debts of the
+improvident would increase. And the net result of all this tumult and
+agitation, excited by hypocritical leaders, would be nothing but severity
+and rancour.
+
+Turning aside his thoughts from these evils, to which he could see no
+remedy, he directed them to the Villa de la Cavée. There, at the same
+time as himself, Anetta would be walking to and fro in the garden. He
+pictured her passing down the winding alley in dreamy solitude. What
+could she be thinking of, if not of himself; whose heart was filled with
+her memory? Were they not united in soul, and was not that delicious kiss
+a proof of her affection. A thrill of pleasure came over him in the
+silence of the night, and he thought to himself, “Suppose I were to pay
+her a visit now? She does not expect me, true. What would she think of my
+eagerness to see her again? Would not the untimely hour, and the
+isolation she is in, make her consider my visit offensive? The more
+defenceless she is, ought I not the more to respect her? Ah! She loves
+me, I feel it. Am I on the point of spoiling by my rashness all the
+happiness the future has in store for me?”
+
+In his tenderness Marcel was anxiously solicitous of sparing the
+susceptibilities of her who had set the terrible trap in which he was
+hopelessly caught. Had he been able to penetrate into the Villa de la
+Cavée, and reach the salon unperceived, he would have heard Sophia and
+her Dalmatian servant exchanging their impressions; whilst, seated
+astraddle on a chair, the terrible Hans was listening to them, smoking
+the while, and with an expression of ironical contempt on his face.
+
+“After all, madame, what will you do with this poor young man when you
+have obtained from him what you want?”
+
+“Oh, that will not trouble me! He is very agreeable and charming, and
+will doubtless bewail my departure. But he has not yet reached the point
+I wish to bring him to.”
+
+“What we chemists call the incandescence point,” said Hans, harshly. “We
+know what that is, Sophia, when you have a hand in the matter. For young
+Zypiatine it was the moment when, in his madness, he handed over the
+secrets concerning the concentration on the frontiers of Afghanistan; for
+poor Stenheim, the hour when he stole from the War Office the plan of
+defence of Herzegovina, and for our friend, the handsome Cesare
+Agostini—”
+
+“Don’t speak of Cesare,” interrupted the young woman, frowning.
+
+“Why not, indeed? The _coup_ he effected was a very fine one. Were he to
+attempt to cross the Italian frontier I believe he would be sent to rot
+in the darkest fortress of Sardinia. For he is not one of those whom they
+risk passing judgment on, even in private; he knows rather too much.
+Certainly, this fair-complexioned young fellow from Champagne you are now
+preparing to shear, is a pascal lamb compared with the dangerous
+characters you have hitherto led to their ruin without the slightest
+compunction. All the same, you must beware, Sophia; I know you well. You
+are not quite at your ease just now, you have become silent and
+dreamy—preoccupied, in fact; not a good sign at all! Are you on the point
+of doing something stupid?”
+
+Sophia shuddered. Fixing her eyes full on Hans, she asked suddenly—
+
+“What do you mean?”
+
+“Ah, ah! Now you are interested. I am not surprised. You are too
+intelligent to form any illusions regarding yourself. You must have
+noticed that something abnormal is taking place in your mind. The other
+day there was something in your way of saying that no harm whatever
+should come to the young Baradier, which gave me serious grounds for
+reflection. This very evening, on returning home, I saw you in a state of
+languor anything but natural to so practical a woman as you are. Usually,
+after playing a _rôle_, you resume your ordinary expression and clear
+directness of speech, as though, after removing a mask, you had become
+your own self once more. This time it is not the same. You are under the
+sway of external influences. In short, to sum up, you seem to me as
+though about to fall in love with this young Baradier!”
+
+“I!” exclaimed Sophia, almost angrily.
+
+“Yes, you, Sophia, Baroness Grodsko, known here under the name of Madame
+Vignola. Now listen, my dear, such an occurrence would be an out-and-out
+act of stupidity!”
+
+“You are mad, Hans!”
+
+“I shall only be too glad if I am mistaken. But I have a very keen
+intuition! We all have our little weaknesses, Sophia, and I should not
+wonder in the least if this young man pleased you. But I should be very
+much astonished if you thought of attaching yourself really to him, for
+nothing would be more dangerous to us, or to him, or even to yourself. If
+you could keep the young Marcel from the works for a short time I will
+not deny that such a course would serve my purpose. But no passion,
+remember, just a passing fancy. Keep him in the villa just long enough to
+enable us to execute our plans. That is how I understand things.”
+
+“As I, also,” said the young woman, coldly.
+
+“Very good. If you can keep a cool head and heart, there is nothing to
+fear and everything to hope for. You hear that, Milo. If your mistress
+shows any inclination to go astray, you will be there to remind her of
+her engagements.”
+
+“My duty is to obey her,” said Milona, with scowling look, “and not to
+order. As for you, never presume to order me to do anything.”
+
+“Why not, if you please, my young savage?”
+
+“Because a girl like myself is willing to give up her liberty for the
+sake of one she loves, but she will not serve one she detests.”
+
+“That means simply that we are not friends, my little one,” jeered Hans,
+with a loud laugh. “As you please; I will not force you to like me.”
+
+Milona gave him a steady look, and shrugged her shoulders, pronouncing a
+few words in an uncouth tongue. She then left the room.
+
+“What did she say in that Romany tongue of hers?”
+
+“She said, ‘Son of a she-wolf, may you die of a burning fever without any
+one at hand to give you a glass of water.’”
+
+“Many thanks for her gracious wishes. Some day my stick shall make the
+acquaintance of your back, charming creature.”
+
+“Do not think of such a thing, Hans, she would repay you with
+dagger-blows!”
+
+“What delightful relations! But you know well that I am afraid of no one.
+Now let us speak of something more serious. Have you heard from Cesare?”
+
+“He writes to say that he is back from London, where business matters are
+progressing well. As you are aware, our English friends are very
+practical. They have launched a company with a capital of fifty million
+francs. They will need a whole territory for their money, and they will
+certainly succeed.”
+
+“Assuredly. When one’s calculations are based on human folly and
+incredulity, failure is impossible. That is why business matters possess
+so little interest.”
+
+“At the bottom, you have no esteem for anything but force and might. Your
+temperament is that of a _condottiere_ of the fourteenth century. You
+have been let loose in this coward society of ours, there is no scope for
+your talents in such a restricted civilization as the present. Come,
+Hans, since we are speaking to one another to-night, with apparent
+frankness, who are you, and where do you come from? It is five years
+since I first met you, and yet I know you no better than I did the first
+day. We have mutual interests, and yet I have no hold on you. You are
+generally called Hans, but sometimes Fichter; although you look like a
+German, you can speak both Russian and Spanish admirably. I have known
+you to accomplish the most abominable actions, and yet you are never
+cruel without necessity. You attempt to obtain possession of huge sums of
+money, though your style of living is anything but extravagant. Where do
+all your resources go to? What end have you in view? What is this
+mysterious task you are engaged on, for the little you accomplish with us
+is only a small part of your work? You have trusty companions who do not
+belong to us. Suddenly you disappear, to accomplish some work or other we
+know nothing about. I sometimes suspect that we are merely tools in your
+hands, and are collaborating, without the faintest suspicion of it, in
+the execution of some far-reaching plan which embraces the whole of
+humanity. At times, I wonder if you are not the visible head of some
+enormous and terrible international federation, which, at a given moment,
+and everywhere at the same time, will set the revolution aflame.”
+
+Hans smiled, shook his head approvingly, and then said in railing tones—
+
+“Women are far better than men, after all, for being possessed of
+delicate tact and a clear perception of things. Ah! So you have wondered
+who I really was, Sophia? Well, well! my dear, you are more inquisitive
+than either Lichtenbach or Agostini, without speaking of the rest, for
+not one of them ever attempted to find out what I was unwilling to show.
+Good! Sophia, good! I am interested in you, my child, for you are no
+fool.”
+
+Rising, he took the young woman by the waist, drew her to himself, and
+gave her a friendly kiss on the forehead. Then, looking at her
+steadfastly as though to force his words to enter her brain, he said—
+
+“If you attempt to make a psychological study of me you will lose your
+time, Sophia. Know that I am Hans Fichter to you, and shall never be any
+other. All the same, do not forget that I am not really Hans Fichter. You
+have sought my personality with amusing clear-sightedness, but you will
+never discover it, and that is very lucky for you, otherwise you would
+not survive your discovery a single moment. Yes, my child, I have too
+many people around me, interested in my freedom of action, for any one,
+who thought of playing the spy on me, to be permitted to live. Do not
+imagine, however, that I am a kind of evil genius, a master of rebel
+souls, or the arbiter of future social transformations. If you did you
+would be on the wrong track. My power is great, but not sovereign. I am
+one of the numerous soldiers of a cause which will triumph in time, and I
+bow to no master!”
+
+“Hans!” exclaimed Sophia; “you speak like the nihilists of my own
+country. I knew a young student, named Sewenikof, who propagated nihilist
+literature among the Moujiks in Moscow, and spoke in almost the same
+tones as you are using now. One day he disappeared.”
+
+“Yes, my child, as you will disappear if you repeat a single word,
+however seemingly simple and inoffensive, of what I have just said. Your
+Sewenikof, whom I have never met, but whom I know, after all, as though I
+saw him, was merely an instigator, an agent who has been suppressed. That
+kind of thing happens every day. Be careful, Sophia. I am very fond of
+you, and should be sorry if any trouble befell you. All the same, I
+should be unable to do anything. Now it is time to say good night.”
+
+“You are going to bed?”
+
+“No. I have a rendezvous with my men at Ars. Have you not heard them
+shouting themselves hoarse all day long, fools as they are? What a pack
+of simpletons! These people have no idea that they are hurling threats
+and imprecations simply because such a course suits my convenience.”
+
+“Be prudent yourself, Hans.”
+
+“Ah! This is nothing more than child’s play for me!”
+
+Lighting a cigar, he took his leave. The garden was dark. He proceeded,
+without the slightest noise, along the edge of the turf; gliding along
+like a shadow. On reaching the gate he opened it noiselessly, and
+remained there a moment against the wood panel, so as not to be noticed
+from the road. Then he looked all around, as though possessed of the
+faculty of seeing in the darkness. After a moment’s hesitation he set out
+in the direction of Ars. It would have been impossible for any one coming
+behind him to believe that he had come from the garden of the villa.
+
+When he had advanced a hundred yards the branches of a bush silently
+separated on the opposite side of the road, and another man, in his turn,
+appeared. He was the stone-breaker who had been working for the past few
+days at the Cavée. Walking along in step with Hans, he, too, made his way
+towards the town.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+ON leaving Marcel, Baudoin, after obtaining permission to keep watch over
+the laboratory, had gone out on to the main road. It was dark. Taking his
+pipe, he filled it with tobacco, then halting near the pillar which
+served for Laforêt’s correspondence, he struck a match. By the light he
+examined the plaster, and discovered the following inscription in red
+pencil, “This evening. Nine.” The old soldier lit his pipe, looked at his
+watch, and muttered to himself—
+
+“Nine o’clock to-night. At last! I will go and wait for him.”
+
+He made his way towards the inn, which was no longer dark and silent as
+usual. A vivid light shone through the glass on the door, and a rumbling
+sound arose from the bar. Baudoin drew near one of the windows on the
+ground floor, and listened through the shutters. A voice, as of some one
+delivering a discourse, could be heard, interspersed from time to time
+with shouts and exclamations. At one time it sounded louder and more
+violent, and a thunder of applause rang through the room, as though all
+the tables had been struck at one and the same time by the robust fists
+of the men present.
+
+“The deuce!” said Baudoin; “this place does not seem very safe for one
+belonging to the master’s household. The strikers have met at the Soleil
+d’Or, and they appear to be paying favourable attention to one of their
+usual haranguers.”
+
+Making the round of the house, he reached the door of the courtyard, and
+looked around for an entrance into the kitchen, where he expected to find
+his friend the innkeeper. A hand was placed on his shoulder. Turning
+round, he recognized Laforêt, who had arrived, noiselessly, and was
+standing by his side.
+
+“I was watching you,” said the agent. “The place is full. I was convinced
+you would enter this way. We must not stay in the middle of the
+courtyard. Many eyes to-night are on the watch around us.”
+
+“Where shall we go?”
+
+“Come along into my room.”
+
+An outer staircase led to a wood corridor, running along the first floor,
+and continued right to the top story. It was right under the roof that
+Laforêt had taken a room, the wretchedest in the whole establishment, and
+quite in accordance with the condition of a poor labourer. Opening his
+door, he signed to Baudoin to take a seat on the bed; then, raising the
+skylight, he looked along the roof to make sure no one was watching.
+Dropping the iron sash, he said in low tones—
+
+“Speak close to my ear. There are rooms on either side of this. The
+partitions are very thin, and it is possible to hear everything that is
+said.”
+
+“What have you summoned me for?” whispered Baudoin.
+
+“Because I have news from the Cavée. The lady is no longer alone. There
+is a man in the house.”
+
+“What kind of a man? A dark, handsome young fellow, who speaks Italian?”
+
+“No; tall, strong-looking, and light-complexioned, with a thick beard,
+and speaking with a kind of German accent.”
+
+Baudoin’s eyes shone. He vigorously grasped Laforêt’s hand, and, in
+trembling tones, asked—
+
+“Did you see him?”
+
+“Yes, as distinctly as I see you.”
+
+“Had he both arms?”
+
+“He has both arms.”
+
+Baudoin gave a sigh of disappointment.
+
+“Then it is not he! Ah! For a moment I hoped—”
+
+“That it was the man of Vanves? Could you recognize him if he were shown
+to you?”
+
+“Perhaps not, for I never saw him except in the dark, but if I heard him
+speak, yes, without the slightest doubt, I should recognize his voice
+from among a thousand.”
+
+“Very well! I hope I shall be able to give you satisfaction; the man is
+here.”
+
+“In the inn?”
+
+“In a room on the first floor with three others, the ringleaders, who
+were summoned from the common room when he arrived. He himself has no
+relations with the mass of the workmen; he communicates only with the
+staff. I shadowed him from the villa to this very spot. The cunning
+rascal forced me to keep my wits about me. He changed direction three
+times, and twice tried to throw me on a false scent. One would have
+thought he felt me close at his heels, though I followed him with the
+utmost precaution. He went to the Café de la Gare, where he drank a
+bitter; then he left by the servants’ door, after entering by the front.
+I suspected the trick, so I went round to the back. Then he went to the
+station itself, crossed the waiting-room, and reached the platform. He
+walked the whole length, right on to the storeroom; there he found an
+open gate, through which he entered the town, and came straight to the
+Soleil d’Or. At this very moment he is beneath us, holding a conference
+with his confederates.”
+
+“How will you manage to give me an opportunity of hearing him?” whispered
+Baudoin.
+
+“You will see shortly. But, first of all, what does the rascal want at
+the Villa de la Cavée?”
+
+“Well, you see, it has reference to M. Marcel, that I would swear to.
+There is trouble in the air. Why are the works in this condition when
+there has never, hitherto, been the slightest difference between the
+kindest of masters and the best-treated of workmen? The same thing is at
+the bottom of it all. When I summoned you I knew what I was doing. This
+Italian is here for M. Marcel, and so is this new arrival, and everything
+has been planned by the villains who killed the General!”
+
+“Well! We will throw some light on the matter. If I can succeed in laying
+hands on this gang the Minister of War will be delighted. After all,
+Baudoin, if you are not mistaken, this affair is simply the result of the
+attempt at Vanves. We have to deal with a whole company, and an
+experienced one, too, which has already had a crow to pick with us.
+Follow me.”
+
+Raising the sash, he placed one foot on a chair, and mounted on to the
+roof. Baudoin imitated him. A large leaden pipe surrounded the building.
+This they followed until they reached the front, overlooking the
+courtyard twenty feet below. Laforêt pointed out to his companion a small
+zinc roof below the first floor. It was the covering of a shed, used as a
+saddle-room.
+
+“Now, then, our friends are in the room where you see that lighted window
+above this roof. If you can get there unnoticed, and without making the
+slightest noise, you may see from the roof into the interior; certainly
+you could hear.”
+
+Baudoin leaned over into the courtyard, looking for some means of
+descending.
+
+“How can I get there? Twenty feet and no ladder.”
+
+Laforêt pointed to something projecting from the angle of the wall.
+
+“That is a cast-iron pipe used for the drains.”
+
+“You are right! Come along!”
+
+“Put your shoes in your pocket.”
+
+After doing so the agent seized hold of the leaden pipe with his hands,
+and separating his knees in the angle of the wall to protect himself by
+the friction, he silently began to descend. Baudoin, leaning over the
+roof, watched the operation with anxious curiosity. He was not afraid
+that Laforêt would be found lacking in strength or agility, but was
+wondering if the pipe would prove solid. Suppose the attaching
+cramp-irons became loose, both pipe and man would fall to the ground with
+a terrible clatter. The alarm would be raised, and the consequences of
+such an accident might be disastrous. But his anxiety did not last long.
+At the end of a few seconds Laforêt had reached the roof, and was lying
+there extended at full length.
+
+Baudoin thereupon followed suit. On reaching the bottom of the window,
+where the meeting was being held, he knelt down and looked. Through the
+muslin of the curtain the human forms appeared indistinct, like the
+silhouettes of a badly-focused magic-lantern. According to the position
+he was in, and his distance from the light, each of the three men
+assembled appeared either like a giant or a dwarf. One of them had risen
+from his seat, and was walking to and fro. According as he approached or
+went away from the window, a voice, distinct or indistinct, reached
+Laforêt’s ears. The latter, without turning round, drew Baudoin nearer,
+and whispered in his ear—
+
+“It is difficult to see, but you may hear. Come a little nearer and
+listen.”
+
+Baudoin obeyed, and listened attentively in the effort to discover the
+object of his keen curiosity. It was not the man who was walking to and
+fro whose voice could now be heard. It was rather the voice of some one
+seated near a table, who appeared to be examining some papers. Difficult
+as it was to find any meaning in what was said, all the same certain
+expressions reached them, “No use using violence—nothing would result.
+Alarm the workmen. Excite the attention of the authorities.” All the
+same, it was easy to understand that he was not of the same mind as the
+man on his feet, who appeared to be pacing to and fro with downcast head,
+as though impatiently submitting to opposition. Suddenly the walker
+stopped, and in harsh tones said—
+
+“It shall be as I wish!”
+
+The other replied, though, on account of the distance, only a few broken
+phrases reached the listeners.
+
+“General interest; unfavourable opinions.”
+
+The man on his feet resumed his walk, and was listening to his opponent.
+
+Once more he stopped, and said—
+
+“It shall be as I wish, I tell you.”
+
+Laforêt whispered—
+
+“Is he the man? Do you recognize the voice?”
+
+“No!” said Baudoin, anxiously. “I don’t recognize it at all.”
+
+The man seated before the table thereupon folded up his papers, and put
+them in his pocket, with the words—“Then there is nothing to do but
+obey!”
+
+The other thereupon went up to the table, laid his hand on the shoulder
+of his opponent who had capitulated, and said in joyful accents—
+
+“That’s right! You were a long time before you would give in! Now we must
+set to work. No one will repent the decision reached!”
+
+And he burst into a loud laugh.
+
+Laforêt felt the hand of his companion shake, and, at the same time,
+Baudoin murmured in accents of frightful anguish—
+
+“It is he—yes, that is the man; I recognize his laugh!”
+
+He gave a gesture of anger, but Laforêt immediately restrained him.
+
+“Listen once more! Make sure that you are not mistaken!”
+
+“It is he! I cannot be mistaken! Ah! that laugh of his; just as I heard
+it on the night of the crime, when he descended from the carriage.”
+
+“Well, then, we know all we want. We must not stay any longer here; it is
+useless to risk any unnecessary danger.”
+
+Thereupon he glided down to the edge of the zinc roof. Baudoin followed
+him, and the two men put on their shoes and reached the courtyard. There
+they halted. The door of the inn was closed, but Laforêt knew how to deal
+with locks, and, a second later, his companion and himself were in the
+open street.
+
+“What are you going to do now?” said Baudoin. “The police are at hand.
+Will you hesitate to lock up this villain at once?”
+
+“Good!” said Laforêt. “That is one solution. And afterwards?”
+
+“What do you mean—afterwards?”
+
+“Nothing is easier than to take him. We need only wait till he leaves the
+inn, and then carry him off to the police! But what then?”
+
+“Of course he will be accused of the crime committed at Vanves; then he
+will be tried, convicted, and finally condemned.”
+
+“Indeed! Convicted? You think so? Such a man as the one with whom we have
+to deal? Take him unawares? Could he not easily find an alibi to prove
+that he was five hundred miles away from Vanves on the night of the
+crime? Even yourself, five minutes ago, hesitated about recognizing him.
+And then, whilst we have this bird safe under lock and bolt, only to be
+obliged, later on, to set him at liberty, perhaps, all the others will
+take to flight. That will be a fine end to everything!”
+
+“All the same, we cannot fold our arms quietly, and let this rascal get
+off scot-free?”
+
+“The villain is plotting something here, and the play must not be
+interrupted at the very moment the principal character is about to enter
+on the stage. What about the beautiful lady of the Cavée and her
+pretended brother? And all these rascals who are just now doing their
+best to ruin the works of Baradier and Graff? Do you not think of them?
+Should we let them know that the whole affair is over and their plot
+discovered?”
+
+“But we cannot remain inactive spectators in all this?”
+
+“Spectators, yes, for the moment. Inactive, never! I did not come from
+Paris to Ars simply for the purpose of breaking stones on the road. I am
+engaged in my profession, and I intend the whole affair to be
+successful.”
+
+“But can I not, at least, warn M. Marcel?”
+
+“Under no pretext! His first impulse would be to have a frightful scene
+with his lady-love, and everything would be ruined. In the name of
+Heaven, let us keep those who are under the influence of passion out of
+our confidence! From them you may expect nothing but the most utter
+folly!”
+
+“But suppose Marcel falls into some trap or other?”
+
+“Have no fear for him. He will come out of it all right. For my part, I
+intend to shadow our man, and shall not let him give me the slip until I
+have everything necessary for giving him up to the magistrate in Paris,
+who is extremely mortified at his failure in this affair. Do you agree?”
+
+“I must do so, I suppose.”
+
+“Then we will each attend to our own business.”
+
+They shook hands, and separated in the darkness of the night. The
+illuminated inn rang with shouts and exclamations, alternating with the
+cadence of mugs of beer, as they struck the wooden tables. Away in the
+distance the factory raised its sombre bulk under the star-lit sky. At
+the very moment Baudoin passed in front of the concierge’s room, the
+latter stopped him, and, in joyful tones, said—
+
+“M. Graff has just arrived!”
+
+Uncle Graff, uneasy at what Cardez had telephoned, had not hesitated, but
+had left Baradier to continue an important operation at the Bourse on the
+shares of the Explosives Company, and, taking the train, had made
+straight for the works. Marcel, who was taking a walk by the riverside,
+had seen the worthy uncle come along the flower-beds, and had rushed
+joyfully forward to meet him.
+
+“What! Is it you, Uncle Graff?”
+
+“Yes, my nephew, I wanted to see for myself what is taking place here. I
+have just had a talk with Cardez, and at present I know how matters
+stand. Now, let us speak of yourself. How are you getting along, and what
+are you doing? I don’t want to find fault, but you send us very little
+news. Your mother is anything but pleased, and said to me only last
+night, ‘He no longer thinks of us; he loves us no more.’”
+
+“I! Not think of you all!” said Marcel.
+
+“How can your poor mother have any illusion on the subject? Certainly,
+you do not spoil her! Ah! I well know that children do not live for their
+parents, but for themselves. All the same, they might do a little, from
+time to time, for those who have brought them up and loved them from
+childhood.”
+
+“Oh, uncle! What you say pains me very much!” said Marcel, penitently.
+“Has my silence been interpreted in this way? To obey my father I have
+come to bury myself at Ars for several weeks. I think I have given him
+sufficient pledges of my good intentions, in spite of a few silly
+escapades I have been guilty of.”
+
+“Debts amounting to three hundred thousand francs, my little Marcel,
+without counting what I often gave you unknown to your parents, eh?”
+
+“Ah! Uncle Graff, why return to discuss such matters?”
+
+“Yes, you forget them very soon, don’t you?”
+
+Marcel smiled.
+
+“You are a very indulgent uncle; you know what young men are!”
+
+“All the same, I have never been young! Ah! Marcel, I should have adored
+pleasure and luxury had I not looked as solemn as a churchwarden.”
+
+“So you gave yourself up to finance, and succeeded brilliantly! My good
+uncle, it is you who pay when your spendthrift of a nephew is in
+difficulties! All the same, I am very fond of you, Uncle Graff.”
+
+He had taken him by the shoulders, and was embracing him with warmth. The
+old man, his eyes filled with tears, looked tenderly at the handsome
+young fellow by his side. He coughed to conceal his emotion, and said—
+
+“Yes, I know you are fond of me. Well, well! Promise me that you will
+write a nice little letter to your mother.”
+
+“I promise, Uncle Graff, I will write to-morrow morning, and one to my
+father into the bargain.”
+
+“That is right! By the way, things don’t seem to be going along very well
+here! Are these rascally strikers going to ruin our workmen?”
+
+“There is every appearance of it. Cardez has not sufficient tact; he is
+too straightforward in his talk. A fine man, in reality, but one who
+appears to act too tyrannically.”
+
+“I will attend to the matter myself. To-morrow I will see the syndicate.
+And you—what are you doing? Has your work been progressing?”
+
+“Considerably. I have discovered the pale green and the golden yellow I
+have been looking for. You shall see my samples.”
+
+“And the other affair?”
+
+Lowering his voice, he asked in anxious tones—
+
+“The powders?”
+
+“The formulæ have been tested, and their success is assured.”
+
+“Have you made any experiments?”
+
+“Yes, Uncle Graff, and they have been terrible in their simplicity. I set
+off, carrying a small piece of the commerce-explosive, in the direction
+of Bossicant; I placed it all around the roots of a huge oak. After
+igniting it, the immense tree, without noise or smoke, lay there level
+with the ground, lying in the heather, as though cut down by a giant
+scythe.”
+
+“No one saw you?”
+
+“No one. The following morning the gamekeeper said, ‘Ah, M. Marcel, what
+a loss we have had! The old oak of the flat Mare was struck to the ground
+last night by the storm. It is strange how those old trees go; but the
+wind is a famous wood-cutter!’ In fact, it would be impossible to form
+any idea of the destructive force of this powder. I wished to test it
+once more, and this time in the breaking up of a rock. Going to the old
+stone quarry on the Sainte-Savine road I placed a squib in an excavation.
+There were three hundred yards of earth and sand-stone to explode. When
+night came I set fire to it, and withdrew. There would be no one passing
+in the neighbourhood till morning came; accordingly I feared no accident.
+The detonation was extremely feeble, and I was only half a mile away. In
+fact, I scarcely heard it. The following morning I returned to judge of
+the result. It was terrible! The whole cube had been lifted, and a hole
+six yards deep had been dug out in the shape of a funnel. With a
+sufficient charge I would wager that a mountain could be blown into the
+air! See here, Uncle Graff, if the Spaniards took it into their heads to
+destroy Gibraltar they would succeed with this powder. What a fine sight
+it would be, that huge mass, rocks, parapets, casemates, cannons, and all
+the rest, thundering down into the sea!”
+
+“Have you drawn up your formulæ?”
+
+“No, not yet.”
+
+“Well, draw them up, and give them to me. I will take them away with me
+to Paris, and deposit them at the Patents Office. The time is come to
+make use of them.”
+
+“You shall have them to-morrow morning, Uncle Graff. It is a mere
+trifle.”
+
+“You see, your father and myself have for some time been putting into
+execution a plan, the consequences of which are far-reaching. Baradier,
+who has a fine intuition for business, has found out Lichtenbach’s plans.
+The old rascal caused several shares in the explosives to be sold at a
+loss, and brought the stock down to nothing. We were wondering why the
+depreciation kept getting greater and greater, when chance afforded us
+the proof that it was Lichtenbach who was plotting to ruin the company,
+so as to reconstitute it to his profit. He had seven or eight
+stockbrokers under his orders. One of them, however, committed an
+indiscretion, which placed us immediately in possession of the secret.
+Then your father, equal to the emergency, did not hesitate, but bought up
+all Lichtenbach was selling, and after the fall had reached the limit,
+the rise began. At this moment we hold two hundred thousand shares in the
+explosives, bought at a very low price, and which to-morrow, in case the
+patent of the new powder is acquired by the company, will rise above par.
+It is a formidable party stroke. If we succeed, the fortune of the family
+is increased tenfold. We shall have directed against Lichtenbach the
+attack he wished to inflict on the Explosives shareholders. He will lose
+on what we gain, and this time I think we shall have finished with him.”
+
+“Very well! Uncle Graff, you shall have the formulæ to-morrow, and you
+may do what you please with them.”
+
+“It will be a fortune for Mademoiselle de Trémont, and one for ourselves
+into the bargain.”
+
+“Ah! Are you not rich enough?”
+
+“Yes. But your father is ambitious. He wants the maximum in everything,
+and affirms that there is no reason why French fortunes should not be as
+great as those of the Americans.”
+
+“Ah! The Vanderbilts and the Astors! What a weakness to think of such
+things!”
+
+“My young friend, you cannot understand this intoxication of success
+which takes possession of the calmest and most level-headed of men. You
+know well enough that your father is very simple in his tastes, and
+spends less money than you do. But it is no longer a matter of pleasure;
+it is a question of arithmetic.”
+
+“Yes, I know. But it is precisely there that the harm lies. It would be
+far better if he were not so rich, and spent more money. What weapons you
+place in the hands of these socialists, who are, at this very moment,
+causing us so much trouble! How can you justify in their eyes such a
+piling-up of capital at the disposal of one individual whilst the
+generality of men toil and suffer from all kinds of privations? You see,
+Uncle Graff; the sole excuse of wealthy men is that they spend a great
+deal, so as to throw their superabundant riches into general circulation.
+It would give me pleasure to see my father fling money out of the window,
+since he has so much. Those in the street would pick it up, and their
+momentary wretchedness would be relieved, at any rate. I should be glad
+if he would order statues of sculptors, and pictures of artists, and set
+rolling all the wealth now being piled up in the safes. How can you
+expect me to be interested in the shares of such and such a company? What
+does this paper represent in my eyes, if not the labour of a whole crowd
+of workmen, who toil and sweat to produce dividends which will enrich the
+shareholders? Uncle Graff, all this is neither moral nor just, nor even
+human! And I believe that a prodigal son like myself is the just ransom,
+from a social point of view, of a treasure-hoarder like my father.”
+
+“But consider, my little Marcel, your father’s work enriches, and his
+wealth strengthens the country. It is the resources of the rich which
+keep up the vigour of a nation in time of national peril. Your father is
+a citizen useful by reason of his wealth, just as an inventor is by his
+genius, or a general by his talent for war. It is your father who will
+give the inventor funds to perfect his invention, and who will pay for
+the improved cannons and guns of the soldier. Every man has his function
+in life, as in society. And, I can assure you, your father is not one of
+the most despicable.”
+
+“Uncle Graff, I speak sentiment to you, and you reply with political
+economy. It is impossible for us to come to an agreement. We are both
+right, only we are not speaking of the same thing.”
+
+“Neither are we of the same generation. Ideas change several times in a
+single century, and one generation does not reason like the following.
+Your father and I have seen the war of 1870, invasion and ruin on every
+side, and we remember what a ransom we had to pay. That has made us
+parsimonious for the rest of our days. You came into the world only when
+prosperity had returned; you have been brought up under the breath of
+Republican ideas. Your thoughts are quite different from ours; you are an
+advocate for equality. We are nothing of the kind. My father inspired in
+me respect for caste. I have less consideration for a tradesman than for
+a mill-proprietor, more respect for a lawyer, a magistrate, or a notary,
+than for a painter or man of letters. It is my nature. I cannot change if
+I would. I am well aware that ideas are changing all round me, but I
+shall die impenitent. Your generation has no bump of veneration as ours
+had. You consider yourself on the same footing as an elderly man, famous
+and respected, and you treat him on the most familiar terms. That is
+something which would be impossible for me, any more than I should expect
+the foreman at the works to look upon me as his equal, and pat me
+familiarly on the shoulder. Possibly you and your companions may be
+right, but I don’t think so. At any rate we shall see what your children
+will be like, if you have any, for even family life is another
+institution quite out of fashion now.”
+
+“Well, uncle, you have a very effective way of discussing, without giving
+yourself any pretensions! Father would long ago have called me a fool,
+without offering the slightest argument. With you, it is different, and
+when I listen to you I am by no means sure that I am right. Besides, you
+are so kind and tolerant, Uncle Graff, that I do not feel myself capable
+of resisting you for any length of time!”
+
+“Ah, you little rogue! Now you are flattering me; you know how to make me
+do as you wish. At bottom you are a sly fox, and I believe you trick the
+lot of us!”
+
+“Oh! Uncle Graff!”
+
+“Come now, you are not so nice as that for nothing,” said the old
+bachelor, with a laugh. “What is it you want me to do for you now?”
+
+“Nothing, upon my word, uncle. I am perfectly sincere in everything I
+have just said!”
+
+“Then you are conducting yourself very well just now.”
+
+Marcel raised his eyes, and said calmly—
+
+“How could I do anything else here?”
+
+“Ah! Do you think you could not find an opportunity if you wanted? I
+really believe that if you were thrown on to a desert island you would
+find means to fall in love and get into debt, even there!”
+
+“But who would pay them if my Uncle Graff were not at hand?”
+
+“You are jesting with me, you rascal!”
+
+“No, I am quite serious. I never leave my laboratory except for a walk in
+the woods; and I have not spent twenty-five francs since I came here.”
+
+A violent clamour, coming from the direction of the town, cut short the
+conversation. A light shone in the sky. Songs, at the same time as a dull
+tramp of a marching band, were heard on the road. And the workmen’s
+Marseillaise, shouted out by hundreds of voices, again broke the silence.
+On leaving the inn the workmen, accompanied by their wives, were marching
+through the sleeping town, hurling out against the startled citizens
+threats of revolt and violence. Marcel and his uncle Graff, halting there
+in the garden, listened, and watched the shouting mob as it passed by,
+waving in the air torches made of pine branches. It was the smoke and
+flame hovering above a crowd which was hurling imprecations against the
+masters.
+
+Uncle Graff pointed to the street, and said—
+
+“You hear what these people are saying. ‘All the masters shall be strung
+up!’ And yet there is not one of them who, were he ill or infirm, would
+not have the right to rely on us to mitigate his suffering. We have given
+them workmen’s dwellings where they are lodged, schools where their
+children are educated, hospitals where they are treated with every
+attention when ill, and co-operative societies where they may buy
+everything at cheap rates. There is only the public-house we have been
+unwilling to give them, and it is there they go, to become filled with
+sentiments of hatred against us! It is alcohol which is their master, and
+he is a pitiless tyrant who will give them no mercy!”
+
+The end of the column had just passed. Whether it was that they had seen
+the two men in the garden, or they simply wished to fling to the winds
+their cries of rebellion and rancour, these latter, the most intoxicated
+and miserable of them all, screamed forth in a shrill chorus, “Down with
+the masters! Down with exploiters!” Then silence was restored by degrees.
+Uncle Graff sadly shook his head, and said—
+
+“Come along, exploiter, let us turn in!”
+
+And they made their way towards the house.
+
+The following morning Uncle Graff was up early. He hunted up Cardez, to
+come to some arrangement with him; Marcel made his way to the laboratory.
+He had promised the powder formula, and he wished to draw it up at his
+leisure, As he entered he found Baudoin arranging the chemical utensils.
+He admired the unwonted order reigning in the capharnaum.
+
+“Ah, that is better!” said he; “here is a room which has not been so
+clean for several weeks. The dust cannot know what it all means to be
+disturbed in this way. But you must take care, Baudoin, not to touch a
+single product. There are some very dangerous ones here.”
+
+“Ah, sir, I know all about them; I handled any quantity of products
+during my poor General’s lifetime. I always obeyed the orders he gave me.
+And after what has taken place at Vanves, I am not likely to risk
+handling them.”
+
+“You have been sleeping in the summer-house, Baudoin?”
+
+“Yes, M. Marcel, I have arranged a bed very comfortably in the attic.
+Now, I am no longer uneasy. Still, so long as there are doubtful
+characters in the neighbourhood, I shall sleep with one eye open.”
+
+“In my opinion, the people to whom you allude have intentions on the
+works rather than on the laboratory.”
+
+“I cannot tell, M. Marcel. There are sufficient mixed characters in the
+company which has come here the last few days.”
+
+“One would imagine you had discovered something extraordinary.”
+
+Baudoin bent his head. He was afraid he had said too much, and recalled
+to mind Laforêt’s prudent advice.
+
+“Oh! I am not clever enough for that; but I warn you, M. Marcel, to be on
+your guard. Have confidence in no one—in no one!”
+
+He left the room, leaving Marcel astonished at his persistence. What was
+the meaning of this mysterious warning his servant kept giving him? Did
+he know more than he meant to tell? To whom did he allude when he said,
+‘In no one.’ The beautiful and charming silhouette of Madame Vignola
+sprang up in his imagination. Was it of her that he ought to be on his
+guard? He pictured her again in her dreamy, careless attitude,
+promenading sorrowfully in the woods of Bossicant. What had he to fear
+from her? What danger could she make him incur, except that of adoring
+her without obtaining a return of affection? There, indeed, was a very
+grave and serious peril! It was the most dreadful he could imagine just
+then, and one against which he felt himself utterly helpless. To love,
+without obtaining love in return! What would become of him if such a
+misfortune befell him? He could not think of it without a kind of
+distraction, so long as the young woman was mistress of his heart and
+mind. For a few moments he walked up and down the laboratory with anxious
+mien, and only halted when he heard the door open. It was Uncle Graff.
+
+“You know we have to meet the syndicate of workmen this morning, at ten
+o’clock?”
+
+“Yes; I have not forgotten.”
+
+“What is the matter with you? You do not appear at your ease. Is there
+anything that troubles you?”
+
+“Nothing whatever; it is simply this distressing situation that makes me
+anxious. Now that you have spoken to Cardez, uncle, what is it the
+workmen want?”
+
+“Oh, several things! In the first place, less work and more pay.
+Afterwards, themselves to nominate their own overseer. To have personal
+administration of the pension and assistance funds. To submit to no
+stoppage of wages for insurance against accidents. _Mon Dieu_! On all
+these points some understanding may be reached, and I am quite disposed
+to meet them half way. But there is on the point of being formulated a
+final demand which may render all conciliation impossible.”
+
+“What is that!”
+
+“They will demand the dismissal of Cardez, who is accused by the workmen
+of being extremely severe in enforcing the regulations.”
+
+“Dismiss the director? To-morrow they will want to send us away also.”
+
+“Ah, my nephew, is not that the collectivist doctrine, pure and simple?
+The works to the workers, the land to the tillers—that is to say, the
+dispossession of the master and the landlord. We are advancing in that
+direction.”
+
+Marcel said coldly—
+
+“We cannot give way on these points. Abdicate all authority, be no longer
+master in one’s own house? At no price and under no pretext. Be kind to
+the workmen, certainly! But be their dupe, never!”
+
+“Come,” said Uncle Graff, with a smile, “do not get excited. You always
+go to extremes. Yesterday all fire and flame; this morning full of
+reactionary energy. You must keep to the golden mean as I do. I still
+have hopes of seeing the triumph of reason and common sense. But I should
+like to obtain one thing from you.”
+
+“What is that?”
+
+“That you go out for a stroll instead of being present at the meeting.”
+
+“Ah!” exclaimed Marcel; “that is not your own idea, Uncle Graff. It is
+Cardez who has given you this hint.”
+
+“Well! I confess you are right. He mistrusts your impetuosity, and is
+afraid you cannot keep perfect possession of yourself. He knows what your
+opinions are.”
+
+“The fool! Let him trouble himself with his own opinions! After having
+alienated our workmen by useless reforms, how can he have the assurance
+to ask that the son of his master should not be present at a debate in
+which his own interests, both material and moral, are engaged? And he
+thinks I shall submit to this eviction? Decidedly, he knows me very
+little!”
+
+“But if I myself asked you not to come to the meeting!”
+
+“For what reason?”
+
+Uncle Graff hesitated a moment, but finally decided to speak.
+
+“I did not wish to tell you all my reasons. This morning’s debate may
+cause grave disorders. We have been informed that the workmen, who have
+been worked up to a high pitch, will admit of no refusal to their
+demands. In short, it is feared violent measures will be resorted to.”
+
+“Very good! The greater reason I should be there!”
+
+“If I consent, think what responsibility I assume in your father’s eyes!”
+
+“But what do you think I should do?”
+
+“You would do well to take the next train for Paris.”
+
+“And leave you to resist these madmen, all alone? You have a fine opinion
+of me, indeed!”
+
+“Come, now, Marcel, do not get angry. I am an old man, and command a
+certain amount of respect. It will be easy for me to keep out of a
+quarrel, but it will be no easy matter to keep an eye on you. To tell the
+truth, you would be greatly in the way. Here, you have no official
+standing; you are simply an inventor, and there is a whole group of
+workmen who regard you with no kindly feelings on account of your
+investigations in dyeing. They pretend that it is your intention to take
+away their living by manufacturing with the machine what they now do by
+hand. I assure you, Marcel, I have good reasons for keeping you away,
+and, if you are reasonable, you will obey me.”
+
+“Well, Uncle Graff, I am not reasonable. That you have long known; on
+many occasions have I proved it, and I will prove it once again to-day. I
+don’t care what people think. I will keep close to your side, without
+giving you any cause for trouble. But I will be present, because it is
+both my duty and my right. Besides, if I did not come, some time after
+you would say to yourself; ‘After all, he obeyed me very readily. My
+young nephew is bent on pleasure only, and is quite willing to keep out
+of the way when there is danger in the air.’”
+
+As the old man listened to his nephew the look of anxiety, by degrees,
+disappeared from his countenance. Doubtless he blamed him for his
+unwillingness to obey him, but approved of his showing himself at once
+determined, devoted, and affectionate. Oh yes, affectionate above all! In
+the bachelor’s tender heart Marcel’s protests found a delightful echo. He
+felt himself loved by this nephew of his, whom he himself loved as though
+he were his own son, and all his discontent melted away in an exquisite
+sensation of happiness. Still, he would not confess to a satisfaction so
+little in accord with his expressed wishes. He gave himself an angry and
+displeased mien; but a smile shone in his eyes as he murmured—
+
+“Very good! I cannot force you. As you please! If anything happens
+through you we shall know whose fault it is!”
+
+“Uncle Graff, we will perish together!” exclaimed the young man, gaily.
+“What more brilliant end could I hope for! What a glorious item of news
+for the journals!”
+
+“That would be the last straw!”
+
+“What precautions are you going to take to prevent our being devoured by
+the popular lion?”
+
+“None whatever! I am convinced that a display of force would effect no
+useful end. Accordingly, I begged the authorities not to disturb
+themselves. They wished to send us out the dragoons! Why not the
+artillery at once?”
+
+“And who are the delegates to whom we shall have to reply?”
+
+“There are eight of them. But it is the famous Balestrier who is at their
+head and acts as their mouthpiece.”
+
+“He is a very intelligent fellow, only he reads too many books beyond his
+power of comprehension.”
+
+“The rest are honest enough, but they have been incited to revolt by
+their companions at Troyes, and I am afraid I shall find them more
+violent than they are naturally disposed to be. They assume an attitude
+and play a _rôle_.”
+
+“We will judge them by their actions.”
+
+Pointing out to his uncle on the laboratory table a glass recipient of
+moderate size, Marcel said—
+
+“Look at this jar, Uncle Graff. If I were to throw a lighted match into
+it, in a moment I could annihilate all these ill-advised strikers.”
+
+“Then that is the famous powder?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Show it me.”
+
+Marcel took the jar, removed the stopper, and poured into his hand a few
+small brown shavings. An odour of camphor spread throughout the room.
+
+“It is the war powder in flakes, but I intend to manufacture it in
+pastilles. Then it will resemble an ordinary button without holes. In
+flakes it is more convenient for charging large projectiles. In pastilles
+it will be better suited for cartridge sockets. Non-compressed it burns
+like German tinder, with a smell of disinfecting powder, and entirely
+without smoke. Would you like to see it?”
+
+“No!” said Uncle Graff, eagerly. “I do not care to see you handling such
+substances. One never knows! They might explode without any one expecting
+it!”
+
+“Impossible! Besides, as this powder smells of camphor it might be placed
+with one’s clothes during the summer to prevent the moths from spoiling
+them.”
+
+He laughed aloud. Uncle Graff, slightly reassured, forced him to place
+the bottle back on to the table.
+
+“And the commerce powder?”
+
+“I have none manufactured. But the formula is already there in the
+drawer.”
+
+“With this formula Trémont’s discovery may be exploited?”
+
+“Certainly, on condition one knows how to make use of it. But that is my
+secret, which I shall reveal only at the moment the exploitation
+commences. The different kinds of products employed, with their dosings,
+are specified.”
+
+Opening a drawer he took out a sheet of paper, at the head of which were
+written the words: Powder Formula. No. I. Then followed lines of
+abbreviated words, with figures.
+
+“Leave it in this drawer; I do not need it just now. You will give it me
+this evening, after the conference. Then I will write to your father and
+send on the paper to him.”
+
+“As you please,” said Marcel.
+
+Placing back the paper he shut the drawer. Uncle Graff left the room
+saying—
+
+“I am going to see Cardez; if you want me you will find me with him.”
+
+Marcel, left all alone, walked up and down the laboratory, then drew near
+the open window, and looked out on to the river flowing beneath. A
+fisherman was sitting there in a boat, moored in the middle of the
+stream, engaged in throwing baked grain as bait into the water all around
+him. A large straw hat covered his head, whilst the wind blew out his
+grey smock-frock into the form of a balloon. He did not appear even to
+see Marcel, but filled his pipe with tobacco, lit it, and began to throw
+out his line, at the end of which was a ball of worms as bait. After a
+few moments a bite came, he struck adroitly, and landed a small
+silver-bellied fish in the boat. Marcel, interested, sat and watched from
+the window-ledge. After watching for a good quarter of an hour, the
+fisher, in his smock-frock, who, by the way, appeared to have the best of
+luck, the door of the laboratory opened, and Baudoin appeared. He seemed
+embarrassed, but came straight up to his master, and said, in tones of
+seeming regret—
+
+“Monsieur Marcel, there is some one at the porter’s lodge who is asking
+for you.”
+
+“Who is it?”
+
+Baudoin said, with a wry grimace—
+
+“A kind of chambermaid.”
+
+Marcel arose eagerly. He thought, “It is Milona, sent by Madame Vignola.
+Something has happened.” In a trice he was out of the room.
+
+Baudoin followed him with ill-pleased look.
+
+“How he runs off to meet her! Ah, that crafty woman holds him tight
+indeed! And this servant, who looks like a gipsy! This kind of company
+does not inspire confidence in one!”
+
+Marcel, on reaching the porter’s lodge, had found Milona there, as he had
+conjectured. Drawing her aside, he asked anxiously—
+
+“No harm has befallen Madame Vignola?”
+
+“No; I am with her all the time. But my mistress is uneasy for your sake.
+She heard cries and threats, and saw flashes of light through the
+darkness of the night. She well knows what these mad acts of folly
+committed by an angry mob mean, and would like to see you and have you
+explain the meaning of all this tumult.”
+
+“May I go to her at once?”
+
+“She is expecting you every minute.”
+
+He gave a gesture expressive of the joy he felt.
+
+“Then start back at once. We must not be seen crossing the plain
+together. In a few minutes I will follow you. Tell this to your
+mistress.”
+
+Milona bowed with a kind of haughty deference. With a tender look at the
+young man she said—
+
+“Do not tarry; she is never happy except when you are there!”
+
+Marcel stifled a cry of joy.
+
+“Oh, Milona! What has she told you?”
+
+“Nothing. But even had she taken me into her confidence I would not
+betray her. All the same, I see the difference between when she is alone
+and when you are with her. She is not the same at all. Come! She was in
+tears all the morning.”
+
+With a bow, she placed her fingers to her lips and withdrew.
+
+Marcel watched her take her departure. His heart beat wildly; flashes of
+light seemed to pass before his eyes. He had forgotten everything—works,
+strikes, danger, Uncle Graff, and his good resolutions. Now he thought of
+nothing but the radiant blonde awaiting him in that solitary villa, for
+which he set off with all the ardour of youth and love.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+IN the dimly-lit salon Marcel and Madame Vignola were seated chatting
+near the window. It was ten o’clock. In the clear blue sky the sun shone
+brightly, and its warm rays breaking through the branches of the trees
+came with caressing gentleness to the lovers. Madame Vignola was saying
+in grave accents—
+
+“Even in this out-of-the-way little place, right in the midst of the
+forest and far away from the rush of town life, there is no perfect peace
+and calm.”
+
+“You seem to have no luck. Never before have the inhabitants of Ars shown
+themselves so turbulent. Generally they are quite peaceable and harmless
+creatures. If they have any claims to make they do it with moderation and
+politeness, sure, in advance, of obtaining what they want. I do not know
+what madness has come over them!”
+
+Madame Vignola smiled.
+
+“Doubtless they have listened to bad counsel and advice. But that is of
+little importance. The main thing is that you are not exposed to the
+violence of these madmen. When I heard them last night shouting out their
+threats of death I trembled.”
+
+“Then you do take a certain amount of interest in me?”
+
+“Can you ask me such a question?”
+
+Passionately he seized hold of a dainty hand, which she made no attempt
+to withdraw.
+
+“Well, now, listen, Anetta. I cannot understand how I have been able to
+find any joy in life before I knew you. I seem to myself only to have
+been alive the last month.”
+
+Graciously raising her hand with threatening gesture, she said—
+
+“Not another word! I know you have been anything but perfect. Don’t try
+to deceive me like all the others you have said you were in love with.”
+
+“Oh! I have never been in love before. That I understand well enough
+now!”
+
+“Marcel, for pity’s sake, be quite frank with me. I have gone through
+such suffering hitherto, but that was because my heart was untouched. I
+am afraid of suffering now, as I shall love—”
+
+“No, have confidence in me. I will make you forget all your past sorrow.
+You are so young, and the future may yet be so bright for you. I want you
+all to myself. Once your mourning over you will again become mistress of
+your own destiny, and if you will authorize me to speak to your brother—”
+
+The young woman gave a gesture of fright.
+
+“To Cesare? Do nothing of the kind. You do not know him! In a moment he
+would become your most bitter enemy!”
+
+“Why so?”
+
+“Ah! It is sad to think of and even sadder to mention. Cesare is without
+fortune, and I have been left a wealthy widow by M. Vignola. Were I to
+leave my brother, and cease to be free, he would be absolutely without
+resource. How could I induce him to accept a modest station in life? He
+is already unhappy, indeed, at not being able to do honour to his birth,
+for we are descended from a princely family. The Briviescas formerly
+reigned in Padua. An Agostini was ruler of Parma. But ruin came, and
+Count Cesare receives only the pay of a captain of cavalry. A sorry
+position for a man of his disposition! Accordingly, ever since I have
+been a widow he has undertaken the direction of my property. He finds it
+to his advantage, I believe, and I am well pleased that it is so. For he
+is very kind, and I am fond of him.”
+
+“In that case give him what belongs to you. Have I any need of your
+fortune? I only want yourself! Leave Count Cesare all your possessions.
+I, too, shall be rich, and if I wished I could restore to you to-morrow
+more than all you would have sacrificed in becoming mine.”
+
+She seemed astonished. A light shone in her beautiful eyes as she said—
+
+“Tell me how?”
+
+No suspicion came across his mind. He saw nothing but that exquisite
+mouth and those gentle eyes which questioned him so eloquently.
+
+“I am in possession of a commercial secret calculated to bring about a
+complete revolution in the economic conditions of work in mines. The
+assured profit will not belong to me entirely, but I shall have my share
+of it. That sole share alone will be immense. They can do nothing without
+me, for I alone know the secret of the process of manufacturing the
+powder. A company will be formed to exploit the patents of this
+discovery. All this means fortune—you hear, Anetta?—an immediate and
+enormous fortune.”
+
+“Oh! continue! Tell me all, my dear friend.”
+
+“You are the first to whom I have said so much. But, then, can I conceal
+anything from you? Were you to ask me for my very honour I would
+sacrifice it for your sake. Besides, what have I to fear from one so kind
+and disinterested? Yes, I am the possessor of a glorious and powerful
+secret. The glory of the discovery will belong to the inventor, and I
+shall be happy to have helped in making him world-famed. To those who
+have organized and rendered his work practicable will belong an
+incalculable financial power.”
+
+Madame Vignola interrupted Marcel.
+
+“But suppose you were to disappear—suppose some misfortune happened you;
+in these noisy street quarrels of the strikers you might be struck to the
+ground. Then what would become of this invention of yours? Probably you
+have given no more thought to the protection of your secret than you have
+to that of your life.”
+
+As she spoke she pressed him to her heart, a look of anguish
+overshadowing her face. Her looks seemed to burn into Marcel’s brain as
+she gently passed her hand over his brow.
+
+“No!” he said. “Do not deceive yourself. I took the precaution this very
+morning to write out the formulæ of this wonderful invention.”
+
+“You have it on your person?” she asked in terrified accents.
+
+“No, do not be anxious, dearest; I left it in my laboratory. It cannot be
+destroyed now. My Uncle Graff would take it from the drawer of my desk in
+case anything were to befall me. But I love you, and nothing can possibly
+happen to me. I must succeed and triumph if you love me!”
+
+With a gesture expressive of infinite content, she said—
+
+“Can you doubt it, after what I have said? How could I help loving one so
+fervent and capricious as you are? It is this youthful folly of yours
+which pleased me from the beginning. You are so different from those with
+whom I have hitherto lived. My early life was passed with my old parents,
+who were very strict and severe with me, in a cold and gloomy house in
+Milan. Then my husband, though so kind and anxious to please me, could
+not bring his cold and reasoning habits into harmony with my youth and
+inexperience. Sorrow and _ennui_ were my daily portion. It seems that I
+have only awakened to life from this very day, as though I had all my
+life been like the sleeping princess in the fairy tale. You have appeared
+before me, and now my eyes open to the light of day, my ears listen to
+your tender, loving words, and with inexpressible delight I awake to a
+new birth of happiness.”
+
+The most accomplished actress could not have more artfully uttered such
+ravishing words as these which fell from the lips of the beautiful
+temptress. Turning aside her face, as though to conceal her blushes, her
+lithe form seemed to quiver with delight. He, maddened by this
+confession, and burning with the passion this redoubtable enchantress
+knew so well how to inspire, dropped his fevered head on Anetta’s
+shoulder. His reason seemed to leave him as he murmured—
+
+“I adore you!”
+
+At this moment she turned her head to look at him, perhaps to reply.
+Their lips met, and united in a burning kiss. Suddenly, above the green
+expanse of forest, in the midst of the calm in which the peaceful house
+was wrapped, rose a shout which grew louder and louder, whilst the clang
+of an alarm-bell could be distinctly heard. Anetta exclaimed—
+
+“What is that?”
+
+Marcel listened attentively.
+
+“It sounds like shouts and cries for help coming from the direction of
+Ars.”
+
+He rushed towards the window, and, already trembling with secret anguish,
+exclaimed—
+
+“It is the alarm-bell! Perhaps the works are on fire! _Mon Dieu_! What
+can be the matter? You are well aware to what risks we were exposed at
+Ars, and I am afraid that matters have taken a turn for the worse in my
+absence.”
+
+Madame Vignola opened the door, and called—
+
+“Milo.”
+
+The servant appeared. Without waiting to be questioned, she said—
+
+“There is something wrong at Ars, madame. Bells are ringing, and a black
+cloud of smoke is rising above the trees. It might be possible to see
+from the roof.”
+
+“I will mount at once!” exclaimed Marcel.
+
+“I will follow you. Go with him,” she said to Milona.
+
+But instead of keeping her word the young woman entered the small office
+where she was in the habit of writing her letters, took up a sheet of
+paper, and traced a few rapid lines. Steps could already be heard on the
+staircase. Marcel, pale and agitated, appeared before her.
+
+“The fire must have caught the works. Oh, Anetta, I have forgotten
+everything by your side! Good-bye, I must rush off at once.”
+
+“Marcel, do not forget that you are mine.”
+
+With a look of fright she pressed him in her arms, and held him back.
+
+“Darling, I must go. What would they think of me? I will return to-night.
+Let me go now.”
+
+“Very well. But Milona will follow you, and bring me back the news.
+Promise me you will be very careful.”
+
+A final kiss, and he was already in the garden. Anetta turned to the
+servant and handed to her the note she had just written.
+
+“Run to Ars. On the river, in a boat, you will see Hans, dressed like a
+peasant. Give him this paper, and return at once. Go, Milo! This time we
+shall succeed.”
+
+“And the young man, madame—what will you do with him?”
+
+A look of anxiety came over her brow.
+
+“I cannot tell yet, Milo. I believe I love him.”
+
+The servant smiled faintly as she said—
+
+“Poor fellow! What a pity!”
+
+And, without another word, she disappeared.
+
+Marcel was running towards the works. At the first turn of the road the
+whole town lay before his eyes. From the Supply Stores a lofty column of
+black smoke mounted towards the sky, and flames were beginning to break
+through the roof.
+
+“Ah, the wretches!” exclaimed the young man. “They have set the place on
+fire! And Uncle Graff? _Mon Dieu_! if only he is safe and sound!”
+
+Young and vigorous, spurred on by fear and anger, he ran along faster
+than ever. A mass of onlookers was standing in the street, kept in check
+by the police. Marcel rushed through them like a bullet and entered the
+yard, perspiring and out of breath. Workmen were manipulating the
+fire-engine belonging to the works. On seeing their master’s son arrive
+they exclaimed eagerly—
+
+“Ah, M. Marcel! You have come at last!”
+
+“How did the fire happen?” exclaimed the young man panting for breath.
+
+No one replied. They were two hundred; he was alone. All the same he
+exclaimed, in angry tones—
+
+“So it is you, rascals, you who have set fire to the works which afforded
+you your only means of livelihood?”
+
+They protested noisily.
+
+“No, M. Marcel, we did not do it! We set forth our demands, but we did
+not enforce them by such villainous means. There are strangers about. We
+had nothing to do with it.”
+
+“Where is my uncle Graff?”
+
+Terror-stricken, a foreman advanced—
+
+“Ah, M. Marcel, we could not prevent him entering.”
+
+“Entering where?”
+
+“Into the managing department, with M. Cardez and your servant. They
+wanted to find the account books, etc.”
+
+“But the managing department is on fire!” shrieked the young man, in
+despair. “If you could not prevent them going, you might at least have
+accompanied them.”
+
+A crash was now heard coming from the burning building. Millions of
+sparks shot forth into the air, and a black dust filled the sky. It was
+the roof of the stores, which had fallen in.
+
+“How can we reach them now?” said the overseer, anxiously. “They are
+caught between the weaving department and the stores. The fire is all
+over the place now.”
+
+“By the roof.”
+
+The workman shook his head discouragingly.
+
+“Who will dare to go?”
+
+“I will!”
+
+“But it means death!”
+
+“Well, I will risk it with them!”
+
+“We will not let you go. What would your father say?”
+
+“What would he say if I did not go?”
+
+Scarcely knowing what he was doing, Marcel seized hold of a hatchet, and
+rushed into the works. A violent biting sensation of heat seized him by
+the throat, but he did not halt. He mounted the staircase leading to the
+door of the book-keeping department. Here he was forced to stop. Before
+him was a wall of flames. Climbing higher, he came out on the roof, ran
+along a drain-pipe, entered the loft, which was filled with smoke, and,
+almost suffocated, reached that part of the building which lay above the
+offices. The fire had not reached them. He halted. If Cardez and Uncle
+Graff were in the book-keeping compartment they were surrounded on every
+side by the fire. Accordingly, they could only effect an escape either
+from above or below. Without the slightest hesitation he began to cut
+away at the floor. Suddenly he heard his name called from the roof.
+Without stopping he shouted back—
+
+“This way! In the loft!”
+
+It was the overseer and three of the workmen, who had followed with picks
+and levers. They set to work. Marcel, with his hatchet, seemed possessed
+of the strength of ten men; the beams appeared to fall away like reeds
+before the blows he dealt. Bricks and plaster were flying in all
+directions. At last a hole was made in the floor, and Marcel, lying flat
+on the ground, shouted with all his might—
+
+“Uncle Graff, Cardez, Baudoin—are you there?”
+
+A stifled voice replied—
+
+“Ah! This is you, Marcel. Yes, we are here. Be quick; we are almost
+exhausted. The smoke is suffocating us. We cannot open the window on
+account of the flames.”
+
+“Take care of yourselves!”
+
+Seizing the lever he gave a powerful lift, which considerably enlarged
+the hole. Then he saw the smoke rise as though by an escape-flue. There
+appeared in full view the three men, who had not let go their books and
+registers, stolidly awaiting deliverance or death. It was deliverance
+that came. A rope was lowered down the hole.
+
+“Baudoin, fasten my uncle firmly under the arms with this rope. Are you
+ready?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Pull away, my men!”
+
+The rope, hoisted by impatient arms, was drawn up, and Uncle Graff, black
+with dirt and smoke, trembling, and scarcely able to breathe, though
+perfectly happy, was pressed in Marcel’s arms, whilst tears flowed down
+their cheeks, though not a word was uttered. Cardez and Baudoin were
+hoisted up in the same way.
+
+“By the way,” said Marcel, “is there anything else you want from the
+office? I will go down, if you like.”
+
+“No!” exclaimed Uncle Graff; finding his voice; “we have all the books we
+want. That is sufficient! The place is insured, so there is nothing more
+to do.”
+
+“Then we must beat a retreat at once,” exclaimed Marcel. “The smoke is
+getting denser here.”
+
+Marcel, helping along his uncle, made his way to the drain-pipe. From the
+yard they were seen returning safe and sound. An immense shout arose,
+almost deafening the roar of the flames. They reached the works, where
+the firemen had already taken up their positions with the object of
+preserving the buildings still intact. Once in the yard Uncle Graff sank
+down on a bale of wool, turned pale, and almost fainted. He had come to
+the end of his strength.
+
+“A glass of water!” exclaimed Marcel.
+
+In a moment a decanter was in his hand. No matter what he had asked for,
+his demand would have been immediately obeyed. Full of respect before
+courage and devotion, the mob regarded him with indulgent and reverent
+tenderness. The very men who had cried out only the night before, “Down
+with the masters!” were ready to shout out, Hurrah for M. Marcel! The
+reason was that he had just performed a feat none of them had had courage
+to attempt, and in their inmost souls they were conscious that he was
+braver and better than themselves, and, accordingly, they felt nothing
+but admiration for him.
+
+“Cardez, take these registers and the money home,” said Marcel. “We will
+go to my home, Uncle Graff. You must try to regain your strength
+completely.”
+
+“No! I feel better already. I can breathe more freely. Ah, Marcel, you
+came just in time. Another quarter of an hour and you would have found us
+all dead.”
+
+“I was miserable at the thought that I was not with you all the time.”
+
+“Had you been with us everything would have been lost! We were dying.
+Your absence was quite providential! But for that, all would have been
+over with us!”
+
+“But how did it all happen?”
+
+“We cannot understand anything yet! For an hour we had been discussing
+with the delegates, and I must say the peaceful settlement of the strike
+seemed very doubtful, when we were suddenly interrupted by shouts of
+‘Fire! Fire!’ The workmen assembled in the yard awaiting the delegates
+had just seen a dense cloud of smoke issue from the stores. To tell the
+truth, they were ill-disposed towards us. When we crossed the yard on the
+way to the office they received us with a hostile silence. Not a head was
+uncovered. Veritable enemies on our own ground! In a moment the fire
+effected a complete change. They became like madmen when they saw the
+works burning. At bottom these workmen are not evil-disposed, for they
+rushed forth from every direction, shouting out, ‘To the pumps!’ When
+they saw me appear with Cardez they shouted: ‘M. Graff, this is not our
+work!’ A moment after one of the strangers, who has been here only a
+week, a native of Luxembourg, named Verstraet, being caught prowling
+about the works, they half killed him, accusing him of being the
+incendiary. We were obliged to tear him from their hands.”
+
+Marcel listened with gloomy interest to this recital. He associated the
+fire with the strange fears, manifested on different occasions by
+Baudoin, respecting the safety of the laboratory. He heard the servant
+say, “Just now, there are men here whose appearance is anything but
+prepossessing.” The workmen also spoke vaguely about strangers.
+Everything was wrapped in mystery. Instinctively, Marcel felt himself
+enveloped in a network of threats and hatred. Was it still this secret of
+the General de Trémont, which brought disaster on all those who possessed
+it? Looking round for Baudoin, he found that he had disappeared. The fire
+was raging less fiercely, for the torrents of water poured on the stores
+had extinguished the bales of wool. The works themselves did not seem to
+have suffered to any considerable extent; the loss was only partial. The
+captain of the Ars fire brigade, a plumber by trade, came out from the
+rest and stood there, hot and panting, with cap in hand, before M. Graff
+and Cardez.
+
+“Well, gentlemen, we shall come out of this affair better than we might
+have expected. At present, more than two-thirds of the works are safe. We
+may take our breath a little. It has been warm work, indeed, the last
+hour!”
+
+“Yes. But for M. Marcel,” said Cardez, “we should not be speaking to you
+at this moment, M. Prevost.”
+
+“That was a very noble act of his,” said the captain. “Ah! neither my men
+nor myself had thought of doing as he did. There was courage enough in
+us, but we should not have thought of piercing a hole in the roof. He did
+not lose his head; and that was the main thing.”
+
+Just at that moment, a voice quivering with anguish, was heard, and
+Marcel, pale and excited, came rushing from the laboratory, exclaiming—
+
+“Uncle Graff. Come here, quick!”
+
+“What is the matter?” asked Cardez.
+
+“Stay here! My uncle only!” said the young man. Monsieur Graff
+immediately went up to his nephew. Baudoin was already on the threshold
+guarding the entrance.
+
+“Come in! _Mon Dieu_! Come in!” said Marcel, pushing the old man before
+him. “Baudoin, shut the door and place the key inside.”
+
+“What is the matter now?” exclaimed the old man.
+
+“Look!”
+
+Standing there on the threshold of the capharnaum, the three men looked
+around in bewildered astonishment. All the signs of a desperate fight had
+thrown the room into the utmost disorder. A curtain, half torn from the
+window still open on the river, was hanging from its broken pole. Jars,
+retorts, and alembics of every description crushed to pieces lay
+scattered about the floor. On the table was a large clot of blood, still
+wet, as though some one had there met his death. The paper everywhere was
+splashed over with large red spots, and the drawer of the table lay wide
+open before their eyes.
+
+“What has taken place here?” asked Uncle Graff, in low tones.
+
+“Look in the drawer, Uncle Graff,” said Marcel. “Try to find the formula
+I placed there before your eyes.”
+
+“Well!”
+
+“It is there no longer! It has been stolen! Look for the flagon
+containing the war powder, which was on the table. Disappeared!”
+
+“Stolen? By whom?”
+
+“Perhaps by the same person who set fire to the works? Whose blood is
+that on the floor? Uncle Graff, we have brought about our heads a
+terrible stream of enemies. Think of what has happened concerning the
+inventions of M. de Trémont. There has been a whole band of rascals at
+work for months, bent on stealing these secrets at whatever cost, and in
+face of the greatest difficulties! My father guessed this, for it was
+with the utmost trouble that I succeeded in obtaining his permission to
+continue this discovery. Baudoin knew it, for he asked my permission to
+keep watch in the laboratory. It was the excitement caused by the fire
+which forced him to quit his post; doubtless, had he stayed here, he,
+too, would have lost his life. But whose blood is this that has been
+shed?”
+
+“Come, my child, do calm yourself,” said the old man, alarmed at the
+increasing agitation of his nephew. “Speak, Baudoin, tell us all you
+know.”
+
+“Monsieur Graff, I know who has fallen here, and I know, too, whose hand
+struck the blow. The victim is a man devoted to our cause, who, from the
+very first, had scented the culprits. He could not help the robbery being
+committed, and, had he not been killed, he would certainly have arrested
+the thief.”
+
+“And who is the man who struck him?”
+
+“Ah! This is by no means the first attempt. He is a determined villain;
+all the troubles in the district have been caused by this man. It is he
+who started the conflagration. He who stabbed General de Trémont. It is
+the man of Vanves. In a word, it is Hans!”
+
+“How do you know this?”
+
+“Because I have seen him. Laforêt, whom I had sent for to keep a watch on
+these people whom I suspected, and who has doubtless paid with his life
+for his zeal and devotion, followed him last night, and we both spent
+part of the night in tracking his movements. We were present at his
+conferences with the leaders of the strike at the Soleil d’Or. We heard
+him give his orders to his acolytes. It is he our unhappy workmen obeyed,
+without knowing it, seduced as they were by the rabid language of the
+leaders. This is the villain who, secretly, and from a distance, directed
+the riot, and set fire to the works!”
+
+“But how could he know that the written formula was in the table of the
+laboratory? Why did he come here?”
+
+“He came here because I ran off to the fire and left my post. He has,
+somehow or other, received precise information.”
+
+Baudoin stopped. He gave his young master a look of anguish.
+
+“Ah, Monsieur Marcel, must I speak? Will you pardon me?”
+
+Marcel turned pale. All the same he said, in firm tones—
+
+“Speak. I insist upon it.”
+
+“Well, then, this man, for the past week, has been living at the Villa de
+la Cavée.”
+
+“Impossible!” exclaimed Marcel. “Hans! This villain?”
+
+“Monsieur Marcel,” resumed Baudoin, bravely, but with infinite sadness,
+“I have seen him there myself. Laforêt has been watching him for a whole
+week. He lived in the attic, and only went out at nights.”
+
+“And I never suspected anything!” exclaimed the young man, in stupefied
+grief. “Then who is this woman who has been there the last six weeks?
+What is this atrocious farce she has been playing with me?”
+
+“Ah!” exclaimed Uncle Graff. “A woman! Another woman? Incorrigible
+child!”
+
+Marcel, seated by the table on a stool, his head in his hands, was
+endeavouring to collect his ideas. He was falling from a pure heaven of
+delight in which he had been living into the degradation of blood and
+crime.
+
+“Come, it is impossible!” he continued, with trembling voice. “Why should
+she have deceived me so atrociously? Was there any need to make me so
+madly in love with her? No, I cannot believe her guilty; she never lied
+once to me. Her very looks were frank and true. No, no! You are mistaken;
+you are heaping calumny on her! Even though the man be a villain, she, at
+least, is no accomplice of his. She is his victim, as we all are. If they
+tried to harm me, she had not the strength or the authority to resist.
+And if she knows what has happened, she is lamenting it all, as we are,
+this very moment.”
+
+His desperate protests were stifled by sobs, and, leaning his head on the
+blood-stained table, he wept bitterly. His uncle respected his grief,
+and, taking Baudoin to the window, he said to him, in subdued tones—
+
+“In your opinion, who has been in the laboratory after you left it?”
+
+“Laforêt, who was keeping watch over our man, must have followed him to
+this very spot. During the tumult caused by the fire Hans entered the
+yard of the works, and went right to the summer-house. Laforêt must have
+surprised him whilst he was examining the drawer. A terrible struggle
+must then have taken place between Hans, who is a giant in form, and
+Laforêt, who is very muscular. Hans doubtless made use of some arm or
+other to rid him of his adversary. Laforêt, killed outright, or stunned,
+fell on the table, thereupon Hans seized him and dragged him to the
+window. He became entangled with the curtain, which has been torn away;
+the weight must have been a heavy one, for the pole is broken.”
+
+“And afterwards?” asked M. Graff, anxiously.
+
+“Afterwards Hans flung the ill-fated Laforêt out of the window. The
+current has carried him off. Probably he will be picked up in the sluice
+of the mill of Sainte-Savine.”
+
+“And the woman, Baudoin?” whispered the old man.
+
+“Ah, Monsieur Graff, I do not know if she is the woman of Vanves or not.
+Both the scent she uses and her voice are different. But a voice may be
+modified, and a perfume changed. What remains unchanging is villainous
+skill and seductive charm. This one has all that is needed to madden a
+man—beauty, distinction, grace. Look at M. Marcel there, in tears. It is
+neither crime nor theft that has brought him into that state. It is the
+grief caused by suspecting the one he adores, and the fear that he may
+now be under the obligation of hating her.”
+
+“Poor fellow! He, at least, did not deserve to suffer. He has been very
+brave. But for him, Baudoin, we should not now be in the land of the
+living.”
+
+“True; and but for this wretched woman all this trouble would have been
+avoided. She well knows what she has done, and with whom she has had to
+deal. It is not you she would have undertaken to corrupt. She would have
+known beforehand that your calm and tranquil reason would have guarded
+you from her attacks. But with the General and M. Marcel it was
+different. Oh, M. Graff, she has made no mistake! Had she had either the
+necessary time or desire both the old and the young man would have given
+up their secret of their own accord.”
+
+Uncle Graff, astonished at such clear-sightedness, looked at Baudoin with
+considerable interest.
+
+“Ah, sir, you are astonished at hearing me speak in this way. But what I
+have said is not an invention. My General, on those days when he was
+master of himself, spoke to me in similar terms. He accused and blamed
+himself, well knowing how weak he was.”
+
+“And his weakness brought him to his death. Let us consider ourselves
+fortunate that Marcel has not been treated so harshly. The poor fellow
+suffers; he is unhappy. But, then, he is only twenty-five years of age,
+and in one’s youth no sorrow lasts long. But if these rascals had killed
+him? Ah, his father seemed to guess the danger he ran! He imagined his
+son would be safer at Ars, in the midst of the workmen, but you see how
+mistaken he has been.”
+
+“Ah! But, after all, this woman knew how to track him. And in this quiet
+spot her power was more manifest than ever.”
+
+“What will she do now?”
+
+“Disappear with her acolytes.”
+
+“Are there many of them?”
+
+“There is a pretended brother, a handsome, dark-complexioned young
+fellow; the servant, who called this morning for M. Marcel; and then
+Hans, without counting those we know nothing about. A whole band, you may
+be certain. Sir, not a single act of rascality or treachery happens in
+the country without those rascals having a hand in it. Laforêt told me so
+himself: ‘France is exploited by foreigners. The Government will do for
+strangers what they will not do for Frenchmen. If only an individual
+offers himself, speaking with a foreign accent, and wearing a
+many-coloured decoration, all kinds of privileges are showered upon him.’
+We are a set of ninnies and simpletons, M. Graff, though we imagine
+ourselves very clever.”
+
+Marcel drew near. During the past few minutes his face seemed to have
+become quite furrowed.
+
+“Uncle Graff,” he said, “the present is not the time for lamenting. We
+must act at once. Perhaps we may still come across the bold scoundrel who
+has been here. We must give a description of him to the police. For
+myself, I shall go to the villa and find out the whole truth.”
+
+“We know very little, Marcel, about the people with whom we have to deal
+if we can think they have lost a single second in escaping.”
+
+“How can they imagine they are even suspected?”
+
+“The _coup_ is effected; all they need do now will be to clear off!”
+
+Marcel gave a gesture of protest.
+
+“Yes,” continued the old man, gently. “You are asking why she could have
+gone? How could she have taken her departure without seeing me again? My
+poor child, you are still under the effect of the delusion practised on
+you! You cannot yet understand that all the tenderness she lavished on
+you was calculated, interested in its nature, that, in short, you were
+only a victim. And you still expect her to be waiting for you. Well! we
+will all go and see, my child. Then we shall know the value of the
+promises by which you have allowed yourself to be deceived. Meanwhile we
+must inform the authorities. Take my advice, and say nothing about the
+powders. We must speak of the murder only. Our man will be caught just as
+easily, if he is to be caught at all, which I very much doubt. We will
+keep our secret in the background. Ah! We have to deal with enemies
+stronger than ourselves! Do not reproach yourself in any way. Everything
+was too well arranged. In one way or another, you were bound to succumb.
+Luckily, your life is out of danger.”
+
+“Thanks, Uncle Graff, you do your best to console me. But I shall never
+forgive myself, in case you are right. Come along.”
+
+They descended into the yard. The fire had been extinguished, and the
+pumps were now silent, with the exception of the one belonging to the
+works, which was still dashing water on the ruins. On their approach, the
+crowd of workmen stood there in respectful silence, all heads uncovered.
+This misfortune had kindled renewed sympathy with their masters, and
+their devotion enjoined an attitude of respect. Cardez came forward, and
+said—
+
+“Monsieur Graff, the workmen want you to speak to them. They do not wish
+to remain suspected.”
+
+Graff advanced, and said in grave accents—
+
+“My friends, I know you too well to accuse you of the crime which has
+been committed here. I am well aware that you are hot-headed, but you are
+very honest all the same. Besides, what would have been the use of such
+wilful destruction, if not to throw you on to the streets and cause you
+to die of hunger? The very moment the fire broke out, your delegates and
+ourselves were on the point of coming to a mutual understanding. After
+the good will you have just given proof of, in uniting to save the works,
+I can only admit of one solution, the one most favourable to you.
+Accordingly, I grant you your demands.”
+
+An immense cheer of mingled joy and gratitude burst from five hundred
+throats. Caps were waved high in the air. Graff raised his hand; silence
+was instantly restored.
+
+“I beg you to remember that it is to the manager quite as much as to
+myself that you owed this result. If he is severe in point of discipline,
+it is because he feels it to be necessary in the interest of the work.
+But no one is a stauncher upholder of your interests than your excellent
+director.”
+
+“Hurrah for M. Cardez!”
+
+Uncle Graff smiled.
+
+“Come, come! You are like overgrown children! Yesterday you wanted to
+hang him. And myself into the bargain! To-day you receive him with shouts
+of joy. And it is at this moment that you are more just and reasonable.
+Remember what has taken place. And next time you have any demands to
+make, do not begin by threats of murder. Now, go home, all of you, and
+to-morrow morning, at the usual hour, we shall expect you back at work!”
+
+The crowd melted away in respectful silence. With its usual fickleness it
+now showered blessings on those it had formerly cursed. Obeying its
+instincts, which are always generous and kind when left to develop
+freely, it congratulated itself on the happy ending of a day which might
+have been so tragic, and now withdrew, delighted at the prospect of
+resuming the labour it had contemptibly looked upon as utter slavery.
+
+
+
+
+PART III
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+WHILST Milona was running in the direction of Ars, her mistress returned
+quietly to the salon. Flinging herself on the sofa, she abandoned herself
+to a delightful reverie. What a difference she found between Cesare
+Agostini and Marcel! A feeling of nausea came over her when she compared
+them with one another. The complaisant and needy lover, who always knew
+when to close his eyes, when some mysterious interests of his were at
+stake, and this tender, sincere lover, who thought of nothing but her
+happiness, and sacrificed for that his own.
+
+She remembered Hans’ sarcastic remarks, “Take care you are not caught in
+your own net, and fall in love with this young man.” Had he then read her
+inmost thoughts, this dread accomplice of hers, who trampled humanity
+under foot, and who had no more respect for joy and happiness than the
+hail has for the harvest? Suppose it were so? Had she not the right to do
+as she wished? Was she a slave, linked to obscure and threatening
+adventurers engaged in some formidable though tremendous task? Or was
+there equality for both them and herself, in danger, success, and
+pleasure alike? Who could compel her to do what was displeasing to
+her—above all, who would dare to attempt it? She knew she was as
+dangerous as any of them, and they, too, were well aware how powerful and
+audacious she was. If it were necessary to try conclusions with them,
+they would see who would come out the winner.
+
+She smiled, and her face shone with the light of a glorious graciousness.
+In that young woman, with those delicate, refined features, who would
+have discovered the bold, sarcastic Sophia Grodsko? What would
+Lichtenbach have said, had he seen her, and what would all those have
+thought who had known her, so faithless and vice-stained, fatal to all
+who had loved her, and whom she had led on to ruin, dishonour, or death?
+A young man, the least remarkable of all she had hitherto met, in all
+probability, had obtained the triumph of making her uneasy and anxious at
+the thought of what might become of him. Following him in imagination, on
+his way back to the town, she wondered if it would not have been better
+to have kept him by her side, instead of allowing him to rush off to the
+burning works, and especially towards the spot where Hans was
+watching—Hans, more to be dreaded than all the other scourges combined.
+
+She rose, and, already repenting of having shown such a lack of decision,
+she was deliberating whether or not she ought, herself, to go to Ars, and
+find out what was taking place there. Prudence checked the impulse. All
+the same, she mounted to the second floor of the villa, on to a balcony
+from which a view of the valley could be obtained beyond the trees. There
+she quickly saw that the danger, if there had been any, had lessened. The
+smoke was disappearing, not a single flame was to be seen, and the hubbub
+from the town had calmed down, whilst even the church bell had ceased
+ringing. She was about to descend, when she saw Milona open the garden
+gate. The servant was coming along the alley with rapid and uneasy steps.
+Sophia had a presentiment that she was the bearer of bad news, and gave a
+sharp, low whistle. Milo mounted the steps all out of breath, and came
+straight to her mistress—
+
+“I have performed your commission,” she said. “I found Hans. He read your
+note, and placed it back in my hands. Here it is.”
+
+“Good. That is not all. What is the matter?”
+
+“Agostini is close behind me. He has just landed at Ars.”
+
+Sophia frowned. A slight blush mounted to her cheeks. Taking a match, she
+lit it, and set fire to the paper Milona had handed to her. Thoughtfully,
+she watched the ashes fly away in the wind. Then she asked—
+
+“How is he coming here?”
+
+“In a cab. Listen, you may hear the horse’s hoofs already.”
+
+The cab stopped in front of the door, and Cesare descended. The cabman
+waited. Sophia slowly descended the staircase, and found herself in the
+hall, to receive the handsome Italian. He advanced with shining eyes and
+eager gait. Carelessly, and with an air of indifference, she held out her
+hand.
+
+“Well, well! my dear,” said he. “Is this the way you receive me after a
+fortnight’s absence?”
+
+“Silence!” she said firmly; “this is no time for nonsense. Hans at this
+very moment is doubtless risking his life to obtain possession of the
+powders.”
+
+“Have you then succeeded with our young victim?”
+
+“You may see for yourself. There will be more to learn later on.”
+
+“Diavolo!”
+
+Rushing from the room, he exclaimed—
+
+“Milo, tell the cabman to wait.”
+
+He returned—
+
+“Who knows if we shall not need him shortly? As I passed by I saw the
+town was in the greatest commotion imaginable, and that the works were on
+fire. Is this accident an invention of yours?”
+
+“I believe Hans arranged the whole affair.”
+
+“Gay disposition, Hans! He is fond of an attractive _mise en scene_. But
+I should be glad to have a little lunch; I left Paris quite hurriedly.”
+
+“Milona will serve you.”
+
+They passed into the dining-room. The table was set, and Cesare took a
+seat.
+
+“Come and talk to me, my beautiful Sophia. Time has weighed heavy on my
+hands since last I saw you. I have vainly sought for distractions.”
+
+“What have you been doing?”
+
+“Ah! Trying to win a little money at cards. A kind of fatality seems to
+pursue me, my bad luck never leaves me, and I cannot touch a card without
+losing.”
+
+“You have lost much?”
+
+“Too much! I so easily get excited, you know.”
+
+“Well, how much?” asked Sophia, impatiently.
+
+The handsome Italian replied with a smile—
+
+“Nothing at all, cara; I had the money!”
+
+“Who gave it you?”
+
+“Lichtenbach. I was obliged to accustom him to my little fancies. When he
+becomes my father-in-law I shall appeal to him rather often.”
+
+“Take care. He may tire.”
+
+“He will not be allowed to do so.”
+
+“His resources are not inexhaustible.”
+
+“You are jesting. I am well acquainted with the source of his wealth.”
+
+“Indeed! Who has been informing you?”
+
+“A relation of mine, the Very Reverend Monsignor Boldi, whom I saw in
+Paris a few days ago. Lichtenbach, in addition to his wealth, is a church
+trustee. I no longer wonder at the influence he wields. He has the
+disposal of immense sums, and of almost limitless power. But he is not a
+man of action. He is always hesitating and trembling. Had you seen how
+terrified he was when I alluded to his position as a kind of
+ecclesiastical banker, you would have laughed outright. Ah! cara, his
+brow was covered with perspiration. Whatever can he be afraid of?”
+
+“From his constituents, nothing. From you, everything. That he doubtless
+guessed at once.”
+
+“Oh! _Mon Dieu_! All that trouble for such a trifle! A mere bagatelle of
+forty thousand francs. That cursed baccarat! But Lichtenbach never plays,
+except on the Bourse. And there he always wins!”
+
+“Question!”
+
+“Ah! Can he, too, be cursed with bad luck?”
+
+“We are now doing our best to arrange matters so that he may have nothing
+but good luck!”
+
+“The powder affair?”
+
+“Yes. Listen, what is that?”
+
+A sound was heard outside. Taking from a cupboard a small revolver, she
+slipped it into her pocket, and said—“Are you armed?”
+
+“I am always armed. What are you afraid of?”
+
+“Wait!”
+
+In the silence a curious whistling sound was heard. Sophia’s features
+relaxed.
+
+“It is Hans!”
+
+A rapid step was heard on the sand of the alley. The door of the salon
+opened, and Milona made her appearance, followed by the colossus. He was
+still clothed in his mean-looking fisher’s costume. Flinging his hat on
+the ground, he removed his blouse and his huge shoes, without the
+slightest thought of Sophia’s presence, and exclaimed—
+
+“Milo, my clothes.”
+
+Placing on the table a glass recipient and a sheet of paper, he said,
+with a grimace—
+
+“Here it is!”
+
+“Then you have succeeded at last?”
+
+Sophia and Cesare approached with a kind of respect, and saw through the
+jar the brownish shavings of the powder which had already cost so much
+blood!
+
+“Yes, here it is! This small phial and this piece of paper again
+represent the life of a man.”
+
+“You were surprised in the act?”
+
+“Yes. And I have killed again.”
+
+“Who is the victim this time?” exclaimed Sophia, pale as death.
+
+“Do not alarm yourself, my dear; it is not your turtledove.”
+
+_He_ gave Cesare a glance, which immediately put the Italian on the
+alert. His light, careless attitude disappeared, and a cold, hard look
+came into his face.
+
+“It was a troublesome fellow I have had on my track for several days,”
+continued Hans. “A Government spy. It was not the first time we had met,
+either. He almost caught me three years ago at Lyons, in the affair of
+the Sergeant-Major. I took good note of him at the time, and his account
+is now settled!”
+
+“But will his murder not be discovered?”
+
+“What then? We must clear off at once; the authorities never trouble
+about detectives, that you know very well. This one will undergo a curing
+process, with his broken head, in the river, until he is fished out.
+Meanwhile, we shall be on the other side of the frontier.”
+
+Milona entered, carrying a suit of elegant-looking clothes, a grey felt
+hat, and yellow shoes. Unceremoniously, Hans dressed himself.
+
+“The cabman is at the door. Did he see you enter?” asked Sophia.
+
+“No. I am not such a fool as to show myself to him. It was very
+convenient to come along the end of the garden, where the wall is
+conveniently low. I am returning the same way, and I would advise you, my
+children, to vacate this place as soon as possible. As you are aware, we
+are due shortly in Venice. The first who arrives will wait for the rest.
+There, I again become Major Fraser.”
+
+Placing in a leather bag his glass recipient and the folded paper, he
+shook hands with Agostini, smiled familiarly to Sophia, and disappeared
+as he had come. The Italian gave a kick at Hans’ cast-off clothes, and
+said—
+
+“Milo, all this must disappear, my child.”
+
+“In the kitchen fire,” said the Dalmatian, gravely.
+
+“And you, Sophia, what do you intend to do? You have heard what our noble
+friend has just said. In my opinion, the best thing we can do is to start
+at once.”
+
+The young woman made no reply. She passed into the salon with slow,
+steady steps, as though laboriously seeking the right form to explain her
+meaning. Sitting down, she took a cigarette, and, looking at the handsome
+Italian standing before her, said—
+
+“Yes, indeed, I do think you would do well to start off. There is no
+reason for you to stay here. As for myself, a sudden disappearance would
+excite suspicion; it would, in fact, be a very tactless thing to do.”
+
+“But will you not be suspected if you remain behind? Will no action be
+taken against you?”
+
+“I? Suspected? In what way? Who could suspect me? Have I done anything
+whatever calculated to excite mistrust? There has been no one here except
+Marcel Baradier; he alone knows me.”
+
+“But doubtless he gave you the information by the help of which Hans
+succeeded in his enterprise.”
+
+“He did certainly give it me, a couple of hours ago. The execution has
+been concomitant with the revelation, so to speak. By what miracle could
+I, who have not stirred from here, have informed the one who entered the
+laboratory, and rid himself of his spy? This latter will not speak, as he
+is dead! The laboratory will be found ransacked and in disorder. Very
+good! Have there not taken place to-day, at the works, sufficient events
+in which several rascals have been implicated, without there being any
+need to charge me with a deed so much more likely to have been wrought by
+any of them? If I leave I shall be suspected. Why have I taken to flight?
+How is it I have left no explanation of my departure? What has become of
+me? Then, afterwards, what and who am I? Whilst if I remain quietly here
+with Milona, Marcel returns, finds me serene and calm, and everything is
+safe. Is the arrangement not a good one?”
+
+Cesare smiled, and, in ironical tones, said—
+
+“Very good, indeed; too good, in fact!”
+
+Sophia frowned.
+
+“What do you mean?”
+
+Drawing near her, with subtle grace, and still bent on adopting gentle
+means, he said—
+
+“Have you no longer confidence in me, cara? Why are you trying to deceive
+me?”
+
+“In what way, may I ask?”
+
+“You are not telling me the truth. This is the first time you have played
+me false, Sophia.”
+
+She bit her lips, and turned slightly pale.
+
+“My dear Cesare, do not ask so many questions. Do as I tell you, as you
+have always done hitherto. You have never found it a bad policy, have
+you? Very well, continue as before.”
+
+“No!”
+
+This refusal rang out sharp as a lash.
+
+“Ah! Might I be permitted to know the reasons influencing you?”
+
+“They are the same as yours. You will not come with me on account of this
+young Marcel Baradier. But it is on that very account that I am bent on
+your accompanying me.”
+
+“Can you be jealous?”
+
+“I am.”
+
+“That is something quite novel; and I must confess I am greatly
+surprised!”
+
+“It is diversity of sensations which gives a charm to life!”
+
+“Then you think—”
+
+“That this fair-complexioned young fellow has pleased you more than was
+agreed upon in our programme. Now, though I was disposed to allow you to
+practice your wiles on him, in the interests of business, I no longer
+feel inclined to permit you to flirt with him for art’s sake. The play is
+over, let us drop the curtain without continuing the love scene in the
+green-room.”
+
+“You are a very practical lover, Cesare.”
+
+“Did you not know that before?”
+
+“I have been very generous to you.”
+
+“Many thanks.”
+
+“And now I intend to act as I please, and to-day I cannot obey you.”
+
+They looked at one another like two wrestlers about to come to close
+quarters. Cesare’s eyes sparkled with anger, while Sophia stood there
+calm, with lowered eyelids, as though unwilling to meet his look. The
+Italian, with an effort, controlled himself, and speaking with affected
+gaiety, said—
+
+“Come, cara, let us not quarrel. We have every possible reason to be
+indulgent with one another; have we not been acquainted so long? Tell me
+what you have resolved on. I will do all I can to further your wishes. Is
+it a week’s liberty you want? When that length of time has elapsed will
+you promise to come to Venice? _Mon Dieu_! We may well be complaisant
+with one another. I will imagine I am nothing more than the brother of
+Madame Vignola, and will bear you no ill-feeling; that I promise. Will
+that satisfy you?”
+
+She replied with a sigh—
+
+“I do not know.”
+
+“But I must know.”
+
+“How can you be so stupid, Cesare, as to speak to the Baroness Grodsko as
+you would to any other woman? One would think you had forgotten what she
+is when some fancy takes possession of her. My poor friend, I am sorry
+for you; Lichtenbach’s company must have spoiled you. You must stop
+seeing him; he has turned you into a mere bourgeois!”
+
+“You are jesting with me?”
+
+“No!”
+
+“You refuse to promise to come and rejoin me?”
+
+“When I left Zypiatine, was he ever a source of annoyance to me?”
+
+“Then you confess you wish to leave me?” exclaimed the Italian, pale with
+anger.
+
+“You will know later, my friend. At present I have not the slightest wish
+to see you again.”
+
+“Ah! Now you are speaking frankly. Do you forget that we have several
+secrets in common?”
+
+“No; nor do I forget there is no obligation for you to remember them.”
+
+“That means?”
+
+Sophia raised her eyelids, and flashed a look on Agostini which
+astonished him.
+
+“It means that if for my own safety your disappearance were necessary,
+your life would be very cheap.”
+
+“You threaten me with death?”
+
+“Fool! You are well aware that if you breathed a single word calculated
+to throw light on our enterprises, there are at least five persons who
+would kill you at once.”
+
+“But the affairs of the association are not your affairs, and you know
+that I am acquainted with the ones as well as with the others.”
+
+“Listen, Cesare; people like ourselves ought to be agreed in everything
+we do, if we wish to run no risk of ruin. The slightest discord places us
+at the mercy of our enemies. We must serve one another with the greatest
+self-sacrifice. Every selfish demand detracts from the force necessary to
+common success.”
+
+“Ah! Do you pretend to impose an apathetic indifference on people who
+live with an intensity a hundred times greater than the rest of mankind?
+You forget that I love you, and I will submit to no rivalry, Sophia.”
+
+“And how will you compel me to obey your wishes, may I ask?”
+
+“In the simplest manner imaginable. I will inform Marcel Baradier of your
+life before you gave up your whole existence to international
+investigations and diplomatic intrigues, and we shall see if his love for
+you will survive, for instance, an account of the incident of Segovia.”
+
+Sophia turned so pale that Cesare was afraid of the impression he had
+produced. Grinding her teeth, and stamping about the room like a wild
+beast at bay, she seized upon the revolver she had taken up on the
+arrival of Hans, and, levelling it at the head of the Italian, said—
+
+“Ah, you villain; never again shall you betray a single human being!”
+
+With extraordinary agility, Agostini leapt on to her, dashed her arm
+upwards, so that the shot could not reach him, and pitilessly twisting
+her beautiful white wrist, he took possession of the revolver, which he
+calmly placed in his pocket. Then looking resolutely at Sophia, he said—
+
+“Now let the dagger have a turn!”
+
+She fell into a chair.
+
+“You dog! To dare to raise your hand against me! You shall be punished
+for it.”
+
+“Good! But we cannot lose our time with such nonsense. Can it be admitted
+that the man the Countess Grodsko has chosen as her companion will submit
+to being fooled like the veriest ninny? You may hate me if you like,
+Sophia, but you shall not despise me! This is the first time we have
+tested our strength against one another, and as you see, I have not been
+found to be the weaker. Do not recommence the struggle; if you do, I
+shall treat you without the slightest gallantry?”
+
+Shaking her head, and looking at her bruised hand, she said,
+submissively—
+
+“You have hurt me, Cesare!”
+
+“Whose fault is it? Upon my word, I believe you were mad, for a moment.
+You brave me, all for the sake of this young fop! Do you know I am going
+to kill him?”
+
+“I forbid you!” said Sophia, emphatically.
+
+“I shall be delighted to obey you,” he said gallantly. “There is this
+difference between us, that I am dominated by respectful attentions
+towards you, and treat you like a sovereign, whilst you, by your language
+and your attitude, wish to reduce me to the rank of a lackey! Is that
+just?”
+
+She made no reply. He walked to and fro for a short time, then drawing
+nearer said—
+
+“Never have I seen you in such a passion before. What in the world can
+this young fellow have taught you? For the future I shall not be able to
+trust you at all, though hitherto I have had the most complete confidence
+in you! Is it possible that just now you thought of blowing out my
+brains? Afterwards, what would you have done with my body? Your Marcel
+would have arrived. He would have found the floor stained with blood, and
+my corpse lying in the middle of the salon! How would you have explained
+the matter to him? You see, Sophia, it was a fit of madness which came
+over you. And all for what? Place in the balance these love-dreams of
+yours, weigh them against the immense interests in which you have a part,
+and decide whether the former weigh down the latter? Really, women must
+at times be mad for one like yourself to give way to such acts of
+extravagance!”
+
+He gave her a side-long glance as he spoke, but the expression on her
+face did not appear to satisfy him, so he continued—
+
+“We neither have nor can have strength, unless we support one another. I
+rely on your beauty, and you ought to be proud of my skill and courage.
+Wherever we pass, it is your _rôle_ to charm and please, and mine to
+defend you. Have I ever failed in my duty? When Colonel de Bredmann, last
+year in Vienna, spoke of you in a manner you considered derogatory, did I
+hesitate to challenge him the following day, and drive six inches of cold
+steel through his throat in the Prater? I must confess that you, with
+charming generosity, enabled me to support the run of ill-luck which
+always overtook me at the club. Mutual exchange—you, of money; and
+myself, of respect. Meanwhile, we carried on our affairs. And with what
+success? Do you remember? Was it not better than quarrelling? Come,
+Sophia, don’t look so gloomy; I know your feelings are bitter, but don’t
+let them be more bitter than my own. Diavolo! Wake up and speak. Give me
+an answer.”
+
+Appearing to shake off the feeling of numbness which had come over her,
+she once more looked at her reddened fingers, and said, with a strange
+smile—
+
+“Very well! Order, since it is you who are the master!”
+
+With displeased air, he replied—
+
+“No! Don’t adopt such an attitude! Now you are acting the part of a
+resigned victim! You must act according to your own free will and
+pleasure. I think I have proved to your satisfaction that you are turning
+your back on the right path, and that it is time to turn round. Am I not
+right?”
+
+“One is never right when one is the stronger!”
+
+“That is a woman’s reply. Well, Sophia, I am very sorry, but I will not
+assume this advantage of imposing on you any resolution whatever. I leave
+you free to do as you wish. Stay or go as you like. For my part, I must
+go; I do not feel inclined to let myself be caught in this house like a
+fox in a poultry-yard. I will give you ten minutes while you make up your
+mind and prepare your luggage. I will smoke a cigarette in the garden.
+Decide your future for yourself.”
+
+He left the room. A flash of hate shone in Sophia’s eyes. She arose, gave
+a sigh of despair, and then murmured—
+
+“He is right!”
+
+She called for Milona. The servant appeared.
+
+“The trunk at once. We are leaving,” she said briefly.
+
+“Good, madame.”
+
+Sophia sat down before a small desk, took up a sheet of writing-paper
+edged with black, and wrote—
+
+    “MY DEAR MARCEL,
+
+    “When you return to the villa I shall no longer be here to receive
+    you. My brother, to whom I have been denounced by some person
+    unknown, has arrived in a passion, and is taking me far away. Never
+    try to see me again. Keep the remembrance of my kisses ever fresh in
+    your heart. I am carrying off the delicious flavour of yours on my
+    lips. Good-bye.
+
+                                             “Yours with life-long regret,
+                                                                 “ANETTA.”
+
+Sealing the envelope, she placed it in full view on the table of the
+salon, and, after looking all around, she went out into the small garden.
+Cesare was walking to and fro, along the alley, where she had spent so
+many hours by Marcel’s side. She sighed deeply. But her mind was made up,
+and she was not a woman to draw back.
+
+“Well?” asked the Italian.
+
+“Well, you have convinced me; I will accompany you.”
+
+“Very good. Now you are yourself again. It was only a momentary weakness
+which came over you.”
+
+“Indeed, I was mad,” she said, mockingly. “Just think, I was in love with
+this young Baradier.”
+
+“That I can well understand,” he conceded graciously. “He is a charming
+young fellow. But everything comes to an end. And since, thanks to this
+intrigue, you have obtained the result so ardently followed up by Hans,
+the only thing we can now do is to quit. And that is what you are now
+doing, with your usual good sense. Just now you surprised me, I must
+confess, by your resistance. This is the first time I have ever seen you
+sentimental. This fit of idyllic tenderness seemed quite incomprehensible
+to me. Now, can you explain to me what has taken place?”
+
+“Oh! It is very simple. In this young Marcel I found a love and affection
+at once simple and disinterested, quite refreshing. It seemed as though I
+were in a thirsty desert, and came upon a limpid spring, at which no one
+had drunk previously. I stopped at the edge, looked into the crystal
+water, and the reflected image was so different from myself, that I stood
+there astonished and delighted. I thought I was about to find tranquil
+rest, and a delightful regeneration, and cease being the Sophia who had
+gone through so many adventures, to become a simple harmless woman in the
+eyes of a love-stricken swain. Perhaps my mouth would forget its lying,
+and my eyes their deceit and fascination! What a dream! And how near
+realization! What unexpected happiness, ruined in a moment by your
+reappearance. Ah! I have cursed you, Cesare, and Hans as well! But what
+can I do, how can I tear myself away from my destiny? It was the height
+of madness for me to think that a sincere love could unfold in my heart,
+as though a wild floweret of the open fields could spring up in a marsh!
+Come, let us think no more of all this. Society shall pay the price of my
+disillusion!”
+
+“Now you are speaking sensibly. But all you have been telling me is most
+deplorably romantic. To think of your settling down in a village like the
+Dame aux Camelias to live on new-laid eggs with Armand Duval! How
+ridiculous! Ah! Here is Milona with your hat and cloak.”
+
+“Ask the coachman to mount the luggage.”
+
+Sophia, apparently impassive, watched her trunk and bags change position.
+As Cesare stood at the garden-gate calling her, she looked around for the
+last time, raised her hands to her lips, and to all she associated with
+Marcel—green trees, forms on which they had sat, birds that had sung
+above their heads, sky which had shone on their happiness—she sent a
+rapid kiss.
+
+“Are you ready?” asked the Italian.
+
+“Here I am.”
+
+“We will not leave by Ars, the town is in too great a commotion. This
+worthy coachman will drive us to Saint-Savine, where we will take the
+express for Paris.”
+
+“As you like.”
+
+“Come along, then, quick!”
+
+She mounted the open carriage. Milona took up a position opposite her
+mistress. A lash of the whip, a sound of bells, and at the turn of the
+road everything was out of view.
+
+It was four o’clock when Uncle Graff, after arranging for the search for
+Laforêt, and giving orders for the management of the works, in short
+arranging for whatever was absolutely pressing, came for his nephew to go
+with him to the Villa de la Cavée. Baudoin, with a trusty revolver in his
+pocket, went on in front as a scout. Marcel and his uncle followed, a
+hundred yards behind. The excitement of the struggle and danger was now
+past, and they were beginning to examine the position more coolly.
+
+It was not a brilliant one. The boldness and violence of their enemies
+had been manifested with too few precautions, for the utmost excesses
+were to be dreaded at their hands in case the struggle were continued.
+Now, at this moment, they appeared to be on the point of triumph. They
+had just obtained possession of the scientific treasure, the commercial
+application of which would assure them an enormous fortune. How exultant
+they must feel, accordingly! But then, on the other hand, how
+disconcerted they would be on attempting to utilize the stolen formula!
+As Marcel had said, to obtain the explosive in its full power, and with
+its special destructive qualities, a particular manipulation, a twist of
+the hand, so to speak, discovered by General de Trémont, was necessary.
+They might try to apply the formula; but if they did not know how to
+handle the different doses, their hopes would fail of realization. Now
+the thief-assassin, who had found his way into the laboratory, had
+carried off the precious document, but would it not remain utterly
+worthless, like the golden crown in the legend, which changed into a dry
+leaf?
+
+Uncle Graff was meditating on all this as he walked by Marcel’s side. He
+said nothing to the young man. What was the use? It was also certain that
+the villains, bent as they were on obtaining the secret, had already
+killed two men and set fire to the works to accomplish their object.
+Granting that they had once more failed, would they not recommence the
+struggle, and purchase victory at the cost of no matter what sacrifices?
+Under these conditions there was no drawing back; they must risk much to
+try and check an offensive return, and not hesitate in case the unknown
+beauty were an accomplice in the crimes already committed; it must be
+their object to keep her in view, question her, and if need be, deliver
+her into the hands of justice in order to try and throw light on this
+dark and dangerous affair.
+
+They reached the wood, and, the house being no more than a hundred yards
+distant, Baudoin, who had waited for them, said—
+
+“I will go all round the garden, and bear off in the direction of the
+wood, so that, if any one tries to escape, I may be able to cut off his
+retreat.”
+
+“No,” said Marcel. “Let us remain together.”
+
+Just at that moment an old woman appeared before them, dragging a faggot
+of decayed wood.
+
+She smiled with her toothless mouth, and, stopping to take breath, said—
+
+“Is it the young lady of the villa you want to see? If so—”
+
+“Well?” said Marcel.
+
+“You will not find her here. An hour ago she went away in a cab with all
+her luggage, in the direction of Sainte-Savine. Cacheu, of the Lion d’Or,
+drove the cab himself.”
+
+“Gone?” exclaimed Marcel, stupefied.
+
+“So it seems,” said Uncle Graff. “The _coup_ is effected.”
+
+“Impossible!”
+
+“Poor young man! His walks with the young lady were very agreeable,”
+muttered the old woman.
+
+She shook her head, encircled with a kerchief, accepted the two-franc
+piece Uncle Graff slipped into her hand, and walked slowly away, in the
+direction of the town, dragging her faggot along the road.
+
+Marcel had already entered the villa. On the threshold his heart seemed
+almost to stop beating. The door remained open, as though, in the hurry
+of flight, they had not had time to close it, or rather, as though she
+had left nothing behind worth keeping. Crossing the garden, he entered
+the hall, and called—
+
+“Milona! Anetta!”
+
+No reply came; nothing but silence and darkness. Entering the salon, he
+saw a letter lying on the table. Tearing it open, he rapidly ran over the
+contents, sat down to read it once more, finally understood it, and sat
+there, with bowed head and throbbing brow, as though in the presence of a
+terrible disaster. There Uncle Graff found him. He had gone over the
+whole house, and acquired the certainty that it was abandoned. Baudoin
+was seated in the garden. Seeing his nephew’s anguish and the pallor of
+his countenance, the old man’s heart melted; he placed his hand
+affectionately on the young man’s head, softly stroked his hair, and
+seeing the letter pressed between his passive fingers, asked—
+
+“Has she written to you?”
+
+At these words, simple though they were, his fugitive love seemed almost
+reinstated in his eyes, as he felt that she had not forgotten him, and
+Marcel burst into sobs as he silently held out the paper and hid his face
+in his hands. Uncle Graff drew near the window and read the letter, after
+which he stood there in a reverie. Marcel, regaining possession of
+himself to defend the one he loved, finally rose from his seat, and said
+in supplicating accents—
+
+“Uncle Graff, is this the letter of a woman who lies? Do not her protests
+appear sincere to you? Has she the faintest complicity in the crimes
+committed? Do you accuse her of having deceived me? Is she not rather a
+victim undergoing a rigorous tyranny at the hands of the very monsters
+who threaten us? This letter, Uncle Graff, this letter—does it not
+breathe despair in every line? Is it not a confirmation of her love for
+me?”
+
+“The letter appears to be sincere,” said the old man, calmly. “I cannot
+but recognize that grief is evident in every word, and that the one who
+wrote it was evidently acting under compulsion when she left the house.
+That is a proof that she loves you, and regrets your absence. But is that
+a proof that she is not guilty, and the accomplice of the rest?”
+
+“Oh, Uncle Graff, do you think it possible?”
+
+“I do, and I am afraid it is so, my dear Marcel, and that would be more
+serious than anything else, for, if this woman loves you—and how could
+she help loving you, my dear child, once she knows you—ah, if this woman
+loves you, my anxiety will become greater than ever. For she might try to
+see you again, and then—”
+
+A light of hope illumined Marcel’s face.
+
+“Ah, if only that could be!”
+
+“Marcel, you see what grounds I had for fear. At the very thought of
+seeing her again you at once become radiant with joy. And yet she is a
+rascal, there is not the slightest doubt of it. I will not dispute her
+charms, since she has obtained such control over you; but she is very
+dangerous all the same, for, in short, suppose she were the woman of
+Vanves?”
+
+“Impossible!”
+
+“Do not say impossible. You know nothing about it. These women, you see,
+are terrible creatures. In matters like the one now engaging our
+attention they are a kind of female Proteus, capable of assuming all
+forms, even the most diverse and disconcerting, to deceive their enemies
+and allay suspicion. Cosmopolitan adventuresses, living on human folly;
+spies, on the track of State secrets; corruptresses, sufficiently
+fascinating to obtain the mastery over all consciences. You are aware
+that these women are insinuating and of plausible manners, generally very
+beautiful. And this one—”
+
+“Oh! No, no!”
+
+Uncle Graff insisted authoritatively.
+
+“This one, very clever and dangerous, more dangerous than the rest, even,
+has played her _rôle_ with you, whilst satisfying her caprice at the same
+time. Come, Marcel, be reasonable; do not blind yourself. Why was the man
+of Vanves concealed here? Why have the powders been removed from the
+laboratory, and why is the house deserted, now that the burglary is
+accomplished? It is not a mere departure, it is a flight. Consider the
+rapidity and suddenness of the resolution reached. This morning only she
+had no thought of it, or, rather, in that case she deceived you, since
+she said nothing about it, and was to receive you to-night. Crime and
+duplicity are manifest everywhere. You have been deceived by words of
+tenderness, whilst the others, her accomplices, were stealing and
+murdering.”
+
+Marcel gave a movement expressive of anger.
+
+“If only I had the proof of this!”
+
+Uncle Graff looked at him fixedly.
+
+“Well, what would you do?”
+
+“Ah! I would have my revenge, that I swear! All my love would turn into
+hate. If my heart has been deceived with lying words, I would tear it out
+of my breast, rather than cherish a poisoned love! If that woman was not
+a victim, she would be a monster. And, by what I hold most sacred in
+existence, I would punish her!”
+
+The old man looked at his nephew with considerable satisfaction.
+
+“Oh! _Mon Dieu_! We don’t ask you to do that! Simply forget her. Above
+all, make up your mind not to fall into her toils again, if ever you meet
+her.”
+
+At that moment the door opened, and Baudoin appeared. Holding a book in
+his hand, he approached mysteriously, and said—
+
+“It is useful to make a thorough search. One can never examine too well.”
+
+He laughed as he spoke and held the book aloft—
+
+“Had I done nothing but cast a careless glance over the lady’s
+bed-chamber, I should not have found this.”
+
+“What is it?” asked Graff.
+
+“A book—a simple book.”
+
+Marcel took it up, looked at the title, and said—
+
+“Yes, it is a book she has been reading lately.”
+
+“Oh! the book in itself signifies nothing,” said Baudoin. “It had fallen
+down by the side of the bed nearest the wall. In a hurry of departure she
+did not see it, and it was left there. But there was something between
+these leaves.”
+
+Baudoin took between his fingers a piece of paper, and showed it to his
+masters.
+
+“This envelope, torn in two, and folded to serve as a book-mark. To whom
+does it belong, if not to the one who has been making use of it? Now on
+the folded part, there is a line of writing and an address.”
+
+“An address?”
+
+“Look!”
+
+He handed the paper to Marcel, and on the small band, concealed by the
+folding, the young man read aloud the name: “Madame la Baronne Grodsko.”
+The bottom of the envelope, on which was doubtless written the street,
+number and town, had disappeared. On the top, however, a large stamp
+contained the postmark: “Wien, April 18.”
+
+The rest was effaced.
+
+“Baroness Grodsko,” repeated Marcel. “But her name was Anetta Vignola.”
+
+“Ah!” said Uncle Graff; “these women change their names as easily as
+their dresses. She has only kept this envelope from the most incredible
+and imprudent carelessness. And how is it this letter, which came from
+Vienna a fortnight ago, is now here? It must have been forwarded under
+another envelope to the name and address she assumed here!”
+
+Baudoin then remarked—
+
+“Perhaps I may be permitted to state that the woman who called on my
+master on the night of the crime was addressed by him as Baronne—”
+
+Marcel turned pale.
+
+“True,” he murmured, in a low tone. “But what relation is there between
+Anetta Vignola and the Baroness Grodsko?”
+
+“That is what we must discover, for it is the clue which may guide us
+through the darkness in which we are now groping. Courage, my child; if
+this woman is the same who has committed such infamous actions—”
+
+“Ah! Uncle Graff, in that case I should feel no pity whatever for her.”
+
+The uncle shook his nephew’s hand, in sympathetic approval.
+
+“Now, there is nothing more for us to do here. The house has delivered up
+to us part of its secret. The rest we must seek elsewhere.”
+
+The three men went out into the garden, after carefully closing the
+doors, and slowly returned to Ars.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+LICHTENBACH was sitting in his study, listening to young Vernot, his
+broker, who was speaking with the utmost volubility.
+
+“Baradier and Graff will not long be able to maintain their position on
+the Explosives now. It has already been remarked at the Bourse that they
+have not reduced their stock. The coming liquidation will be a decisive
+one; or else they will remain firm; then what a bankruptcy it will be! Or
+they may sell everything. What a fall that will mean!”
+
+A faint smile came over the banker’s lips.
+
+“I should like to see that!”
+
+“_Man Dieu_! My dear master, I cannot conceal from you the fact that, in
+business circles they say it is a duel between the firm of Baradier and
+Graff and the firm of Lichtenbach. One of the two will go under.”
+
+“I know it; but I have no fear.”
+
+“I have negotiated this affair for you, so I know our mode of action.
+Hitherto it has been an admirable one. To sum up in a word, you have sold
+what the Baradiers have bought.”
+
+“Yes, my friend, and I have their money, as they have my vouchers. Now,
+Vernot, be wideawake as to what is about to happen. The explosives, which
+are now at their highest price, will rapidly fall to the very lowest.”
+
+“Are you sure?”
+
+“Absolutely certain.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Because a rival company is being formed, which is in possession of the
+patents of a product destined to replace, within a very short time, all
+the mining powders and other dynamites hitherto employed, and which will
+cost fifty per cent. less in commerce. What do you say to that?”
+
+“It will be a crushing blow!”
+
+“You are right. Read my journal to-night; it will contain the first
+article of a series destined to set forth before the world this new
+discovery. In two months from now I wish to see Baradier and Graff
+bankrupt!”
+
+“Oh, they have a long purse to draw on,”
+
+“We shall see about that.”
+
+“So now you engage me to sell?”
+
+“From to-morrow sell as fast as you can. There will be a gain of five
+hundred francs per share. You will see the movement begin. All my
+personal orders will be executed on foreign Exchanges. Profit by this
+opportunity.”
+
+“I shall not be likely to forget.”
+
+“Now go. My daughter is expecting me, and I am punctual in my habits.”
+
+“My dear master, many thanks, and my respectful compliments.”
+
+The stockbroker left the room. Lichtenbach did not even rise from his
+seat to accompany him to the door. He was thinking. From Venice a letter
+had reached him which, on the one hand, caused him great satisfaction,
+and, on the other, brought him a certain amount of uneasiness. Sophia
+Grodsko had written to him: “The war powder is a triumphant success.
+Experiments made at Spezzia and Trieste have given prodigious results
+with marine cannons. Plates of Siemens steel a foot thick are pierced
+like sheets of paper. We have received two million francs, the rest will
+come afterwards. The affair is big with magnificent results. Things are
+not progressing so well with the commerce powder. Hans has been at work
+for the last fortnight at Swalbach with Prunier, from Zurich. He has been
+disappointed. All the attempts have been unsatisfactory. They have
+manipulated the product in different manners, but no result has been
+obtained. The explosive is worth no more than dynamite. True it is not so
+dear, but we are far from what we hoped, and from what must actually be
+the case. There must be some secret or other in the fabrication of the
+powder unknown to us. Hans is trying to find it, and has not abandoned
+all hopes of doing so. But, up to the present, fiasco. Don’t be
+discouraged, but thank me for telling you the exact truth. Agostini sends
+you his best wishes, and informs you that you will shortly receive your
+brevet of baron.”
+
+Lichtenbach growled.
+
+“Baron! That will be of some use to me, indeed, if this affair fails.”
+
+Rising, he gave a gesture of defiance.
+
+“It will not fail! Hans is a skilful chemist. He will find out the
+secret. Besides, if need be I will retrace my steps. They will not catch
+me so easily, altogether unprepared.”
+
+He smiled. His daughter entered the room. She was no longer the little
+schoolgirl, dressed in the blue convent robe, but an elegant and graceful
+Parisienne. The banker looked at her with considerable satisfaction.
+
+“Are you ready?”
+
+“Yes, father. It was agreed we should start at four o’clock.”
+
+“And where are you taking me?”
+
+“To the Charity Bazaar in favour of the Alsace-Lorraine orphans. You must
+come.”
+
+“I might have sent a cheque.”
+
+“But I must be there. Madame Sainte-Alix has charge of a stall, along
+with several of my old school companions. I promised to be there.”
+
+“Well, let us start.”
+
+They set off. The sale took place in the Agricultural Hall of France. All
+over the walls hung groups of flags, whilst above a verdant groove stood
+a marble bust representing Alsace, with a mourning sash flung across the
+breast. The wife of a Deputy from the Vosges, surrounded by a group of
+ladies belonging to official circles, performed the honours. A large
+double sofa occupied the middle of the room, between two rows of stalls,
+in which the most aristocratic families of Alsace and Lorraine were
+represented by white haired grandmothers who had never been willing to
+acknowledge the conquest of these two lost provinces, and elegant young
+ladies, smiling and careless, educated or born in exile, and finding
+France beautiful, and life pleasant, even though it were passed far from
+their native soil.
+
+Lichtenbach and Marianne were warmly received immediately they entered
+the room. Here the financier’s prestige and the influence of the journal
+proprietor could be exercised in uninterrupted sovereignty. Nothing but
+smiles on every side. The more republican one’s opinions, the more
+unctuous was the respect lavished on Lichtenbach, the reactionary.
+Marianne, timid and anxious, was looking for the stall presided over by
+Madame Sainte-Alix.
+
+A young attendant, anxious to serve so rich an heiress, placed himself
+under the young girl’s orders, and Marianne passed through the crowd of
+buyers and sellers until she reached the stall where her old companions
+were selling children’s clothing at five times its real value, and that
+without the slightest difficulty. Geneviève de Trémont, dressed in
+mourning, presided over the hosiery department. After exchanging a
+friendly greeting she asked—
+
+“Are you all alone?”
+
+“Oh no. My father has stayed behind for a moment to speak to the wife of
+a Senator.”
+
+“He is going to leave you here for some time?”
+
+“I do not know. Perhaps it would not be convenient for him to return for
+me.”
+
+Turning towards the nun presiding at the cash-box, she said—
+
+“Are you pleased with the result of your sales, madame?”
+
+“We have made three thousand francs since noon, my child. But it will
+soon be five o’clock. In an hour everything will be over. We have still a
+third of our stock left.”
+
+“Very well. Send me everything you have not sold to-night,” said the
+young girl, simply.
+
+“Ah, my child, how grateful I feel to you. But what will your father
+think?”
+
+Mademoiselle Lichtenbach smiled calmly.
+
+“My father? He never opposes my wishes. Besides, I am rich.”
+
+She exhibited a purse full of gold.
+
+“And, if that is not sufficient, papa will make me an advance.”
+
+“Ha, look in front!” said Geneviève de Trémont. “There is Amélie at the
+stall of Madame Baradier.”
+
+Marianne blushed. She remembered what her father had said regarding their
+quarrels with the Baradiers and Graffs, and felt considerably embarrassed
+in consequence. What kind of relations could be set up between these
+hostile families? Suddenly the smiling face of Marcel Baradier awoke in
+her memory. The hostility of the parents could not bind the children,
+since he had so graciously received Lichtenbach’s daughter when she had
+called at the Rue de Provènce. Turning her eyes in the direction of
+Geneviève, she recognized the one of whom she was thinking, near the
+counter where Madame Baradier and Amélie were selling. He smiled as he
+talked to an old man who was purchasing a porcelain vase of a very ugly
+pattern. After the bargain was struck he took it from his hands, placed
+it gaily back again on to the stall, and said, in tones sufficiently loud
+to be heard by Marianne—
+
+“This is the third time, Uncle Graff, that we have sold it, and it has
+been left behind. People don’t object to paying for it, but it is so
+frightful that no one will decide to carry it off.”
+
+The old man put back his purse into his pocket and said—
+
+“Now, where is the stall of Mademoiselle de Trémont?”
+
+“We will go there together. The very thing you want, uncle. _Trousseau_
+and baby linen. Indispensable for bachelors!”
+
+“You rogue!”
+
+They crossed the room. Suddenly Marcel became very grave; he had
+recognized Mademoiselle Lichtenbach. She, too, had seen him approach,
+and, trembling, had not had the courage to look him in the face. Uncle
+Graff, with his usual good nature, said—
+
+“Well, Mademoiselle Geneviève, what are you going to sell me? Children’s
+hoods? How much a dozen?”
+
+“Sixty francs, as it is you, Monsieur Graff. And you can leave them with
+us if you like.”
+
+“Certainly. It would be too much trouble to carry them all off.”
+
+“What you leave us we will give to the Sainte-Enfance institution. After
+you have finished, if there is anything which remains one of our friends
+has promised to buy it up.”
+
+“Who is she?”
+
+“Mademoiselle Marianne Lichtenbach.”
+
+Graff started. His face changed expression, and he said—
+
+“The daughter of—”
+
+As he took a step backwards he heard a gentle voice say—
+
+“On the ground of charity there are no enemies, only competitors as to
+who shall do the most good.”
+
+“You are quite right, mademoiselle,” replied the old man, with a bow.
+“And I will immediately put your precept into practice.”
+
+Leaning towards the nun, he asked calmly—
+
+“How much for the contents of the stall?”
+
+“My dear sir,” stammered Madame Sainte-Alix, astonished.
+
+“Is two thousand francs enough?”
+
+“Oh, that’s nothing! I will give four thousand!”
+
+And Count Cesare Agostini, smiling and elegant, appeared by the side of
+Mademoiselle Lichtenbach.
+
+“Our father has sent me to you, mademoiselle,” he said, with a bow. “He
+will be here in a moment, and, really, he would not have tolerated that
+_any_ one should rob you of the honour of your generosity at so moderate
+a price.”
+
+Glancing around at those present, and recognizing Marcel he affected a
+joyful surprise.
+
+“Ah! Monsieur Baradier! I am delighted to meet you. We have had a great
+deal of trouble since last I saw you. I heard all about it on my return
+to call for my sister. I greatly regretted not being able to stay and
+tell you how sorry we felt for you. You were so kind and gracious to us
+in that quiet country place.”
+
+He spoke without the slightest hesitation, and with a boldness which
+stupefied Marcel. As he looked at Agostini he wondered whether he were
+not dreaming—whether this calm, phlegmatic person speaking to him at this
+charity bazaar in the heart of Paris, without even thinking of escape,
+was indeed the man he suspected of having mystified him at Ars, of being,
+doubtless, the accomplice of murderers and incendiaries; at the very
+least in collusion with this enigmatical woman whose memory still filled
+his heart. He listened with astonishment, and replied—
+
+“And your sister, Madame Vignola?”
+
+“Ah! Poor Anetta!” interrupted Cesare. “She is at Venice, engaged in
+troublesome family affairs. But she will probably come to Paris this
+summer to assist at my marriage.”
+
+“Ah! You are about to be married, Count?”
+
+“Yes, M. Lichtenbach has given his consent at last.”
+
+This news of the marriage of Agostini into the Lichtenbach family
+produced an electric effect. Marcel immediately regained full possession
+of his faculties.
+
+Looking at the Italian from head to foot, he said ironically—
+
+“Ah! you are about to enter the family of M. Lichtenbach. It was to be,
+and it would have been a pity could it not have taken place!”
+
+“I do not understand very well,” replied Cesare.
+
+“Yes, you understand perfectly. And if you wish further information ask
+for it from your sister.”
+
+“These are strange words,” said the Italian, arrogantly.
+
+“Every one does as well as he can; all men have not the privilege of
+being strange in their actions.”
+
+Agostini was about to reply, and the two men stood threateningly in front
+of one another, when a hand was laid on the Italian’s arm, and the voice
+of Mademoiselle Lichtenbach was heard saying—
+
+“Monsieur le Comte, will you come this way, please? My father is looking
+for you.”
+
+Cesare gave Marcel a defiant glance. Then, turning with flattering
+humility to the young girl, he said—
+
+“Your slightest wish shall be obeyed, mademoiselle. But I shall see this
+gentleman again, and—”
+
+“I forbid you!”
+
+“Very good.”
+
+Lichtenbach came up to them. He passed in front of Graff, without
+appearing to see him.
+
+“What is this they are telling me, Count?” he said, addressing Agostini.
+“You have been bidding up to four thousand francs for the contents of
+this stall? What a trifling sum! You must have had some very sorry
+competitors against you!”
+
+An expression of disdain came over his face as he looked round on Marcel
+and Uncle Graff.
+
+“Formerly my opponents were more tenacious. The struggle for gold has
+considerably cooled them down.”
+
+Turning towards the nun he wrote a few lines on a piece of paper, saying—
+
+“Here, madame, is a cheque for ten thousand francs.”
+
+“What shall I give you in return?” asked Madame Sainte-Alix, stupefied.
+
+“Your prayers,” said Elias, humbly.
+
+A group had formed round the stall, and a murmur of approving admiration
+reached the ears of Lichtenbach. Agostini exclaimed, with emphasis—
+
+“This is a magnificent gift!”
+
+“Come along, my daughter,” said Elias.
+
+Marianne kissed Geneviève de Trémont, and, lowering her head, so as not
+to see Marcel, followed her father and Agostini. As she passed in front
+of Graff she heard him say—
+
+“Ten thousand francs’ worth of prayers! At a franc per villainous trick
+he has committed he loses nothing!”
+
+The old man had not time to further exhibit his bad temper, for Marcel
+interrupted him—
+
+“Not so loud, Uncle Graff; his daughter might hear you. Poor child; it is
+not her fault!”
+
+Marianne felt sad at heart, and, more afflicted at the nephew’s
+humiliating indulgence towards herself than at his uncle’s scorn for her
+father, she left the room.
+
+Since his return to Paris, Marcel had been restored to the good graces of
+M. Baradier. Graff’s story of the conflagration at the works, and the
+rescue effected by his nephew, had touched the old man’s heart. The
+danger incurred by his brother-in-law, Cardez, and Baudoin, had made him
+quiver with anxiety; the intervention of his son at the critical moment,
+when even the bravest among the workmen drew back from the danger, had
+aroused his enthusiasm. He had taken Marcel in his arms, and said to
+Madame Baradier and Amélie, who were sitting there in tears—
+
+“You seem quite astonished. Did you think this child, on account of a few
+silly escapades, was not a fine and brave fellow, after all? For my part
+I was sure, if the opportunity occurred, he would act as nobly as he has
+done! It is because I knew what he was capable of that I treated him
+harshly when he went astray. But, after all, he is a Baradier!”
+
+The same evening, alone with his wife, he said—
+
+“Indeed, I am very well pleased with Marcel. Graff has told me things
+concerning him which have touched me very much. I am beginning to hope
+that, once the passion and giddiness of youth is over, he will turn out a
+remarkable man. All he lacks is a certain amount of order. But that will
+come in time. He is both intelligent and warm-hearted. Now, it is time he
+thought of marrying.”
+
+“He is only twenty-five years of age.”
+
+“The very best age imaginable. One’s happiness in life is assured when
+one finds a good partner and marries young, as I did. What kind of
+attitude does he show with regard to Geneviève?”
+
+“He treats her like a sister, neither more nor less.”
+
+“Not the slightest sign of flirtation?”
+
+“I believe she has a faint liking for him, but I know nothing about his
+feelings for her.”
+
+“Ask Amélie a few discreet questions.”
+
+“I will think of it.”
+
+Marcel’s mind was occupied with things entirely different. He thought of
+everything except marriage. His return home appeared very pleasant, for
+he was very fond of his parents. Perhaps the exile’s son, more than
+another, possessed a liking for home. He had so often heard his father
+and uncle regret the old home at Metz, their friends and customs of
+former times, that the bonds which attached him to his father’s house
+were very strong, and when away from them all something essential seemed
+to be lacking in his life. Doubtless this something was his father’s
+affectionate chiding and his mother’s consoling smile.
+
+Since his return he spent almost the whole of his time out of the office;
+went out very little at nights, and worked away at a task known to no one
+except Uncle Graff. M. Baradier, greatly troubled at the turn of events
+the Explosives had taken, expressed his anxiety to no one but his
+partner. Uncle Graff, however, calmly replied—
+
+“We must keep wide-awake, but we need not exaggerate the danger.
+Everything will come out right in the end, that I am sure of.”
+
+“Eh! Do you expect a miracle?” murmured Baradier. “These Explosives
+shares continue to go down, in spite of all our efforts. Yesterday there
+was a rumour out on the Bourse that a patent had just been taken, in
+Germany, England, and France, by an Englishman named Dalgetty, for some
+marvellous powder or other superior to dynamite. They go so far as to
+state that this substance is so manageable and harmless, in spite of its
+destructive power, that they expect to make use of it for engine power.
+That would mean the suppression of steam, gas and petroleum. A complete
+revolution. If a quarter of all this is true we are ruined! Doubtless it
+is an application of Trémont’s formulæ, and Dalgetty is the dummy of the
+villains who stole them.”
+
+“Possibly,” murmured Graff, calmly.
+
+“And you can find nothing else to say?” exclaimed Baradier, furiously.
+“You resign yourself to all this robbery and murder?”
+
+“No; I am simply waiting for the Dalgetty powder in use. It may be the
+Trémont explosive, but then, on the other hand, it may be something
+entirely different, and in that case worth nothing at all.”
+
+“But suppose we are ruined in the meantime?”
+
+“We shall obtain the upper hand in the long run.”
+
+“But it is this villain of a Lichtenbach who is leading the campaign
+against us. This is what I am informed from both London and Brussels.”
+
+“Give him his head. The farther he goes the greater will be his fall.”
+
+“I should like to know the cause of your confidence.”
+
+“It is Marcel, your son, who is stronger in himself, than Trémont,
+yourself, myself, and all the others. You will see.”
+
+“But, after all, cannot you tell me?”
+
+“No, I will say nothing. Let Dalgetty go ahead, and the shares continue
+to lower. Above all else, do not sell. He laughs best who laughs last.”
+
+The calm assurance of Uncle Graff had its due impression on Baradier at
+the time. But afterwards, in his study, in front of his correspondence,
+which brought him nothing but bad news, fear again took possession of
+him. He was aware that Marcel was working hard. He saw him start every
+morning for the laboratory of the Arts-et-Métiers. But what was he
+engaged in? Doubtless some improvement of the Trémont powder; perhaps
+simply the exact doses of the products. How could he prove, after all,
+that he knew the dosing, which was the General’s invention? And Baradier,
+red and excited, would take up his hat and go out for a walk, to avoid a
+congestion.
+
+At night, when they were dining, he again saw Marcel in the salon, seated
+between his mother and sister, or playing the piano with Geneviève de
+Trémont. He was an excellent musician, this son on whom Nature had
+lavished such gifts. And Uncle Graff, a passionate melomaniac, lay
+stretched out in an armchair, listening, in delighted ecstasy, to some
+_lied_ of Schubert or a concerto by Schumann. He pointed out to Baradier,
+who had entered the room on tip-toe, the charming picture of these two
+young people playing duets together, and murmured—
+
+“What a fine couple. She is dark; he is fair. Perfect match. And as their
+fortune—the General’s powder.”
+
+“Nothing but smoke!” growled Baradier.
+
+“No, it does not give any,” laughed Uncle Graff.
+
+In his partner’s feeling of security, though he was mistrustful enough in
+business matters, there was a kind of unconsciousness which astonished
+Baradier. Evidently Marcel was preparing something extraordinary, which
+Graff was well aware of and which promised to have extraordinary results.
+But what was it? Besides, with rascals who went about everywhere carrying
+into action their murderous plans, under the indulgent regard of the
+Government, was one sure of anything? Accordingly he fumed and raged, but
+that in itself was something, and kept him occupied.
+
+Baudoin, on his part, had not remained inactive. His first visit had been
+to Colonel Vallenot. He had found him at the War Office, busily engaged
+on a question the Minister was to receive from a socialist Deputy, who
+complained that anarchist journals were not permitted in barracks. How
+could the people be educated if the soldier were refused the right of
+knowing why it was his duty to despise his superiors? The good Colonel
+had bristled up like a wild boar. Only the night before he had been
+abused by his superior, who, greatly worried, himself, had passed on his
+ill-temper to the other, and so it descended from grade to grade right
+down to the concierge. The latter had given a drubbing to his dog, which
+had been at a loss to understand the reason for this treatment. It was
+the only difference between the animal and the functionaries.
+
+“What is it you want?” growled Colonel Vallenot to Baudoin, as he
+saluted. “To see the Minister? Well, you are lucky. If you go in there I
+will not guarantee your safe exit. And, then, what is it you want to tell
+him? That the agent he had placed at your disposal has disappeared? It is
+now three weeks since we heard from him.”
+
+“I have brought you news of him.”
+
+“Ah! What is the matter?”
+
+“He is dead.”
+
+“The deuce! How did that happen!”
+
+“He has been killed.”
+
+“Who has killed him?”
+
+“The same who killed General de Trémont.”
+
+“What was his object?”
+
+“The same as before—to obtain possession of my master’s secrets.”
+
+“Was he successful?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“So now he is in possession of the powder formula?”
+
+“He is.”
+
+“Well, this is a fine business. We suspected something of the kind, for
+we have received notice from abroad that experiments have been made with
+smokeless powder of extraordinary power.”
+
+“That is the one.”
+
+Colonel Vallenot had forgotten all about the Deputy’s question. He pulled
+and twisted his moustache furiously. Finally he asked—
+
+“When was poor Laforêt murdered?”
+
+“Nearly a fortnight ago. But it was only later that we had the proof of
+his death. The poor fellow had been flung into the river, and the current
+had carried him into a millrace. He remained several days fastened to
+some piles under water, and it is only just recently that his body
+mounted to the surface. It was taken out, recognized, and buried as was
+fitting for an old soldier and an honest man. Now he is lying under the
+green turf of the cemetery of Ars.”
+
+“And his murderers?”
+
+“Ah, that is what I have come to speak to the Minister about. I know the
+villains.”
+
+Vallenot sat upright.
+
+“Those spies! You know who they are?”
+
+“And you, also, Colonel, without doubt, for this is not their first
+attempt. The Minister, before now, has had a crow to pick with them. They
+are professionals in treason!”
+
+The Colonel rose, and, with changed expression, said—
+
+“Ah! Here, at any rate, is something which will distract him! I will risk
+entering his room without being summoned. Yes, it is possible such news
+may restore him to good humour again. Wait for me here.”
+
+Opening a door, he left the room. Baudoin, standing near the
+mantel-piece, stood there a few minutes ‘attentively listening to the hum
+of voices which proceeded from the next room; then suddenly the door
+opened, and a voice called—
+
+“Baudoin!”
+
+The old soldier advanced, and, on reaching the threshold of the study, he
+saw the Minister standing there, a frown on his face, which was even
+redder than usual.
+
+“Come in!” he said.
+
+Baudoin entered. The General, who wore a black frock-coat and grey
+trousers, was striding to and fro. Vallenot stood waiting in the
+embrasure of the window.
+
+“The Colonel informs me that you have very important news to relate
+concerning the death of M. de Trémont and my agent.”
+
+“Yes, General.”
+
+“You think you know the rascals who have committed these murders?”
+
+“Yes, General.”
+
+“Tell me all about it.”
+
+“I must ask permission to speak in the presence of no one but yourself.
+It is a secret which interests the lives of those who are too dear to me
+to warrant my entrusting it to any other than yourself.”
+
+“Not even to Colonel Vallenot?”
+
+“A secret which belongs to several persons,” said Baudoin, coldly, “is no
+longer a secret. I will tell it either to the Colonel or to yourself.”
+
+“Very good, my friend, you are right. Will you retire, Colonel Vallenot?
+This good fellow means no offence. I approve of his thoughtfulness.”
+
+Vallenot smiled and saluted. It was evident he would gladly have stayed.
+But his chief had given the order. A quarter of an hour later the
+telephone bell rang. Placing the apparatus to his ear, he heard the
+Minister call out—
+
+“Bring me File Z, No. 3, from the secret press.”
+
+Vallenot opened a large iron safe, and took out a yellow bundle of
+papers, which he carried into his chief’s room. Baudoin was standing
+before the desk, and the General _was_ attentively listening to him.
+Vallenot withdrew. Another interval for a quarter of an hour, then a
+fresh ring at the telephone—
+
+“Send me Captain Rimbert, who had charge of the Valance affair.”
+
+Vallenot murmured—
+
+“The deuce! There is something in the wind here!”
+
+Ringing for his office-boy, he gave the order and waited patiently. Half
+an hour passed, then the study-door opened, and Baudoin, conducted by the
+General himself, appeared. The latter now appeared satisfied, and said—
+
+“Very good, Baudoin; so it is understood?”
+
+“Yes, General.”
+
+“You will request M. Marcel Baradier to call on me?”
+
+“Yes, General.”
+
+“And if you hear of anything, let me know of it at once.”
+
+“Yes, General.”
+
+“Good day. Come in, Vallenot.”
+
+Baudoin left the room. The Minister returned to his study, where the
+young Captain Rimbert stood waiting.
+
+“Colonel, will you kindly make out a _resumé_ of the Espurzheim and
+Vicomte de Fontenailles affairs. I believe we are on the point of laying
+our hands on this crafty woman who so completely tricked all my
+predecessors, and mystified myself two years ago. Ah! If I can have my
+revenge it shall be a complete one!”
+
+“Then we have to deal with the woman who has successively borne the name
+of Madame Ferranti, with Espurzheim, . . . ” said the Colonel.
+
+“And of Countess de Vervelde, with poor Fontenailles,” added Captain
+Rimbert.
+
+“And finally of La Ténébreuse,” summed up the Minister.
+
+“Oh! What trouble and money the wretch has cost us without our succeeding
+in laying hands on her!”
+
+“Well, gentlemen, we will try not to fail this time. Prepare the notes I
+requested, Colonel. And you, Captain Rimbert, not a word!”
+
+Both Colonel and Captain left the room. The Minister rubbed his hands
+with satisfaction. Meanwhile Baudoin had made his way along the quays,
+and reached the Law Courts as four o’clock was striking. Crossing the
+large entrance hall, he mounted to the second floor, and stopped in front
+of M. Mayeur’s study. The attendant was an old friend of his, and
+welcomed him cordially—
+
+“Holloa! you here?” he asked. “Have you come as witness in another
+affair?”
+
+“No. I simply wish to speak to the magistrate. Is he engaged?”
+
+“Always! Just now it is a gang of oil-painting thieves, who have been
+overhauling the hotel of a marquis in the Champs-Elysées.”
+
+“Can I speak to him?”
+
+“As soon as he rings, I will tell him you are here. Ah, he is in no
+amiable mood. He and the attorney seem to be quarrelling all the time!”
+
+The bell rang, a door opened, and three men of slouching gait, regular
+types of Parisian blackguards devoured by absinthe, advanced, casting
+sly, searching looks in every direction. But there were neither doors nor
+windows by which they could gain the open-air, so they quietly continued
+their route.
+
+The attendant said—
+
+“M. Baudoin, will you come in now? M. Mayeur is disengaged.”
+
+The old soldier entered the study. The registrar looked at him as he
+passed with a certain amount of curiosity. M. Mayeur smilingly pointed to
+a chair, placed his papers in order, and, turning to the clerk, said—
+
+“You may go now. Put all the files in order. Goodbye.”
+
+The clerk gave a grimace, which might at will have been taken as a mark
+of politeness or of insolence, and withdrew. M. Mayeur, doubtless tired
+of questioning, looked steadily at Baudoin, and invited him to explain
+himself.
+
+“I undertook, monsieur, to inform you of whatever fresh might happen
+concerning the Vanves affair. I have come to keep my promise.”
+
+“Has something taken place of a nature to throw light on the affair?”
+
+“A great deal has happened.”
+
+“What?”
+
+“A fire, a murder, and a robbery!”
+
+M. Mayeur’s face lit up.
+
+“And where have these crimes been committed?”
+
+“At Ars, in the Aube.”
+
+The magistrate’s countenance darkened, as though the inner light which
+had just illumined it had died away. He said—
+
+“In the Aube? That is not within our jurisdiction, and does not concern
+us.”
+
+“I beg your pardon; it concerns us very much. For the people who have
+committed these crimes have also the Vanves affair to their credit, and
+it is for this affair, of which the other is only the consequence, that
+they are wanted.”
+
+“Then you know them?”
+
+“I do.”
+
+“And you know where to lay hands on them?”
+
+“No. But I can tell you how to do so.”
+
+“So the affair we were so unfortunately obliged to shelve a couple of
+months ago is about to recommence? Perhaps this time we shall be able to
+reach a satisfactory conclusion!”
+
+“I maintain without the slightest hesitation that we shall succeed if you
+will do your duty.”
+
+“I?” exclaimed M. Mayeur, his face purple with agitation. “I! After all
+the trouble I have had, and the humiliation I have endured.”
+
+He felt that he was giving himself away. The passionate and ardent nature
+of the man disappeared, and the calm, cold nature of the magistrate
+resumed sway.
+
+With a sigh, he said—
+
+“Tell me everything in detail.”
+
+Baudoin resumed one by one all the events that had taken place at Ars. He
+depicted the character of Madame Vignola, and of Agostini, and finally
+explained the dreaded intervention of Hans. Motionless, the magistrate
+listened, taking short notes from time to time. The time sped swiftly
+along, the sun as it sank tinged with a ruddy glow the waters of the
+Seine, and the veil of darkness had fallen when the magistrate ceased
+listening, and began to question.
+
+“So this Cesare Agostini is in Paris?”
+
+“M. Graff, M. Marcel’s uncle, has seen him, and M. Marcel has spoken to
+him. It appears he is engaged to the daughter of M. Lichtenbach, the
+banker.”
+
+“Lichtenbach? A man in his position, with his fortune and relations? Is
+it possible?”
+
+“You will see. If you wish to know where Agostini lives, set a watch over
+Lichtenbach. They are hand and glove with one another.”
+
+“And the woman Vignola?”
+
+“Agostini will take you to her abode. And when you have the Vignola, you
+come to Hans, and the rest of the accomplices, if there are any. And I
+believe there is a whole gang of them!”
+
+“And what will M. Marcel Baradier do?”
+
+“Do not trouble about him; he does not wish to appear in the matter. A
+mere question of scruples!”
+
+“But suppose some attempt is made against him? Does he not wish me to
+take precautions to assure his safety?”
+
+“No. He is strong enough to protect himself. Besides I am with him.”
+
+“And so was Laforêt.”
+
+“Yes, that is true; still, it is my master’s wish—do not do any more than
+he asks you to undertake. I think you will be well pleased with the
+result. That has cost dear enough! But if we can obtain vengeance for the
+murder of my General and poor Laforêt we shall be quits!”
+
+“Very well,” said the magistrate. “If I need you, M. Baudoin, where can I
+find you?”
+
+“I am living with my master, M. Baradier.”
+
+“Good. Now that you have been working so well, it is my turn. This gang
+will find that they have not been mocking at justice with impunity.”
+
+“Ah! This has been going on a considerable time, from what I understand
+at the War Office.”
+
+“I shall put myself into relations with that Office; we will act in
+co-operation. Keep your courage up, and have good hopes, M. Baudoin; the
+affair is about to start afresh.”
+
+Baudoin, conducted to the door by the magistrate, went out into the
+passage, shook hands with the attendant, and left the building. Returning
+straight to the Rue de Provènce, he mounted to Marcel’s rooms.
+
+This evening he was seated in a small salon examining with minute care
+the plan for a machine at which he was working. On seeing Baudoin enter
+he placed the diagram on the table, looked at his visitor, and said—
+
+“You have just left?”
+
+“Yes, M. Marcel.”
+
+“You have seen the Minister?”
+
+“Yes. At the very first words I uttered he was all attention. He wishes
+to see you, and affirms that the lady in question is a spy of the most
+dangerous category, who has had the police on her tracks for the past six
+years. That woman must have a number of crimes on her conscience.”
+
+“That is not what I asked you,” said Marcel. “Are they going to take
+measures to keep a watch on Agostini and his companions? If so—”
+
+“The Minister told me that was the business of the Detective Department,
+and advised me to see Mr. Mayeur. I have just left him. Ah! he will not
+allow the affair to lag.”
+
+“Good!”
+
+The tinkling of a bell in the yard interrupted the conversation. It was
+the signal for dinner, which, from time immemorial, had thus been
+announced every evening, as is the custom in the provinces. Marcel took
+off his coat, and replaced it by another, after which he made his way to
+the salon. On entering, his father, Uncle Graff, the two young ladies,
+and Madame Baradier, were already waiting before passing into the
+dining-room. More comfort than luxury was evident everywhere; not the
+slightest sign of ostentation was manifest. Usually, dinner was the time
+when all the company related the events of the day. This evening one
+would have thought that nobody wished to speak. All the same, Graff, when
+the joint was brought on the table, risked the remark—
+
+“The Bourse has been firmer to-day.”
+
+“No great improvement!” growled Baradier.
+
+A deeper silence than before followed. But Uncle Graff had the patience
+of a Lorraine, and he continued after a while—
+
+“I have received a letter from Cardez, in which he says they have reached
+the second floor of the new building. The Assurance Company has paid the
+claim. After all, everything has turned out for the best.”
+
+“Are the workmen quiet now?” asked Madame Baradier.
+
+“Poor creatures! They were sorry for what they had done. But they were
+not responsible. It was the leaders of the strike! The deuce take them!”
+
+“Have they fixed upon a larger building-site for a new steam-engine?”
+asked Baradier, who forgot his bad temper as soon as business was on the
+tapis.
+
+“Father,” interrupted Marcel, “I should advise you to postpone this plan
+of yours. Something might happen which would cause the system of power
+employed in the works to be radically changed. Better wait a little.”
+
+“Mere idle fancies and whims! Some wild impracticable invention, I
+suppose.”
+
+“No,” replied the young man, with warmth. “No idle fancy at all! My dear
+Geneviève, it would cover your father’s name with glory, for it was he
+who had the idea of this invention first, and, indeed, if it is
+realizable, as I believe will be found to be the case, it will bear his
+name.”
+
+“Then this is something at which you have been working the last month?”
+asked Baradier, inquisitively.
+
+“The last two years, father. It is on this application of the regulated
+explosive power of the Trémont powder—you understand, regulated, that is
+the point—that I have been working with the General. We were on the point
+of success when he disappeared. But I was in possession of all the plans,
+sketches, and calculations we made together, and I have continued the
+work all alone.”
+
+“And you think you have succeeded?”
+
+“I do.”
+
+“And what result will you attain with your machine?”
+
+“A substitute for coal, petroleum, and even electricity, in the
+production of force. That is to say, the suppression of magazines in war
+vessels, permitting them to increase to an indefinite extent their sphere
+of action. There would be no necessity for locomotives to be supplied
+with a tender, and in all industries coal need only be used for
+metallurgic and heating purposes.”
+
+“Oh, oh!” said Baradier. “And what will you put in the place of coal,
+petroleum, and electricity?”
+
+“That, my dear father, is what I will tell you the day the patents have
+been taken all over the world.”
+
+“When will you take them?”
+
+“To-morrow, if you will advance me the forty thousand francs necessary.”
+
+“I will give you them,” exclaimed Uncle Graff, with warmth. “I have
+confidence in you.”
+
+“Who says I am not ready to advance the sum myself?” resumed Baradier. “I
+would do it merely to honour the memory of Trémont.”
+
+“Very good, father; I warrant you have never advanced money at better
+interest,” said Marcel, joyfully. “It is a discovery calculated to
+completely change the methods of commerce, and yet it is the simplest
+thing in the world!”
+
+“Like all good inventions!”
+
+Baradier remained silent for a moment, and then said—
+
+“But the invention of this machine is connected with the discovery of the
+Trémont powders?”
+
+“Yes, father.”
+
+“And the powders have been stolen?”
+
+A sad smile passed over Marcel’s lips.
+
+“Yes, father, the powders have been stolen. The war powder, for instance,
+and it is very unfortunate. For the General intended to present France
+with this marvellous product, which would have assured for our army a
+supremacy of several years over the other Powers of Europe. Then you know
+what would have happened; foreigners would have set to work, and either
+discovered or bought our secret, and equilibrium again have been
+restored. There will be no superiority for any one, since the formula of
+the Trémont war-powder will be given by me to-morrow to the War Office.
+That will establish equality. And if there is war, valour and
+intelligence will have to undertake the victory. As for the business
+powder, that is another matter. They may have stolen the formula, even
+manufactured it themselves, but I defy them to find the means of using it
+for its destined purpose.”
+
+“There is a secret about it?”
+
+“Yes, which I discovered quite by chance when working with the General.
+That is the peculiarity of this powder, which, under ordinary conditions,
+is destructive enough, being ignited by simple friction—in a word, very
+dangerous to use; but which, employed according to our method, is under
+perfect control, and regulates its dynamic effects, even to the movement
+of a pendulum, according to my pleasure.”
+
+All present were listening attentively, thinking of the importance of
+this discovery, and the wretched fate of its initiator. M. Baradier said—
+
+“To-morrow you shall have your money. If the affair is worth merely the
+hundredth part of what you claim, Geneviève will be rich and Trémont
+world-famed.”
+
+“As for the Explosives Company,” added Graff, “it is in a bad way.
+Lichtenbach is likely to have met his match at last!”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+IT was five months since Marcel had solemnly promised his father to break
+with his giddy companions, give up his fast life, and no longer set foot
+in the club, but, instead of all this, to work and obliterate the acts of
+folly he had previously committed. Scrupulously keeping his word, he
+withdrew to Ars, and only seldom appeared in Paris. So well had he worked
+that the result of his efforts were manifest. The Minister, after the
+conversation he had had with Marcel, had expressed himself to Baradier,
+concerning the young savant, in such terms that the father was quite
+disarmed. All these deprivations of rights, which he had patiently
+submitted to, were now removed, and, not without considerable
+satisfaction, this fine young fellow of twenty-six years of age had
+resumed his former habits.
+
+The first time he appeared at the club he had been welcomed with open
+arms by his companions, young and old alike.
+
+“What has become of you; we have seen nothing of you for several months!
+Probably you have been travelling?”
+
+Marcel replied that he had indeed been away from Paris, but added that he
+had been thinking seriously concerning gambling, and had determined to
+give up baccarat.
+
+“How often have I heard you talk in that way,” said the Baron de Vergins.
+“All the same, you could not resist the temptation to play if you were in
+front of the baccarat-table a single quarter of an hour!”
+
+“Come along, then, and you will see.”
+
+They passed into the large room. Beneath the ceiling floated a grey mist
+of tobacco smoke, like a fog.
+
+On either side of the room was a green table, around which thronged a
+crowd of sour-visaged punters.
+
+“Ah! You have two baccarat-tables now,” remarked Marcel.
+
+“Yes; it is an innovation. At the one the minimum stake is a louis; at
+the other, it is ten francs. So that, when a punter has had a run of
+ill-luck at the large table, he goes to the small one to try and recoup,
+with the privilege of returning afterwards to the other, to lose once
+more what he may have won.”
+
+“Very ingenious. A double sieve from which nothing escapes!”
+
+He approached the large table, and his look immediately became fixed. In
+front of him, dealing the bank, he had just recognized Agostini.
+Impassive and smiling, a flower at his buttonhole, he gracefully
+distributed the cards at both tables. He did not see Marcel. With his
+sing-song voice he called out—
+
+“Cards!”
+
+Marcel, addressing the Baron de Vergins, asked—
+
+“Who is the banker?”
+
+“Count Cesare Agostini.”
+
+“Newly joined the club?”
+
+“For a time. Agreeable fellow, good fencer, and reckless player.”
+
+“Is he lucky?”
+
+“Ah, no. He has very bad luck. Loses more than any one else, in fact.”
+
+“Do you know anything about him?”
+
+“He was introduced by the Prince de Cystriano and M. Beltrand. The
+Agostini family is well known; they are the younger branch of the great
+Italian family, the dukes of Briviesca.”
+
+“Why do they receive so many foreigners at the club?” asked Marcel, with
+a displeased air.
+
+“Ah, my dear friend, the club lives on them, so to speak. I know they
+make themselves as much at home here as at their hotel. It is not very
+pleasant for us. But what is there to be done? The establishment must be
+kept going.”
+
+“Has he any relations in Paris?” asked Marcel. “A sister?”
+
+“No; he is unmarried, and has never been seen in the company of a lady.”
+
+Marcel changed the conversation, made an excuse for leaving his
+companion, and went to the writing-room. Taking up a directory, he found
+a recent indication, handwritten as follows: “Count Cesare Agostini, 7
+Rue du Colisée.” It was something to know this address, though what he
+wanted was information respecting that mysterious woman, Anetta or
+Sophia, Madame Vignola or the Baroness Grodsko. What was Agostini to him
+besides that infinitely charming creature, who had suddenly become
+metamorphosed into a most dangerous monster. Her brother, really? Her
+accomplice, without the slightest doubt. That was what he wished to know,
+and, at the risk of the greatest danger, he was determined to have his
+doubts removed.
+
+He had taken a seat in a large armchair, the back of which, turned
+towards the door, almost entirely concealed him. Two members of the club
+were writing letters. The quiet of this retired spot, the ticking of the
+timepiece, seemed to numb his faculties. The murmur of distant voices
+lulled him into a reverie.
+
+Suddenly a quiver ran over him, and he listened attentively. The voice of
+Agostini had just joined in the conversation.
+
+“I have again lost two thousand louis. With the thousand yesterday, it is
+quite enough.”
+
+He laughed, and one of his companions said—
+
+“You ought to hold off for a few days, Agostini! It is useless being
+obstinate against ill-luck.”
+
+“But if I did not play, what should I do? It is my only distraction.”
+
+“That was a beautiful lady, at the opera, to whom you introduced Colonel
+Derbaut the other night.”
+
+Marcel’s heart seemed to stop beating. He had a presentiment that the
+woman in question was the one who was engaging his own attention so
+strongly. He could not hear Agostini’s reply, and the other continued—
+
+“If she is no more than a compatriot of yours, I should be pleased to
+make her acquaintance.”
+
+Agostini laughed, but made no promise. And Marcel said to himself: “His
+compatriot? An Italian? It is Anetta, I am sure of it. What is she doing
+here with this villain? The army once more in danger, for she has made
+the acquaintance of Colonel Derbaut, a staff-officer.” Meanwhile, he had
+lost the thread of the conversation, but a second sentence told him all
+that was necessary—
+
+“Very good! To-night, at the opera?”
+
+“Agreed!”
+
+Silence was restored. The members of the club continued their
+correspondence. Marcel rose from his seat, sure that he was about to meet
+the pretended sister of Agostini. She was not in Italy, as the adventurer
+had had the audacity to tell him at the charity sale. She was in Paris
+and, without thinking of the past, engaged on some fresh intrigue. Along
+whatever path she travelled she sowed corruption, infamy, and death.
+
+Suddenly in Marcel’s memory arose the smiling, tender image of Madame
+Vignola with that bewitching smile, and those clear, limpid eyes. Was it
+possible that such a creature should be a monster? If so, then one
+greatly to be dreaded!
+
+How can one help trusting in that exquisite gentleness which pervaded her
+whole person? And yet, had she not betrayed him? Had she not revealed the
+presence of the secret documents in the laboratory? And that, too, with
+marvellous rapidity, and a skill scarcely compatible with honesty. He
+would have liked to free her from every suspicion which hung over her;
+but was it possible?
+
+Leaving the club, he returned to the bank, and, entering his father’s
+study, found his uncle Graff, attentively reading an evening paper. The
+old man arose on seeing his nephew enter, and, holding the printed sheet
+out to him, said—
+
+“See here, Marcel, here is an article on this affair of ours. It is a
+report of a meeting of the Academy of Science, where Professor Marigot
+read his notice on the Trémont powder.”
+
+Marcel carelessly took the journal. Without even glancing at it, he laid
+it on the desk.
+
+“Is that all the interest you take in the matter?” exclaimed the uncle.
+“You are not inquisitive about the effect produced by Marigot’s official
+communication? Very well, I will tell you what he says. The _Globe_ has
+given up a whole column to the discovery, which it states is an important
+one, and it predicts, within a short date, a revolution in the use of
+motive power. On the other hand, the _Panache Blanc_, Lichtenbach’s
+journal, is dead against the invention, which it qualifies as a
+shamefaced imitation, insinuating that it is simply the Dalgetty process,
+without the slightest change in the doses of the products.”
+
+“What a brazen falsehood!” Marcel exclaimed, unable to restrain himself.
+
+“Here is something better. At the Bourse a rumour has got abroad that the
+Explosives Company is in possession of the Trémont patents, and the
+shares have begun to mount, in spite of the desperate efforts of the
+bears. Accordingly, our situation is saved, and, on the other hand, that
+of Lichtenbach seems to be in a terrible pass!”
+
+“You do not expect me to get excited over that?”
+
+“I do not, indeed. But your father, who for the past three months has
+hardly been able to sleep, is now happy and smiling. He has just gone to
+Aubervilliers to examine a plot of land, covering seven acres, which has
+been offered to us, and which would be the very spot for constructing the
+works necessary. He is especially pleased at owing this result to you.
+Though not very expansive, he is enthusiastic and warm-hearted, and
+exceedingly proud to be obliged to confess that you are so gifted. Up to
+the present, it is Trémont that has been mentioned, but, when it is known
+that it is you who brought the affair to its completion, and your name is
+in everybody’s mouth, as soon will be the case, then you will see your
+father expand.”
+
+Marcel made no reply. He walked to and fro in the study, with so
+absent-minded an air that Graff exclaimed—
+
+“What a strange fellow you are! And yet you must be well pleased with
+what I have been telling you. Though you will scarcely listen to me. What
+is the matter with you?”
+
+The young man shook his head, and, with an attempt at a smile, said—
+
+“There is nothing the matter with me, Uncle Graff. What do you expect me
+to say?”
+
+“Ah! Perhaps you have no suspicion of the plans Baradier has been forming
+for you. He explained them to me this very morning. We are going to put
+Marcel at the head of the works as director. At the same time he shall be
+one of the managing directors of the Explosives Company we are about to
+completely reorganize. You see, Marcel, you are about to play a very
+important _rôle_ in life at twenty-six years of age. And your father
+added, ‘If he will marry, I shall no longer have anything to wish for. He
+will have satisfied me in everything.’ What do you think of the idea? I
+believe he was thinking of Geneviève de Trémont. What will your reply
+be?”
+
+Marcel replied quietly—
+
+“Nothing whatever, Uncle Graff.”
+
+The old man touched Marcel on the shoulder, and, looking attentively at
+him, said—
+
+“I do not understand you, Marcel; there is something you are hiding from
+me. Have you seen the woman of Ars again?”
+
+This time, the young man broke out—
+
+“No, I have not seen her; but I know she is in Paris. I know where I
+shall see her this evening. Uncle Graff, I intend to have the key to this
+living enigma.”
+
+“Ah! My child, there is no enigma; she is simply a villain, nothing more!
+How anxious you make me in still troubling yourself with this woman! Take
+care! You know how dangerous she and her companions are. Remember the
+poor General, and this brave fellow killed at Ars. Just inform the
+police, she will be arrested, and all will be over.”
+
+“If I were certain she were as guilty as you suspect her to be, I would
+do so. Though it is not very gallant to give up a woman.”
+
+“What! Chivalry with such people?”
+
+“But I have my doubts, Uncle Graff. I cannot make up my mind to condemn
+her unheard.”
+
+“Yes! In a word, you wish to see her again. Don’t tell me any idle
+stories; I am not so stupid as to be taken in by them. She still holds
+you in her power. And you are about to risk being murdered, in some dark
+corner or other, for the pleasure of being deceived once more by such a
+traitress.”
+
+“Uncle Graff, no one will kill me at the opera. It is there I rely on
+seeing her to-night.”
+
+“Are you in earnest?”
+
+“Have you disposed of your orchestra stall?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Very well, give it to me.”
+
+“Promise me you will do nothing extravagant, and that if this woman wants
+you to accompany her, you will not do so.”
+
+“No; I cannot promise that. But I will be on my guard all the same.
+Agostini shall not knock me over like a pigeon.”
+
+“Take a good revolver with you.”
+
+“Certainly.”
+
+“Ah! _Mon Dieu_! And I was feeling so happy!” groaned the old man.
+“Suppose you take Baudoin with you?”
+
+“Under no pretext. Be assured, however, I am running no risk this time.
+Later on, we shall see.”
+
+The arrival of Baradier cut the conversation short. Marcel returned home
+to dress before dinner.
+
+That evening the _Walkyrie_ was being given at the opera. When Marcel
+reached his stall, the second act was commencing. The domestic troubles
+of Wotan, the Scandinavian Jupiter, with Fricka, a real Juno without her
+peacock, possessed only a slight interest for the young man. Turning
+round, he leaned his elbow on the back of his stall, and looked about
+him. Slowly, the boxes began to fill, as though the subscribers had only
+decided to come at all because they had paid dearly for the privilege. Up
+above in the amphitheatre was a sea of eager faces turned on to the
+stage. There was the real amateur and artistic public.
+
+But Marcel was not looking for critical observations as to the musical
+capacity of the different auditors of a masterly piece, rather for the
+face of a woman. Nowhere could he catch a glimpse of the beautiful
+profile of Madame Vignola. Two side boxes on the right of the actors
+still remained unoccupied. And Marcel, again turning towards the stage,
+kept a watch on them.
+
+Towards the end of the act the sound of an opening door drew his
+attention. He saw a light appear in one of the side boxes, then a vague
+uncertain form appeared in its velvet frame. The door closed again, the
+background again darkened, and a woman, clothed in white, _décolleté_,
+and wearing a necklace of beautiful pearls, came to the front of the box.
+As her face was turned away from Marcel he could not distinguish her
+features. Still, what relation could there be between this vigorous
+brunette and the blonde and languishing Anetta? Strength, where he had
+found grace. No. This could not be the one.
+
+As the curtain fell amidst a tempest of cheers, and the artists
+reappeared on the stage to bow their acknowledgments, the lady turned
+round, in such a way as to face Marcel, who, stupefied, recognized the
+look of the one he loved. He might have been mistaken in everything else,
+but not in the languishing look which formed so delightful a contrast
+with that mocking smile and imperious brow. He examined her attentively,
+without her being aware that she was observed. But what grief he felt at
+being obliged to recognize her in such a disguise!
+
+Was not the very fact of this metamorphosis, the most complete of
+confessionals? Why, if not to disarm curiosity, these changes, in
+head-dress, in the colour of the hair, and the expression of the face?
+What was this comedy she was playing, and when? Was it at Ars that she
+was painted and disguised, or at the opera?
+
+Marcel arose. All around him were leaving their seats. Madame Vignola was
+no longer in front of the box. Marcel counted the number of boxes. This
+one was the fourth after the passage. Standing behind a column, he kept
+watch.
+
+This self-imposed waiting seemed interminable to him. The passers-by
+irritated him, he replied to a few bows, but avoided shaking hands with
+any one. Finally, the door of the box opened, and Agostini and an elderly
+man, wearing the rosette of the Legion d’Honneur, appeared. The count and
+his companion made their way towards the grand staircase, before Marcel,
+who had his back turned to them, and disappeared. Then the young man
+opened the door of the box, and entered.
+
+The spectator was seated on the sofa. Marcel closed the door, and walked
+up to her. Turning her head, she looked at the intruder, and said,
+without the faintest agitation—
+
+“You are in the wrong box, sir.”
+
+He replied ironically—
+
+“No, madame, there is no mistake, if I am in the presence of Madame
+Vignola, unless you are the Baroness Grodsko.”
+
+At these words, the young woman’s face appeared frightfully agitated. Her
+eyes turned pale, and her lips trembled.
+
+“Whose name is that you have uttered?” she murmured, in unsteady accents.
+
+“Evidently one of your own! So far as I can judge, you change names,
+according to circumstances, just as you change faces, according to the
+men you associate with.”
+
+“I do not understand what you mean. Once more I say, you are mistaken,
+retire.”
+
+“No! I shall wait here till Count Agostini returns. We will have an
+explanation in his presence. He, at any rate, will not be able to deny
+his identity. And that will help to establish yours.”
+
+Rising from her seat, and no longer taking the trouble to deny, she said—
+
+“And he will kill you! Wretched man, leave here at once, without a
+moment’s delay. You do not know what dangers you are running!”
+
+“I know them quite well. General Trémont is dead, Laforêt, the police
+agent, is dead, and so, doubtless, are many others who have resisted your
+fancies or intrigues. And if I, too, do not yield, you will try to
+compass my death also. But, before that happens, I will know who and what
+you are.”
+
+The woman’s countenance darkened. Raising her beautiful arm, she said in
+tragic tones—
+
+“Do not attempt it! You will never succeed!”
+
+“Still, I have made a beginning,” he said madly. “Spy—thief—actress; yes,
+actress even in love!”
+
+She did not appear to have heard the other insults he hurled at her, but
+from this last one, she recoiled. Blushing, she seized Marcel by the arm,
+and fixed on him a pair of eyes which seemed to flame with passion.
+
+“No! I have not lied! Don’t believe that of me! Do not accuse me of
+having been false in love. I did love you! Can you think otherwise?
+Accuse me of whatever you wish, it matters little to me! We shall never
+see one another again, you hear!—never see one another again in this
+world. Therefore, believe what I now swear to you: I loved you; I still
+love you! I have never loved any one as I have loved you, and that is why
+I shall never see you again. Do not attempt to understand or to fathom my
+secrets; they would cause your death. Content yourself with what you know
+of me, and with the fact that you have not paid for it with your life.
+Become blind when I pass by your side; deaf, whenever my name is
+mentioned. Do not enter the darkness in which I am shrouded. Oh! Marcel,
+my loved one, go away, do not suspect me of having lied to you. Clasped
+in your arms, your lips pressed against mine, I told the truth, I—”
+
+She stopped. Tears shone in her eyes, and her beautiful arms are flung
+around Marcel’s neck. He felt himself pressed to her throbbing bosom, the
+fire of her eyes blinded him, and he shuddered at the contact of that
+ardent mouth pressed to his own in a delirium of delight. Amid her sighs,
+he heard the word “Adieu!” and found himself near the door. There, her
+embrace relaxed, and he stood dazed and maddened in the passage, amidst
+the spectators who were returning to their seats. Taking up his coat, and
+staggering along like a man intoxicated, he obeyed his mysterious love,
+and left the theatre.
+
+He no longer doubted. That cry, “I love you still!” was sincere. She was
+not lying when she confessed her love. Besides, why had she driven him
+away from her, if not inspired by the passionate fright of the woman who
+trembles lest her loved one meet his death. Then it was some strange
+will, superior to her own, which had compelled her to fascinate him, and
+which was again controlling her in the performance of some dark,
+mysterious deed or other! That he was, and must remain, ignorant of.
+
+On reaching the Place de l’Opéra, he felt calmer. The open air did him
+good. But the memory of those glorious eyes, and that quivering voice, as
+she held him in her arms, came back to him with painful intensity. Ah!
+What a woman!
+
+But she was a monster of corruption and depravity. He had told her so
+without the slightest protest. She was, beyond doubt, an accomplice in
+several murders; perhaps even that white and delicate hand of hers had
+itself been stained in blood! She was the secret agent of threatening
+hostility and venal treason. Her beauty, grace, and intelligence were so
+many attractions which served to captivate her dupes. Her love was only a
+means to an end.
+
+A feeling of revolt came over him. He said to himself, “Really, I am too
+much of a coward. The attraction this woman exercises over me is taking
+away my moral faculty! At the very moment she appears in such a
+despicable light before me, I yet love her. And yet, I scarcely know her.
+She loved me; that is the reason she left me, unwilling as she was to
+ruin me!” He laughed in a nervous fashion, and thought, “Very soon, I
+shall be obliged to feel grateful towards her! And yet she is an infamous
+wretch. Yes; but how beautiful!”
+
+A prey to these contradictory thoughts, he reached the Rue de Provènce,
+and immediately retired to rest. The following morning, when he awoke, he
+was astonished to find his uncle Graff at his bedside. It was eight
+o’clock. He had had a dreamless sleep. The old man, feeling uneasy, had
+been turning over and over in his bed, and, at daybreak, had not been
+able to resist the desire of making sure that nothing had happened to
+Marcel. For some time he had been watching his nephew sleep, and now he
+wished to question him, but, finding him silent, or evasive in his
+answers, he abandoned all hope of learning anything just then, and called
+on Baradier for a cup of coffee. He had left his room, fasting, and was
+dying of hunger.
+
+The same morning, in Lichtenbach’s study, about ten o’clock, Agostini and
+Hans were engaged in a _tête-à-tête_ with the banker. Count Cesare was
+sitting in dreamy attitude, smoking a cigarette. Hans, impassive, was
+listening to Elias, who was speaking in even a duller voice than usual.
+
+“The situation is certainly serious for you,” he was saying, “but for me
+it is becoming very grave. Relying on your information, I undertook a
+bear campaign, which was to place the Explosives Company in my hands, by
+permitting of my redeeming the shares for a mere trifle. It happens that
+my closest rivals, and deadly enemies, the firm of Baradier and Graff,
+have undertaken the counter-part of my operations, and all my efforts to
+shake them off have been unavailing. Then, I did not understand the
+causes of their firmness, but now I do. The notice read at the Academy of
+Science gives me the key to their calculations. They are in possession of
+the secret you have failed to find. They are in a position to exploit the
+Trémont powder, and the Dalgetty patent is worth nothing! This is the net
+result of all your intrigues. You have indeed something to be proud of!”
+
+“What will all this cost you?” asked Agostini, coldly.
+
+“How much will it cost me?” exclaimed the banker, furiously. “Almost all
+I possess! You seem to look at things in a very philosophical light! It
+is easy to say to a man one has ruined, ‘How much has it cost you?’ Can I
+rely on my physical attractions? To have money I must work, and it has
+been so with me for the past forty years!”
+
+“Come, Lichtenbach,” said Hans, “don’t cry about it. We are aware that
+you will lose considerably, in case the affair does not succeed. But
+there will be something left. I will offer you ten million francs for
+whatever remains, if you like!”
+
+“Stupid rogues as you are!” exclaimed Elias. “You are speaking of what
+you know nothing about! This filthy affair of yours, managed by such
+silly dolts, has cost me the labour of half my life, and even more—my
+pride! For I, who have always had the upper hand of Baradier and Graff,
+am now at their mercy. Your famous Sophia has, indeed, been brilliant in
+this matter! A man-eater who has never failed. A flower of rottenness,
+one need only breathe to be intoxicated, such corrupting ferments does
+she exhale! A simple young man is given into her hands; a mere
+child’s-play for her, and here she remains, inactive and powerless,
+either unable or unwilling to make him give up his secret. Meanwhile, I
+have been losing all my money. You idiots! You stupid rascals! Will you
+give me back my money? I know of nothing in the world more despicable
+than an imbecile bandit! And that is what you are, both of you, and your
+Sophia into the bargain!”
+
+Hans’ countenance remained unchanged. Agostini, with sombre look, flung
+away his cigarette, and said—
+
+“There is some truth in what you say, Lichtenbach, so I will overlook
+your insolent words. But for that, I would have made you pay dearly for
+what you have just said.”
+
+“Not another word!” growled Lichtenbach. “I defy you!”
+
+“You will be foolish to do so,” continued the Italian. “A Count Cesare
+Agostini will not receive a gratuitous insult from a Lichtenbach.”
+
+“Gratuitous? Indeed!”
+
+“Come! Peace!” said Hans, in tones of authority. “We are not here to
+exchange compliments with one another, but to find some solution to the
+difficulty. It is true the Baroness has failed. We know the reason now,
+when it is too late. She has been stupid enough to fall in love with this
+young man, and has only half accomplished her mission. When she led him
+on to talk confidentially to her, she was afraid that he would despise
+her later on. To sum up, the _coup_ failed. The young man is now on his
+guard; he will say nothing more, unless I undertake, as a last resource,
+to question him. For the present, however, the situation is as follows:
+We possess an excellent patent, similar, as regards the composition of
+the powder, to the one taken under the name of Trémont. But we are in
+ignorance of the trick of working it. Our powder is a brutal explosive.
+The Trémont powder is graduated in action. There is the real value of the
+discovery. Under these conditions, Dalgetty could establish a claim, and
+accuse of counterfeit the exploiters of the Trémont patent, which was
+taken out after ours. The result—scandal, trial, blackmailing. This is
+the line we must follow, and it may serve as a means for a settlement.”
+
+“In what way?” asked Lichtenbach, interested.
+
+“By sending a trusty ambassador to Baradier and Graff to offer them terms
+of peace.”
+
+“They will not accept!”
+
+“How do you know? It all depends on the manner in which the proposal is
+made; you may have to concede to them both material and moral advantages,
+in order to reach a fusion of the two affairs.”
+
+“That would mean safety, and even triumph!” exclaimed Lichtenbach. “Just
+let me get them into my power, and they shall not escape so easily!”
+
+“Then I will rely upon you! Ah! You sly rogue, you have come back to life
+again.”
+
+“The fact is, the idea of being their dupe was killing me! The whole of
+my life would have been spent in vain! Ever since I have been in Paris, I
+have only had one desire—to injure them! Give up this joy! I could not!
+Whom shall I send them?”
+
+“A priest,” insinuated Agostini.
+
+“The Abbé d’Escayrac, if he would do me this service! Fine idea! He well
+knows how to lull one’s conscience by moulding a man’s intelligence to
+his will. But what can we offer Baradier and Graff?”
+
+“Anything you imagine they might decently accept. What will it cost you?
+Have you not a daughter? She has been carefully brought up, and is of an
+amiable disposition, so I am told.”
+
+“Well!”
+
+“Offer her to young Baradier, with an enormous dowry. If Sophia were only
+willing, she would arrange the matter well enough!”
+
+This time, Agostini manifested symptoms of violent discontent. He brought
+his hand down forcibly on the table, and, looking at the others with
+murderous eyes, said—
+
+“And what is to become of me in this combination? Are you forgetting that
+Mademoiselle Lichtenbach is my affianced wife?”
+
+“The engagement can easily be broken,” replied Hans, coldly.
+
+“Do you intend to jest with me?”
+
+“I never jest with any one to no purpose.”
+
+“Then you are seriously thinking of overthrowing all my plans?”
+
+“What use will your plans be to you, if Lichtenbach is ruined? Besides,
+you silly fellow, do you think Elias is a man likely to trouble himself
+with you, if you are no longer of any use to him? Already you have gone
+down several notches in his esteem. If an arrangement has to be made with
+you, we will offer you money. I know where to find it.”
+
+The handsome Italian laid his hand on his heart.
+
+“And what compensation will be large enough to satisfy me?”
+
+“Ah, ah!” jeered Hans. “We are well aware that your conscience is as
+tender as it is delicate!”
+
+Lichtenbach, who had remained silent, after hearing the suggestion
+concerning his daughter, now said—
+
+“A Baradier marry a Lichtenbach! Is it possible? Never would the Graffs
+and Baradiers consent to such a thing! For my own part, I ought to
+protest with all my might against such a proposal.”
+
+He remained silent, as though absorbed in thought, and then said slowly—
+
+“Still, my daughter is well worthy of entering such a family. They are
+honest people, after all! And she is a charming and proud child. If only
+they would consent! My daughter would be certain of a happy future. She
+would have a peaceful and tranquil life. These Baradiers are honest and
+respectable, after all! If they would receive my daughter as their own,
+they would treat her well, and she would not be the prey of an
+adventurer! True, I hate them, and wish to do them harm, for all the
+humiliations they have inflicted on me. But if they would accept my
+daughter!”
+
+A tear shone on the cheek of this hardened man—a tear more precious than
+a diamond, for it owed its source to a father’s love. Hans interrupted
+the scene; he was not a man to understand such tender feelings.
+
+“So you adopt my plan? You will make an attempt at conciliation with our
+opponents. Offer them what you like, that is your own affair, and if we
+succeed, we will unite the two patents. You alone carry on the
+transaction, though, naturally, you reserve us our share. You see, this
+young Count Cesare might turn out troublesome. Is it agreed upon?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+Hans and Agostini took their leave. Elias walked to and fro about his
+study, then he proceeded to his daughter’s room. Marianne was seated near
+the window overlooking the garden, working. She rose on seeing her father
+appear. Wearing a blue dressing-gown ornamented with quipure lace, her
+fair hair tied up in bands, she had about her a kind of virgin
+gentleness, which caused her father’s heart to swell with love and
+tenderness. Sitting by her side, he drew her near to himself, and entered
+into conversation.
+
+“You have now been settled down here some considerable time. Are you
+satisfied? Is everything progressing as you wish?”
+
+“Yes, father, I should be very ungrateful if I were not satisfied. You
+let me do whatever I want. But I hope you are well pleased yourself,
+also.”
+
+“Certainly, little one, and I wish us always to remain so. But, you know,
+some day we shall be obliged to separate.”
+
+Marianne looked serious; her smile vanished.
+
+“A day in the distant future, father; there is no hurry.”
+
+“You will marry. Would you not like to be married?”
+
+“That will depend on the husband.”
+
+A silence followed. The controller of men felt ill at ease before this
+child, whose future he had disposed of by calculation. He did not dare
+speak to her of Agostini, whom he had introduced to her, and praised in
+her presence only the night before. It was Marianne who took it upon
+herself to explain the precise situation of things.
+
+“I am rather troubled, I confess, at the favour you accord this young
+Italian count, and at the way in which you speak to me of him.”
+
+“My dear child!” exclaimed Lichtenbach.
+
+“No! Let me continue,” interrupted Marianne. “Afterwards you may praise
+your candidate as much as you like. But allow me to speak to you quite
+freely. Your _protegé’s_ conduct and habits make me uneasy. He does not
+seem to me frank; he is too polite, and full of compliments. There is
+something suspicious about this man who is always smiling and flattering.
+Besides, his voice has no genuine ring about it. His cold, cruel looks
+belie his handsome face and gentle words. Lastly, dear father, he is a
+foreigner. Are there no more Frenchmen to marry in France that one should
+be obliged to look for a _fiancé_ for one’s daughter on the other side of
+the frontier? He is a count, but I have no ambition in that direction. He
+does not work, and I should not care to marry any one without business of
+any kind. Papa, if you wish to please me and consult my tastes, you will
+choose another suitor. Your daughter is something to you—that you have
+often given me to understand; you have, perhaps, insisted rather too much
+on the fact, for I might have formed too good an opinion of myself.
+Luckily, I am reasonable and modest in my demands. Do not marry me to an
+idle man, who is also ambitious and wicked. If you want me to be free
+from anxiety, send away this handsome Italian. He is not the man for me!”
+
+Lichtenbach smiled good-humouredly and said—“Then who is?”
+
+Marianne blushed, but made no reply.
+
+“Ah, ah!” continued Lichtenbach. “So there is a secret, is there? Better
+tell your father all about it, little one. Have you met some one you
+like, my dear? Tell me everything; don’t be afraid. You know very well I
+will do nothing opposed to your wishes. If you do not like Agostini, why
+did you not tell me so sooner? Come, now, tell me all!”
+
+With downcast head she said—
+
+“No, no! It is useless. I have only one wish—to stay by your side just as
+I am. I shall be very happy.”
+
+“You are not telling me the truth,” exclaimed Lichtenbach, excitedly.
+“You must tell me what you mean. Do you imagine there are difficulties in
+the way? Yes? Of what kind? Is it some one I know?”
+
+“Let us say nothing more on the subject, father,” said Marianne. “I was
+wrong in introducing the subject. It can be nothing but a painful one for
+both yourself and myself. You had given me warning. But it was too late.
+The subject shall never be brought up again between us; that I promise
+you.”
+
+“You could not speak to me otherwise if it were my greatest enemy. Is it
+so?”
+
+He did not utter the name of Baradier, but Marianne read it upon his
+lips. She raised her eyes up to her father’s face, as though to ask
+pardon from him for what he must consider a kind of treason. She did not,
+however, find in his countenance that angry and threatening expression
+she dreaded to see there. He was passive and calm, and sat there for a
+moment without uttering a word. Then, in accents of great deliberation,
+he asked—
+
+“We are thinking of Marcel Baradier, are we not? Yes, it must be he. I
+was wrong to let you visit Geneviève de Trémont. That was very imprudent
+on my part. However, it cannot be helped now. We must try to arrange
+matters.”
+
+“Arrange matters!” stammered Marianne.
+
+“Yes, my dear child. We must make an attempt. I would do anything to make
+you happy.”
+
+“Forget your bitter feelings of the past?”
+
+“I will try to make the Baradiers forget theirs.”
+
+“Oh, father, dear father!”
+
+She flung her arms around his neck with such a burst of joy, that
+Lichtenbach turned pale with shame. For the first time in his life, he
+had a very clear impression of the significance of a cowardly action,
+doubtless, because his victim in this case was his own daughter. At the
+same time, he felt that the evil deeds of a whole lifetime accumulate,
+and that, at some time or other, the interest must be paid, in
+humiliation and suffering. He looked at Marianne tenderly, and said, in
+accents of sincerity—
+
+“Ah! is it so serious as that? Very well, my child, I will do everything
+possible to make you happy.”
+
+After kissing her, he returned to his room, ordered his carriage, and
+drove away to call on the Abbé d’Escayrac.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+ABOUT five o’clock Madame Baradier had just returned, and was reading in
+her small salon; her daughter, Amélie, and Geneviève de Trémont were
+working at the table, chatting pleasantly the while, when the servant
+entered, and said—
+
+“There is a priest here, who wishes to speak to you, madame.”
+
+Madame Baradier, lady patroness of several charitable institutions, was
+continually receiving appeals to her generosity. She made no distinction
+between the clergy and the laity, but received all with equal
+benevolence. Accordingly, she ordered the visitor to be showed in. The
+first glance she gave him showed her a fine, intelligent face, the
+general aspect being rather that of a fashionable and carefully dressed
+priest. The first words he uttered confirmed this judgment—
+
+“Madame,” said the visitor, “I am the Abbé d’Escayrac, secretary of the
+Issy establishment, which is under the lofty patronage of the Bishop of
+Andropolis.”
+
+“Superior of the Absolutionists, unless I am mistaken.”
+
+“You are not mistaken, madame.”
+
+“What can I do for your work, Monsieur l’Abbé?”
+
+“You can do much, madame. But, first of all,”—here the Abbé lowered his
+voice—“I have information of special importance to communicate to you,
+and it might be better, if you have no objection, if we were alone.”
+
+“As you please, Monsieur l’Abbé.”
+
+The two girls had been well brought up. On a look from Madame Baradier,
+they arose, bowed, and left the room.
+
+“You may now speak freely, Monsieur l’Abbé.”
+
+“I am well aware, madame, how you are animated by a sincere Christian
+fervour,” continued the priest, “and it is on the certainty that all
+apostolic work must receive your cordial assistance that my mission is
+based. As you know, we are devoted heart and soul to the service of the
+poor. Poverty and misery, nay, even vice itself, have an exclusive claim
+on our interest and attention. To us a criminal is a brother we try to
+restore to the path of virtue, just as we use our best efforts to save a
+sick man. In this way a vast amount of misfortune and crime is revealed
+to us. We are the confidents of the most painful of physical vices, the
+most lamentable of moral back-slidings. We offer help to all, without
+exception, and often serve as intermediaries between those who have the
+power to punish and those who wish to be spared. We are never deaf to
+repentance, and try to turn it to the advantage of our holy religion.”
+
+He spoke with grave earnestness, and an insinuating voice, turning on one
+side the obstacles in the way, preparing his ground, and gradually
+attempting to win over to his side the intelligence of the wife, so as to
+make of her an ally against the husband. Madame Baradier, astonished at
+this lengthy introduction, was beginning to wonder what was the meaning
+of it all, so she asked—
+
+“Is it pecuniary help you want, Monsieur l’Abbé? If so, you will find us
+very sympathetically disposed towards your work.”
+
+“We shall be very grateful, madame, for whatever you may do for us, but
+money is not at present the object of my visit. Recently, we have founded
+in the Var an important establishment, where we propose, in imitation of
+other powerful religious orders, to open a business establishment. To
+facilitate our efforts, we have received very important assistance. We
+are full of gratitude towards those who have helped us, and, the
+opportunity of doing them a service now offering itself, I, your humble
+servant, have been appointed to bring to you a message of conciliation
+from a man who, for many years, has been in a state of hostility with
+your family, but who now wishes to end his life in concord and peace.”
+
+Madame Baradier, for the last few minutes, had been manifesting serious
+symptoms of uneasiness. She saw that the interview was assuming a form
+which did not please her; accordingly, she cut short the speech of the
+amiable Abbé, and said—
+
+“Will you kindly tell me what you wish, Monsieur l’Abbé? The man’s name
+will, I believe, explain the affair far better.”
+
+The young priest smiled; and, with the suppliant look of a martyr, he
+said—
+
+“I am a minister of charity and pardon, madame. The man’s name is M.
+Lichtenbach.”
+
+“I suspected it.”
+
+“Am I to imagine that his personality will render all understanding
+impossible, even in the interests of religion?”
+
+“It is not my place to form such a resolution, Monsieur l’Abbé. I cannot
+forget that there are in this house two men who are alone entitled to
+reply: my husband and my brother. Permit me to call them.”
+
+“I am at your disposal, madame.”
+
+“No. Monsieur l’Abbé, do not speak so. Whatever happens, be sure that we
+all rightly appreciate the mission of conciliation you have accepted. We
+shall not confound the mission with its agent.”
+
+Bowing to the priest, she left the room. The Abbé remained motionless in
+his armchair, buried in thought. He was fulfilling a mission useful to
+his order in a double sense. No preoccupation foreign to his religious
+duties troubled him. He rightly appreciated Elias, but the evangelical
+spirit would not allow him to neglect the salvation of even the most
+despicable of men. Had not Christ permitted the kiss of Judas? Did not
+the Holy Father lave the feet of the filthiest of beggars? Besides, the
+interests of the Church inspired him. The door opened, and Graff
+appeared. Coming up to the young Abbé, he bowed—
+
+“My sister, Madame Baradier, has just informed me of your presence,
+Monsieur l’Abbé. My brother-in-law, Barassin, is busy in the office, and
+begs to be excused. Besides, I have full permission to act as I think
+best. Will you explain?”
+
+“Has not Madame Baradier told you?”
+
+“In a few hasty words. You are sent by Lichtenbach? Good! That does not
+astonish us in the least. So long as he was the stronger, he did us all
+the harm he could. Now that we have the upper hand, he is trying to stop
+the game. Let us hear what he wants.”
+
+M. d’Escayrac smiled.
+
+“It is pleasant to talk to you, monsieur; one knows at once where one is
+going.”
+
+“Very well, Monsieur l’Abbé; since you know, proceed at once to facts.”
+
+“By chance, your firm and that of Lichtenbach have met on the same ground
+concerning the exploitation of a patent.”
+
+“You call that chance? Good! Good! As for the ‘same ground,’ there is
+some truth in that, since, in order to obtain the patent in question,
+they have exploded a house, that of one of our friends; set fire to a
+manufactory, our own; assassinated two men, and risked killing several
+others. It is a ‘ground’ sprinkled with blood, Monsieur l’Abbé! But,
+still, it is that abominable ‘same ground!’”
+
+The priest crossed his hands with an expression of horror.
+
+“Monsieur, I knew nothing of what you are now revealing to me. Were it
+any one but yourself who were speaking, I should think he had taken leave
+of his senses. It is impossible that the man, in whose name I am here,
+should have committed the frightful acts you now reproach him with.”
+
+“Let us understand one another,” replied Uncle Graff, eagerly. “I do not
+accuse Lichtenbach of having shed blood. He is incapable of it for
+several reasons, the best of which is that he would not dare to do such a
+thing. But the patent of which you speak has been obtained by the means I
+have just informed you of. Monsieur l’Abbé, you have been beguiled into a
+disagreeable enterprise. Still, in us you have to deal with those who
+have too much respect for religion for you to need to fear any
+responsibility. You may explain yourself without any further beating
+about the bush. Whatever may be said between us will not be repeated.
+After all, this interview may have some useful result, who knows?”
+
+“I have no doubt whatever of that,” said the Abbé, considerably troubled
+all the same. “Oh, monsieur, how pleased I am to have to discuss the
+interests entrusted to my charge with so benevolent a man as yourself!
+God be praised! If possible, we will bring about a perfect understanding.
+If only you knew what I myself dread! In very truth, M. Lichtenbach is
+not so responsible for all that has happened as you suppose. He is not
+his own master in this matter; he has to deal with powerful personages,
+who will not lay down their arms, and who, I am afraid, will have
+recourse to the most extreme measures to obtain the supremacy over you.”
+
+“We have nothing to fear!”
+
+“There are poisoned weapons which will kill even the most invulnerable.
+Be on your guard, monsieur, against the plots to which your adversaries
+at bay may have recourse. I speak to you in all sincerity. I was not
+aware of the past, but I have been terrified at the glimpse into the
+future that has been permitted me.”
+
+“By whom? Lichtenbach?”
+
+“Oh! He was terrified himself; and begged me to come and speak to you,
+simply knowing me to be one whose character could offer him sufficient
+guarantee for discretion. I can assure you that in him you no longer have
+an enemy to deal with. Of that he is ready to give you whatever proof you
+wish.”
+
+“He is deceiving you, Monsieur l’Abbé. You have been his dupe, and know
+him well. What does he want?”
+
+“He proposes the complete fusion of the two enterprises by the
+exploitation of the two patents. Though the Dalgetty is previous to the
+Trémont patent, the two discoveries, being almost similar, shall be
+considered as equal.”
+
+“What is that?” exclaimed Uncle Graff. “Lichtenbach is, indeed, very
+kind. One is genuine, the other counterfeit. The Trémont patent is the
+result of work and intelligence; the Dalgetty patent is the result of
+fraud and theft.”
+
+“My dear sir,” exclaimed the Abbé, uneasily, “official declarations are a
+guarantee of faith. One cannot go against facts. The Dalgetty was taken
+out by an English company before the Trémont.”
+
+“And how does that affect us? The Dalgetty has no value; those who have
+sent you here are well aware of that fact. We have them in our power, I
+tell you; they can do nothing. Their patent is not worth the money they
+have spent in taking it out. For months past Lichtenbach and ourselves
+have been adversaries over the Explosives Company. We hold the right end,
+that he well knows. He will soon have to undertake a liquidation. And
+then?”
+
+“He offers to stop his bear operations.”
+
+“He cannot continue them any longer.”
+
+“He will take at half price the shares of the Explosives of which you are
+the holders, and pay for them at once.”
+
+“I dare say he will; they will rise at a leap to two hundred francs
+each!”
+
+“He is ready to offer you a pledge of his frank and, henceforth,
+invariable co-operation. If, in your family, you had a person belonging
+to his family, if an alliance united your common interests, would you not
+consider that an absolute guarantee of his sincere cessation of enmity
+against you?”
+
+Graff turned pale, but succeeded in mastering his emotions, and, wishing
+to know his opponent’s inmost thoughts, he said—
+
+“Who is the person in question on Lichtenbach’s side?”
+
+“Mademoiselle Marianne, his daughter.”
+
+“And on ours?”
+
+“Your nephew, M. Baradier.”
+
+“So these two would be married, and Baradier, Graff, and Lichtenbach
+would form one single family.”
+
+“I do not know whether or not you are acquainted with Mademoiselle
+Lichtenbach. She is a charming young lady, brought up under the loftiest
+religious influences, and calculated to offer your nephew the most
+serious guarantees of happiness possible. It would be a joy to us to have
+contributed to the reconciliation of former enemies, separated by
+quarrels, which might, doubtless, easily be forgotten in the midst of
+general satisfaction. Concord and peace instead of enmity; no more fears
+or threats. One common and complete prosperity! Come, my dear sir,
+pronounce the words of redemption and hope, make an effort over your
+pride, and give the world an example of gentleness and charity.”
+
+Graff had silently listened to the priest’s earnest pleading. His bent
+forehead and closed eyes gave the Abbé d’Escayrac to believe that his
+words were having their due effect on the old man’s thoughts. There was a
+moment’s silence. Then the uncle looked the Abbé straight in the face,
+and, in firm tones, said—
+
+“Monsieur l’Abbé, in the cemetery of Metz, there are Graffs who would
+leap from their tombs if one of their descendants were to demean himself
+so far as to marry the daughter of a Lichtenbach!”
+
+“Monsieur!” exclaimed the Abbé in surprise.
+
+“Then you do not know the Baradiers and Graffs, or you would not propose
+to them an alliance with a Lichtenbach? Do you know who Lichtenbach is?
+Between Lorraine and Paris, there is not a mile of ground which has not
+been strewn with French blood, on account of this wretch. A spy, to lead
+the enemy to victory; food-supplier to the foe; when our troops were
+dying of hunger, he fattened on war, and enriched himself on treason. He
+sold his brothers of France—the Jews, who fought in our ranks and died
+like brave soldiers, double Judas as he was! And after receiving the
+reward for his treason, he turned Christian, and set about defiling
+another religion, by the disgusting intransigence of his apostate zeal!
+There you have a picture of Lichtenbach, Monsieur l’Abbé. Must I now tell
+you who Graff and Baradier are?”
+
+“Oh, I know well, my dear sir! Your honour and patriotism are universally
+respected. But what animosity and rancour! Is this what I shall have to
+tell the one who sent me?”
+
+“Tell him he is an impudent rascal for having charged such a man as
+yourself with such a mission. Tell him our scorn for him is only equalled
+by his hatred against us. Assure him we have not the slightest fear. If
+he wishes to slander us, we will pay him back in the same coin; if he
+dares to strike us, we will defend ourselves. In the latter case, let him
+be careful!”
+
+“Monsieur!” said the Abbé, in tones of entreaty. “Reflect? Anger is a bad
+counsellor.”
+
+“Monsieur l’Abbé, I am perfectly calm. You do not know me. I never give
+way to passion. If I did, the result would be terrible. But a great deal
+would be needed to bring about such a state of things!”
+
+“Must I then leave you without obtaining any result? I am well aware that
+you are exposed to the most terrible dangers.”
+
+“I thank you for warning us. We shall be on our guard.”
+
+“Is that your last word?”
+
+“No, Monsieur l’Abbé. Never has a priest entered this house without
+taking away, for himself and his work, a testimony of our respectful
+deference and humble piety.”
+
+Graff took from his pocket a cheque-book, wrote a few words, and, handing
+the piece of paper to his visitor, said—
+
+“For your poor parishioners, Monsieur l’Abbé.”
+
+“Oh!” exclaimed the priest. “This is princely liberality. I will pray for
+you, monsieur, with all my heart.”
+
+“Thanks, Monsieur l’Abbé,” said Graff, with a smile. “But pray, above
+all, for Lichtenbach.”
+
+And, opening the door, he conducted the priest out.
+
+That same evening, about nine o’clock, after dinner, Lichtenbach
+descended from his brougham, close to the entrance of the Boulevard
+Maillat. It was a brilliant night, and the groves in the Bois, under the
+silvery light of the moon, raised their dark masses against the horizon.
+The banker hurried along, not without some anxiety, for the spot was a
+deserted one, and a likely haunt of undesirable characters. After walking
+about a hundred yards, he halted in front of the ivy-covered gate of a
+villa, and knocked. A few seconds passed, then a small door turned on its
+hinges, and a woman appeared. It was Milona. Recognizing the banker, she
+stepped backwards, without uttering a word, and led the way into a garden
+in front of the house.
+
+“Is madame at home?” asked Elias.
+
+“She is expecting you,” said the Dalmatian, in guttural accents.
+
+“Good. Have the others arrived?”
+
+“Yes; an hour ago.”
+
+They proceeded along a flower-bed, the flowers of which gave out fragrant
+odours on to the night air. The servant mounted a flight of steps,
+followed by Lichtenbach. On reaching a dark ante-chamber, Lichtenbach
+handed his overcoat and hat to Milona, who opened a door, and out of the
+darkness he passed suddenly into the light of the salon, the windows and
+curtains of which were hermetically closed. Seated at a table, Hans and
+Agostini were playing at piquet and drinking grog. On a divan Sophia
+reclined, in an elegant white deshabillé. The two men scarcely raised
+their heads on hearing Lichtenbach enter. The Baroness slowly sat
+upright, nodded graciously, and said—
+
+“Sit down by my side. They are finishing their game. How did you come? I
+did not hear the wheels of your carriage.”
+
+“I left it near the Porte Maillot.”
+
+“What precautions! Can you not trust your coachman?”
+
+“I trust no one.”
+
+“And suppose some night prowler had struck you to the ground, to teach
+you not to walk about alone at night in these parts?”
+
+Elias raised the butt-end of a revolver from his pocket, and said—
+
+“I should have been able to speak to him in his own language.”
+
+“I see; then you never travel without an interpreter?”
+
+“I cannot let myself be murdered for a paltry twenty francs; it would be
+altogether too stupid!”
+
+The conversation was interrupted by an exclamation from Cesare, who, in a
+passion, threw the cards down on to the table. Hans laughed to himself,
+and made a rapid calculation on a piece of paper.
+
+“That makes thirty-five louis for you to pay. You have lost fourteen
+hundred points!”
+
+“It is enough to make one believe in the Evil Eye!” growled the handsome
+Italian. “Ever since this Marcel Baradier cast his eyes on me, I cannot
+touch a single card without losing, at no matter what game!”
+
+Glancing angrily in the direction of Sophia, he said—
+
+“This must come to an end!”
+
+“Come, now, peace!” ordered Hans, authoritatively. “What noise you make
+for nothing at all! What news have you, father money-bags? Has your
+jesuit d’Escayrac seen our friends?”
+
+“He has. They refuse.”
+
+“Refuse what? Be precise. Your daughter or our affair?”
+
+Elias changed colour, and his eyes flashed. However, neither anger nor
+chagrin appeared from his voice.
+
+“They refuse both alliance with me and co-operation with you. Everything,
+in short!”
+
+“Donnerwetter!” growled Hans. “Are they mad?”
+
+“No; they are aware that you have nothing, and they have everything. This
+they prove by sending us about our business.”
+
+“You take all this very calmly,” exclaimed Count Cesare. “I have seen you
+less resigned than you now appear.”
+
+“I am not in the habit of fighting windmills. You have tricked me into an
+absurd and dangerous business; now I am simply leaving it, that is all.”
+
+“Leaving your feathers behind.”
+
+“As you say. But as few as possible. I have already turned round about
+and effected a counter-operation.”
+
+“You rogue! You will end by earning money, where we lose everything!”
+replied Agostini, pale with anger.
+
+“If I do so, it is because I am not so stupid as you, who can do nothing
+but spend it.”
+
+Hans burst into a laugh. As Agostini seemed to be on the point of losing
+his temper, he laid his hand on his arm, and forced him to keep his seat.
+
+“Old money-bags is right; but we must not act like horses when there is
+no hay in the rack, and begin to fight. Let us study the situation, and
+see what can be done. First of all, what does the beauty say? Up to the
+present she has not spoken a word. Still, she must have an opinion on the
+matter; we will allow her to give it first.”
+
+The Baroness appeared to awake from a reverie, and she said, in
+disdainful tones—
+
+“It is not my custom desperately to follow up badly-conceived operations.
+You know what I have always told you since the Vanves night: that there
+was an evil spell over the whole affair. You will arrive at no successful
+end. After all, you have obtained half of what you wanted—the war powder.
+Follow the example Lichtenbach sets you. Give it up, and pass on to
+something else.”
+
+“Something else, indeed!” growled Hans. “No, I shall not let go an affair
+which has cost me so dear. Some one must pay me for the arm I have lost!”
+
+“Well, what plan have you to offer?” asked the Baroness, impatiently.
+
+“You will arrange to strike up a fresh acquaintance with Marcel Baradier.
+Bring me the young man here one of these evenings. He knows the secret of
+the manufacture, and he shall either give it up to you of his own free
+will, or I will undertake to force him to do so.”
+
+Lichtenbach’s hands trembled nervously. Sophia remained impassive.
+
+“Well, what do you say to my proposal?” asked Hans, in jovial tones.
+
+“I will have nothing further to do with the matter!” declared the
+Baroness.
+
+“Ah! take care!” exclaimed Agostini. “I know why you refuse to help us
+against young Marcel. You are afraid for him. That is the difficulty.”
+
+“And what if it were so?”
+
+Hans made no reply. He appeared to reflect deeply. Then, with feigned
+good temper, he said—
+
+“After all, you may be right. In any case, we can do nothing without
+you.”
+
+Lichtenbach heaved a sigh of satisfaction. The conciliating attitude
+suddenly assumed by Hans seemed to be full of meaning. Wishing to know
+what this terrible partner of his really thought, he judged it useful to
+dissimulate his own ideas.
+
+“Come, we will say nothing more on the matter! What this affair has cost
+me I will pass through the profit and loss account. Still, it is a pity
+we could not find that secret trick of manipulation. There was a great
+deal of money to be earned by it, after all!”
+
+Hans bit his lips, but made no reply; whilst Agostini turned gracefully
+round to Lichtenbach, and said—
+
+“And my marriage? What is to become of it?”
+
+“What has become of this affair of ours,” replied Elias, roughly,
+“nothing. The one fell with the other! My fine fellow, you have no longer
+a prospective dot. I took you with the Trémont powder, and the only
+powder now left is blinding dust!”
+
+“Ah! You treat me in this way. I may give you reason to repent it!”
+
+“And if I wished, you would not be allowed in France another twenty-four
+hours. Let us be going,” added Lichtenbach; “it is already late.”
+
+“We will accompany you to the toll-gate, for fear something may happen to
+you. This quarter is not very safe at nights. Good night, Sophia.”
+
+“Good night.”
+
+She held out her white hand, which her dreaded ally touched with that
+iron hand of his, covered with a glove.
+
+“May I not stay a few minutes, Sophia?” asked Agostini.
+
+“No,” said the Baroness, emphatically. “Good night!”
+
+Ringing the bell, Milona appeared.
+
+“Show these gentlemen out, Milo.”
+
+Silently they left the house, preceded by the Dalmatian, who held a round
+lantern to light the way through the sinuous turnings of the path leading
+to the little ivy-covered door. This she opened, and then disappeared.
+They proceeded along the Avenue Maillot in silence, each occupied with
+his own thoughts. Suddenly Hans stopped, and said, in low accents—
+
+“Sophia is tricking us. But things shall not happen as she imagines. I
+pretended to give way, the better to deceive her. Now this is what we
+will do. Cesare will send a letter in a disguised hand-writing to young
+Marcel Baradier, fixing a rendezvous at the Boulevard Maillot about ten
+o’clock at night. I shall be there to receive him, with others on whom I
+can rely, and I will undertake to introduce the pigeon into the dovecot.
+Once there, Sophia must be forced to employ her wiles, whether she will
+or not. It is the same plan I mentioned just now, and which she refused.
+The only difference is that I do not ask for her permission before
+putting it into practice.”
+
+“But suppose Baradier does not come?” said Cesare.
+
+“What? Not come? Can you imagine that he would not come to a rendezvous
+fixed by the Baroness? He will fly to it at once. And when we have him!”
+
+“What will you do?” asked Lichtenbach, in quivering accents.
+
+“That is my own business. Just trust to me to loosen this young man’s
+tongue!”
+
+“Violence?”
+
+“A mode of persuasion he cannot resist.”
+
+“And suppose he denounces you on leaving the house?”
+
+“If only he will speak beforehand he will have plenty of time to say what
+he wishes afterwards.”
+
+Lichtenbach shuddered. He felt that Hans had made up his mind to kill
+Marcel Baradier, and that the bandit was pursuing a double end:
+possession of the secret, and revenge for his mutilation.
+
+“For the future,” he said, “I will have nothing more to do with your
+actions, in which I repudiate all share. I do not wish even to know the
+result of your attempt. You seem to have gone mad!”
+
+“Ah! don’t think we ever relied on you for anything else than an advance
+of funds?” said Count Cesare, jeeringly. “To us you have been the hen
+which laid the golden eggs; now that you have stopped laying, go your own
+way!”
+
+“No tricks with us, Lichtenbach,” said Hans. “If we succeed, the Dalgetty
+patent will have its full effect, you know; consequently you will share
+in the profits. What you say now is only another instance of your
+hypocrisy; you reject the responsibility, but are willing to accept the
+profits. Very well, my friend, you shall have them!”
+
+They had reached the spot where Lichtenbach’s carriage stood. Agostini
+gracefully opened the door, saying—
+
+“Good night, my prince, pleasant dreams!”
+
+Meanwhile, M. Mayeur had acted in accordance with information received
+from Baudoin and Colonel Vallenot. For a week now he had known the
+details of Count Cesare’s life. Of very good birth, belonging to an
+illustrious family, Signor Agostini had been obliged to leave the Italian
+army after an affair of honour.
+
+Concerning Hans, nothing could be discovered. The Baroness had been
+tracked, through Agostini, to her rooms in the Boulevard Maillot. The
+hotel had been let furnished. She lived very quietly, under the name of
+Madame de Frilas. M. Mayeur had sent an intelligent agent to the Baron
+Grodsko at Nice, and obtained from him full information concerning her.
+
+Provided with his notes, M. Mayeur had returned to the War Office to
+communicate them to Colonel Vallenot, and ask of him the result of his
+personal investigations. Introduced at once into the Minister’s cabinet,
+the magistrate had seen the results of his examination confirmed by
+supplementary details. In proportion as light was thrown on the
+personality of the different actors in the drama, the gravity of the
+affair became more and more evident. They discovered, beyond the faintest
+shadow of doubt, that they had to deal with an association of
+international espionage, which had been working for at least ten years on
+behalf of foreign governments, probably exploiting them in turn, and
+betraying them to the profit of one another.
+
+It was possible that the whole of Europe had been duped by these clever
+rascals. The least false step might alarm the culprits and cause them to
+disappear! M. Mayeur grew pale at the restraint placed on him. But how
+was it possible to neglect such imperious political necessities? Colonel
+Vallenot was the first to speak out clearly on the subject—
+
+“From this moment, General, it is certain we hold the Ténébreuse, as our
+agents call her. This is the woman of whom I spoke to you at the outset
+of our investigations some months ago, the one involved in the Cominges,
+Fontenailles affairs, etc. We have only to order, and she is in our
+power. Is it possible that we can let her escape?”
+
+“It is these deuced formalists, with their politics!” growled the old
+chief. “If the matter were in my hands it should not be allowed to linger
+in this way. These lawyers and quibblers astonish me! I only regain
+possession of myself when in the midst of my officers. What do you say,
+Monsieur le Juge?”
+
+At that moment the door opened, and the porter brought a card to Colonel
+Vallenot. The latter handed it to the Minister, who exclaimed—
+
+“Marcel Baradier! Show him in!”
+
+The young man entered, bowed, and, addressing the General, said—
+
+“I undertook, General, to keep you _au courant_ of anything fresh that
+might happen. I have come to keep my promise.”
+
+“Very good, my friend, explain.”
+
+“This morning, General, I received this letter.”
+
+He placed on the desk a sheet of paper, which the Minister examined
+attentively.
+
+“No date, very common paper, an evidently counterfeit handwriting, and no
+signature. Now let us see what it says: ‘If you wish to see once more the
+one who still loves you, go to-night, at ten o’clock, to the Place de
+l’Etoile, at the corner of the Avenue Hoche. A carriage will be stationed
+there. Enter it, the coachman will ask no questions, and will take you
+where you are expected.’”
+
+“Good. The classic mode of procedure, except that you are not asked to
+submit to having your eyes bandaged. What have you made up your mind to
+do?”
+
+“I shall go to the rendezvous.”
+
+“Ah, ah! Without the slightest apprehension?”
+
+“That is another matter, General. All the same, I shall go. I am
+determined to have the solution to this enigma.”
+
+The magistrate interrupted him in gentle tones—
+
+“Permit me to remark, monsieur, that this resolution of yours is an
+exceedingly imprudent one. Ninety-nine chances to a hundred they are
+attempting to entrap you. Do not add to our trouble by exposing yourself
+to danger for an uncertain result.”
+
+“If it is she who has written to me, I have nothing to fear.”
+
+“The deuce!” exclaimed the General. “You are very affirmative!”
+
+Marcel replied gently—
+
+“You may have concerning this woman whatever opinion your information has
+permitted you to form. False with the others, she was truthful to me. She
+betrayed the rest. To me she has been faithful and devoted.”
+
+“Listen!” exclaimed the General. “He is convinced of the truth of what he
+says. She persuades each and every one of them that she is sincere, and
+they all believe her!”
+
+“I will run the risk!”
+
+The old soldier brought down his fist on to the desk—
+
+“Well, you are a brave fellow! I like this obstinacy, Vallenot. The deuce
+take me if I would not have done the same thing at his age. Well, it is
+understood, go to the rendezvous. But we, too, shall take precautionary
+measures to protect and defend you, if necessary.”
+
+“Oh! General, do nothing whatever, please! The slightest intervention
+would ruin everything! If it is really Sophia who has written the letter,
+I have no need of an escort or protection of any kind. If it is a trap,
+those who have prepared it have their eyes open, and will notice all your
+preparations.”
+
+“Do you know where the lady lives?” asked the magistrate.
+
+“No, sir; as you see, no address is given in the letter.”
+
+M. Mayeur then said in measured tones—
+
+“My dear sir, your reasons are not bad ones at all. True, I have
+recommended you to be prudent, but if you will go to the rendezvous, go.
+Still, as we must always look at things from a practical standpoint, what
+result do you expect to obtain?”
+
+“Monsieur,” said Marcel, gravely; “General de Trémont was my friend; his
+death has not been avenged. Our works have been fired; my uncle Graff, my
+servant, and myself were almost burnt alive. This crime has not been
+punished, any more than the assassination of Laforêt. I intend to throw
+light on all these facts, though it be at the peril of my life.”
+
+“Very good, sir, all I can do is to wish you good luck.”
+
+Marcel bowed and shook hands with the three men.
+
+“He is a true Baradier! But he is too venturesome!”
+
+As soon as the door was closed, M. Mayeur rose from his seat,
+exclaiming—.
+
+“Here is an opportunity, General, to seize all these rascals at once. Of
+course, you know as well as I do that it is their object to entice M.
+Baradier into the house in the Boulevard Maillot, and there force him to
+give up his secret. Just now you said that these villains must be induced
+to resist, and then massacred. Without going to that extremity, we have
+now an opportunity of simplifying the whole proceedings.”
+
+“But you promised Marcel you would not interfere!” said Colonel Vallenot.
+
+“I don’t intend to interfere. He shall do as he likes. But I cannot take
+no interest in these preparations, nor will I, like young Baradier, be
+chivalrous with bandits. This is my plan: The rendezvous is for ten
+o’clock. You know the situation of the Boulevard Maillot; there is a
+ditch separating it from the Bois de Boulogne. A splendid hiding-place to
+hide a posse of police entering by the wood. I know a detective officer
+who is as intelligent as he is determined. I shall give him instructions
+to post himself there, and keep watch. In case M. Baradier is right, and
+there is nothing to fear, my men will simply have passed a night in the
+open-air. If he is mistaken then the danger will be a real one. You heard
+him say that he would be armed and ready to defend himself. At the first
+cry or shot my men will invade the house. If they are threatened they
+resist, if they are struck they will fire. Whether diplomacy wishes or
+not, if the villains are caught in the act the matter must take its
+course.”
+
+“Whatever happens, do not let young Baradier be killed, and above all try
+to lay hands on the woman.”
+
+“What do you think of the plan, General?”
+
+The old soldier looked at the magistrate, then at Vallenot. He noticed
+the impassive countenance of the latter, and replied—
+
+“You need not ask for my advice. All these judicial operations are out of
+my province. Act as you think best; I have nothing to say.”
+
+The magistrate shook his head, with a mocking smile; then, taking up his
+hat, he said—
+
+“Ah, I know what you mean! So long as the affair is not over, no one
+wishes to have anything to do with it. If it succeeds, then I shall be
+the only one to be left out of it all. But that matters little. It is my
+duty, and I will not hesitate. Your servant, General.”
+
+And he left the room accompanied by Colonel Vallenot.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+IT was about half-past nine, and Uncle Graff had dined in the Rue de
+Provènce as usual. Baudoin approached him, and whispered in his ear—
+
+“Two ladies have called, and one of them wishes to speak to M. Marcel.”
+
+“What kind of a woman is she?” asked the uncle.
+
+“A very respectable-looking person, sir. The other must be a governess or
+a lady’s maid.”
+
+“Where are they?”
+
+“In the ante-chamber.”
+
+“Turn on the electricity in my room, and show them in.”
+
+Baudoin did as he was ordered. Uncle Graff continued his descent,
+murmuring to himself—
+
+“Another of Marcel’s escapades! I wonder what it is this time.”
+
+On approaching his room he saw, standing by the door, a young lady
+dressed in black, and wearing a veil. Uncle Graff’s first impression was
+a favourable one. Pointing to a seat, he said kindly—
+
+“My nephew, madame, is not at home. Cannot I—”
+
+He was not allowed to finish the sentence. The young lady said in
+beseeching tones—
+
+“Monsieur, it is a question of life or death.”
+
+“For whom?” asked Uncle Graff, anxiously.
+
+“For your nephew!”
+
+“How have you been informed of this? And who are you?”
+
+The visitor replied immediately—
+
+“I am Mademoiselle Lichtenbach, monsieur, and I place myself entirely at
+your disposal.”
+
+As she spoke she removed her veil. Uncle Graff, stupefied, recognized the
+daughter of his enemy. She was pale and trembling, but resolute.
+
+“Who has sent you?” he asked.
+
+“My father! He thought that if he came himself, perhaps you would not
+receive him. At this very moment, perhaps, your nephew is running the
+most serious danger. My father, who has just received news of it, begged
+me to come and tell you.”
+
+“But how did he receive his information?” asked Graff, suspiciously.
+
+“Ah, monsieur! begin by taking the necessary measures to help M. Marcel,”
+said Marianne, eagerly. “Afterwards you may ask what questions you
+please.”
+
+“At whose hands lies the peril?”
+
+“At the hands of the same band which killed General de Trémont. My father
+has been informed of these intrigues. Act without losing a moment.”
+
+“But what can we do?” exclaimed Uncle Graff, carried away by the young
+lady’s eagerness.
+
+“I will explain to you. Wait a moment.”
+
+Passing her hand over her forehead, she said in piteous accents—
+
+“Yes, that was it. A woman he knew at Ars.”
+
+“The Italian?”
+
+“Yes, doubtless. He loved her, and they knew he would be pleased to see
+her again.”
+
+She paused. The pallor of her face increased. What she was relating
+seemed to torture her.
+
+“So they wrote to him to fix a rendezvous. And they are expecting him
+this very evening, in a solitary out-of-the-way house. But he will not
+find the one he expects to meet, but, instead, a band of villains,
+determined to employ the most violent measures to force him to reveal a
+secret that they cannot fathom. Now do you understand?”
+
+“Yes. ‘Where is this house?”
+
+“See, here is the address written on this piece of paper.”
+
+Graff read—
+
+“Boulevard Maillot, 16 bis. And you say that he was expected there about
+ten o’clock?”
+
+As though in obedience to his words, the timepiece struck the hour at the
+very instant.
+
+Graff rang the bell. Baudoin appeared.
+
+“Quick, Baudoin, a carriage! You will accompany me. Have you a good
+revolver?”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“Then bring it with you. Do not say a word to any one. I will rejoin you
+in the yard. Ten o’clock! We will be there, all the same, and if they
+have harmed the child, let them beware!”
+
+Baudoin had already left the room. Marianne, motionless, watched Uncle
+Graff make his preparations. He took up a bundle of bank-notes, a
+revolver, and a heavy steel-headed stick. Then he appeared to remember
+that Mademoiselle Lichtenbach was in the room. Coming up to her, he said
+kindly—
+
+“My child, I thank you for the service.”
+
+“Oh, monsieur!” exclaimed Marianne, her eyes gleaming with suppressed
+tears; “save him, that is the main thing!”
+
+“He shall be informed, mademoiselle, of what you have risked for his
+sake. I know what this errand must have cost you.”
+
+Marianne smiled sadly.
+
+“I am returning to-morrow to the convent, doubtless for ever. Life is
+full of sadness and pain.”
+
+Graff waited no longer, but rushed out into the street, as the brougham
+of Mademoiselle Lichtenbach vanished in the distance. Baudoin was
+standing near the cab. Graff leapt into the carriage and said—
+
+“To the Porte Maillot! You, Baudoin, mount with me. I want to speak to
+you.”
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+Marcel had never felt so calm as on the evening he made his way towards
+the Place de l’Etoile.
+
+When he entered the carriage it immediately started off along the Avenue
+de la Grande-Armée, wheeled round at the Porte Maillot, and, after a two
+minutes’ further run, came to a halt in a dark-looking avenue, near a
+garden gate. Marcel stepped out, and the carriage disappeared. A small
+door, hidden in the ivy, was now opened, and a valet in livery appeared.
+Marcel followed him in the direction of a house which raised its sombre
+mass in front. A single light shone from a window on the first floor.
+Mounting a flight of steps, he entered an ante-chamber. Suddenly an
+exclamation was heard in the next apartment, a rapid step was heard, a
+door overhung with tapestry was flung open, and Sophia, her face
+convulsed by the violence of her emotion, appeared. Her looks expressed
+the terror she felt, but not a word did she utter. Taking Marcel by the
+wrist, she drew him into the room she had just left—a bedroom—quickly
+turned the key in the lock, bolted another door, and, seizing the young
+man in her arms, whispered in his ear—
+
+“Wretched man that you are! How did you come here?”
+
+At the same time, and without appearing to be able to help herself, her
+lips sought Marcel’s neck, and she kissed him with a delirious rapture.
+
+“Then it was not you who summoned me?”
+
+“I! _Grand Dieu_! I would give ten years of my life if you were anywhere
+but in this house at this moment. Ah! the wretches! They have deceived
+me!”
+
+“Who are the wretches you speak of?” asked Marcel, firmly.
+
+“Ah! Do not question me! I cannot, must not, speak!”
+
+“Are you jesting?” said Marcel, ironically.
+
+“Poor child! You do not know them!”
+
+“Madame, is your brother among them?”
+
+She laid her hands on his mouth, those beautiful white hands, and he
+remained silent. Then, clasping him to her breast with passionate ardour,
+her eyes filled with tears—she stammered out—
+
+“Oh! Marcel, Marcel!”
+
+A sudden pallor came over her; she clung to him to prevent herself from
+falling, and her shapely head, with its wealth of raven hair, lay on the
+shoulder of the one she loved with hopeless passion.
+
+A sharp knock on the door brought them back to the reality of life.
+
+“Listen!” said Sophia.
+
+She drew near the door, asked a short question in a foreign language, and
+received an immediate reply. Apparently reassured, she opened the door,
+saying to Marcel—
+
+“It is Milo.”
+
+Milona entered, and the door was carefully closed again.
+
+“Have they sent you?” asked Sophia.
+
+“Yes, mistress.”
+
+“What do they want?”
+
+“To come to an understanding with you.”
+
+“I shall not go.”
+
+“They have provided for that contingency.”
+
+“Well?”
+
+“They have told me to repeat to you their demands from the young master.”
+
+“Silence! I do not wish him to know them!”
+
+“Would you rather they mount the stairs and kill him?”
+
+A deep silence followed. Sophia twisted about her arms, and groaned in
+despair. Her beautiful features were convulsed by powerless rage and
+exasperated dismay. Grinding her teeth, she flew to the mantel-piece,
+seized a short, sharp dagger, which she brandished aloft with a terrible
+skill.
+
+“Milo, you will not abandon me?”
+
+“Never! I will die for you, that you know well!”
+
+“Marcel is armed; so we are three! Oh! I will defend him with my last
+breath!”
+
+“Against them?” said Milona. “Can you hope to do such a thing? It would
+be impossible to resist them. They are all waiting below, in the
+dining-room, ready for anything!”
+
+“Oh! _Mon Dieu_! How mad I am! Do I not know them? Oh! Marcel, why did
+you place yourself at their mercy?”
+
+Flinging her poniard on to the ground, she sat down, overcome with
+emotion, buried her head in her hands, and burst into tears. Marcel,
+turning to the Dalmatian, asked, in calm accents—
+
+“Tell me, in a word, what it is they want from me?”
+
+Milona cast a questioning glance at her mistress. As Sophia made no sign,
+the servant explained—
+
+“They want the famous secret, which will give value to the powder they
+stole from you!”
+
+Marcel smiled, and then frowned in disdain.
+
+“Ah! that is what is puzzling them. I am glad to know that they have not
+succeeded in discovering what they were so interested in knowing. Milona,
+you may tell them that they will never learn it from me!”
+
+“We shall see about that before long!” exclaimed Agostini, passionately,
+from behind the door.
+
+“Ah! you are listening, you villain?” said Marcel, in vibrating tones. “I
+am very pleased to know it, for such a procedure simplifies things
+considerably! Tell your acolytes that I am not afraid of them; I have in
+my hand a revolver which will answer for the lives of six men. If they
+like, I will open the door, and the dance shall begin.”
+
+“Take time for reflection!” replied a deep, guttural voice—that of Hans.
+“Do not do anything stupid!”
+
+“Who is that?” asked Marcel. “He does not appear so stupid as the
+others.”
+
+“One would think you know us!” railed the bandit. “Patience! We will give
+you half an hour in which to decide. If, within thirty minutes, you have
+not given us satisfaction, I will undertake to make you speak. The night
+is damp—there is a good fire below!”
+
+Steps were now heard descending the staircase. Milona silently left the
+room, and Marcel and Sophia remained alone. The time-piece pointed to ten
+minutes past ten.
+
+“You heard them,” said Sophia. “Now you know what they propose to do.
+They want your secret.”
+
+“Very well! I have told them they shall not have it!”
+
+Looking at the young woman, he saw that a shudder came over her. Laying
+his hand on her shoulder, he added—
+
+“But I wish to know yours.”
+
+“Mine?” exclaimed the young woman, with a terrified gesture.
+
+“Yes! Who and what are you?”
+
+She smiled sadly.
+
+“A broken-hearted woman who loves you!”
+
+“Empty words! You say you love me. The only proof of this confession I
+ask for is that you be sincere with me.”
+
+Hiding her face in her hands, she exclaimed—
+
+“Never! You would hate me if I told you!”
+
+“Then it is true that you are the most abominable creature on earth?”
+
+“Oh! my darling, do not insult me!”
+
+“You will not speak? Then I will ask your accomplices downstairs. I
+imagine it will be a pleasure to them to give me information about you.”
+
+He started towards the door. She leapt forward. “Madman! You do not know
+the danger you are running! Stay here by my side.”
+
+He looked steadily into her eyes, and asked again—“Who are you?”
+
+She groaned.
+
+“Why are you so pitiless?”
+
+“If you do not speak, it is because you are well aware that my scorn for
+you would be so great, that nothing but disgust would remain in my memory
+from this past happiness!”
+
+She stood up, and proudly answered—
+
+“Poor Marcel, you are mistaken—you would still love me. If I pleased,
+nothing could withdraw you from me!”
+
+She looked at him as she spoke, and under the influence of her glance
+Marcel felt all his resolutions melt away, a feeling of languor came over
+him, and he lost the faculty of will-power.
+
+“Death is all around us,” she whispered. “Let us forget everything. Do
+not think any more, my love—leave your poor tortured heart in peace.”
+
+Suddenly a sound of footsteps was heard throughout the house, and cries
+coming from outside. Then came a sound as though a door had been torn
+from its hinges, followed by a revolver-shot. At the same time was heard
+a voice, which Marcel knew well.
+
+“Help! Baudoin, help!”
+
+Then another shot, followed by a volley of oaths. Marcel, on his feet,
+exclaimed—
+
+“It is my uncle Graff! _Mon Dieu_! They are killing him!”
+
+“Stay here, do not stir!” said Sophia, in beseeching tones.
+
+He made no reply, but rushed forward into the corridor, found the
+staircase, and, in the semi-darkness, saw in the hall, on the ground
+floor, a group of three men, in a hand-to-hand conflict with Graff, who,
+half-stifled, and encircled by their arms, was trying in vain to make use
+of his revolver. In front of the entrance-door Hans and Baudoin were
+engaged in a fierce struggle. The brave servant had his forehead gashed
+open, and the blood was flowing freely, but he had obtained a firm hold
+on his terrible opponent, and succeeded in holding him harmless for the
+moment.
+
+Standing above the balustrade, Marcel took aim at one of the three men
+who were strangling his uncle. A flash followed, and the man fell. At the
+same moment a shot was heard behind Marcel, and a ball whizzed past his
+ear. Turning round, he found himself face to face with Agostini, who was
+preparing to repeat the shot. With a sudden blow he dashed aside the
+weapon, seized the Italian by the waist, and, his strength doubled by the
+fury and rage which now possessed him, raised him in the air, and flung
+him over the rails of the staircase.
+
+At this exploit, Hans, powerless to strike Marcel, who was descending the
+steps four at a time, gave a howl of fury. He shook Baudoin with such
+energy that he forced him to abandon his hold. Then he placed him under
+his knee, and his iron arm was already raised to deal the deathblow, when
+Marcel rushed to the rescue with a terrible blow in the body, which
+hurled the colossus to the ground. He immediately rose to his feet,
+however, and, taking up a position in a corner, shouted out aloud—
+
+“Help! Here, you others! Help!”
+
+But the others had by this time too much to do. The police, attracted by
+the firing, invaded the house. Uncle Graff, at liberty, now came up with
+his revolver. But Baudoin, in hoarse tones, exclaimed—
+
+“Monsieur Graff, leave him to me—he is mine! It is he who killed my
+General!”
+
+He then took from the old man’s hand his steel-headed stick, disdaining a
+firearm, which would have made the combat unequal, and fell upon Hans.
+The bandit swore frightfully on seeing that all was lost; he struck a
+blow with his iron fist, but Baudoin lightly stepped aside. Then the
+stick whizzed through the air, and the steel head descended. Hans, struck
+on the temple, rolled over the flag-stones, and fell like an ox to the
+ground. This was a signal for a general rout. The three men who still
+resisted now leapt through the open windows, and vanished like shadows
+into the garden.
+
+“All escape is cut off; do not trouble about them,” exclaimed the head
+detective. “Let us see after the wounded and the dead.”
+
+Uncle Graff wished to take Marcel into his arms, question him, and assure
+himself that he was safe and sound; but, on turning round, he found
+Baudoin wiping away with his handkerchief the blood and perspiration
+flowing from his forehead. Marcel, as soon as the issue of the struggle
+left no room for doubt, had immediately thought of Sophia. Now that
+danger for him had disappeared, it loomed forth with a terrible aspect
+for her. The police, who had restored the situation by intervening to
+save him, would now appear on the scene for her ruin. He mounted the
+stairs more quickly than he had descended, for he felt that the time in
+which anything could be done was short indeed.
+
+Rushing into the room, the door of which was still open, he drew the
+bolts on Sophia with as much fear and solicitude as she had drawn them on
+himself. She had remained standing, leaning pensively against the
+mantelpiece, as though devoid of interest in what was taking place on the
+floor beneath. Milona stood by her side; she had doubtless told her of
+the defeat of her companions. Marcel, in terrified ardour, rushed up to
+her.
+
+“The house is in the hands of the police, do you not know? Why are you
+still here?”
+
+“I was waiting for you,” replied Sophia, calmly. “But it means ruin to
+you!”
+
+“How does that affect you?”
+
+“I will not consent to it! I cannot endure the idea that you should
+suffer threatenings and torture for having defended me.”
+
+A light came into Sophia’s face.
+
+“Then will you still allow me to see you?”
+
+He replied, firmly—
+
+“Impossible! After what has taken place between us, I must never see you
+again! I cannot, I must not! For your own sake!”
+
+Her tranquil, careless look returned.
+
+“Then leave me to my fate!”
+
+“No! I will not do that! You, ruined on my account, when— Will you
+torture my thoughts by the frightful memory of the past?”
+
+“Oh, Marcel, if I could only please you! If you would only love me! How
+dearly I would pay you for such happiness!”
+
+She smiled. Tears filled her eyes, and she looked so beautiful that a
+shudder ran through his whole body. Turning aside, he said—
+
+“Wretched woman! what will become of you?”
+
+She showed him a ring, the bezel of which was made of a bead of chased
+gold.
+
+“Look at this bead of gold; it contains liberty and death at the same
+time. Pour its contents into a glass of water, and all is over, without
+suffering.”
+
+She stretched out her hand towards a tray containing a bowl of water and
+a glass.
+
+“I forbid you!” cried Marcel, dismayed.
+
+She looked at him with a terrible intensity, whilst her face shone with
+superhuman ardour.
+
+“Nothing without you!” she said. “Everything with you! Decide!”
+
+“Impossible!”
+
+With a sorrowful smile, she continued—
+
+“Reflect! You know what I am. If you wish, I will live, but only to be
+yours. I will come whenever you want me, and will not trouble you in any
+way. Oh! every expiation and sacrifice, every grief and pain imaginable,
+to be yours once more!”
+
+Steps were heard mounting the staircase. Marcel, terror-struck, said—
+
+“They are coming! They will take you! If you wish to save your life,
+leave the room at once!”
+
+“Let them come! They will only take me if I am willing. I have nothing to
+fear from any other than yourself. Do you wish me to live? Swear that you
+will see me again!”
+
+At that supreme moment the pale faces of General de Trémont and poor
+Laforêt, of Agostini, dead, and Hans, lying on the blood-stained stone,
+rose before Marcel’s imagination, and an insurmountable horror came over
+him. He bent his head without a word. A slight noise of something
+touching glass caused him to look up. He saw Sophia drinking the poison.
+Rushing up, he dashed from her hands the empty glass. Smiling, she said—
+
+“Too late!”
+
+“Open! Open!” exclaimed several voices behind the door.
+
+Sophia found sufficient strength to say—
+
+“Open now, Milona!”
+
+The Dalmatian obeyed. A veil came over Sophia’s eyes, her cheeks turned
+deadly pale. Milona, terrified, fell to the ground, her dark, dishevelled
+hair falling round her face like a funeral veil.
+
+“Where is the woman?” shouted M. Mayeur from the staircase, as he came on
+the scene, panting and triumphant. “She has not been allowed to escape, I
+hope!”
+
+He appeared, accompanied by Graff, and stood, as though petrified, on the
+threshold.
+
+Marcel, pointing to Sophia, who had just breathed her last, said—
+
+“Here she is!”
+
+The Ténébreuse, ever elusive, had this time taken refuge in the darkness
+of eternal night.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+THE affray of the Boulevard Maillot was prudently passed over as a drama
+founded on jealousy. Two men quarrelling over a woman, and the rivals
+killing one another over the corpse of the fair one—such was the account
+furnished to the reporters. Imagination did the rest. Paris dwelt with
+passionate interest for twelve hours on this magnificent butchery, the
+horrors of which were described all the better from the fact that no one
+had been admitted to see them. M. Mayeur alone made a complete search all
+over the house, but discovered nothing calculated to throw any light on
+the identity of Hans. Neither the anthropometric service nor the most
+experienced detectives could find out the slightest indication as to the
+mysterious personality of the dreaded bandit. Certainly he was the same
+man whose arm had been carried off at Vanves, when he had appeared there
+with Sophia, on the evening the General’s house had been destroyed. But
+what was he besides? The international police, on being questioned, said
+nothing. Either they knew nothing, or were unwilling to give information.
+
+Sophia and Agostini were identified. The Princes of Briviesca undertook
+to inform the magistrate concerning the one member of their family they
+were well pleased to see themselves rid of. Count Grodsko could relate
+nothing more than he had already told to the agent who had questioned him
+at Monte Carlo. The examining magistrate enraged at finding nothing,
+thought for a moment of bringing a charge against Lichtenbach. He
+summoned him to his study, questioned him, and tried to obtain from
+Baradier and Graff revelations concerning him. But the former would not
+impeach, as was expected, their old enemy. Rivalry in business affairs,
+quibbles in banking relations, but nothing legally guilty. If a charge
+could be brought on these heads, then they would be obliged to surround
+the Place de la Bourse, from twelve to three every day, and arrest all
+who were raising those frightful cries beneath its columns. Besides, the
+highest circles had immediately interceded in favour of Lichtenbach, and
+the examining magistrate saw at once that he was on a wrong track.
+Accordingly, this time the Vanves affair was definitely shelved, and
+classed amongst the legal mysteries of the year.
+
+But though these tragic events were not destined to have any material
+consequences for Lichtenbach, serious moral results rapidly followed.
+Within a week following the death of Agostini and Sophia, Mademoiselle
+Lichtenbach entered the Convent des Augustines of the Rue Saint Jacques.
+She had had a two-hours’ conversation with her father. Pale, but
+determined, she was seen to leave her father’s study. Elias followed her,
+trembling, and with bowed head, tears streaming down his cheeks. On the
+landing he tried to stop his daughter, and stretched out his hands
+beseechingly as he stammered—
+
+“My child, do not be inexorable; have pity on me!”
+
+Marianne bowed her head as she replied—
+
+“I wish I could, father; but how will you redeem the past?”
+
+Without turning round, she descended the stone staircase, at the foot of
+which the carriage was waiting to conduct her to the Rue Saint Jacques. A
+moan of pain escaped the old man’s lips as he leaned over the iron
+balustrade. For a moment he seemed as though he would fling himself over.
+Then he cried out in heart-piercing accents—
+
+“Marianne! Marianne!”
+
+She raised her head. Stretching out his hands, he groaned—
+
+“You are the only one I have left in the world! Will you forget your
+father?”
+
+The young girl shook her head sadly, but did not give in. What terrible
+explanation could have taken place between father and daughter? What had
+Lichtenbach been forced to confess, for Marianne to show herself so
+inexorable? She made the sign of the cross, as though to strengthen her
+fainting heart. The pallor of her face increased, though she replied in
+firm accents—
+
+“I shall not forget you, father. I will pray for you.”
+
+She mounted the carriage, a rolling of wheels was heard, then followed a
+long silence. Lichtenbach returned slowly to his room, and sank down in a
+reverie.
+
+All the same, he did not give up business. On the contrary, he seemed to
+show a greater ardour than before for finance. His position on the
+Explosives settled, he regained the ground he had lost by a formidable
+campaign on gold mines. Never had his speculations been more brilliant or
+lucky than they were during the six months following his daughter’s
+departure. One would have thought that his grief had brought him good
+fortune, for everything succeeded which he undertook. All the same,
+nothing seemed to give him pleasure, and he changed greatly in physique.
+No longer could he mount the steps of the Bourse without halting for
+breath. Society had no further attractions for him.
+
+One winter evening, the _valet de chambre_, as he entered his master’s
+room, found Elias leaning over his desk, apparently asleep. Calling him
+by name, he received no reply. Terrified, he drew nearer, and touched his
+master. The banker remained motionless, whilst his hand clasped a short
+letter from his daughter. The few words he had been reading were still
+moist with the tears he had shed. He was dead, a victim to the only
+sentiment by which he had ever been vulnerable; the love of a father.
+
+Six months later, at twilight, in the study of the Rue de Provènce, Uncle
+Graff and Marcel were seated together. After signing all the letters for
+the evening’s post, Baradier had retired to his own room.
+
+The darkness gradually deepened, and uncle and nephew, seated in their
+armchairs, without a word, looked like vague, uncertain silhouettes. The
+clerks had all left, and silence reigned around.
+
+“Are you asleep, Uncle Graff?” asked Marcel.
+
+“No; I was just thinking.”
+
+“What about?”
+
+“About all that has happened the past twelve months. It is no mere
+trifle!”
+
+“No, indeed. And what is the result of your reflections?”
+
+“That we have had the most extraordinary luck; we had to deal with
+enemies who seemed destined to triumph over us time after time; and that
+we have manifestly been protected by a divine providence.”
+
+“Uncle Graff, you are rather illogical; extraordinary luck on the one
+hand, and divine providence on the other. They do not go very well
+together.”
+
+“Oh, you are too sceptical. It is your generation which makes you so. You
+no longer believe in anything.”
+
+“I do not believe in chance, no!” said Marcel, ironically. Then he added,
+in tones of sudden gravity, “But I believe in the firm, steadfast will of
+human beings. If we have been protected, as you say truly enough, it is
+because it was so willed. But for that—”
+
+Silence followed. The darkness had now become complete.
+
+“It was so willed,” repeated Uncle Graff. “You are alluding to that
+woman?”
+
+“I am alluding to ‘that woman.’ It was she who defeated the plans of her
+acolytes, and saved me.”
+
+“Because she loved you?”
+
+“Because she loved me.”
+
+“Well, then, tell me what passed between you for a woman of this stamp to
+sacrifice herself for a man she first intended to dupe, and afterwards to
+rob. For you cannot doubt the fact that she had plans concerning you?”
+
+“I am quite aware of the fact.”
+
+“She had had considerable experience in life, and yet—”
+
+“And yet she fell in love with a young man like myself. Well, probably
+because I was a change from all her other acquaintances. A cup of milk to
+a drunken man, for instance.”
+
+“And she killed herself for your sake, under your very eyes?”
+
+“Yes, Uncle Graff, because I would not promise to see her again.”
+
+“And yet you loved her?”
+
+“I both loved and hated her. Had I seen her again she would have obtained
+renewed dominion over me and ruined me. I determined it should not be
+so.”
+
+Uncle Graff sighed—
+
+“And do you sometimes think of this woman?”
+
+“Always.”
+
+“Do you know what you ought to do now, if you wish to turn over a new
+leaf?”
+
+“I know very well, my father spoke to me yesterday. And it is doubtless
+because I received his overtures coolly, that you are now returning to
+the same subject.”
+
+“You are right, my child. If you would only marry, now that you are
+reasonable and settled in life.”
+
+“Marry Geneviève de Trémont?”
+
+“Yes. She is the wife your father and mother have always intended for
+you. It would give them great pleasure, if you would marry her.”
+
+After a moment’s silence, Marcel said—
+
+“When Mademoiselle Lichtenbach came to warn you that a snare had been set
+for me, was she excited?”
+
+“Greatly excited.”
+
+“And you thought, when you saw her, that this extraordinary emotion was
+caused by some special interest she took in myself. At any rate, you said
+so to me.”
+
+“Certainly. I promised I would tell you. Besides, the child pleased me.
+She was anything but commonplace. And her determination the following
+morning confirmed the good opinion I had formed of her.”
+
+“Her resolve to enter the convent?”
+
+“You are right.”
+
+“In a word, then, Mademoiselle Lichtenbach has abjured the world for my
+sake. This child will have been recompensed for her devoted tenderness by
+the loss of everything happy and pleasant life had in store for her; and
+she is now destined to die poor; wearing a nun’s robe, with shorn hair,
+attending to the wants of the destitute?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Uncle Graff, in your opinion, are children responsible for the misdeeds
+of their parents?”
+
+The old man did not reply.
+
+“You do not reply,” urged Marcel. “My question troubles you?”
+
+“It troubles me greatly. One day, in this very room, I told an envoy of
+Lichtenbach’s, who made us an offer of the hand of his daughter for you,
+that all the Graffs would rise in their graves if a Baradier were to
+marry a Lichtenbach.”
+
+“What!” exclaimed Marcel, greatly agitated. “Such an offer has been made,
+and you never informed me of it?”
+
+“What would have been the use? You know how we felt just then for me to
+have given such an emphatic and stupid reply. Your father—Oh! I believe
+he would have preferred to see you in your grave rather than married to a
+Lichtenbach. Just think of it! The General had just been killed—the works
+were still in flames! No, no! It was impossible.”
+
+“But now, Uncle Graff?”
+
+“What! Can you think of such a thing?” asked the sentimental old fellow,
+in trembling accents.
+
+“I think of it so much,” said Marcel, firmly, “that if Mademoiselle
+Lichtenbach does not consent to become my wife I will never marry
+another.”
+
+At that moment a slight sound was heard, and the door closed.
+
+“Who is there?” asked Graff, eagerly.
+
+“Do not excite yourself,” said the voice of Baradier.
+
+“Were you listening?”
+
+“No; I have just come. But I heard your last words. How long are you
+going to remain in this darkness?”
+
+At the same moment he turned on the electric light. The three men looked
+at one another for a moment; they were very grave and serious, but a look
+of contentment was visible on their countenances. Baradier did not bow
+his head with that obstinate mien his son and brother-in-law knew so
+well. He was perfectly self-possessed. Sitting down at his desk, he said—
+
+“What difference would there be between us and mere nobodies or
+good-for-nothings if we were incapable of showing gratitude? It is not
+sufficient to appear honest and delicate in the eyes of the world—one
+must be without the slightest reproach before one’s own conscience.”
+
+He fixed on his son a look of perfect satisfaction, though his face paled
+with the emotion which had taken possession of him.
+
+“Marcel has spoken like a real Baradier or Graff. We must do as he has
+said.”
+
+At these simple words the three men quivered, consecrating as they did
+their successor with the worthy renown of his predecessors. Tears of joy
+and pride shone in his uncle’s eyes. Marcel, without a word, flung
+himself into his father’s arms.
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+                                 THE END
+
+     PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BECCLES.
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 69149 ***
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-<pre>
-
-The Project Gutenberg eBook, The woman of mystery, by Georges Ohnet,
-Translated by Fred Rothwell
-
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
-most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
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-using this eBook.
-
-
-
-Title: The woman of mystery
-
-
-Author: Georges Ohnet
-
-
-
-Release Date: October 13, 2022  [eBook #69149]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
-
-
-***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOMAN OF MYSTERY***
-</pre>
+<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 69149 ***</div>
 <p>This etext was transcribed by Les Bowler</p>
 <h1><span class="GutSmall">THE</span><br />
 WOMAN OF MYSTERY</h1>
@@ -12499,365 +12468,6 @@ father&rsquo;s arms.</p>
 <p style="text-align: center">THE END</p>
 <p style="text-align: center">PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS,
 LIMITED, LONDON AND BECCLES.</p>
-<pre>
-
-
-
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+<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 69149 ***</div>
+</body>
 </html>
diff --git a/old/69149-0.txt b/old/69149-0.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a2ed18f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/69149-0.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,13744 @@
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The woman of mystery, by Georges Ohnet,
+Translated by Fred Rothwell
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you
+will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
+using this eBook.
+
+
+
+Title: The woman of mystery
+
+
+Author: Georges Ohnet
+
+
+
+Release Date: October 13, 2022  [eBook #69149]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOMAN OF MYSTERY***
+
+
+This etext was transcribed by Les Bowler
+
+
+
+
+
+                                   THE
+                             WOMAN OF MYSTERY
+
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+                                    BY
+
+                              GEORGES OHNET
+
+            AUTHOR OF “THE IRONMASTER,” “DOCTOR RAMEAU,” ETC.
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+                    TRANSLATED BY FRED. ROTHWELL, B.A.
+
+                       [Picture: Publisher’s logo]
+
+                              A NEW EDITION
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+                                  LONDON
+                             CHATTO & WINDUS
+
+                                   1904
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+                                PRINTED BY
+                    WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,
+                           LONDON AND BECCLES.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                  PAGE
+PART I               1
+PART II            135
+PART III           260
+
+
+
+
+PART I
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+IN his study, situated in the Rue Saint-Dominique, the Minister of War
+was walking to and fro. In furious fashion he twisted his moustache,
+which seemed even redder than usual, as he nervously fingered his
+eyeglass, in a manner which promised anything but a cordial welcome to
+any who entered his presence. Doubtless, his officers were well
+acquainted with the reasons of his ill-humour, for a profound silence
+reigned all around, and the great man’s solitude was undisturbed save by
+the querulous twitterings of the birds in the garden. A minute later, he
+seemed to lose all patience, and, marching to the mantelpiece, he pressed
+an electric bell. An usher, with anxious mien, at once approached.
+
+“Has Colonel Vallenot returned?” exclaimed the Minister, in fierce tones.
+
+The servant shrunk away, as though he would have liked the earth to open
+and swallow him; then he stammered, faintly—
+
+“I do not think so, sir—I will ask—”
+
+The General became purple with rage. An oath burstforth from his lips
+like a bombshell, then a second, the third was useless. The door was
+again closed, the servant had vanished.
+
+“What can Vallenot be doing all the time he has been gone?” muttered the
+Minister, as he resumed his pacing about the room. “Ah! This is the way I
+am served!”
+
+Before he could finish, the usher had opened the door, and announced—
+
+“Colonel Vallenot.”
+
+A man of fifty years of age, tall and thin, with blue eyes and light
+moustache, marched briskly into the room, and, after saluting his
+superior in friendly wise, said—
+
+“You seem to have lost all patience, General. I found an officer waiting
+for me at the very door of the War Office. The fact is, this has been
+anything but a small matter. After all, I have done everything possible—”
+
+“Indeed!” interrupted the Minister, impatiently. “You have just come from
+Vanves?”
+
+“Yes, General.”
+
+“Alone?”
+
+“No; I took with me one of our cleverest detectives. You had not given me
+this authorization, but I took upon myself the responsibility.”
+
+“You have done quite right. But are you sure he is trustworthy?”
+
+“Absolutely. He is a former sub-officer. Besides, I did not reveal to him
+the real object of my researches; he knows nothing important, and
+imagines he has simply been my auxiliary in an inquiry into the causes of
+a catastrophe hitherto ill-explained. We have nothing to fear in this
+direction.”
+
+“Well, what has been the result of your researches?”
+
+“If you will allow me, General, we will divide the inquiry into two
+parts, one consisting of moral circumstances, the other of material
+facts. The affair is more complicated than you at first thought, and when
+I have finished, your embarrassment, instead of having lessened, will
+probably have increased.”
+
+“Impossible!”
+
+He sat down before the desk, leaned over on his elbows, and, motioning to
+the Colonel to take a seat in an armchair by his side, said—
+
+“Now, tell me everything.”
+
+“The house tenanted by General de Trémont is situated above the village
+of Vanves, near the fort. It was the night-watch which gave the alarm,
+and the garrison which organized first aid when the fire broke out.
+Nothing worth mentioning remains of the building. The explosion of the
+combustible matter contained in the laboratory has disorganized the very
+foundations, and the effect has been formidable. Stones hurled into the
+air have been found more than a mile distant, and the surrounding gardens
+belonging to the peasants are covered with _débris_. Had there been
+houses in the neighbourhood, the loss to property would have been
+enormous—”
+
+The Minister interrupted.
+
+“The effects of melinite, probably?”
+
+“No, General, something quite different! Increase a hundred-fold the
+effects of the powder actually employed in charging our bombshells, and
+then perhaps you will have the equivalent of the destructive power
+revealed by the explosion of General de Trémont’s laboratory.”
+
+The Minister shook his head.
+
+“Yes; that is what he told me the last time I saw him at the Artillery
+meeting. He was on the trace of a discovery destined to give to our
+cannons so crushing a superiority that we were to become for long the
+arbiters of victory. The struggle against us would have been marked by
+such massacres, accomplished with such absolute precision, that our
+military supremacy would have been certain once more. Has this had
+anything to do with the discovery?”
+
+“Then you admit, General, that malevolence may not have been entirely
+foreign to this mishap!”
+
+“I admit nothing, Vallenot. I suspect everything. When you have told me
+all you know, we will talk it over. Continue.”
+
+“On reaching the spot, we found a body of troops, who had been ordered by
+the Ministry to proceed there, guarding the approaches of the property.
+There was already collected a crowd of three or four hundred people,
+discussing the matter, without counting a score of journalists, who made
+more noise than all the others together. They were complaining that they
+were not allowed to visit the spot _where_ the explosion had taken place
+among the still smoking ruins of the villa. But there was in command a
+stern little lieutenant, who, in quite military fashion, had maintained
+order. Probably the press will be against us, but in the mean time we
+shall not have been interrupted; and that is something to be thankful
+for. Inside, there was only the secretary of the Prefecture of Police and
+the head of the detective force. My agent and I had come at the right
+moment. The researches were just beginning—”
+
+“_Where_? In the house?”
+
+“On the site of what had been the house, and which now offered to the
+gaze nothing but a gaping hole, at the bottom of which appeared a cellar,
+the vaults of which had been burst open. A staved-in barrel of wine
+formed a red pool on the floor. Not a trace of the staircase remained.
+The very steps had disappeared, and the stones were broken up into
+fragments as large as pigeons’ eggs. Never should I have thought such a
+crumbling possible. Wonderful to relate, one side of a wall which must
+have belonged to a wash-house remained standing, along with a narrow
+window, in the iron bars of which a cloth-rag was waving. We were all
+staring at this solitary vestige of the disaster, when the chief of the
+detective force cautiously approached the spot. Raising his stick, he
+touched the shapeless rag hanging there, picked it up from the ground
+with an exclamation of surprise, and exposed it to our gaze. It was a
+human arm, still covered with both coat and shirt sleeves, cut off at the
+elbow, and covered with blood, the hand quite black.”
+
+“Most extraordinary!” exclaimed the Minister.
+
+“Rather sinister, General,” continued Colonel Vallenot. “I have seen
+hundreds of men killed on the field of battle, and thousands of wounded
+carried off in ambulances. At Gravelotte, I saw the head of the captain
+of my squadron roll at my feet, and the eyes wink repeatedly in the dust.
+It had been carried off by the bursting of a shell. In Tonkin I have
+found soldiers cut in four, their faces still grinning in spite of their
+torture. But never have I been so impressed as I was by this human arm,
+the sole remaining vestige of the drama we were trying to understand. The
+Government agent was the first to regain his _sang froid_, and he said,
+‘Gentlemen, this is an important piece of evidence. This arm has
+evidently been hurled across these bars by the explosion. But to whom did
+it belong? Is it one of the ill-fated General de Trémont’s arms?’ ‘The
+General did not live alone in the villa,’ observed the detective. ‘There
+was a cook and a man-servant. Let us at once eliminate the supposition of
+the cook. This is a man’s arm; accordingly, it belonged either to the
+General or to his valet. Unless—’ There was a silence. The Government
+agent turned towards him and said, ‘Well, finish. Unless it belongs to
+the author of the catastrophe himself.’”
+
+“Ah!” said the Minister; “then he, too, thought the affair might be the
+result of a crime.”
+
+“Yes, General; and, as he spoke, he examined with the most minute
+attention the smutty, blackened hand. Carefully separating the fingers,
+he drew from the fourth finger a ring, which none of us had noticed; and,
+holding it aloft in triumph, said, ‘The question is decided, if this ring
+belongs to the General. If not, we still doubtless possess a valuable
+piece of circumstantial evidence, which will permit us to unravel the
+mystery.’”
+
+“A ring! The deuce! I never remember seeing Trémont wearing a ring! No! I
+would take my oath on it. He never wore an ornament of any kind in his
+life, much less a ring. It would have been absurd in a man who was in the
+habit of handling acids from morning to night! No metal would have
+resisted the oxidising action of the substances he used in his
+experiments. But what kind of a ring was it?”
+
+“An engagement ring, General. When rubbed with a glove-skin, the gold
+circle shone out, freed from the soot which tarnished it. Our agent
+fingered it a moment, then pressed it with his nail, and the ring
+separated in two. ‘Look here, gentlemen!’ he exclaimed. ‘There are
+letters engraved in the interior. Whatever happens, we now hold a clue.’”
+
+“This fellow has, indeed, proved himself very clever, Vallenot,” said the
+Minister. “Up to the present, I find that he is the only one who has
+shown any initiative. I must remember it.”
+
+“Wait a little, General. I have not yet reached the end. The Government
+agent had taken up the engagement ring, and was examining it. He finally
+placed it coolly in his pocket, with the words, ‘We will look into this
+later on.’ And there we all stood, rather discountenanced by the strange
+intervention of the magistrate in leaving our curiosity thus
+disappointed. On due reflection, perhaps he was right in postponing for a
+more thorough examination the information destined to result from this
+discovery, in not publishing proofs which might be of supreme importance.
+Still, if he wished to keep the secret of his investigations, he was
+disappointed, for at that very moment our agent, pursuing his inquiries,
+had removed the double sleeve, and laid bare the naked arm. This time it
+was no longer possible to conceal what he had found. On the forearm,
+between the wrist and the bleeding end, a blue tattooing appeared,
+representing a heart surrounded with flames, around which could be read
+the words ‘Hans and Minna,’ and beneath the German word ‘Immer,’
+signifying ‘Always.’ ‘Gentlemen,’ said the Government agent, fixing his
+eyeglass, ‘I demand of you the utmost discretion. A single word on what
+we have just discovered might have the most serious consequences. We may
+be in presence of an anarchist plot, or be obliged to suspect foreign
+interference. The affair is assuming quite unexpected proportions. In all
+probability a crime has been committed.’”
+
+“The deuce!” exclaimed the Minister. “I say, Vallenot, this is becoming
+serious! Perhaps we ought at once to inform the President of the Board
+of—”
+
+“The secretary of the Prefect of Police must have done so already. As
+soon as he saw how matters were turning, he did not wait for the end of
+the inquiry, but immediately rode off to the Place Beauvau.”
+
+“The first thing to do is to prevent the press from saying anything
+silly. If we have a crow to pick with foreign agents, for Trémont’s
+investigations were suspected in Europe, it is of the highest importance
+that no suspicions be aroused, so that we may try to seize the authors of
+this guilty attempt.”
+
+“That is what we thought, General, and, consequently, all arrangements
+have at once been taken. It was absolutely necessary to throw public
+opinion on a false scent. Accordingly, the theory of a chance accident
+was inevitable. It was at once decided that all communications made to
+the press should have this object in view. General de Trémont was rather
+eccentric, we must say, engaged in commercial chemical investigations,
+and it was his imprudence which had brought about the accident which has
+now cost him his life.”
+
+“Poor Trémont! So fine a savant as he was! Well! well! State reasons must
+predominate. But it is hard to contribute in heaping calumnies on an old
+comrade!”
+
+“Do not have such thoughts, General,” interrupted Colonel Vallenot, with
+a smile. “There are surprises in store for us which will, doubtless,
+lessen your regret.”
+
+“What do you mean?” said the rough soldier, frowning. “You do not intend
+to utter calumnies against my friend from childhood, my comrade in war?”
+
+“God forbid, General! I shall simply give you the facts on which you
+desired information. If I have the misfortune to displease you, you will
+not be angry with me; you are too just for that.”
+
+“What is the meaning of this silence? Continue right to the end, Colonel;
+speak freely.”
+
+“So I intend to do, General. Well, then, the secretary of the Prefect of
+Police had just undertaken to supply the version arranged by us to the
+numerous reporters waiting there, held in check by the line of troops,
+and to inform the Minister of the Interior, in case the police might have
+to be called in, when a great uproar arose from the direction of the
+village. A tumult of cries and shouts was heard. The lieutenant was
+preparing to go and see what was happening, when a man, breaking through
+the sentinels, ran up to us, bare-headed, with troubled countenance, and
+exclaiming, in tones of despair, ‘My master! O God! What has happened to
+the house? Not one stone left on another!’ Thereupon he halted, sank down
+on the ruins, and began to weep bitterly. We looked at him in silence,
+moved by his grief, and foreseeing some speedy enlightenment on the dark
+situation we were in. ‘Who are you, my friend?’ asked the Government
+agent. The man raised his head, passed his hand over his eyes to brush
+away his tears, and, raising up to us a countenance at once intelligent
+and determined, said, ‘The General’s head servant, sir, for the last
+twenty years. Ah! If I had been there, this disaster might perhaps have
+been avoided! At any rate, I would have died with him!’”
+
+“It was Baudoin!” exclaimed the General. “The brave fellow had escaped!
+Ah! That is fortunate. We shall learn something from him!”
+
+“Yes, General, but not the enlightenment we expected. Rather the
+contrary.”
+
+“In what way the contrary?”
+
+“I will explain. The night before, about six o’clock, the General was in
+his garden, strolling about, after working all day in the laboratory,
+when a telegram reached him from Vanves. He read it, continued his walk
+for a few minutes, with bowed head, as though in profound meditation,
+then he called Baudoin. ‘You must set out for Paris,’ he said to him. ‘I
+have an important order to give to my chemist, who lives in the Place de
+la Sorbonne. Give him this letter, then go to M. Baradier and pay him my
+respects. Then dine, and, if you like to spend the evening at the
+theatre, you may do so; here is a five franc piece. Return to-morrow
+morning with the chemicals.’
+
+“Baudoin, who knew what it all meant, understood that the General wished
+him to leave the house for the whole night. He was anything but pleased
+at this, because, he said, it was not the first time that it had
+happened, and always under the same circumstances: the arrival of a
+telegram, and the dismissal immediately following.
+
+“Still, the General did not give a holiday to the cook, with whom he was
+less cautious, as she was in the habit of going bed very early, which
+fact rendered any surveillance she might have exercised almost null. So
+the General needed to be alone from time to time. And he took care to
+send away the faithful servant, on whom he might have relied for the most
+complete discretion. What reason had he? This was what troubled Baudoin,
+and displeased him. So little was he accustomed to conceal his thoughts
+from his master that the latter noticed his sulky mood, and said to him:
+‘What is the matter? Don’t you want me to send you to Paris? Are you to
+be pitied for the opportunity of going and enjoying yourself?’ ‘I don’t
+care about going to the theatre,’ Baudoin had said, ‘but I do about
+performing my duty.’ ‘Very well, you are doing your duty; you are obeying
+the order I have given you, to fetch for me some chemical products,
+dangerous to handle, but which I must have; besides, you are to call on
+my friend Baradier. Now go. I do not want you before to-morrow morning.’
+‘Very well, sir.’
+
+“But Baudoin was anything but pleased, a secret anxiety troubled him.
+Proceeding to the kitchen, he said to the cook, ‘Last time the General
+sent me to Paris, what happened during the night? Did the General dine as
+usual? Did he shut himself up in his study, or did he go into the garden?
+At what time did he retire for the night? Did nothing happen out of the
+ordinary?’
+
+“The woman said she knew nothing, she had noticed nothing unusual, and
+was very much astonished at his questions. He saw she was a thousand
+leagues from suspecting anything, so he did not press his questions.
+Still, although deeply respecting his master’s wishes, his interest in
+his welfare made him less strictly obedient, and he resolved to feign a
+departure, then take up a post outside, so that he might see what took
+place once the General was sure there was no inconvenient observer to be
+dreaded. The weather was exceedingly mild. Not a breath of air, and the
+gardens, filled with roses, shed forth exquisite odours as night
+approached.
+
+“Baudoin, after dressing himself, went to take leave of his master,
+received from him a list of the chemical products to be purchased, a few
+lines for his friend Baradier, and then took his departure. He went
+straight to the station, dined in a small restaurant close by, and, after
+nightfall, returned towards the house of his master. He dared not enter
+the garden, as he was afraid he would be noticed by the General, so he
+slipped into a cottage garden, the owner of which was his friend, and
+concealed himself in a small hut used for storing tools.
+
+“From this spot he could keep an eye on the approaches of the villa, and,
+along a thick hedge, come right up to the wall adjoining the General’s
+property. He sat down, lit his pipe, and waited. A few minutes before
+eight, the roll of a carriage was heard on the road. Baudoin, in ambush
+behind the hedge, was keeping a sharp look-out. By the light of the
+lantern he saw a brougham, drawn by two horses, pass by. Something told
+him that this carriage contained the persons the General was expecting.
+He ran along, right to the wall of the villa, and reached it the very
+moment the brougham came to a stop before the door. But he was not the
+only one on the look-out, for scarcely had the horses, still panting from
+the steep ascent, come to a halt, than the lofty form of the General
+showed itself through the darkness. At the same time, an impatient hand
+opened the door, and a man’s voice said, in foreign accents, ‘Ah!
+General, so you have come to meet us?’ M. de Trémont simply replied, ‘Is
+the Baroness there?’ ‘Certainly,’ replied the voice of a woman. ‘Could
+you imagine otherwise?’ The man was the first to descend. But the General
+gave him no time to help his companion to descend; he sprang forward with
+the eagerness of a lover, and, almost carrying off the lady in his arms,
+exclaimed, with extraordinary ardour, ‘Come, madame, you have nothing to
+fear—no one can see you.’ The man uttered a brutal laugh, and said, in
+guttural tones, ‘Do not trouble about me, I will follow you,’ and all
+three disappeared into the garden. Baudoin, astonished, had only time to
+place on the wall a ladder which happened to be there. As soon as he
+could look into his master’s garden, the alleys were empty, but the large
+window of the laboratory was shining through the darkness. The faithful
+fellow said to himself, ‘What is to be done? Enter the house? Play the
+spy on the General? Disobey his orders? For what reason? Has he not the
+right to receive any one he pleases? What am I thinking about? Is it
+likely that the people he receives are objects of suspicion? Their
+carriage is waiting at the door, a sign that they will not remain long,
+but will return to Paris immediately. Here I am, troubling my head for
+nothing in all probability! All I can do now is to obey my master.’ He
+descended the ladder, proceeded along the hedge, left the garden, and
+reached the railway. His master’s orders were now literally followed,
+except that the drug store was closed when he arrived there, and he was
+obliged to return the following morning. When he reached Vanves, he found
+the approaches to the General’s property occupied by a guard, the villa
+in ruins, and his master vanished from the scene of the catastrophe.”
+
+Colonel Vallenot had finished. Profound silence, interrupted only by the
+twittering of the birds in the neighbouring trees, reigned in the
+Minister’s study. The old soldier, leaning forward on his desk, his head
+resting on his hand, was buried in reflection. After a short pause, he
+said, with a sigh—
+
+“How surprising all this is! Doubtless here is the key of the whole
+matter. These two unknown characters, one with a foreign accent, coming
+mysteriously by night to see Trémont, and their visit followed by such a
+frightful cataclysm; what does it all mean? Is it an accident or a crime?
+And, if a crime, what motive inspired it?”
+
+Rising, he crossed to the window, with anxious mien, then returned
+mechanically to his desk, resumed his seat, and, again fixing his eyes on
+the Colonel, said—
+
+“Well! Vallenot, what happened after this honest fellow had finished his
+tale? What measures were taken?”
+
+“A squad of soldiers from the fort had been sent for, and the ruins were
+carefully searched, under the supervision of the police. Nothing,
+however, was found. The destruction was too complete. With the exception
+of the side of the wall still standing, not a single piece of anything
+was left whole. Still, after a couple of hours’ examination of the
+_débris_, from which arose a very strong odour of fulminate of mercury,
+the diggers brought to light an iron chest, with broken hinges, the
+bottom of which was curiously pierced with thousands of holes as though
+with an auger.”
+
+“That is one result of the explosion,” interrupted the Minister. “You are
+aware that we have in our shrapnels similar cases of rupture. It is quite
+possible the initial explosion took place in this chest. Has it been
+kept?”
+
+“It was handed over to the Government agent.”
+
+“We may need it again when we undertake an analysis of the substances
+which occasioned the deflagration. Finish your explanations. What became
+of the carriage stationed in front of the door?”
+
+“The carriage must have left before the accident. There was not a trace
+of it on the road near the villa. The customs officers, on being
+interrogated, declared that a brougham, driven by two horses, returned to
+Paris about eleven o’clock. To the question, ‘Have you anything to
+declare?’ a female voice had replied, ‘Nothing.’ As for the explosion,
+the guard at the fort reports that it took place about three o’clock in
+the morning.”
+
+“Then the man with the foreign accent had remained, after the departure
+of the carriage?”
+
+“Most probably.”
+
+“You are not certain?”
+
+“I did not wait for the end of the investigations; I came away to inform
+you of what I had learnt, leaving behind me our agent, with orders to
+return here at once, after the final statement had been made.”
+
+“Perhaps he is here now?”
+
+Colonel Vallenot pressed the electric knob, and the usher appeared.
+
+“Has Laforêt returned?”
+
+“Yes, Colonel, a minute ago.”
+
+“Send him here.”
+
+Closing the door with considerable precaution, the agent, with firm step,
+a sonorous cough, and head raised in military fashion, as he stood at
+attention, appeared before his principals.
+
+The Minister examined for a moment the man’s frank, martial face; then he
+asked briefly—
+
+“Colonel Vallenot has reported all that had taken place up to the time of
+his departure from Vanves. Complete his version by telling us what you
+have learnt since. Take a seat, Vallenot.”
+
+“Monsieur le Ministre,” said the agent, “I will come at once to the most
+important point: the body of General de Trémont has been found.”
+
+“In the ruins?”
+
+“In the garden. At first no one thought of searching beyond the house and
+the _débris_. It was whilst exploring the bushes that the body of the
+General was discovered, close to the entrance gate.”
+
+“What! Had the explosion projected him so far?”
+
+The agent replied—
+
+“The body had not been projected by the explosion. It had remained on the
+very spot where it had been struck by a knife under the left
+shoulder-blade. The General was dead when the explosion took place, and
+certainly the explosion was caused by the assassin.”
+
+“The man with the foreign accent? The companion of the lady the General
+called ‘Baroness’?”
+
+The agent kept his countenance before these bold questions. For a moment
+he appeared to be reflecting; then he said—
+
+“Yes, the one who has left his arm in the ruins of the villa, and who in
+forcing open the chest escaped death only by a miracle. The man named
+Hans, in short.”
+
+“But what makes you say that he escaped death?” asked the Minister.
+
+“Because I found tracks in the garden continued outside on the road he
+followed, leaving his blood behind at every step. The man must be endowed
+with indomitable energy to have had the strength to escape, mutilated as
+he was, to reach the fields, and there, doubtless, find some market cart
+or other to pick him up and carry him to Paris; but this is an additional
+inquiry to be made, and a track to be followed up.”
+
+“In your opinion, then, it is the man who came with the woman who killed
+the General?”
+
+“Yes, Monsieur le Ministre; most likely when the General was conducting
+them back to the carriage. The murder took place close to the gate. The
+sand is trodden down as though a struggle had taken place, and the body
+had been carried off behind the bushes. The traces of the trailing legs
+are quite visible. The woman probably helped. At any rate, once the
+murder accomplished, she must have left, whilst the man stayed behind. He
+robbed the General of his keys, which never left him, and which have not
+been found; in addition, he took his watch and portfolio, so that it
+might be believed that a murder, the motive of which was robbery, had
+been committed; then he entered the villa, and worked in the laboratory.
+It was with the laboratory that he had to do.”
+
+“How do you know this?”
+
+“From what Baudoin, his valet, said. It appears that, one day, whilst
+placing things in order, in the cabinet of the General, the latter
+entered on his way from the laboratory. He took a few paces in the room,
+rubbing his hands together; then he said almost to himself, ‘This time
+our fortune is made! What will Hans say?’ For a week the General had been
+working hard at an experiment, which had hitherto failed, and from which
+he expected great results. On different occasions, formerly, he had
+temporarily dismissed his valet, certainly with the object of receiving
+his mysterious guests at night.”
+
+“Good; we will admit what you say regarding the man,” said the Minister,
+captivated by the explanations of his agent. “But, in your opinion, what
+shall we think of the _rôle_ played by the woman?”
+
+“That is much more evident, Monsieur le Ministre; both indications and
+proofs abound. The General de Trémont has been the victim of a too tender
+disposition. I know nothing of the General’s secrets or researches,
+though the journals have on different occasions spoken of his
+investigations. He was a member of the Academy of Science, and his
+reputation as a savant was fully established. Suppose for a moment that
+M. de Trémont had made a discovery of interest to the future of European
+armies, and that some one Power wished to obtain information as to the
+value of his invention—obtain possession of it, perhaps. Do we not know
+that women have been, only too often, the best political agents employed
+in our country? In spite of his age, the General remained very
+susceptible. A young woman, beautiful and intelligent, is placed in his
+path. He meets her by chance, falls in love with her. But the fair one is
+guarded; she is obliged to take great precautions. A complaisant friend,
+relation, perhaps, under the cover of science, facilitates the interviews
+by accompanying the lady, so as to throw some imaginary rival off the
+track. Whilst the old lover is paying his court, the benevolent
+companion, observes, takes his measures, skilfully questions, and obtains
+the confidence of the one to whom he is rendering a service. Passion
+lulls all fear, and a sweet smile and caressing eyes drive one to acts of
+folly. Then, one fine night, the General de Trémont, who has, doubtless,
+finished his discovery, is visited by the unknown couple. The woman tries
+to obtain the secret. She does not succeed. Then the man, as a last
+extremity, decides to strike. The General falls under the dagger; his
+accomplice takes to flight. The assassin returns with the keys, searches
+the laboratory, and tries to open the chest containing the precious
+products. But the dreaded powder, unskilfully handled, avenges its maker,
+and, in a terrible explosion, annihilates at the same time both formula
+and the one trying to steal it. This is how it is possible, Monsieur le
+Ministre, to make a guess at the events now occupying our attention.
+But—I do not wish to deceive myself—this is only conjecture. There may be
+other versions, more certain, if not more likely. What is an absolute
+fact is that General de Trémont has been assassinated, that the murderer
+was one of the two persons received that night at the villa, and that the
+explosion following on the crime has been caused by the imprudence of the
+man we may name Hans, who has been grievously wounded.”
+
+The Minister and Colonel Vallenot looked at one another for a moment in
+silence. Then the Minister said to the agent—
+
+“I thank you for your report, but do not trouble any further in the
+matter, which is in the hands of the police. If we have any additional
+investigations to make, I will send for you. Now go, and do not say a
+word to any one on the matter.”
+
+Laforêt bowed, gave a military salute, and, with the same tranquil
+precision, left the room. The two principals sat there absorbed by what
+they had heard, going over once more all the details of this drama, which
+was becoming materially so clear, but remained morally so obscure. The
+precautions taken by the two accomplices appeared so perfect, that it was
+doubtful whether the truth could be learned concerning them. One hope
+remained—the wounded man, with his arm cut off, might be found, half-dead
+with exhaustion on the road. By questioning the inhabitants of the
+neighbourhood, the man might be discovered; doubtless the police were
+already on the track, and the most adroit detectives as well.
+
+“You know, Vallenot, Trémont was my senior. He retired before the age
+limit, the more easily to devote his time to scientific research; as he
+had serious money difficulties.”
+
+“And now,” said Colonel Vallenot, “we have reached the point I wished to
+come to, when I said, at the beginning of my report, that, after
+examining the material facts, we should deal with the moral
+considerations of this affair. The examination of facts is over. There
+has been the death of a man, probably an attempt at robbery, and finally,
+the complete destruction of an inhabited house. But under what conditions
+have all these criminal acts been accomplished?”
+
+“I understand what you mean. You see in this affair something other than
+a criminal attempt. You suspect a plot of a special order, something very
+delicate, fastidious, dangerous even.”
+
+“Yes, General, because in this case, we have not our hands quite free in
+the search of the causes, hindered as we are by diplomacy, by politics,
+and often even by such unexpected complicities that we are first obliged
+to beat about the bush, then to withdraw, and finally, give up all idea
+of proceeding with rigour. Shall I enumerate the affairs in which we have
+come to no certain issue for several years?”
+
+“It is unnecessary, I am sufficiently well informed on the situation, and
+have a tolerably good idea of what you possess in the archives. How long
+have you been in the Ministry, Vallenot?”
+
+“Ten years, occupying different positions, with intervals of service in
+the regiments. We have never ceased being exploited by other nations,
+with a skill, an audacity, and a perseverance, against which all our
+efforts have been in vain. The most important captures have always been
+effected by women. Accordingly, when the servant of General de Trémont
+spoke of this nocturnal lady-visitor, my suspicions were immediately
+aroused.”
+
+“Explain yourself.”
+
+“It is not the first time, General, that we have had to deal with this
+mysterious woman, who comes and passes away, leaving ruin and bloodshed
+in her train. Her manner of procedure is always the same: she fixes her
+mind on some one whom she knows to be in a position to give up to her
+some important secret or other, then she seduces him, until, in the end,
+he betrays it. Then, she casts him off, like useless _débris_. A creature
+to be dreaded, if I may judge by the results she has already obtained,
+and a powerful corruptress. No heart is proof against her alluring
+temptations. She artfully graduates the doses of her love-philtre; and
+the noblest minds, the most upright consciences, and the staunchest
+courage bend and capitulate at a sign from her. Do you remember the
+ill-fated Commandant Cominges, who blew out his brains, without anything
+being publicly known as to the reason? The woman had come along. Cominges
+had become her slave. A part of our mobilization had become known. Before
+killing himself, Cominges swore that the documents had been stolen from
+his dwelling, whilst he was absent with this woman. He had made the grave
+mistake of taking them from the office to work on them, and the still
+graver one of saying that they were in his possession. But the poor
+fellow had confidence in her. He was a man of honour, a gallant soldier.
+A pistol-shot settled the whole matter.”
+
+“What was the woman’s name?”
+
+“Madame Ferranti. She took most careful precautions in seeing Cominges,
+presumably on account of her family. One of our agents, however, was
+acquainted with her. Within six months he died by an accident. He was,
+one evening, travelling by rail from Auteuil. They found him dead under a
+tunnel. Doubtless he had leaned out too far from the carriage.”
+
+“The deuce!”
+
+“The following year the young Captain Fontenailles, a fine young fellow
+we were all fond of, was induced by a woman, whom his comrades called the
+‘Ténébreuse,’ because no one of them ever saw her, to disclose certain
+confidences. Understanding the gravity of his conduct, he went to his
+superior and confessed everything. The latter succeeded in repairing the
+damage done by changing the key to the secret writings. Captain
+Fontenailles left for Tonkin, where he fell, fighting bravely, at the
+attack of Bae-Ninh. His fault was atoned for.”
+
+“And the woman is always the same?”
+
+“According to all these gentlemen. The Ferranti of Cominges was the
+Ténébreuse of Fontenailles. Then there was the Madame Gibson of the
+Aerostat affair, without speaking of several other cases only partially
+revealed. Always the same Ténébreuse, with the same method of procedure,
+corruption. In her train, ruin, tears, and blood.”
+
+“How long has she been engaged in this work of intrigue?”
+
+“Ten years, certainly, General; and under all these impersonations we
+have not been able to lay our hands on her. She is only known by her
+professional names.”
+
+“What a deep-dyed scoundrel! We must try to cut short her career.”
+
+“Nothing more difficult. Once the _coup_ accomplished, she disappears, as
+does an eel, gliding about in the mud, in which it remains hidden until
+the water again becomes clear. She arranges in such a way as to cut off
+all communications behind her; that is her method. For instance, in this
+new affair, we shall have to struggle in the dark. Search will be made
+for some time, but no clue will be found. The accomplices, as well as the
+principal instigator of the crime, will now have got to earth. By degrees
+the search will calm down, and something else will be on the tapis. At
+any rate, it is in this way that the majority of these cases end,
+unless—”
+
+“Unless? Ah! You still hope something may happen?”
+
+“Unless this time the wounded accomplice affords us a trace. Let us
+merely hold one end of the conducting wire, and I promise you, General,
+we will arrive at some result or other, if only to avenge our poor
+comrades.”
+
+“And to prevent the repetition of similar accidents. For, after all,
+Vallenot, you will agree with me that it is rather too much for foreign
+Powers to become acquainted with our most secret affairs, as though they
+were matter of discussion on the public thoroughfares.”
+
+“We are as well acquainted with foreign affairs, General, as they are
+with ours,” said the Colonel with less sullen mien. “To sum up, there are
+always two at the game; it has ever been so. Ay, the very time, in 1812,
+when Russia was procuring information as to the efficiency of the
+Emperor’s troops, Caulaincourt sent to Napoleon the engraved copper
+plates of the map of Russia. I quote this fact of days gone by without
+alluding to contemporary events. But, taking everything into
+consideration, General, our secrets are scarcely secrets at all. If, in
+war, reliance were placed on nothing beyond mysterious preparations—”
+
+“Then we should have to start by abolishing the press,” muttered the
+Minister.
+
+“And that is impossible!” said Vallenot. “Still, in this special case
+before us, we must undertake the task of clearing the moral atmosphere,
+and employ every means possible, if we would succeed.”
+
+“That concerns the legal authorities now.”
+
+“Officially, General; but we also, on our side, may investigate, in a
+quiet way, and I have no doubt—”
+
+“The lesson to be learned is that our officers are becoming too gallant!”
+
+“If you know any means, General,” said Vallenot, with a laugh, “of
+suppressing that, please tell me.”
+
+“To think of this old General! Sixty years old, too! True, he did not
+appear more than fifty! In what position does he leave his daughter?”
+
+“General de Trémont was a widower?”
+
+“Yes, that is his excuse! But he has a daughter, still at school. She is
+eighteen years old, and without dowry. Luckily, Baradier is there.”
+
+“You mean Baradier and Graff, the bankers?”
+
+“Certainly. Baradier fought in the war of 1870; he is a true patriot, and
+his son, Marcel, a fine young fellow, just out of the Central School, has
+been working with General de Trémont. Marcel Baradier was principally
+occupied in investigating vegetable dyes, connected with the woollen
+weaving manufactures his father owns in the Aube. But the General opened
+his laboratory to him, and probably informed him of his own
+investigations. We may learn a great deal from this young man, I think.”
+
+“Is the Baradier family in good circumstances?”
+
+“Very wealthy; their fortune daily increases from industrial and from
+banking operations. It is Graff, Baradier’s step-brother, who deals more
+specially with finance, whilst Baradier manages the works. Both, however,
+are busily employed all day long, and the millions roll in,
+notwithstanding the rivalry of the firm of Lichtenbach, who is a mortal
+enemy of Baradier and Graff.”
+
+“Business rivalry?”
+
+“More than that. Personal hatred, dating from long back, and madly
+fomented. They say that Lichtenbach formerly wished to marry Mademoiselle
+Graff, and that he has never been able to swallow the insult Graff
+inflicted on him by refusing the proposal and bestowing his sister’s hand
+on his friend Baradier. Between these two families there is a whole
+series of differences and grievances, which makes them implacable
+enemies.”
+
+“Still, General, you see no relation between this hostility and the death
+of General de Trémont?”
+
+“Not at all. Lichtenbach is a fervent Catholic, in close touch with the
+Orleanist party, and, in my opinion, incapable of a dishonourable action.
+Besides, what could it matter to him whether Trémont lived or died?”
+
+“Might not the General’s investigations have a serious interest for the
+Lichtenbach firm?”
+
+“Doubtless! But we are well aware that Trémont has been specially
+occupied within the last few weeks with the manufacture of a war powder,
+the formidable effects of which we have seen in the Vanves explosion.
+True, the powder in question might become a source of great profit by its
+possible application to industry in modified proportions. In mines, for
+instance, or the blasting of quarries, it would certainly have replaced
+dynamite. There would have been a fortune in such an application of the
+powder, and this Trémont was well aware of. Now it is all vanished in
+smoke, and the General has taken his secret with him.”
+
+“Unless he had communicated it to the son of M. Baradier.”
+
+“Ah! that would indeed be strange!”
+
+Three o’clock struck; the Minister arose, and took up his hat, gloves,
+and stick.
+
+“You are going, General?”
+
+“Yes, I am going to speak to Baradier on the whole matter. Madame
+Baradier was particularly interested in Mademoiselle de Trémont. I intend
+to pay a visit of condolence, in person, to this young lady. Her father
+and myself were great friends, we made campaigns in Mexico and on the
+Loire together, whilst, on the retreat from Mans, Trémont saved all our
+lives, by an admirable battery arrangement in the rear of the army, which
+cut short the pursuit of the Prussians. A fine soldier! One who deserved
+to fall on the field of battle! But Fate decides such things. Everybody
+does not die the death he wishes! Well, I will see you to-morrow,
+Vallenot. And if you hear of anything fresh, ring me up on the
+telephone.”
+
+The Colonel accompanied his principal right to the large staircase,
+saluted, and returned to the office.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+IN an old hotel situated at the end of a large courtyard, in the Rue de
+Provènce, has been established, for more than fifty years, the banking
+firm of Baradier and Graff. Following on the war of 1870, it was usual in
+business to designate this establishment under the company name of
+Alsace-Lorraine. They are ardent patriots, and never since the annexation
+have they returned to Metz. Still, they have never been willing to sell
+any of their land property in the lost provinces. They have kept a foot
+on the soil torn from France, as though they had no doubt they would
+return to it some day, like masters after a long and sorrowful absence.
+Baradier is a man of fifty-five years of age, stout and short, with
+ruddy, pleasant face lit up by light blue eyes. Graff is tall and thin,
+dark-complexioned, and of stern forbidding mien and glabrous countenance,
+the complete opposite of his ally, both physically and morally. For
+Baradier, with his engaging exterior, is an influential and practical
+man; whilst Graff, with his cold and reserved aspect, possesses the fancy
+and sensitiveness of a poet.
+
+In other respects, admirably equipped, the imagination of the one
+moderated by the prudence of the other, and all rough points in the
+determination of the former being mitigated by the benevolent gentleness
+of the latter. In financial circles this fortunate want of similarity of
+disposition was well known. Never did a customer, after failing with
+Baradier, leave the house without calling at Graff’s office to appeal for
+his intervention, and obtaining a “just leave the matter to me, I will
+arrange it all” preliminary balm on the sore of displeasure, followed, in
+the majority of instances, by an arrangement profitable to both parties.
+For, in the long run, the two partners had reached such a point that they
+profited by the differences in their dispositions, and Baradier pretended
+to be altogether irreconcilable, well knowing that Graff would come in
+afterwards, and have the pleasure of arranging everything to suit all
+concerned.
+
+Baradier, hearty and happy-looking, had two children, a son aged
+twenty-six and a daughter of eighteen, both admirably brought up by their
+mother. Graff, solemn and sentimental, had remained a bachelor. As Marcel
+Baradier said jokingly, he would be the best uncle in France in point of
+inheritance. In fact, Madame Baradier’s brother loves the two children as
+though they were his own, and every time Marcel commits some grave act of
+folly he always appeals to Uncle Graff to settle things, as his father is
+rather strict with him. Father and son, unfortunately, have often been on
+anything but good terms, for Marcel, reared in the lap of luxury, and
+early discovering the mercantile value of his name, has not always given
+his family all the satisfaction that might have been desired. “Nothing
+important,” said Uncle Graff; “merely money difficulties!”
+
+It was so that the taciturn and modest banker, who would not have spent a
+farthing outside of his daily expenses on anything else than charity,
+called the debts which young Marcel periodically gave him the opportunity
+of paying. When his nephew comes for him at night, after dinner, before
+leaving for the club, where he goes to indulge in a game of cards, Uncle
+Graff knows at once his errand. He assumes his most gloomy aspect, sinks
+into his armchair, casts a veiled glance at his rather embarrassed heir,
+and, in sepulchral tones, demands—
+
+“Well, what is it this time?”
+
+Then, as Marcel develops his usual request—terribly bad luck at the
+races, or at baccarat, or some love difficulty—Graff looks at his
+sister’s son, and, without listening to a word, says to himself, What a
+handsome fellow! How could one with such a figure help getting into a
+scrape? He is popular everywhere by reason of his graciousness and
+amiability. He is only twenty-six, and is it not quite natural that he
+should enjoy himself while he is young? Why do Baradier and Graff engage
+in banking operations all day long, anxious as to what is happening at
+the London and Berlin Exchanges, as well as keeping an eye on the Bourse
+of Paris, if not for this charming and agreeable young fellow to enjoy
+himself whilst they are working? Well! Marcel, take your pleasure, and
+take my share as well, for am I not your steward? Off to the races in a
+fine turn-out, drawn by prancing horses, and take your place in the most
+exclusive society; your means, those of the firm of Baradier, will permit
+of all this. All the same, do not squander too much in gambling; do not
+wager in too extravagant a fashion, for this is an evil passion, and very
+harmful to those who recklessly give themselves up to it. In all things
+else do as you wish, and then come back and give your old uncle the
+pleasure of asking a service of him.
+
+All these reflections, however, crowding into his mind, and giving him
+the most perfect satisfaction, Uncle Graff kept wisely to himself. Aloud,
+he said, in that Lorraine accent he had never succeeded in abandoning—
+
+“How stupid you are, Marcel, to be swindled by a crowd of adventurers! A
+member of the firm of Baradier and Graff ought not to behave in this way.
+If your father knew he would be furious. What reply can I give him when
+he accuses me of encouraging your bad conduct? He is quite right, and I
+am wrong to give you money when you make such bad use of it. I shall
+finish by cutting off your allowance. Do you know how much you have
+received from me since the beginning of the year?”
+
+And as the old bachelor pretended to turn the leaves of his cash-book,
+Marcel, terrified, exclaimed—
+
+“Oh, Uncle Graff, it shall be the last time!”
+
+“It is always the last time!” replied the old uncle. “Well, tell me all
+about it.”
+
+And Marcel would enflame the old bachelor’s tender soul with his
+enthusiasm, and end by obtaining all he wanted.
+
+Still, Uncle Graff had some excuse. Marcel did not neglect his work.
+Admirably endowed by nature, the young man, as though they were a mere
+pastime, had advanced considerably in his studies. He had opposed the
+General de Trémont, who wished him to enter the Polytechnic School, and
+afterwards the Artillery. He had preferred the Central and the General’s
+chemical laboratory. Under the supervision of his father’s friend, he had
+made interesting researches into mineral colouring matters, and given
+Baradier the pleasure of saying: “We employ in our works dyeing
+processes, invented by my son, and which are absolutely unique.”
+
+It was one of Uncle Graff’s grand arguments when defending Marcel—
+
+“You know very well that your son is a remarkable man, and that our
+manufactures owe much to him!” Whereupon Baradier would reply, furiously—
+
+“Ah! If only he would be serious! He has every quality necessary, but he
+will not make use of his gifts. Our fine young fellow will work a month a
+year, and spend the other eleven in reckless folly!”
+
+For all that, for some time past, Marcel seemed to have sobered down, or,
+rather, his mind was occupied in investigations of more than usual
+interest. He no longer appeared at the club, scarcely ever went out at
+nights, and, but for the fact that he still went to the races on Sundays,
+one might have imagined he had entirely changed his life. Both Baradier
+and Graff were equally surprised at this transformation; the father was
+pleased, the uncle uneasy at it. They had spoken on the matter to the
+General, who had said to them—
+
+“He is an extraordinary young man; you will continually have surprises
+with him, but do not be anxious, he will turn out a fine man in the end.
+He has great gifts. Just now he is trying to discover some process of
+colour photography. Surprising results have already been obtained. Let
+him alone, do not hinder him, and you will see!”
+
+Graff’s triumph was a brilliant, Baradier’s a quiet one. Marcel had not
+even noticed the effect caused on his family. He had almost completely
+quitted Paris. For three weeks he had been living at Troyes, at the Ars
+manufactory, shut up in his laboratory, only returning to embrace his
+mother, and give the General an account of the progress of his work. The
+old chemist and the young inventor then spent delightful days in
+verifying prescriptions and practising experiments. The one communicated
+his calculations in the dosings of powders, the other explained his
+superpositions of plates to obtain the perfect stereotypes he sought.
+Then they would lunch together, and the General, as warmhearted as the
+young man, would relate his former escapades, and envy the youth, whilst
+admiring the strength and intelligence of this fine young fellow before
+him, who combined so perfectly the capacity for study and pleasure at the
+same time.
+
+In spite of the storms caused by Marcel’s caprices, life for Baradier and
+Graff would have flown along pleasantly enough had not destiny brought
+them in touch with Lichtenbach. Moses, the chief of the firm, son of a
+Jew marine-store dealer of Passy-sur-Moselle, had in past times been at
+school with Graff at Metz. Old Graff, who was a brewer, had dealings with
+Lichtenbach, “the rabbit-skin dealer,” as he called him jokingly, and
+sold him all his broken glasses and used-up barrels. He imagined him to
+be poor, and liked to give him the chance of earning a little money.
+Moses Lichtenbach might have been seen in the streets of Metz driving an
+old grey horse, harnessed to a waggon, in which the marine-store dealer
+piled up all kinds of goods and rubbish. He was a kind of wholesale
+rag-picker, who helped house-wives to get rid of utensils which were no
+longer of any use, and were becoming an encumbrance. He bought them
+cheap, but not for nothing. Sometimes, almost ashamed of loading him with
+corroded stove-pipes, broken shovels, worn-out carpets, and even old
+straw, or shavings, they would say to him, “Take it, Moses, for the
+trouble of carting it away.” He would reply, “No! no! Everything has some
+value or other; I pay little, but I pay.”
+
+It was a point of honour with him to pay. Several people shrugged their
+shoulders, with a smile, as they said to themselves, “The old madman that
+he is! What use will he make of all that rubbish?” They were in the
+wrong. Everything had a value, as Moses affirmed, and this was proved
+when, after the war, the old man left Metz, and settled in Paris, in the
+rue de la Chaussee d’Antin, in a small shop, above the door of which he
+had painted the sign: “Lichtenbach, money-changer.” It was in this modest
+counter that the Passy dealer, leaving Lorraine, which had become part of
+the Empire, had commenced his new business, ceasing to buy and sell old
+iron in order to buy and sell money. But one grave event had happened,
+which had in no slight degree contributed to the exodus of the
+Lichtenbach family from Passy to Paris, and to the change of business.
+
+The first cannon-shots of the war, fired at Forbach, had been, for the
+majority of the inhabitants of Metz and its environs, the signal for
+departure. The farmers and peasants strictly bound down to the land were
+the only ones to remain in the villages. All who were free of action had
+loaded the waggons with their trunks, and reached the towns, to shelter
+themselves from the enemy, whose approach was announced by defeats and
+disasters. The highways in the direction of Thionville, Metz, and Verdun
+were covered with carts and flocks. The majority of the fugitives made
+their way towards the interior, making forced marches, to escape the
+invasion, which, according to them, must, of necessity, halt, crushed
+before the strongholds of the East. Contrary to the general impulse,
+Moses, decided on leaving Passy, had not bent his steps towards the
+centre of France. Instead of moving away from the invader he had marched
+towards him, and leaving behind in the shop everything cumbersome and
+worthless, had reached Metz with six baggage waggons, carefully covered,
+and had settled in a small street near the cathedral, with his wife and
+son, Elias.
+
+Moses had been well received. Through seeing him, along with his waggon
+and old horse, all over the town, everybody knew him. Some, more cunning
+than others, said, “Old Moses is a sly fellow. If Metz is besieged he
+will buy the broken fragments of German shells as old iron, and continue
+his business.” But they were wrong. Old iron was not now the end of
+Lichtenbach’s ambition. He had guessed that a stout siege and an
+energetic defence would take place, that victuals would soon become
+scarce for the town population, and that whoever had the disposal, at a
+given time, of special food products, might, by selling them at a high
+price, make a considerable profit.
+
+Accordingly he had entered the town with his six waggons, whilst in his
+cellar were carefully stored quantities of brandy, coffee, sugar, ham,
+and a dozen barrels of salt. He had spent a portion of the ready money he
+possessed in procuring these stores, and had awaited results. Meanwhile,
+all the Lorraine youth left. The male population which had not become
+enrolled in the army, as being under age, undertook to resist the
+invaders. The old martial blood boiled in French hearts, and the young
+Graff, returned from the town hall, a cockade in his hat, when he met on
+the square Elias Lichtenbach, walking about smoking a pipe.
+
+Scores of times, extending over long years, whilst old Moses was
+stationed at Graff’s door loading old iron, or buying the skins of goats
+or hares killed by the brewer the previous Sunday, had the two boys
+played together. Antoine carried off young Elias into the garden, and,
+between them, to the great wrath of Madame Graff, they would climb the
+wall and steal the fruit, still unripe. They often played at marbles, but
+in spite of Elias’s utmost efforts, he could never succeed in
+transferring his glass ones for Antoine’s agate ones. He was the only boy
+in the town he had not succeeded in exploiting. One day even Antoine
+proved himself the more cunning, and succeeded in getting Elias to take
+an old broken sword in exchange for six enormous marbles quite new. Moses
+was obliged to confess, with a feeling of humiliation, that the young
+Graff had proved himself more shrewd than the young Lichtenbach.
+
+It must be stated that, on that occasion, Catherine Graff was present,
+and, with the object of dazzling his friend’s sister, Elias had shown
+unwonted generosity. This young girl had even then the power of troubling
+the young boy.
+
+As he saw his former companion pass by, proud of his patriotic
+determination, Elias had taken the pipe from his mouth, and said—
+
+“Where are you going, Antoine?”
+
+“To join the 27th line regiment at Chalons.”
+
+“What! Have you enlisted?”
+
+“Yes, like every one else of my age. Are not you going to do the same?”
+
+“I don’t know; my father has said nothing to me about it.”
+
+“Are you to wait for your father’s orders before doing your duty?”
+
+Elias scratched his head, whilst his whole face expressed uncertainty and
+embarrassment.
+
+“But he needs me for the business.”
+
+“France also needs you, and more urgently than your father.”
+
+“I am only nineteen years old.”
+
+“And I, not yet twenty.”
+
+“Yes, you are right, I will go and speak to my father about it.”
+
+“If I do not see you again, good-bye.”
+
+“Good-bye, and good luck.”
+
+Elias, in greater trouble than he had ever been before, made his way to
+his father’s shop, and found old Moses in the cellar in the act of
+bottling brandy. The son was warmly received by his father, and
+Lichtenbach, filling a goblet, held it out to his son and heir.
+
+“Taste this cognac, it is very palatable! In a short time it will fetch
+twenty francs a litre; there will be only ourselves who will drink it for
+nothing, my son!”
+
+“You will drink of it, perhaps, father,” said Elias, troubled. “But I—”
+
+“What! You? What is the meaning of this?”
+
+“Shall I be by your side when the cost of this good liquor has mounted to
+that price?”
+
+“Well! Where will you be?”
+
+“Where all the youths of the village are—in the army.”
+
+“You in the army, Elias; what will you do there?”
+
+“Fight, like the others.”
+
+Old Moses, by the light of the candle, which lit the cellar, looked at
+his son in utter bewilderment. He could not believe his own ears. Still
+he said—
+
+“Fight? Why fight?”
+
+“To defend the country.”
+
+“What country?”
+
+“France, where I have lived and been brought up, whose language I speak,
+and where all our clients and friends are.”
+
+Old Lichtenbach shook his head, and remained a moment without speaking.
+Then, in trenchant tones, he said—
+
+“My son, we do business in this country, but we have not been born here.
+I was in Switzerland, with your mother, in Geneva, when you came into the
+world. My birthplace is Hanover, your mother’s Baden. Your name appears
+on no official register, and you are free to do what you like. We are
+German by birth, French by habit and everyday relations; we belong no
+more to one side than to the other. The best thing we can do is to keep
+out of the quarrel. What could we gain by fighting? Blows for you, pain
+and suffering for both of us. And how would it benefit any one, if Elias
+Lichtenbach were killed in battle, and old Moses were left to finish his
+life all alone? Does any one even know why all these people are fighting?
+Do they even know themselves? They have quarrelled, like tipplers on
+leaving the grog-shop after having absorbed more than is good for them.
+And now they fly at one another’s throats. What have the Germans done to
+you to make you want to fight them? What advantage will you gain from
+having defended the French?”
+
+“But all the young men are off, father. Antoine Graff, whom I have just
+met, has received his papers.”
+
+“He is a fool!”
+
+“But the son of Rabbi Zacharias is also going.”
+
+“Great good may he get from it!”
+
+“To-morrow there will only be left in the town the aged and infirm. I
+shall be the only one remaining, and everybody will laugh me to scorn.”
+
+Old Moses sighed as he said, “Yes, you have your full share of
+self-respect; you have been brought up in the schools of France, in which
+a great deal is related on the subject of honour. Listen, Elias, and
+remember all your life long, all this teaching is sheer nonsense. Honour
+consists in paying what one owes, and in meeting one’s bills when they
+fall due. Outside of that, believe me, everything is false. Patriotic
+legends have been invented to lead men to butchery and slaughter to the
+strains of the ‘Marseillaise.’ They consist merely of sounding words,
+with which mankind is deceived in the interests of rulers and states. One
+ought not to let one’s self be the dupe of such tricks and artifices.
+When it is all over, none of the sly rascals who have persuaded the rest
+to fight, and carefully kept out of the way themselves, will give you
+even a single word of pity for your misfortunes. I have seen the world,
+and I know life. Beware of enthusiasm, it is the most false and dangerous
+thing on earth.”
+
+There was a moment’s silence in the dark cellar, where the countenances
+of the two men showed red in the flickering flames of the candle. The
+dripping of the brandy, as it fell into the tub beneath the barrel tap,
+was the only sound audible. The dark, cold air which enveloped Elias
+began to calm the ardour, with which he was burning a few minutes before.
+The old man continued after a moment’s silence—
+
+“Besides, I well understand that you do not care to remain alone here
+when all your acquaintances are leaving the town. You shall leave, too.
+But there are other things for you to do than risk your skin, or try to
+endanger the lives of others. Great profits may now be made in food
+supplies. In a short time the whole of Alsace and Lorraine will be
+invaded. The armies will have to live—the French armies, I mean, for the
+Germans, who are the conquerors, will lack nothing. We must make it our
+duty to collect provisions on the side of Chalons, towards Paris. You are
+not yet of age, you owe nothing to any one; besides, the services you may
+render are a thousand times more important than those of these
+simpletons, who are intending to shoulder muskets. I will prove my
+confidence in you by giving you the means to show what you are worth.
+Come here; bring me the light.”
+
+Moses went to one corner of the cellar. Removing a couple of barrels, he
+took up a spade, and, digging a hole in the ground, laid bare an
+iron-bound box. Raising it with considerable difficulty, he took from his
+pocket a bunch of keys, opened the lock, and showed his son the interior
+full of carefully arranged rolls. Tearing away the paper envelope of one
+of these rolls, he poured the contents into his son’s hands. They were
+twenty-franc gold pieces.
+
+“Here,” said Moses, “are forty thousand francs in gold. You are strong
+enough to carry off the box. Early to-morrow morning you will take the
+train for Troyes. Deposit this money with Baradier, the banker, but do
+not accept either bank-notes or drafts. Before long gold will be at a
+premium, and you will benefit by the exchange. With the capital I now
+place at your disposal buy sheep and cattle, and offer to supply the
+management with beef and mutton. Owing to the disorder in which the
+invasion will throw agriculture, cattle will be sold at a loss of
+seventy-five per cent. In the embarrassment in which the army will find
+itself for victuals, the contractors will sell again at a profit of cent.
+per cent. Do you understand the affair? Then act according to these data.
+If you do, by contributing to feed the troops you will be of far more
+service than marching in red trousers, under the orders of a stupid
+corporal. You, too, will be defending your country. And do not forget to
+betake yourself to the drug-store to-night to proclaim it aloud.”
+
+“But suppose some one asks me in what corps I am to serve, what reply
+shall I give?”
+
+“You will say, ‘I am going to Rhetel. It will be settled there.’”
+
+“Very well, father.”
+
+“Take hold of one of the handles of the box, and help me to mount it to
+the shop.”
+
+“Leave it to me, father.”
+
+Whereupon, seizing in both his arms the heavy box, filled with gold, he
+raised it on his stout shoulder, and, preceded by Moses, who held aloft
+his candle to light the staircase, he bore away without flinching all his
+father’s fortune.
+
+The double combination conceived by Lichtenbach succeeded, as all simple
+ideas do. Within Metz, besieged and filled with troops, stored provisions
+were not long in coming to a premium. The salt Moses thought of selling
+at a moderate price gave him a great surprise. It proved more valuable
+than sugar. The want of salt caused keen suffering to the soldiers, who
+had become disgusted with horseflesh. The brandy, largely adulterated,
+also sold well. Still the old man’s profits did not recompense him for
+lack of news of his heir. Elias’s last letter, delivered on the evening
+of the Battle of Borny, announced the young man’s arrival in Paris. He
+had left thirty thousand francs in gold with the firm of Baradier, at
+Troyes, and was preparing to make for Orleans, as he did not consider
+himself in safety in Paris, which would infallibly soon be blockaded.
+
+He had introduced five thousand sheep into the town. But he did not
+consider it necessary to continue business with the Government, which was
+too economical and avaricious. After the 14th of August not a word did
+the old man receive. During those long, sleepless nights, whilst
+listening to the cannon of Saint Julien or of Plappeville thundering away
+at long intervals, the old man reflected bitterly that his son was very
+young and inexperienced, that he might be robbed, and that the sum he had
+entrusted to him represented twenty years’ wanderings along the roads of
+Lorraine, buying up all the old iron in the province. Still, he had the
+consolation of thinking that Elias was not taking part in the terrible
+and bloody battles, doleful and desperate tidings of which came across
+the outposts right to the besieged town. He saw his neighbours and
+clients pass along with bowed heads, wondering uneasily, and asking one
+another—
+
+“What news? Have you heard anything of your son? Where is he? If only all
+our boys are not dead!”
+
+He at least could reply, “I do not know,” with comparative assurance. But
+the others? Old Graff especially was an object of pity. He seemed as
+though he would go mad. One evening he had gone out bareheaded into the
+streets, when the weather was icy cold, saying to all he met, “If Antoine
+does not come back, I shall have been his murderer. Why did I send him to
+the war; he was not even of age? He ought to be here by my side. All this
+time they have been fighting around Paris. A presentiment comes to me
+that my son is dead!” and he wept bitterly. They were obliged to take him
+back home by force, whilst little Catherine hid herself behind her
+mother’s skirts. Moses congratulated himself for the prudent resolution
+he had imposed on Elias, though he did his best to lament with the rest
+on the dangers run by this brave and valiant band of youth gone out in
+defence of their country.
+
+One evening, on returning homey the inhabitants of the district around
+the cathedral found ambulance carriages in the streets and assistants
+carrying wounded men into private houses. No more beds were to be had at
+the hospitals. All the untenanted houses had been requisitioned, and now
+the military authorities appealed to the patriotism of the inhabitants of
+Metz for lodging the victims of the last sortie. A captain of light
+infantry belonging to the Guards had just been carried to the house of
+Moses, and Graff had taken in a captain of artillery, named M. de
+Trémont. As he was bringing back his battery from the hills of Servigny,
+the young officer had received a ball in the thigh.
+
+Anxiety for the health of his patient, the remedies he needed, and other
+little attentions, caused a happy diversion to the ever-present anxiety
+of Antoine’s father. As he saw this handsome young officer, who had
+fought so heroically, and who under such solicitous care, was about to
+recover his health under his roof, Graff began to hope once more. He said
+to himself, “If my own son is wounded, why should not he also be so
+fortunate as Captain de Trémont? He has been brought a long distance,
+with his wounded thigh, but he will be quite well again in less than a
+couple of months. They do not all die who are wounded in war. I feel sure
+Antoine will come back now.” And his spirits returned with renewed hope.
+The captain, well cared for by Graff and his wife, was soon able to leave
+his bed, and after dinner, at night, he would relate to them his
+campaigns in Algeria and Mexico. He explained to his hosts the reasons
+why France was coming off the worst in this disastrous campaign,
+attributing all the advantages of the Germans to their remarkable
+organizing capacity, and the perfection of their artillery.
+
+“You see, the whole future of war consists in war material. We have to
+give way before breech-loading cannons, which have, from the very first,
+given proof of a marked superiority over our grooved arms. The moral
+effect on our troops has been decisive. The first thing to be done after
+the war, will be to investigate a new kind of cannon and explosives of a
+terribly destructive power. The question of explosives will be of capital
+importance. This ought to be the main end of our efforts in the
+artillery.”
+
+With remarkable clearness he explained all that modern chemistry offered
+in cunning combinations, such as would guarantee victory to that
+adversary which could most scientifically assure massacre and death. So,
+in the evening silence in that large town, besieged by the conquering
+enemy, the conquered were already engaged in thinking of preparations for
+revenge.
+
+The siege came to an end, and all the brave soldiers who would have
+defended Metz to the death were surrendered alive to the enemy. The
+flags, a prey to famine, were carried off to form trophies of victory in
+Germany. Paris fell in her turn, then the final armies of France, driven
+back across the snow, stained with blood, not so tired of death as
+exhausted with the fight, stopped at the country’s call. And on that
+immense battlefield, two hundred leagues square, the victors’ shout of
+triumph mingled with the despairing cry of the vanquished. By degrees
+news arrived, bringing sorrow to some and joy to others. Among the brave
+young fellows who had gone forth to fight, so ardent and proud, many
+never returned, whilst the numbers of prisoners and wounded will never be
+known.
+
+One morning, Graff, in the dining-room, was taking breakfast with his
+family and Captain de Trémont, who was still a convalescent in Metz, when
+the outside door was opened, a rapid step was heard on the staircase, and
+father, mother, and little Catherine, looked at one another with pale
+faces. Not a word was uttered as they listened tremblingly to this quick,
+seemingly joyful ascent. They had all been struck by the same thought; he
+who comes hastening to us in this way, without asking any questions, who
+enters as though he were master of the house, and mounts the well-known
+steps four at a time, must be Antoine! Before they had time to give
+expression to their thoughts the door opened, and a tall, bearded young
+man, so thin and terrible that they did not recognize him, but whose eyes
+were instantly flooded with tears, appeared before them.
+
+“Father! Catherine! Mother!”
+
+They all rose to their feet, mad with joy, for they could not mistake the
+voice, and the long-expected child for whom so many tears had been shed,
+was taken in their arms and covered with kisses, amid the cries and sobs,
+questions and exclamations, of parents and servants, whilst the Captain
+looked on with a smile at this family scene. Finally, Antoine escaped
+from their arms, and his first words were the following—
+
+“Good heavens! How hungry I am!”
+
+As he spoke he cast hungry looks on the coffee and cake with which the
+table was spread. In a trice he was seated there, and served and fed so
+well, that he was obliged to beg them to desist. Then explanations began,
+and long accounts of events, interspersed with questions as to the fate
+of such and such a one. He himself, after fighting at Sedan, had escaped
+by Mézières, reached the North, where, with Faidherbe, he had passed the
+whole campaign. He had not slept in a bed for three months. But he had
+fought at Pont-Noyelles, Bapaume, and Saint Quentin, and had been lucky
+enough to come out without a scratch, with the grade of sergeant-major;
+disgusted all the same, with the soldier’s profession for the rest of his
+life. His father said to him—
+
+“Well, it is all over now! You shall never begin again. Our unhappy
+country is crushed. It will take a score of years to bring things to
+their former condition. Ah, my poor Antoine, how ill I have slept the
+last six months! I may say, with truth, I have not had a single hour’s
+peace of mind since you left. But here you are back again once more, and
+all is forgotten.”
+
+Then the incidents of the campaign would begin again. Captain de Trémont
+questioned the young soldier on the details of the campaign in the North,
+and Antoine could not dwell too long on the valour of the calm and
+indefatigable Faidherbe, the bravery of his companions, and the services
+rendered by François Baradier, a volunteer like himself, the son of a
+banker of Troyes, who had saved his life, snatching him away from the
+hands of the Prussians of Manteufel on the evening of the battle of
+Bapaume, within a farm which the shells had set on fire, and where he was
+surrounded by a dozen of the enemy.
+
+“He will come and see you—he promised me so—and you will appreciate such
+a fine brave fellow as he is.”
+
+“Your rescuer? Certainly, he shall be welcome. But let me look at you, my
+poor child. Who would have recognized you? You look like a brigand! Had I
+met you in the street, I should have been afraid!”
+
+All day long the Graffs were visited by whole lines of relations and
+friends, who had called to congratulate them, to admire the returned
+soldier, and to listen to the hundredth account of the episode of the
+Battle of Bapaume, whilst tumblers of beer and glasses of kirsch-wasser
+were served, bringing to their height the overwrought feelings of Graff,
+who was usually sober enough, though, on this occasion, he had completely
+lost his bearings.
+
+The following morning fresh stirrings in the quarter. Elias Lichtenbach
+made his appearance in a cab. He looked well and hearty, and, after
+greeting his family, immediately entered into conference with the German
+authorities. The rumour soon spread that young Lichtenbach had been sent
+by the authorities of Bordeaux, and had become a person of importance
+during the war. In reality, his mission concerned the re-victualling of
+the army on the frontiers of the East. The delegate to the war, who
+appreciated the services rendered by Elias, his skill as an intermediary,
+and his facility in avoiding difficulties, had sent his agent to the
+enemy’s headquarters. He was now full of self-importance, and proudly
+looked down upon his compatriots, worn out by privation and hunger,
+though furious at defeat.
+
+After the first few hours of astonishment full fling was given to
+curiosity. Where had Elias come from, looking so strong and well? Of all
+who had left at the same time as himself, he was the only one who had
+returned looking better than when he left. All the rest were pale and
+savage-looking. Inquiries were set afoot. At the very first question the
+representatives of the authorities replied, with circumspection, that M.
+Lichtenbach had rendered eminent service to the country, and that the
+delegate for the war considered him with the most benevolent esteem. What
+kind of service? It was young Baradier who, on reaching Metz, on a visit
+to Antoine and his family, began to throw light on the obscure conduct of
+the boasting Elias.
+
+Sergeant Baradier, ruddy of complexion, full of life and vigour, was as
+firm in disposition as Antoine was gentle. His open frankness pleased
+everybody, and amongst all these good people he was immediately at his
+ease. Twenty-four hours had not passed before he was on very good terms
+with Captain de Trémont, and had grouped together all the volunteers of
+Metz to a banquet to celebrate their return. Elias had had the calm
+audacity to give in his name, like the rest, and had put in an appearance
+at the Hotel de l’Ours, to take part in the banquet. But his reception
+had been a cold one. All who were present, though in civil dress, as the
+German authorities had forbidden the uniform, knew in what regiments they
+had served, in what battles they had been wounded. Elias alone lost
+himself in vague explanations. He pretended to have been everywhere—with
+the armies at Chanzy and Bourbaki, at the camp of Conlie, and near
+Garibaldi. This gift of ubiquity astonished everybody. Sergeant Baradier
+undertook to give an explanation clearer than all those behind which
+Elias had sheltered himself.
+
+“Are you not the Lichtenbach who did business with the firm of Baradier
+at Troyes?” he asked old Moses’ son, point-blank. “Is it not you who
+bought sheep in the Ardennes, and drove them through Belgium into
+France?”
+
+“Yes, it is myself,” replied Elias, cautiously.
+
+“Well! No wonder you have been everywhere during the war, since you were
+buying meat from every available spot, on behalf of the management.”
+
+As Elias became agitated and turned pale, Baradier continued—
+
+“Oh, I am not reproaching you, I am simply stating a fact. These
+gentlemen just now did not appear to understand the part you played. I am
+explaining it to them. M. Lichtenbach is a patriot in a fashion. Instead
+of fighting he undertook to feed the fighters. If not a glorious
+employment, it is, at least a useful one.”
+
+“But I risked my life like the rest,” exclaimed Elias, red with anger.
+“Had the Germans caught me they would have shot me!”
+
+“It is most extraordinary that they allowed you to move in and out so
+freely through their lines, for they did not generally show themselves
+over confident. The good reception, too, they gave you must have appeared
+very strange.”
+
+“What do you mean!” exclaimed Elias.
+
+“Simply what I say; nothing more,” replied Baradier, coldly. “But if you
+wish me to explain, I merely remark that remaining out of the reach of
+sabre cuts and musket shots, whilst others are fighting, being warm and
+comfortable, and deprived of nothing, whilst your companions are dying of
+cold and hunger, seeing in the misfortunes of one’s country only an
+opportunity of making a fortune, is not what one would call the height of
+heroism.”
+
+“You insult me!”
+
+“I am ready to give you satisfaction.”
+
+“Good! you shall hear from me.”
+
+“Do not cry out so loud; I can easily be found. I am staying with M.
+Graff, and am the son of M. Baradier, your banker at Troyes. Now we will
+change the subject.”
+
+Immediately Elias found himself alone. Everybody turned their backs on
+him. Flinging on his adversary a look of hatred he left the room. As he
+closed the door he heard Graff exclaim—
+
+“Now that there are none but good patriots left let us drink to the
+health of France!”
+
+The following morning Baradier, accompanied by Captain de Trémont and his
+friend Graff, waited for Lichtenbach to put in an appearance. They waited
+in vain. The prudent Elias, having avoided wounds during the war, seemed
+quite determined not to run the risk of receiving any in times of peace.
+Still, as though by chance, M. Baradier at Troyes, received in his house
+a supplement of twenty Hessian hussars, to board and lodge, and old Graff
+was summoned thrice in a single week to reply to denunciations
+representing him as having spoken in insulting terms concerning the
+German army. Finally, Baradier received notice to leave Metz within
+twelve hours.
+
+It was quite possible that chance alone might have caused the increase of
+the burden laid on the banker of Troyes, and the expulsion of Baradier
+might have been the consequence of the banquet, at which more was said
+than the circumstances warranted. But old Graff was convinced that his
+neighbour Lichtenbach’s son was an agent of the enemy, and that the rogue
+had simply turned informer against him. All the same, Elias bowed to him
+in the street with the greatest deference, and he always showed himself
+very polite to Antoine.
+
+The quiet and taciturn heir to the firm of Graff avoided, as far as
+possible, his former companion. He did not openly break with him, his
+nature being opposed to violence of every kind. But very few words were
+spoken on either side, and he avoided transacting business with him. The
+firm Graff stored up large quantities of wool, which were sold to the
+manufacturers of Champagne and the Ardennes. The Baradiers, who had just
+bought a large factory at Ars, were great customers of theirs. Elias, who
+continued his father’s wholesale business, bought and sold everything in
+the nature of a business transaction, and had often made offers to the
+Graff for the wool of Germany. The latter had always declined his offers.
+Still, in spite of such evident ill-will, Elias was not discouraged, and,
+with that tenacity which is one of the virtues of his race, he
+periodically visited Graff and his son, in the hope of bringing off a
+bargain.
+
+Thus, after two years spent by Mademoiselle Graff in one of the best
+boarding schools in Nancy, Elias, one fine morning, found himself in
+front of her in the garden, whilst waiting for Antoine. He was stupefied
+and completely dazzled. The child had become a young lady, tall and
+graceful, with dark eyes, light hair, and brilliant complexion. He dared
+not speak to her, and could only bow as she passed. On returning home he
+mentioned the incident to his father, and, with a wealth of biblical
+comparison, he depicted the maiden, like Rebecca appearing to Jacob. He
+left his father in no doubt that he was passionately in love, and that
+if, as the shepherd had served Laban, he should have to serve Graff, he
+would submit to it for love of the fair Elise.
+
+Old Moses remarked that, being a Jew, and the Graffs being Christians,
+there was no chance of being accepted by them, without prejudice to the
+grievances they had manifested against him ever since the war. Elias
+replied that he could abjure his religion, and by his conversion give
+great prestige to the Catholic faith, that he had earned sufficient
+money, and that a young fellow of twenty-two years of age, who would
+place four hundred thousand francs on the table when the contract was
+signed was not a suitor to be thrown over so easily.
+
+Moses warned his son that he was entering upon a perilous negotiation. He
+did not dissuade him from changing his religion, if he found any
+advantage in such a course, but he warned him that, whether as Christian
+or Jew, he would not obtain the hand of Mademoiselle Graff, and that he
+would gain nothing but the shame of his apostacy. Elias, however, had a
+will of iron; he astonished the archbishop by his determination,
+conciliated him by his piety and generosity, and, with remarkable skill,
+brought over to his interests all the high Catholic powers. At a time
+when German pietism was struggling in the conquered provinces, with a
+clergy of purely Protestant tendencies, the conversion of Elias was a
+political event.
+
+Had Elias not been so well known he might have become popular. All the
+same, he met a thorough refusal at the hands of the Graff family, and, as
+though to intensify the insult offered to him, before six months the
+beautiful Elise married the former sergeant, Baradier. At the same time,
+a rumour spread abroad that the Graffs were leaving the town. Antoine
+followed his step-brother to Paris, and entered with him into the banking
+establishment of Baradier senior.
+
+It was too much for Elias. He lost his sleep, and one day, after meeting
+the Graffs, who were being escorted to the station by all their friends,
+he returned home, and was taken suddenly ill. Old Moses, terrified, put
+his son to bed, summoned the doctor, and learnt that the new convert was
+at the point of death. A furious delirium had taken possession of him;
+during its course he negotiated fabulous bargains with imaginary buyers
+and sellers. A semblance of reason returned only when he poured forth
+floods of insults and threats against the Baradiers and the Graffs,
+whilst his father calmed him by saying—
+
+“Yes, Elias, you shall have your revenge on these rascals! You shall ruin
+them! You shall crush them under your heel!”
+
+Then a happy smile came over the patient’s lips; he slept a few hours,
+and awoke feeling much better. One may affirm that it was the intensity
+of his hatred that kept him from dying. Plans of revenge haunted his
+fevered brain, and when the doctor, in astonishment, declared that the
+young man was convalescent, the first words Elias uttered were, “All the
+better! Had I died, the Baradiers and Graff’s would have been too glad!”
+
+To tell the truth, the latter paid not the slightest heed to the feelings
+of rancour they had so violently aroused. They had assumed the direction
+of the firm, had extended the business, and founded additional woollen
+factories. Marcel Baradier and his sister Amélie were born. Complete
+harmony seemed to exist in this happy family, when Elias Lichtenbach, his
+father having died, came to establish himself in Paris.
+
+A singular metamorphosis had been wrought in him. The first time Baradier
+and his rival met at the Bourse the banker did not recognize Lichtenbach.
+He saw before him a thin, stooping man, almost bald, with cold,
+passionless eyes, hidden behind gold spectacles. His very voice had
+changed. M. Lichtenbach spoke little, said only what was absolutely
+essential, and remained impassive before the most important news. A
+contraction of the jaws alone betrayed his emotion, giving to his
+countenance a character of singular ferocity.
+
+Lichtenbach’s connection with the firm of Baradier and Graff was full of
+meaning. He caused them to lose three hundred thousand francs in a single
+morning on a contract for wool, concluded at the Bourse of Troyes. Elias
+sold wool from Hungary at so low a rate that Baradier and Graff, who had
+speculated on a rise, were obliged to sell out rapidly to limit their
+risks. It was the first clear flash from the cloud. Henceforward an
+enemy, always on the watch, was ever ready to strike the Baradier firm in
+its most vulnerable part. Lichtenbach’s evil intentions, though
+concealed, were none the less certain.
+
+When attacked they ingeniously defended themselves, took needful
+precautions, and trusted nothing to hazard. Lichtenbach was very powerful
+and dangerous. Left a widower, with one daughter, whom he had sent to the
+Sacre-Coeur, there to be brought up according to the principles of the
+most rigid devotion, Elias was a type of the renegade who had become more
+Christian than the Pope himself.
+
+Still, if Lichtenbach was dreaded, he was received everywhere, and his
+influence in society was as secret as it was sure. He rendered priceless
+help to ruined families. Instead of aiming his financial batteries
+against the established Government, he divided his attempts, placed his
+hands on all the syndicates of Europe, and by means of the capital he
+collected caused diverse speculations not only to benefit himself, but
+all his friends in addition.
+
+The simplicity of his life was extreme. He lived in a gloomy mansion in
+the Rue Barbet-de-Jouy, attended by servants from Lorraine, who spoke
+German better than French. He never received visitors, whilst a game of
+whist seemed to form his only distraction. It was at his office, right in
+front of the Bourse, that he received his clients. Although only
+forty-five years of age, he seemed to have lost all interest in the fair
+sex, as though all women were an object of terror for him. The little
+Duchess de Bernay, who, thanks to speculations conducted by Elias, had
+been able to pay her debts, one day said to her friend, the Marchioness
+de Premeur—
+
+“I must find out what Lichtenbach really thinks. After all, the manner in
+which he treats us is almost humiliating.”
+
+For some evenings, in the presence of all her friends, she flirted with
+Elias, without succeeding in thawing him. Then suddenly she ceased paying
+attention to him. To her companions’ ironical questions she replied,
+evasively—
+
+“I have lost my time. It is no use.”
+
+But it was noticed that her style of living changed; that she spent large
+sums of money, and that, according as she ceased joking with the
+financier, she became more and more settled in money matters. Elias,
+distant and silent as ever, continued to speculate in the four corners of
+the globe, to advise the Prince, manage his journal, and prove to
+the-firm of Baradier and Graff, as well as to those in any way connected
+with him, that the enmity he was nourishing would be with him as long as
+he lived.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+ON reaching the Rue de Provènce, the Minister of War descended from his
+brougham with the eagerness of a young man, crossed the court-yard,
+entered the offices, and, in loud tones, asked the office boy—
+
+“Is M. Baradier in?”
+
+The office-boy instinctively stood at attention, and replied—“Yes,
+General; I will announce you at once.”
+
+The Minister, with nervous steps, strode to and fro in the ante-chamber,
+behind whose windows the Havas despatches gave the current rates of all
+the Exchanges of Europe. Suddenly a door opened, and a stout man with
+ruddy complexion entered the room with outstretched arms.
+
+“Ah, it is you, General! What trouble you have taken! Just step into this
+room.”
+
+The Minister entered, and as soon as the door was closed he exclaimed—
+
+“Ah, my poor friends! How sad it all is!”
+
+“We cannot get over the shock, Baradier and I,” said Graff, rolling
+forward an armchair. “Take a seat, General.”
+
+“Who has told you the news?”
+
+“Baudoin, who was sleeping here last night, and came in terrified this
+afternoon with the dismal tidings. What has happened down there? The
+whole circumstances are even more serious than the disaster itself. Graff
+and I have been questioning and discussing with one another, without
+succeeding in settling the frightful problem.”
+
+“If only Marcel were here!” moaned Uncle Graff. “He would enlighten us.
+He is so well acquainted with Trémont’s life and habits, his weaknesses.”
+
+“His weaknesses?” asked the Minister. “A woman? Is that what you mean?”
+
+“Yes, General.”
+
+“You are taking the paltry side of the matter,” said the old soldier,
+firmly. “It is no question of a mere _passade_. The affair before us is
+far more than a paltry intrigue. The woman—yes, indeed, she has had a
+_rôle_ to play. But she has only been the agent, perhaps unwittingly, of
+an attempt, carefully thought out and boldly executed.”
+
+“With what object?” asked Baradier. “Tell me everything, General. Let us
+communicate our suspicions to one another, in an attempt to throw light
+on the affair.”
+
+“Ah! It is evident that the object of the attack was the discoveries made
+by Trémont. In this abominable plot, which has ended in the murder of a
+man we loved, a remarkable _savant_, I see—but do not let this go beyond
+the three of us here present—the hand of the foreigner.”
+
+There was a moment’s silence. Baradier and Graff looked at one another,
+uneasily, and as though undecided. But the impetuous Baradier could not
+long keep to himself the idea working in his brain.
+
+“We, too, General, seem to recognize in the blow which has fallen on our
+friend some hateful intention against him and against ourselves at once.”
+
+“Baradier,” intervened Graff, “you are going too fast and too far! How
+can you risk such a charge, on suppositions alone?”
+
+“Ah! You still hesitate!” exclaimed Baradier. “You are still bound down
+by scruples! The deuce! I feel there is treason and infamy in all this!
+I—Let me continue! I would swear that Lichtenbach is at the bottom of it
+all!”
+
+“You have no right to speak in that way!” exclaimed Graff, rising to his
+feet and quivering with emotion. “How can you insinuate that a man
+against whom nothing can be said from either a professional or a moral
+point of view, is a party to a crime, simply because he is our enemy? It
+is abominable! We must give some place to justice!”
+
+Baradier, boiling over with excitement, rose in his turn, and began to
+walk to and fro, speaking in snatches.
+
+“For the last two hours, General, we have been disputing in this way,
+Graff and myself, and the only reply he can give me is that I am not
+just! As though that were a matter of concern when an imperious instinct
+cries out to you: ‘There is the culprit. He is not seen; he is well
+masked, cunningly concealed, and appears in nothing.’ Probably he will
+not be found out, but it is he all the same who has done the deed,
+because it was to his interest and hatred combined to do it! No! With his
+justice, humanity, and philanthropy, you can have no idea how stupid
+Graff is, at times!”
+
+In spite of the gravity of the situation, the three friends burst into a
+loud laugh, and Graff, bending forward his great body, exclaimed—
+
+“Thanks!”
+
+The Minister then intervened to give a little order to the debate.
+
+“Come, Baradier, explain yourself. As your brother-in-law says, vague
+presentiments are not sufficient to establish an accusation. Presumptions
+lead to investigations, and if guilt results from information obtained,
+then one may proceed. Besides, I will observe to you that the authorities
+have been notified, an examination has been commenced, and if you have
+proofs to furnish—”
+
+“Impossible!” interrupted Baradier. “To you I have been telling my inmost
+thoughts; to an examining magistrate I would not repeat what I have just
+said.”
+
+“Ah!” triumphed Graff; “what did I tell you?”
+
+“For me to quit my reserve, such discoveries ought to be brought to
+light, that the proofs—moral as they are—upon which I lean, should have
+material coincidences. But do not think I am retreating. I will make
+inquiries, and if I find—”
+
+“You will not find anything. If your suspicions are true, we have to deal
+with those who are stronger than ourselves.”
+
+“We shall see about that!”
+
+The General intervened again.
+
+“Is this Lichtenbach, of whom you speak, the great merchant-prince who is
+allied with the clerico-royalist party?”
+
+“Yes, the same man.”
+
+“And you imagine him capable of a crime?”
+
+“I believe he is capable of anything.”
+
+“Doubtless you know that he is very influential with the Ministry, and
+obtains whatever he wishes.”
+
+“He is very powerful everywhere; his arms stretch in all directions.”
+
+“But what interest would he have in trying to circumvent Trémont, in the
+first place, and, afterwards, in bringing about his disappearance?”
+
+“Well, General, what do you think of the investigations into explosives?
+Lichtenbach is at the head of the French syndicate of mining
+exploitations. In Russia, Austria, and Spain, he has considerable
+interests. Now, in the composition of a powder, easy to control in
+results, capable of being handled without harm, and of very moderate
+cost—and all these advantages were claimed by the Trémont powder, as was
+seen from the report read by the General, at the Academy of Science, six
+months ago—was there not something to tempt the covetousness of business
+men, ever on the look-out for progressive and remunerative processes?
+Trémont had received splendid offers, but had always refused even the
+initial overtures. Then he explained to Graff and myself his intention of
+promoting a company, the working of which should be exclusively French.
+It was a point of honour with him that his own country should profit from
+his discovery.”
+
+“The fine fellow! Just like him!”
+
+“He was well aware that he had found an opportunity of making a fortune,
+but he did not wish foreign money to have a hand in it. Besides, at the
+same time, he had almost completed his investigations into a new
+war-powder. He would not throw the commercial affair on the market until
+he had given his new explosive to the Government. He said to us: ‘Both
+powders at once. The one that will make me rich, and the one that will
+make us conquerors. In this way I shall be pardoned for the benefits I
+shall reap from the first, in favour of the prestige the second will give
+our Army.’”
+
+“Yes; secret experiments had already taken place with his war-powder.
+Never had my colleagues or myself seen such destructive effects. Nothing
+could have resisted an artillery firing projectiles charged with this
+powder! And the secret has vanished in smoke! It is a great misfortune
+for France!”
+
+A strange smile passed over Graff’s mouth, and, with a gesture of
+dissent, he said—
+
+“Ah! Who knows?”
+
+“What do you mean?”
+
+“Yes, it is not absolutely certain that the secret is lost! Perhaps some
+one possesses the General’s formulæ in duplicate.”
+
+“Who?” exclaimed the Minister.
+
+Graff rubbed his hands together and replied—
+
+“My nephew!”
+
+“Marcel? Has he said anything to you?”
+
+“Yes. A week ago.”
+
+At these words Baradier turned pale. Turning to his brother-in-law, with
+a look of anguish, he exclaimed—
+
+“Never let the slightest suspicion of this be known! Repeat to no one
+what you have just said! They have killed Trémont! Do you want them to
+kill my son?”
+
+“Ah! Baradier, have you no courage left?” asked the General. “You are
+afraid of your shadow now. Do you imagine that, if your hypothesis be
+true, and I am much inclined to share it, those who have dealt the blow
+will be disposed to recommence without delay? We have time to act, and we
+are warned. Why the deuce should we be afraid? Just now, the authors of
+the crime have carefully gone to earth, for they can have no doubt that
+the police are on the look-out for them. Do not be alarmed, and let us
+speak frankly.”
+
+“My dear General, if the possession of the secret of the powders has been
+fatal to Trémont, whom they thought simply of robbing, what is not to be
+feared for Marcel Baradier, if this terrible intrigue is conducted by the
+implacable enemy of all his family? They would have spared Trémont’s
+life, could they have obtained possession of his formulæ. Marcel can
+expect no pity, for it is Graff and myself—it is his own mother whom they
+will reach in striking him.”
+
+“We shall be there to defend him,” said Graff, in trembling tones. “I am
+not an evil-disposed person, but still I feel myself capable of the
+utmost ferocity in preventing any harm befalling my nephew!”
+
+“You understand,” said the General, “that if the police have no clue to
+your suspicions, I will take it upon myself to inform them.”
+
+“It would be wiser not to do anything of the sort,” interrupted Baradier.
+“If, as we imagine, it is Lichtenbach who has directed the frightful
+plot, you may be certain beforehand that it will not be brought to light.
+Both he and his accomplices are free from all responsibility. The woman
+who appears to have acted as a decoy will have disappeared. The man whose
+arm has been torn off will be carefully attended to in some dark spot,
+perhaps abroad, and the coachman who accompanied the accomplices to
+Vanves is a trusted member of the band. Nothing will be discovered, you
+may be sure. The examining magistrate may prepare at once to shelve the
+whole affair.”
+
+“I think as you do. But that is no reason for not making investigations.
+In the first place, if Lichtenbach is watched, perhaps some proof will be
+discovered. But all that concerns the police. We will change the subject.
+General de Trémont has left an only daughter, without support.”
+
+“I beg your pardon, General. We will console her and pay her all possible
+attention.”
+
+“Yes, my dear friend, I know the poor child may rely upon you. But she is
+without fortune. Trémont left very little property; his pension was
+almost all that he had.”
+
+“Reassure yourself. She shall never lack anything. This very morning my
+wife went to her to the Sacre-Coeur, and brought her here. She shall stay
+with my daughter and be treated as though she bore my own name.”
+
+“All the same, I will obtain for her a pension from the Ministry.”
+
+“Certainly, if you wish; but it will simply be to ease your conscience.
+She will have every want fulfilled. I take charge of her as though she
+were my child.”
+
+“Can I not speak to her? Is she in a fit state to receive me?”
+
+“She is in great grief, but very calm. Graff will tell her that you are
+here.”
+
+The uncle left the room. Baradier drew his chair nearer the General’s, as
+though afraid the walls would hear what he was about to say.
+
+“Between you and myself—for Graff is too sentimental—is this a matter
+that concerns other countries?”
+
+“How can we tell, so long as we have not laid our hands on the culprits?
+Even if they are found, how can we throw light on that question? We can
+never hope for absolute certainty in this respect, as foreign agents
+always keep themselves aloof from direct responsibility, and disclaim all
+connection with abroad, if they are caught. We shall never get beyond
+probabilities. Our artillery material and explosives are at present, and
+will long remain, a matter of anxiety to rival Powers. Our armaments are
+well known, though our projectiles are continually being perfected. It is
+certain that the artillery which made use of the Trémont powder would
+have had an overwhelming advantage. Hence the attempt against the
+inventor, evidently.”
+
+“So you attach a great value to the formulæ discovered by the General?”
+
+“A very great value. Its possession would render our country an immense
+service.”
+
+Baradier became serious. Bowing his head, he continued resolutely—
+
+“I am a good patriot, General. I fought for France to the very last hour
+of the war. All the Baradier family, Lorraines from Metz, went into
+voluntary exile so as not to live in the midst of our conquerors. If my
+country needed my life, I would not hesitate to give it up. I will do
+more, I will risk my son’s life. If Marcel knows Trémont’s secret, I give
+you my oath you shall have the powder.”
+
+A flash of joy shone in the old soldier’s eyes. Stretching out his hand
+to Baradier, he exclaimed, in trembling tones—“Thank you. You are a brave
+soldier.”
+
+At this moment the door opened, and the General gave a sonorous hum, and
+regained his composure. Madame Baradier and Mademoiselle de Trémont
+entered the room, followed by Graff. Still slender and graceful, Madame
+Baradier now showed a few silver threads among the beautiful blonde
+tresses of her youth. But her frank look and smiling lips revealed the
+young girl beloved of Elias Lichtenbach. Mademoiselle de Trémont, wearing
+a blue convent dress, slender and dark-complexioned, showed in her
+countenance, overwhelmed with grief, the charming grace of her sixteen
+years. Without the slightest awkwardness or hesitation, she walked
+straight to her father’s friend. At the first words the old soldier
+addressed her, however, her eyes filled with tears, which silently flowed
+unheeded down her cheeks. She listened with eager satisfaction to the
+consoling words of praise, consecrated to him who had just disappeared,
+and the silent nod she gave from time to time seemed an acquiescence of
+resignation and grief, in the bitterness of life now beginning for her.
+
+Alas! she had scarcely known her father. A widower very soon after the
+birth of his daughter, he had been obliged to entrust her to the care of
+pious and devout women. She had scarcely ever tasted of the delights of
+home. Geneviève often tried, in vain, to recall the sound of her mother’s
+voice. How sad it was! She had never felt on her heart the caressing
+warmth of an ever-present affection. Isolation, in the midst of
+strangers, kind and benevolent though they were, had been her lot, right
+to the day on which death had broken the slender bond which still
+attached her to her father. And now what a sorrowful end, in this
+catastrophe, at once stupefying and terrible, which left her an orphan,
+and filled her mind with thoughts of violence and massacre!
+
+She had not even the supreme consolation of thinking that the one she
+mourned had had a calm and peaceful death. As a soldier, he had not
+fallen on the field of battle; as a _savant_, he had not succumbed, a
+victim to his investigations. In a base and cowardly fashion, he had been
+assassinated by bandits. She heard the Minister telling her that she
+might rely on his protection. Stammering out her thanks, and blinded by
+tears, she left the room with Madame Baradier, almost heart-broken at
+being made to understand more vividly, from the expressions of condolence
+addressed to her, the extent of her loss.
+
+The Minister, on leaving the room in his turn, found General de Trémont’s
+servant awaiting him in the antechamber. He looked with interest at the
+latter’s intelligent and energetic countenance.
+
+“Well, my poor Baudoin, this is a great loss for us.”
+
+“It is a great crime, General.”
+
+“They had sent you away, my good fellow; but for that, all this would not
+have happened.”
+
+“Ah, General, it is always the fair sex who ruin everything!”
+
+“Come, come! Don’t say anything more on the subject.”
+
+“Pardon me, General. I do not mention it from lack of deference for my
+poor master, but if attempts are not made to find the scoundrel, the
+woman who controlled the whole affair, nothing will be discovered, and my
+master will remain unavenged.”
+
+“Do you know the woman?”
+
+“Ah! If I had known her, I, too, should have been dead!”
+
+Baradier, Graff, and the Minister looked at one another. What Baudoin had
+just said was so clear a confirmation of Baradier’s fears, concerning his
+son, that the threatening power of the mysterious woman instantly forced
+itself on the Minister’s thoughts. He was already so well acquainted
+personally, and through his predecessors, with these fortune-hunters,
+always in quest of a speculation or intrigue to work out, or a secret to
+be stolen, from the sellers of crosses of honour, to searchers of
+official desks. He could have named several of them. And the experience
+of the past: all these acts of imprudence and folly, were there to prove
+the truth of what the simple and devoted Baudoin now said. The Minister
+continued—
+
+“I heard her voice, General, last night, and I will warrant that if she
+uttered a word in my hearing, I should recognize it.”
+
+“Ah, a voice, my poor fellow, a voice heard for a single moment, uttering
+a few sentences only. How could one dare to accuse another on such feeble
+evidence? Do you know, there are voices so similar that one may be
+mistaken, even when one is familiar with their owners. If you have no
+other proof to give, my poor Baudoin, you had better say nothing at all.”
+
+“We shall see, General.”
+
+“Ah, you are obstinate!”
+
+“A little, General.”
+
+“Well, well! What can I do for you? You have been a good soldier, and a
+devoted servant. I imagine your master would have recommended me not to
+abandon you. Would you like to enter the office of the Ministry?”
+
+“Thank you, General. M. Baradier has offered to take me into his office,
+and I have accepted. But if you would be good enough to—”
+
+“Well, speak!”
+
+“Could you please tell me the name of the Ministerial agent who has been
+conducting the investigations? He seemed to me a very intelligent man,
+and I should like to speak to him.”
+
+“His name is Laforêt. But keep the name to yourself. I have sufficient
+confidence to mention it to you; still, it must not be generally known.”
+
+“You may rely on my discretion, General. I will say nothing.”
+
+“Well, good day!”
+
+The Minister shook hands with Baradier and Graff, and rode away in his
+brougham. When the two partners returned into the hall, Baudoin, to whom
+they wished to speak, had disappeared.
+
+As soon as he learnt the agent’s name, Baudoin had taken his hat, and,
+leaving the hotel by the servants’ exit, had made his way to the
+Ministry. On reaching the entrance he made inquiries. Being an old
+soldier, he knew how to speak to soldiers. The orderly he met in the hall
+pointed out to him the building he wished to enter, right at the end of
+the court, staircase C. There the porter had stopped him; no one could
+enter without authorization. He had none; he must accordingly ask for
+one.
+
+“I simply wanted to speak to M. Laforêt.”
+
+The porter looked at him with suspicion. Then he said—
+
+“M. Laforêt? You will not find him at the Ministry, call at his private
+residence.”
+
+“Where is that?”
+
+“You must inquire.”
+
+It was quite evident there was nothing to be gained here. Bowing, he
+thanked the porter and took his departure. In the Rue Saint-Dominique, at
+the corner of the Rue Martignac, he noticed a small café. He entered with
+the object of making inquiries, as the porter had recommended. Four
+customers, under the complaisant eye of the proprietor, were playing at
+cards. At the far end was a room, containing a billiard-table. The
+players could be seen, though indistinctly, each time they passed before
+the door. There appeared to be spectators present. Probably a pool was
+being contested.
+
+“A bock. Is there a billiard academy here?”
+
+“Ah, sir, we have some very fine players. Some of these gentlemen from
+the Ministry come every evening. M. Trousset, the head clerk, though an
+amateur, would be a match for the best players in Paris, and even from
+abroad!”
+
+“Indeed! And may one watch the game?”
+
+“If you wish, sir, I will carry the beer into the next room.”
+
+Baudoin had already entered the billiard-room, which contained two
+tables. Taking a seat, he looked on. One of the players was a stout,
+jovial fellow, who accompanied his cannons with stale jokes. The other, a
+tall, thin dark-complexioned man, was Laforêt himself. Baudoin gave
+himself a slap on the thigh, took out a cigarette, and exclaimed to the
+astonishment of his neighbour—
+
+“I am lucky this time!”
+
+As he was looked at inquisitively, he said no more, but lit a cigarette,
+and began to sip his beer. The stout player said to his opponent, with a
+wink—
+
+“The balls are in the corner; now for the final!”
+
+Whereupon he made a series of seventeen cannons, and missed the
+eighteenth. Laforêt, without being disconcerted, took up the cue, but
+only scored five points. His adversary exclaimed—
+
+“If I score fifteen now, I win the set.”
+
+He won without the slightest effort, turned down his shirt-sleeves, put
+on his coat, and, holding out his hand to his opponent, said:
+
+“No ill feeling?”
+
+“None at all. You have played very well, M. Moussin,” said Laforêt. “My
+revenge next time.”
+
+“Whenever you like.”
+
+Laforêt, with perfect indifference, approached Baudoin, exclaiming in
+loud tones—
+
+“Waiter, a bitter.”
+
+Then, turning towards the General’s servant, he asked—
+
+“Are you waiting for me?”
+
+“Yes; so you recognized me?”
+
+“That is my business. Anything fresh?”
+
+“No; all the same, I wish to speak to you.”
+
+“Good!”
+
+The few loiterers gradually filed out into the other room, which was
+lighter and more pleasant in appearance. A few players alone remained,
+and Baudoin and Laforêt found themselves isolated.
+
+“You may speak here, no one will pay any attention to us.”
+
+“Well! This morning, when I saw you, in the presence of all the others, I
+had an impression that you were a man to be relied upon, and that, in
+case it were necessary to appeal to any one concerning something
+difficult or dangerous, one would run no risk with you of being left in
+the lurch. Am I mistaken?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“If I think rightly, you do not work under the same conditions as the
+agents in the service of the Prefecture, who are entirely allied to the
+Administration. You are, I suppose, a kind of volunteer of the police, at
+liberty to give information as you please, consequently free as regards
+initiative.”
+
+Laforêt interrupted him.
+
+“If you wish to speak to me on the Vanves affair, I must stop you at
+once. My principal ordered me not to take any further steps in the matter
+for the moment. The Public Prosecutor is in possession of the
+information. Every one to his own department. We shall not take up the
+matter again, provisionally.”
+
+“But if I simply asked you to enlighten me on certain points?”
+
+“One can always give advice.”
+
+“Good! The police are about to make a search for the authors of the crime
+of which my master has been the victim. But I, also, should like to
+investigate.”
+
+“There is no one to prevent you.”
+
+“Ah! One must know how to go about it. One does not become a detective by
+instinct. Which end shall I begin with, to unravel the skein?”
+
+“Come! Had your master any family?”
+
+“A daughter.”
+
+“She had no interest in wishing to be rid of him?”
+
+“Not the slightest.”
+
+“Had he any visitors?”
+
+“Very few; he was so distrustful! The woman who called on him only came
+mysteriously by night, on which occasions he always sent me away.”
+
+“That is the same woman who came last night?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Do you know if M. de Trémont had any enemies?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Was there any one who had reasons for injuring him?”
+
+“In a certain sense, yes.”
+
+“Why do you suspect this?”
+
+“I judge from personal observation, confirmed by the conviction of one of
+my master’s friends.”
+
+“A man who can offer good guarantees?”
+
+“Perfect.”
+
+“Very good! Search must be made in that direction.”
+
+“If only you knew what difficulties I am likely to meet with.”
+
+“That is the most interesting part about it. It is not very clever to
+arrest a coal-dealer who has been thrashing his wife in his shop, or a
+hair-dresser who has cut his lady’s throat with one of his razors! What
+excites one is the struggle and pursuit, the necessity of employing
+trickery and invention. We are men of imagination, and novelists often
+make us laugh by the poverty of their combinations.”
+
+“That is because you like your profession. It is not so with me; I am not
+inquisitive. Were I not mad with grief at seeing my master, whom I was so
+fond of basely murdered, I should take good care not to meddle with other
+people’s affairs. But vengeance seems a kind of duty my master would
+impose on me, could he do so. Had he had time to think, the moment he was
+struck, he must have said to himself: ‘Ah! If only Baudoin were here he
+would defend me with his last breath.’ You see, I must find his
+murderers. I shall have no rest till I have succeeded in this pursuit.”
+
+Laforêt had become thoughtful. After a moment’s hesitation, he said—
+
+“You are a brave fellow. But you do not possess the qualities necessary
+for the unravelling of an affair like this one. You will spoil everything
+by putting on their guard the very people you suspect. Do not stir; just
+wait. Patience is the first duty of a detective. Time is a precious
+auxiliary. At first, a criminal is very cautious; he takes every
+precaution. By degrees, as his feeling of security increases, his
+prudence lessens, he trusts himself out of his lair once more, and it is
+then that there is a good chance of catching him. Instead of undertaking
+a campaign, remain inactive. If you have to deal with powerful and
+determined men, be sure they will keep a watch on you, in proportion to
+their unwillingness to be caught. You will do more for the success of
+your side by giving them to believe that you do not suspect them, than by
+plotting against them, without knowing how to out-trick them. Go back
+home, warn those who, like you, wish to avenge the General, and wait and
+see the trend of events. Be sure something will happen which will put you
+on their track. Then go ahead boldly. If ever you need me, come here
+about five o’clock. You will find me regularly at this hour. My principal
+may be disposed to allow me to co-operate with you.”
+
+Baudoin rose from his seat.
+
+“Very good. I will follow your advice. If you have anything to tell me,
+send to Messieurs Baradier and Graff.”
+
+“The bankers of the Rue de Provènce?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Strange! My principal has just gone to see them, on leaving the
+Ministry. I heard it from the coachman. Good! Everything will turn out
+for the best, when the right moment comes. _Au revoir_!”
+
+The two men shook hands, and Baudoin returned home.
+
+Marcel, summoned by wire, had just returned from Ars. He was closeted
+with his father and uncle. Walking to and fro about the room, he gave
+brief replies to the questions asked him. Tall and slender, of fair
+complexion, with long moustache, and blue eyes, he offered a perfect
+pattern of the Lorraine type, in its full purity and strength. He was a
+very fine-looking young fellow, and his Uncle Graff watched him with a
+glow of pride and satisfaction.
+
+“Well, then, what did Trémont tell you, the last time you saw him?”
+
+“From a scientific point of view, we spoke of nothing but my
+investigations on the subject of aniline.”
+
+“Nothing concerning his powders?”
+
+“He had already told me the results he had reached. I shared his opinion
+that the main difficulty was solved. In the composition of explosives
+there was nothing more to do besides introducing a few details of
+manipulation.”
+
+“And you knew his formulæ?”
+
+“I know every one of them.”
+
+“You could prepare them?”
+
+“Without the slightest difficulty.”
+
+“That is what I was afraid of,” exclaimed Baradier, sorrowfully.
+
+“What! Afraid of? But it is very lucky for us all. For Geneviève, for
+whom a fortune is assured; for the Army, which will possess the Trémont
+powder; and for the General’s memory, by reason of the glory attaching to
+so important a discovery.”
+
+“Well, Marcel, I beg of you,” said Baradier, in trembling tones, “for the
+sake of us all, for the time being, not to breathe a word to any one
+concerning what you have just revealed to us. It is a matter of life or
+death. So long as those who have killed Trémont remain at large, and
+unpunished, there will be no safety for those who might be suspected of
+being in possession of his scientific secret. It was to rob him of this
+that the blow fell. In Heaven’s name, be very careful not to let it be
+known that you have been taken into the confidence of our friend.”
+
+“Do not be uneasy,” said the young man, with a smile. “No one in the
+world knows, except my uncle and yourself. I feel no inclination to
+proclaim it on the housetops. But I cannot refuse to refrain from
+profiting by it, when the right time comes, even though there may be
+risks to run.”
+
+“Nor do we. But let us continue our investigations. Trémont was very free
+with you. He spoke to you of his private life. He told you of his
+adventures in the early days of his military career.”
+
+“Poor man! That was his only weakness. His heart remained as young as
+ever. His imagination was very inflammable, and he gave way to it with
+unparalleled facility. I was often obliged to stop him.”
+
+“Did he mention nothing that had happened recently?”
+
+“No; he appeared preoccupied and less expansive than usual. Probably he
+had been recommended to be very discreet, and his promise had been given.
+I must say that his passion for the fair sex rather disgusted me, and I
+gave no encouragement to tales which appeared to me unworthy of our
+friend’s noble mind. Latterly, therefore, finding him reserved and quiet,
+I did not encourage him to speak. I preferred him to say nothing on the
+subject.”
+
+“What a pity! Just the time when his explanations would have been so
+useful.”
+
+“It is always so!”
+
+“Had he made no fresh male acquaintances? Was there no name you could
+catch?”
+
+“He spoke to me of no one except a foreign savant, with whom he had
+struck up a friendship, and who seems to have been an extraordinary man.
+He suspected him of being a nihilist, and that worried him. But he spoke
+of him with the utmost admiration.”
+
+“Was he a Russian?”
+
+“I do not know. His name was Hans.”
+
+“Hans!” exclaimed Baradier. “That was the name of the man whose arm was
+torn off! It is the name on the ring worn by the man who caused the
+explosion of the house at Vanves. This is the first flash of light.”
+
+“So the General was acquainted with this Hans? Still, Hans is a German
+name!”
+
+“Only a German Christian name. As you are aware, there are several
+Russians of German origin. If the Hans in question is the author of that
+catastrophe, the end he aimed at by obtaining access to the General might
+well be the possession of the formulæ of the explosive found by him. But
+then, how had he become acquainted with the discoveries the General kept
+strictly secret?”
+
+Graff, who had not yet spoken, but had been listening in a reverie to the
+observations exchanged between his brother-in-law and his nephew, raised
+his hand, and slowly began, as though following the slender thread of a
+still fugitive idea—
+
+“You are getting lost. The motives of the instigators of this crime—for,
+certainly, there are several of them—are of a much higher order than you
+imagine. You are looking for robbers trying to obtain possession of some
+exceedingly fruitful discovery, or of anarchists on the scent of some
+powerful means of extermination. All this is very vulgar and commonplace.
+You have to deal with criminals of a higher stamp. The care they took to
+rob Trémont after killing him prove that his murderers wished to throw
+one off the scent. When one has a house to pillage, he does not linger
+behind to steal a watch or a pocket-book. The mysterious proceedings of
+those who effected the _coup_ are those of political conspirators, and
+the thing that gives the whole plot its special character is the presence
+of a woman. Every undertaking of interest to foreign politics, for the
+past century, has been carried on by women. From my point of view, this
+is in a large measure what must have taken place. One or several European
+States have been acquainted with the investigations carried on by
+Trémont. His communications to the Institute may have sufficed to give
+the alarm. Immediately, means have been sought for becoming intimate with
+him, or obtaining his confidence. Our friend’s nature has been studied,
+and a young woman, clever and beautiful, has been fastened on him, soon
+to serve as intermediary between the General and Hans. The latter is no
+Russian, but probably some native of Baden. The woman is a spy in the
+service of our enemies. The man, introduced into the premises by the
+woman, failed in his attempts to obtain, by trickery, Trémont’s secrets;
+accordingly he had recourse to violence. Be certain the whole _coup_ was
+entered upon for interests far higher than you imagine. You see a
+Lichtenbach in the affair, and imagine that it is in his interests that
+Hans and the mysterious woman have been playing each a perilous game. You
+attach to him more importance than he deserves. You must seek higher, or
+rather not seek at all, for nothing will be found now.”
+
+“I cannot deny,” replied Baradier, “that Graff’s explanation possesses
+some semblance of likelihood. Graff is a man of imagination, who often
+sees things that do not exist. Still, in the present circumstances, he
+would be a bold man who would say that he was mistaken. Perhaps his
+supposition and mine both contain part of the truth. What cannot be
+doubted is that the authors of this audacious plot are persons who will
+shrink before nothing. Accordingly we must be prudent, and not appear to
+suspect them, living in just our usual manner. Apparently we must abstain
+from all participation in the work of justice. If the police succeed we
+shall be satisfied, without having been involved in the affair. If they
+find nothing, as is very likely, then our turn will come. In my opinion
+clever and cool-headed criminals it is almost impossible to run to
+ground. It is only by their imprudence that they betray themselves. It is
+when they begin to be no longer on their guard that there is a chance of
+finding some clue to their guilt. So, after all, the most prudent and
+skilful plan will be to wait. Marcel will return to Ars—”
+
+“Not until I have seen Geneviève.”
+
+“Of course, you will dine and sleep here, and take the train to-morrow
+morning. Your mother and uncle will not be sorry to see a little of you.”
+
+“And my father?” asked the young man, smiling.
+
+“And your father. Now come along with me to see your mother. Graff, you
+are staying in the office?”
+
+“For a few minutes. Then I return home, but will be back in time for
+dinner.”
+
+Proceeding along an inner staircase, father and son reached the private
+rooms, and were astonished to find in the hall a tall footman waiting
+there.
+
+“Your mother has visitors,” said Baradier. “How has that come about;
+to-day is not her reception day?”
+
+They entered Madame Baradier’s small salon. There she sat, pensive, near
+the window, her needlework lying idly in her lap.
+
+“What! You here?” said Baradier. “I thought you were receiving.”
+
+“The visit is not for me.”
+
+“What is the meaning of this? No one can have called for Amélie. Then it
+must be for Mademoiselle de Trémont?”
+
+“You are right,” said Madame Baradier.
+
+“What is the matter with you?” asked the banker. “There is something
+extraordinary going on. Explain.”
+
+“It is, indeed, very extraordinary. It is a schoolmate of Geneviève, who
+has come especially from the convent to assure her of her sympathy and
+affection; a trusted servant came with her, since her father could not
+come in person.”
+
+Baradier’s face turned crimson, as he asked with a frown—
+
+“Then it is—?”
+
+His wife did not give him time to continue. They understood one another
+at a glance.
+
+“Yes, my dear, it is Mademoiselle Lichtenbach.”
+
+A silence fell throughout the room. Marcel had gone straight to his
+mother, to embrace her. He now stood looking at his father, who, standing
+before the mantelpiece, was endeavouring to fathom the meaning of this
+unexpected visit.
+
+“What is she like?” asked Marcel.
+
+“I scarcely looked at her, I must confess, my child. When her name was
+announced I was very much astonished. Amélie and Geneviève were with me
+at the time. I left them in the salon as soon as Mademoiselle Lichtenbach
+entered. She appeared to me to be tall, and rather good looking. It was,
+however, her voice, a sweet, charming voice, which impressed me most
+favourably.”
+
+“It is different from her father’s, then,” growled Baradier.
+
+“And how long has she been here?”
+
+“Half an hour, at least.”
+
+“And my sister is with them?”
+
+“She could not help staying with them, otherwise it would have been a
+show of hostility quite out of place. Parents’ enmities, I hope, form no
+necessary part of children’s inheritances.”
+
+“Mother, what you are now saying is contrary to all poetical tradition.
+Look at Romeo and Juliet. What would become of literature were there no
+hereditary enmities? They form part and parcel of romantic
+stock-in-trade. The deuce! We must not diminish it, as it is becoming
+less and less quite fast enough!”
+
+Baradier was not listening to his son; he remained still plunged in his
+own reflections. At last he murmured—
+
+“What has she come for? Why has Lichtenbach permitted her to come?”
+
+“Shall I go and ask her?” asked Marcel.
+
+“Try to be serious, Marcel,” exclaimed the banker. “This is no matter for
+jest.”
+
+“Oh, I know that well enough. I wonder what it is that upsets you so
+much? Here is my mother as pale as death, and yourself in a fever-heat,
+and all because a young girl has come to sympathize with her school-mate!
+There is something extraordinary going on.”
+
+Baradier glanced sideways at his son, and replied in a tone of
+irritation—
+
+“Don’t be such a fool, Marcel. You are incapable of understanding!”
+
+Marcel bowed, in mock humility.
+
+“Thanks! What do I owe you for that?”
+
+But Baradier had no time to give way to his increasing irritation. The
+door of the salon opened, and Amélie appeared on the threshold.
+
+“Mamma, Mademoiselle Lichtenbach would like to say good-bye to you before
+leaving.”
+
+“She seems to be very well bred,” said Marcel, in low tones. “Are you
+going, mother? I will accompany you. I should like to see what she looks
+like.”
+
+It was in vain that Baradier shouted to his son—
+
+“Marcel, stay here; I forbid you!”
+
+Already the young man, with a laugh, had slipped behind his mother into
+the salon.
+
+“The young rascal will never have any common sense,” moaned Baradier. And
+he sat down in the seat his wife had just left, vaguely listening to the
+sound of voices, which now reached him.
+
+At the very first glance Marcel Baradier noticed that Mademoiselle
+Lichtenbach was of a very elegant figure, with a countenance of great
+gentleness. On further examination he did not find her pretty. Her
+features were irregular, but her face was lit up by eyes of limpid blue,
+radiant with frankness and amiability. She was standing there, an upright
+and slender form, in her sombre school-dress, with the blue ribbon on her
+breast. On Madame Baradier introducing Marcel to her she made a
+respectful bow, and said in delightful accents—
+
+“I could not take my leave, madame, without thanking you for your kind
+welcome. Mademoiselle de Trémont and myself are very fond of one another.
+For a year we have been close companions, and I sympathize with her
+present suffering, as though her loss were also mine. It is a great
+relief to me, now that we are obliged to separate, to know that she will
+be with one who loves her. I hope you will permit her to speak to you of
+me, so that she may not forget me too soon, and, perhaps, instil into
+your mind a little of the sympathy her heart feels for me.”
+
+Marcel was still under the charm of the voice that uttered these gentle
+words, when those clear, luminous eyes fell on him. He returned the look
+with an inquisitive and, perhaps, rather bold glance, for she immediately
+turned aside. At the same time a slight blush, as though accompanied with
+a shudder, passed over her smiling face, which suddenly became serious.
+
+“I must thank you, mademoiselle, for the sentiments you express regarding
+our dear Geneviève. For ourselves,” continued Madame Baradier, “rest
+assured we shall not endeavour to influence her in her affections.”
+
+Mademoiselle Lichtenbach bowed, gave a graceful nod to Amélie, and, on
+passing in front of Marcel, heard the latter say to her, in troubled
+tones—
+
+“Permit me, mademoiselle, to show you the way.”
+
+Opening the door of the salon, and, taking the mantle the young girl had
+left in the hall, he placed it over her shoulders. Then, walking by her
+side, his mother and sister looking on in stupefaction, he descended the
+steps, followed by the footman. On reaching the bottom he said, with a
+charm full of grace—
+
+“Mademoiselle de Trémont’s departure will doubtless make your stay at the
+convent seem rather sad to you now, mademoiselle?”
+
+“Yes. I hope Geneviève will not forget me, but come and see me.”
+
+“After all, probably you will not stay long yourself at the Sacre-Coeur.”
+
+“I was like Mademoiselle de Trémont, alone with my father. Geneviève will
+find a mother in Madame Baradier, whilst I—”
+
+She left the sentence unfinished. Marcel, however, well understood the
+sadness of her meaning—“I shall remain abandoned, as I have been all my
+life. My youthful years will pass away behind the sad walls of a convent,
+under the cold, methodical surveillance of nuns, most excellent persons,
+but incapable of giving me that warmth of affection I need to be happy.
+My friend is leaving me, and all the sweetness of my life is past.”
+
+She looked so melancholy and resigned that Marcel was moved with pity at
+her grief. They had now reached the brougham, the door of which was held
+open by the footman.
+
+“No, mademoiselle,” said Marcel. “Rest assured Geneviève de Trémont will
+not forget you.”
+
+He fastened his eyes on Mademoiselle Lichtenbach’s face, which now, in
+feature, seemed delicate and charming in its modest grace; then, bowing,
+he added, in lower tones—
+
+“I do not think you are one of those whose fate it is to be forgotten.”
+
+Mademoiselle Lichtenbach smiled and bowed. Then, entering the carriage,
+she said to the servant—
+
+“Drive back home.”
+
+Not another word was exchanged, whilst the footman climbed to his seat,
+and the coachman put the reins in order. Marcel, with head uncovered,
+stood there on the footpath in the Rue de Provènce, looking through the
+window of the brougham at this young girl, who appeared so simple and
+attractive to him, though he had never seen her until an hour before.
+Mademoiselle Lichtenbach sat there with bowed head, while a smile played
+on her lips. The carriage started, and the charm was broken.
+
+On returning to the house Marcel reflected: If the father is a rogue, the
+daughter, at any rate, is a very charming person. After all, she is not
+responsible for her father’s misdeeds. But all this has nothing to do
+with me. In all probability we shall never meet again, so she may be what
+she likes. All the same, he could not get over the idea that Mademoiselle
+Lichtenbach, daughter of the declared enemy of Baradier and Graff, was a
+very striking character.
+
+“Well,” said his father, who was awaiting his return, “you show yourself
+very polite. You could not be more gallant to a princess.”
+
+“Probably not,” said the young man, calmly.
+
+“Will you have the goodness to explain why you show yourself so obliging
+towards the daughter of our enemy?”
+
+“For the sole reason that she is the daughter of our enemy.”
+
+“It may be very chivalrous on your part, but to me it appears stupid.”
+
+“Do you intend to introduce the fair sex into your quarrels?”
+
+“I should like to see how Lichtenbach would treat your mother and sister
+if ever they fell into his power!”
+
+“Let us hope we may never experience it. Still, Baradier and Graff are
+not obliged to act like Lichtenbach. Ask my uncle what he thinks about
+it.”
+
+“Oh, your uncle is too sentimental. For the last hour I have been trying
+to find motives for this intervention. Evidently Lichtenbach wishes to
+throw us off the scent by this demonstration of affection for
+Mademoiselle de Trémont, but it is this very thing which awakens my
+suspicions. Do you know what Barentin, of the Supreme Court, told me
+lately? Not twenty-five per cent. of the criminals are ever discovered,
+and then only by their own folly. The rich calculate, and are almost sure
+of impunity.”
+
+“My dear father, if the whole might of the law cannot seize a murderer,
+how can you expect Baradier and Graff to succeed? We must be sensible,
+and not attempt impossibilities. We will do the best we can—you by
+protecting Mademoiselle de Trémont, and I by assuring her the fortune her
+father promised her. For the rest let us trust in Providence.”
+
+“In Providence!” growled Baradier. “Trust rather in the devil! Attend to
+what I tell you, Marcel. Your mother, yourself, and myself are all
+involved in the quarrel between Lichtenbach and your uncle. Lichtenbach
+is one of those revengeful _men_ who strike both their enemies and their
+enemies’ offspring. Trémont has met his fate; it will be our turn next.”
+
+“No, father, our turn will never come,” said Marcel, energetically. “At
+the very first threat, the faintest attempt, I will go to Lichtenbach
+myself, and settle all our accounts with him at a single time. That I
+swear!”
+
+Graff, clean shaven and elegantly attired, now entered the office.
+Baradier signed to his son to say no more, and all three mounted to the
+salon to join the ladies.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+IN his study, soberly furnished, Elias Lichtenbach, seated in front of a
+large Louis Fourteenth bureau, was speaking in low tones, as though
+afraid of being heard, to a priest, lolling at ease in an enormous
+armchair. By the light of the setting sun, the sharp, bony face of the
+banker, with his _keen_ eyes and thin, well-shaven lips, could be faintly
+distinguished. He was no longer the stout healthy-looking Elias of former
+days. The cares of life had withered the flower of youth on his cheeks,
+and wrinkled the once careless brow. The jaws were still pronounced, but
+hard and thin, like those of a powerful and ferocious man-eater. The
+hairy hands, long and grasping as they lay there on the desk, revealed
+unusual love of wealth. A black skull-cap covered Lichtenbach’s bald
+forehead. His visitor was a young and elegant ecclesiastic of graceful
+and intelligent mien. He spoke with a southern accent, which gave his
+voice a kind of hilarity in sound.
+
+“It will be a very profitable undertaking. The property we have in view
+has no value whatever at present, nothing but waste land and marshes. The
+purchase will be effected in your name, and when we have signed an
+emphyteutic lease with you, we shall at once commence building. We want
+an advance of three hundred thousand francs.”
+
+“There will be no difficulty there,” said Lichtenbach. “I have clients
+disposed to lend—”
+
+“You need not go very far, eh?” said the young priest, with an ironical
+glance at the drawer of the desk, over which the banker spread his
+formidable hands.
+
+“No, Monsieur l’Abbé, not very far, indeed; but, all the same, not here.
+It is a principle of mine never to advance money on securities which
+cannot immediately be realized. Now, the matter you have just been laying
+before me offers no actual guarantee. But that does not matter. You wish
+me to find the capital.”
+
+“After all, this is the main point. Still, we have to rely on others than
+yourself. These gentlemen will not place their confidence lightly. They
+trust you, as they are certain of you, but they would not listen to
+strangers.”
+
+“These gentlemen, as usual, will only have to deal with me,” said
+Lichtenbach, with deference. “I know what I owe them, and they will
+always find me at their service.”
+
+“Then, as soon as the land is bought, and placed at our disposal, we
+immediately commence excavations, which will reveal the presence in the
+subsoil of the layers of ore I have been speaking to you about. At a
+bound the value of the land will be increased tenfold. You will sell back
+a small part of the ground, and with the profits, without further
+expenditure, we shall have paid for the establishment of our community.”
+
+“If the tenor of the ore is such as you state, the exploitation, once
+granted to a company, will bring you in large revenues for several
+years.”
+
+“That is what Monseigneur said on receiving the report of the engineer
+who undertook the soundings. Oh! we need a great deal of money to make
+the work a success,” sighed the young priest. “Our religion is attacked
+with such violence that if we do nothing but defend it we are lost. We
+must carry the war into the enemy’s territory.”
+
+“That is my own opinion, Monsieur l’Abbé. As you see, my journal has
+zealously undertaken the campaign.”
+
+“Yes, it is doing good; but your _panache blanc_ is not sufficiently
+dogmatic as regards pure doctrine. Too much space is given to speculation
+and business enterprise. Your columns smack too much of the Bourse.”
+
+“Monsieur l’Abbé,” replied Elias, roughly, “I do not possess, as these
+gentlemen do, the art of conducting business in a double-faced manner.
+But I will learn from them.”
+
+“Come, do not play the jesuit, my dear Lichtenbach,” said the young
+priest, airily. “We appreciate your services; that you have had proof of,
+and shall have again. By-the-by, who is this wounded man we picked up
+yesterday at Issy? The poor fellow was in a bad way. He came under your
+recommendation.”
+
+Elias turned pale. In tones of alarm he exclaimed—“Not so loud! Monsieur
+l’Abbé—not so loud! No one must suspect that—”
+
+“Oh! what a state you are in! Rest assured. The Superior and myself alone
+were taken into the poor wretch’s confidence. After all, he said very
+little. He was completely exhausted by the efforts he had made in
+dragging himself to our door. It was four o’clock in the morning, and the
+whole brotherhood was at matins. It was, accordingly, possible to
+introduce the wounded man without any one seeing him. It was quite time,
+for, as soon as he was put to bed, he fainted away.”
+
+“Who is attending to him?”
+
+“Our Superior himself; he has a thorough knowledge of medicine. Besides,
+the arm was cut off as though by a thermo-cautery, and all that had to be
+done was to dress the wound. The man has given evidence of the most
+heroic courage. But now he is ravaged by fever, and he speaks.”
+
+“What does he say?”
+
+“A most extraordinary mixture of things. He mentions, in almost the same
+breath, a fortified camp in the Vosges, and a war powder possessed of
+extraordinary virtues. His object is to carry off the plans of the
+former, and obtain possession of the formula of the latter.”
+
+“Does he mention no names?”
+
+“Yes, the name of a woman, whom he calls Sophia, and sometimes the
+baroness. He consults and threatens her in turn. She appears to be his
+accomplice in some underhand work or other.”
+
+“Has he expressed himself more clearly?”
+
+“No, he beats about the bush, and it is impossible to understand his
+meaning. After all, you have nothing to fear.”
+
+Elias gave a sigh of relief.
+
+“Monsieur l’Abbé, I am not afraid for myself, but for others. I am
+engaged in great international relations, as you are aware. The interests
+entrusted to my care represent not merely immense capital, but a great
+number of human lives. It is accordingly my duty to be very prudent.”
+
+The young priest gave a gesture of protest. His countenance assumed a
+serious expression.
+
+“I do not want to hear anything about it, M. Lichtenbach. These
+gentlemen, as you are aware, are thorough Frenchmen. Everything that
+happens beyond the frontiers is foreign to them—I might almost say
+hostile. Outside of France, which we love with deep and enlightened
+tenderness, and wish to save from the corruption of revolution, we
+recognize only the Pope, Sovereign of all Catholics, and our chief, whom
+we blindly obey. Keep your secrets; we will respect them, as you are
+serving us. But do not expect from us any help in the success of
+enterprises which would not concur towards the triumph of the cause to
+which we are devoted—monarchy and religion. In all else you will find us
+neutral. That is all you may expect of us.”
+
+“Have you been commissioned to tell me this?” asked Elias, in tones of
+anguish.
+
+“No, my dear Lichtenbach; I was only to speak to you of the ground
+purchase.”
+
+“Thanks, Monsieur l’Abbé. Tell them I will send my agent to-morrow to
+Grasse, to bring the matter to a conclusion, and that before the month is
+over we shall be in possession.”
+
+“Very well!”
+
+The young Abbé rose from his seat. He stopped, and, in negligent tones,
+said—
+
+“Ah! I was forgetting. Have you heard of that frightful catastrophe which
+took place at Vanves? The explosion even shook the buildings here at
+Issy. Were you not acquainted with this General de Trémont?”
+
+Lichtenbach looked paler and more sombre than ever, as he replied
+stammeringly—
+
+“Yes, Monsieur l’Abbé, I knew him a long time ago.”
+
+“It appears he was a dangerous maniac, dabbling with chemical experiments
+which were destined to kill him in time. A person of doubtful morality as
+well, according to public rumour, and who, even at his advanced age, gave
+himself up to the most degrading debauchery. He will not be missed. They
+say he was assassinated and robbed, before his house blew up. That is
+what comes of investigating in explosives! Well, _au revoir_, my dear
+Lichtenbach. When you come to see the patient give me due notice, and I
+will introduce you to him privately.”
+
+Lichtenbach made no reply. He showed out his visitor with a semblance of
+respectful humility. Then he bowed, as to a superior, and said—
+
+“Assure your friends, Monsieur l’Abbé, of my devotion to their
+interests.”
+
+“Good! Though it is scarcely necessary,” replied the young priest,
+carelessly; and, slowly descending the staircase, he disappeared.
+
+Lichtenbach, in thoughtful mood, returned to his study. It was now almost
+dark. Where the Abbé had just been sitting, a female form now sat
+stretched out in the armchair. A fresh, clear voice said—
+
+“It is as dark as in an oven here, Lichtenbach; let us have a little
+light.”
+
+“What! You are here, Baroness!” exclaimed the banker, eagerly.
+
+“Yes, I have just arrived. Was that the little Abbé d’Escayrac you were
+just taking leave of?”
+
+Lichtenbach had turned on the electric light, bringing into view the
+unceremonious visitor Elias had just called Baroness. She was a
+light-complexioned young woman, of exceeding beauty, with proud profile,
+blue eyes, intelligent forehead, though there was an expression of
+harshness in her small mouth, with its charming red lips, as well as in
+her strong chin. She was very elegantly clothed in black, and wore a
+hooded lace cloak. Patent leather shoes covered her charming feet.
+
+“Have you been here long?” asked Elias abstractedly.
+
+“No, I have only just come, I say. Your servant showed me into the salon,
+and I came in here when I heard your visitor leave. Do not be uneasy, I
+was not listening to what he said.”
+
+“Oh! I have no need to be on my guard against you.”
+
+“Yes, you mistrust me, as you do every one else. I do not blame you for
+it. It is a sign of prudence. Though, all the same, you have nothing to
+fear from me, and neither have I from you.”
+
+“Oh! Baroness, you know that I belong to you, body and soul,” exclaimed
+Lichtenbach.
+
+“Yes, yes, and you would not be sorry if the converse were true, would
+you?” interrupted the young woman, with a mocking smile.
+
+The banker’s pale face lit up with passion; he drew near the Baroness,
+and, taking her hand within his own, said—
+
+“And yet, Sophia, if you would only—”
+
+Withdrawing her hand, she tossed her head with an air of disdain, and
+replied—
+
+“Yes, but I will not, there!”
+
+“Never?”
+
+“Who can tell? If ever I am in great pecuniary difficulties, perhaps I
+may apply to you. Would you advance me money, Lichtenbach, if I needed
+any?”
+
+As she spoke she looked at the banker with a bewitching glance and a
+smile full of promise. The latter, as soon as mention was made of money,
+regained possession of himself. Placing his hand on her lap, he said, in
+a tone of assurance—
+
+“I will give you as much as you need.”
+
+“You undertake a great deal. Take care! After all, there is no hurry; the
+time has not come yet.”
+
+As she spoke, she drew back slightly from Lichtenbach’s presence. The
+latter sighed—
+
+“Ah, Sophia, you are a terrible flirt—your only pleasure consists in
+making men mad.”
+
+“I? You are dreaming, Lichtenbach. Have you ever seen me trouble about
+any man unless it were to my interest to do so? And yet you say such
+silly things. One would think you did not know me!”
+
+“On the contrary, I know you well. Even better than you imagine, for
+there are portions of your short life-which, all the same, has gone
+through so many sensations—which you leave in a favourable light, so that
+I have understood them. You are very clever and bold. I, too, am very
+tenacious and patient, and have an instinctive knowledge of what it is
+useful for me to know, as well as the means of obtaining information.
+Accordingly, I am well aware what you are to-day, Baroness Grodsko. But I
+also know what you were before.”
+
+Sophia’s eyes flashed, and her lips contracted, giving her face an aspect
+of terrible import. Looking boldly at Elias, she said, dryly—
+
+“Ah, ah! Tell me all about it. I should be very pleased to know what you
+have learned about me. If it is true I will not deny it, upon my honour I
+will not. If false you may stop the wages of your informers. When one has
+spies in one’s pay one should always try to have reliable and intelligent
+ones.”
+
+“Mine never deceive me; it is not to their interest to lie.”
+
+“We shall see about that. Well—”
+
+“Well, before becoming the wife of Baron Elmer Grodsko, a Hungarian
+nobleman, who quarrelled with his family in order to marry you, you were
+dancing and singing at the theatre of Belgrade, in a touring troupe,
+directed by an adventurer, half villain, half rogue, named Valaque. It
+was there that Baron Elmer, on his way from Varna, saw you, fell in love,
+and carried you off, after shooting down Escovisco, who pursued him with
+a poniard.”
+
+The young woman’s lips quivered, as she said with a look of disdain—
+
+“Then that is all you know? You cannot go back any further than the
+theatre of Belgrade, and the Escovisco affair? You are making much ado
+about very little!”
+
+“Oh! I was proceeding in order. I could go back further, and tell you of
+the mysterious strange death of Madame Ferranti, a charitable lady of
+Trieste, who had taken you, almost dead with hunger, from the streets
+into her service. You were sixteen years of age. Your benefactresses had
+a son. On the day his mother died—she was said to have been poisoned,
+though there was no definite proof of this—young Ferranti left home with
+you, carrying off all the ready money, negotiable deeds, and jewels of
+his dead mother. Was it you or he who gave Madame Ferranti the cup of tea
+she drank before she fell asleep never to wake again?”
+
+“Indeed it was neither he nor I. It was an old servant, who had been
+twenty years in their service. Besides, she confessed it, and as there
+was no proof against her, nor against any one else, she was released.”
+
+“Whilst you set out for Venice, and had a pleasant time with your
+companion. Ah! He had a fine way of mourning for his mother, the young
+Ferranti! It was at the Café Florian, on the Place Saint-Marc, that, one
+evening when he was drunk, the young ninny picked a quarrel with an
+Austrian major, who, the following morning, on the Lido, ran six inches
+of steel into his body, killing him on the spot.”
+
+“Quite true! Poor Ferranti! He was a handsome fellow, who waltzed
+divinely, but was too fond of absinthe. It _was_ that which killed him,
+or rather the stoccata of Major Bruzelow—a fine man, whose moustaches
+went almost round his head, but as stupid as his sabre, and as dangerous.
+It was he who forced me to leave Venice, where I was enjoying myself so
+well! I could not even speak to a man without the Major challenging him.
+He would have called out the whole town; I was obliged to go.”
+
+“The Austrian police had something to do with it, had they not?”
+
+“I have always hated the Tedeschi, and they have always paid me back in
+the same coin!”
+
+“So that you cannot return to Austria, even now?”
+
+“No, all by reason of that fool of a Grodsko.”
+
+“And what has become of this excellent Grodsko, who broke his mother’s
+heart all for your sake?”
+
+“The excellent Grodsko spends the summer in Vienna, and the winter at
+Monte Carlo. Both winter and summer he gambles to pass the time, and when
+he has lost he drowns his disappointment in drink.”
+
+“Does he always lose?”
+
+“Yes, so he is always drinking.”
+
+“Here are a few corpses already, if I know how to count, to your credit,
+without mentioning the grief, despair, and shame of others. You have
+lived a very exciting life, though you have scarcely yet reached the age
+of thirty.”
+
+“I was twenty-eight last week,” rectified the Baroness, coldly.
+
+“You have trampled on humanity as on a carpet to gain your objects:
+luxury, pleasure, domination. And here you are to-day more brilliant,
+better loved, and more powerful than ever, with a strength of will which
+shrinks before nothing, and a conscience ready for anything. Am I right?”
+
+She looked boldly at Lichtenbach, then, drawing from her pocket a
+cigarette-case of chased silver, she took out an Oriental cigarette,
+which she lit with perfect coolness; then she replied in gentle tones—
+
+“Quite right, though incomplete. I am far more to be dreaded than you
+imagine. You are well aware of it, but are afraid of displeasing me by
+depicting me as I really am. You are in the wrong. I have such a scorn
+for mankind that you cannot vex me by declaring me to be ready to profit
+by it, as though it were a piece of merchandise. In my opinion, men are
+no more interesting than cattle destined for slaughter. They serve to
+feed and enrich me; it is for that they toil and die. Apparently, it is
+their function, since they cannot escape this fate, and as soon as one
+disappears another offers to replace him. Are you going to say that I am
+a destroying flail? Possibly. All over the world there are beings born
+for work, sacrifice, and suffering; as there are others born irremediably
+for idleness, egoism, and enjoyment. It is nature which has made it so.
+To some instinct manifests itself, leading to servitude, to others
+leading to tyranny. Beings exploited and exploiting, beasts of burden and
+beasts of prey. Is not that the sole social classification founded on
+common sense? Look all around you, Lichtenbach, it is an invariable rule:
+a flock of simpletons led away, fleeced, and strangled by a few audacious
+individuals. Will you reproach me for being of the number of those who
+strangle, rather than of those who fleece? We are both at the same game,
+Lichtenbach; the only difference is, I am bold enough to confess it,
+whilst you are hypocritical enough to say nothing. Our object is the
+same—the exploitation of the human race for our greatest mutual profit
+and pleasure. There you are! If I am wrong, prove it to me now.”
+
+She had spoken without raising her voice, and the calm tone in which
+these terrible theories had been expounded as they came from that
+charming mouth formed so strange a contrast with the ferocious cynicism
+of the confession that Lichtenbach, who, although he appeared to have no
+illusions left concerning his beautiful and dangerous partner, was placed
+for a moment out of countenance. He had very few scruples, this
+trafficker in all kinds of goods, who had commenced by despoiling his
+country in its hour of trial, and who continued speculating on social
+poverty and infamy. But now he found himself confronted by a creature
+more audacious and violent, if not more redoubtable, than himself, And he
+weighed in imagination the perils she might make him incur and the
+advantages she could bring him. This beautiful, intelligent, and
+unscrupulous woman was an admirable instrument. He knew what she was
+capable of, but he had no wish to run so great a risk as she ran without
+any need. The adventures which offered the Baroness Sophia her most
+certain means of existence were not open to him; other matters, those of
+a man on the eve of becoming a Deputy, perhaps a Minister, and those of
+this industrial cosmopolity, coining money with filth and blood. His
+coolness returned. He had said too much that was foolish at the beginning
+of the conversation. The time had come to mitigate the confidence of the
+beautiful Sophia, and to give her to understand that, between herself and
+himself, their existed a stout barrier of respectability and of millions
+of francs.
+
+“On the whole, my dear Baroness,” he said, “there is some truth in what
+you have just said, though your manner of explaining yourself is rather
+exotic. Your pompous and declamatory cynicism is of the Orient. All you
+have declared a few moments ago may be summed up in a very few words;
+human inequality is unchangeable. There are fools and rogues. The first
+are exploited by the second, under the surveillance of the police and the
+control of the law. In your theory, you have not granted sufficient
+importance to police and law. I could not recommend you too strongly to
+pay more attention to them. They are one of the most important factors in
+the problem you are spending your life in solving. If you consider them
+as a neglectable quantity, one of these mornings you will receive a rude
+awakening.”
+
+She smiled disdainfully—
+
+“The small fish are caught in the meshes of the net, the large ones break
+through and escape. I am afraid of no thing or person except myself. I
+alone am capable of doing myself any harm. That, of course, I never think
+of doing.”
+
+“Not just now. But you have gone through moments of anxiety. I heard that
+in London two years ago.”
+
+A dark cloud came over Sophia’s brow. She suddenly flung her cigarette
+into the fire, and in changed accents, said—
+
+“Yes, I have committed acts of folly, for I was in love. And a woman in
+love becomes as stupid as a man.”
+
+“The object of your affections was an actor, I believe, the handsome
+Stevenson?”
+
+“Yes, Richard Stevenson, the rival of Irving.”
+
+“You were madly in love with him, but he played you false. Accordingly,
+one evening you found means to entice your rival on board a yacht you had
+hired, lying at anchor on the Thames. Since that time she was never heard
+of.”
+
+“Ah! You are acquainted with that anecdote? Indeed you have been well
+informed. Do you also know that Stevenson, to whom in a fit of madness I
+had said that he would never see her again, beat me with his cane, and
+left me almost dead on the spot?”
+
+“The stick presented to him by the Prince of Wales, doubtless. You must
+have felt highly flattered. It did not prevent you two days later from
+going to the Empire, and cheering your brutal persecutor.”
+
+“Yes, I loved the wretch; but now, luckily, all that is over.”
+
+Lichtenbach burst into a laugh.
+
+“What have you done with the handsome Cesare Agostini?”
+
+“Ah! He forms a mere pastime for me. I must interest myself in some one
+or other. That is no passion at all.”
+
+“All the same, he costs you a great deal, I suppose?”
+
+“Enormous sums! These Italians are terrible spendthrifts. This one knows
+one good way of making money, and ten better ways of spending it. In the
+first place, he is a gambler, and then, he cannot see a fine ring without
+buying it. But then, he has a few good qualities. He is no novice at
+either pistol or sword.”
+
+“He is simply a bravo.”
+
+“At your service, if there is any one you wish to be rid of.”
+
+“Is he bold and intrepid?”
+
+“Yes; but, above all, to be relied on. Try him, you will be well
+satisfied.”
+
+Lichtenbach’s countenance grew dark, as it always did every time a
+subject was mentioned which did not please him, and he said in arrogant
+tones—
+
+“Much obliged, but I do not deal in drama; comedy is sufficient for me.”
+
+“Ah! You’re fond of a joke. You are still one of those good apostles who
+insinuate a crime, have it executed, and then exclaim in candid tones, ‘I
+have had nothing to do with it!’ Have you had nothing to do with this
+affair at Vanves, I should like to know?”
+
+This time Elias became quite angry.
+
+“Silence! What are you thinking of to cry out in such a loud voice? Are
+we the only ones in the house?”
+
+She burst into a laugh.
+
+“Well, well! You amuse me! For an hour you have been telling me my own
+history, without the slightest precaution, and when I make the slightest
+allusion to your’s you tremble with fear. You do not mind compromising
+me, but not yourself. Very kind of you.”
+
+“My daughter is here, and I have no wish—”
+
+“For her to know you under your real aspect. For you are a regular
+scoundrel, Lichtenbach, and of the very worst kind, one who wishes to
+keep up appearances, even with one’s accomplices. Do you think you can
+deceive me, eh? Your jesuitism has no affect on me; I am well acquainted
+with your lubricity. In the whole world there is no more villainous
+character than yourself, and yet you wish to be taken for a man of honour
+and virtue!”
+
+Lichtenbach, pale with fear and anger, exclaimed—
+
+“Baroness! Really, you wish to throw me into a passion.”
+
+“Oh no, no! Now I will be very nice with you. Listen, my voice is a mere
+whisper. Lean over and listen. I need a hundred thousand francs to-night,
+to have Hans carried off to Geneva. He can bear the journey now. Cesare
+has gone to see him.”
+
+“Do you think he will survive?” asked Lichtenbach.
+
+“Yes. That vexes you? You would rather be well rid of him? Calm yourself,
+he would bite off his tongue rather than betray a companion. Besides,
+what does he know? That your interests were the same as ours, and that,
+had he found the formula for the explosive for commerce, you would have
+paid as much for them as those for whom we are working would have paid
+for the war explosive. The _coup_ missed. Hans is maimed. But, thanks to
+me, you are free from all suspicion.”
+
+Looking calmly at Elias, she said—
+
+“A hundred thousand francs, on account.”
+
+“On account?”
+
+“Yes, on account. And do not waste any time. General de Trémont, whom you
+hated so strongly, has been killed for you. How much would you give for
+Baradier and Graff.”
+
+“Nothing, nothing!” groaned Lichtenbach. “What crimes are these you are
+laying to my account? That I desired the death of General de Trémont and
+am anxious to harm Baradier and Graff? You are wandering! It is sheer
+madness! Certainly they are my enemies, and have done me a great deal of
+harm. But, commit a crime on that account! Never, never! If they were to
+die, ah! I should consider it as a divine providence, but hasten their
+last moments by a single hour or minute, I, great God!”
+
+“Of Abraham, of Jacob, and of Moses! Yes, my fine renegade! My good
+Lichtenbach!” said the Baroness, with a look of scorn. “Yes, you are
+quite ready to accept the favours of providence, incarnated under the
+features of the Baroness Grodsko, but you will not take the initiative
+yourself. Hypocrisy again! You ask for nothing, but you accept all! Well,
+your unuttered prayer shall be granted!”
+
+“Baroness! In the name of God, do not compromise me. Do not proceed
+without instructions.”
+
+“Ah, ah! How terrified you are. You remind me of old Trémont when I
+handled his chemical products after dessert. ‘Don’t touch that, it is
+deadly!’ he would say. Meanwhile, I tried to take in wax the impress of
+the lock of the iron casket, which Hans succeeded in opening, but which
+cost him his arm. And all for nothing. The box exploded, and destroyed
+the secret in the midst of the flames. But some one has this secret, and
+I must find it out. Whatever it cost I will obtain possession of it!”
+
+“What have you been promised for it?”
+
+She looked at him, with a laugh.
+
+“You are very inquisitive! Don’t think I shall tell you, however.
+Professional pride apart—for, after all, one does not care to fail in a
+mission of this importance—the affair is worth all the trouble I am
+taking. Meanwhile, my hundred thousand francs!”
+
+Lichtenbach opened a drawer, took out ten bundles of bank-notes, and held
+them out to the Baroness.
+
+“Here they are.”
+
+“Thanks. Now, Lichtenbach, what would you say if it were young Marcel
+Baradier who was the depository of old Trémont’s formulæ?”
+
+Elias sat up with renewed interest.
+
+“What! What makes you think—”
+
+“Ah, ah! Cannibal, you have just smelt human flesh, and have become quite
+young again in consequence.”
+
+“Baroness, you will kill me with anguish.”
+
+“Ah! Yes, you look as though you would die, indeed! Hate, Lichtenbach,
+hate is a far stronger sentiment than love, is it not?”
+
+He made no reply. The only thing that was now of importance to him was
+the supposition Sophia had just given utterance to. He saw nothing,
+except that the son of his deadly enemy might possibly be in possession
+of this secret they were so anxious to fathom. If only it were possible!
+Suppose chance were to give him the opportunity of crushing the very
+people he hated with all his soul, and, at the same time, depriving them
+of a fortune. He asked the Baroness in eager tones—
+
+“What makes you think the General took Marcel Baradier into his
+confidence?”
+
+“In the first place, they saw one another constantly; the young man was
+admitted into his laboratory, a most exceptional favour. I know well he
+worked there with Trémont, who had entire confidence in him. However
+mysterious a man may be, however close and sullen, a fatal hour is sure
+to come, when he is forced to unburden himself. The General would never
+have imparted his plans to a man, even to his best friend, for he was as
+cunning as a fox. But, after dinner, with a good cigar between his lips,
+he felt strongly impelled to dazzle me, and as he could not do this
+either by his youth or his beauty, he attempted to win me over by his
+genius. In this way, on different occasions, he let slip several small
+incidents, which, collected and coordinated by a good memory, form a
+certainty.”
+
+“Then all is not lost?”
+
+“Nothing is ever lost.”
+
+“Then what are you going to do, Baroness?”
+
+“You shall know when it is to my interest to tell you.”
+
+“You have no confidence in me?”
+
+“Under what pretext should I have confidence in you? I know you only too
+well. You will serve me until the time comes when you find it more to
+your advantage to throw me over.”
+
+“I!”
+
+“You, Elias Lichtenbach; but that is all the same to me—I hold you now.”
+
+“Do you hope to succeed?”
+
+“I always hope to succeed. Look at me now, please.”
+
+She threw back her head with a movement of voluptuous grace, which seemed
+to intensify her beauty a hundred-fold. She smiled, and her eyes and lips
+assumed an expression of passionate ardour, which sent a thrill through
+the veins of Lichtenbach. Who could resist this creature’s imperious
+power? She well knew the extent of her charm. At a sign from her men
+became changed into slaves. She was the magician who loosened human
+passions and appetites, and led lost creatures to folly, shame, and
+crime.
+
+“Yes; you will succeed in whatever you undertake,” murmured Lichtenbach,
+fascinated by her charm.
+
+“No exaggeration! I am not infallible, as you know, since Trémont escaped
+me. Still, I will do everything a human being can do to succeed. Have
+confidence, and keep calm, that is all I ask.”
+
+A rolling of wheels was heard under the carriage gate, and a trampling of
+horses’ hoofs announced the return of Mademoiselle Lichtenbach.
+
+“It is my daughter returning,” said the banker.
+
+“Then she is at home for the present?”
+
+“She wished to assist at the funeral of the General de Trémont, whose
+daughter is a friend of hers.”
+
+A smile flitted across the lips of the Baroness.
+
+“Chance or precaution?”
+
+“Chance,” said Lichtenbach, coldly. “They are both at the Sacre-Coeur.
+They found themselves thrown together, and a mutual attachment sprang
+up.”
+
+“And now that you know of it, you encourage this intimacy?”
+
+“I never oppose my daughter.”
+
+“That is true; I forgot. You are a good father, Lichtenbach. It is the
+last concession you have made to humanity. And it is there that you are
+still vulnerable. Take care!”
+
+“My daughter is an angel, who prays for me. I dread nothing. She has her
+mother’s goodness and grace.”
+
+“And she imagines you to be a good and honourable father. Suppose the day
+were to come when her eyes were opened about yourself?”
+
+Elias stood upright in threatening attitude.
+
+“Who could do that?”
+
+“One of your enemies; you do not lack them now. Perhaps a friend; the
+world is so wicked.”
+
+“His boldness would cost him dear!” growled Lichtenbach.
+
+The Baroness arose. She walked about the room for a few seconds, as
+though undecided to leave. Then she asked—
+
+“Before I go, could I see your daughter?”
+
+Lichtenbach looked steadily at her, then he replied rudely—
+
+“No.”
+
+“Why not?”
+
+“Because it is useless.”
+
+“Are you afraid that I shall corrupt her by speaking a few words to her?”
+
+“Perhaps.”
+
+“Bravo! Well, you are frank now, at any rate.”
+
+Lichtenbach raised himself to his full height, and, repaying Sophia in a
+single moment for all the insolent expressions she had been so prodigal
+with the last hour, said—
+
+“Mademoiselle Lichtenbach can have nothing in common with the Baroness
+Grodsko.”
+
+Sophia gave a gesture of indifference.
+
+“Very well. As you please. _Au revoir_, Lichtenbach.”
+
+She was going in the direction of the hall when he stopped her.
+
+“Not that way.”
+
+Opening a door, concealed behind some folds of tapestry, he said—
+
+“Go down this staircase, you will meet no one.”
+
+“There is no trap-dungeon at the bottom?” she asked, laughingly.
+
+“No; there is only the concierge’s room.”
+
+“Adieu. No ill will?”
+
+“I should think not; you ought to be well satisfied. You carry away with
+you indulgences to the extent of a hundred thousand francs. _Au revoir_.”
+
+She disappeared. He returned to his desk in dreamy mood. This woman, so
+dangerous and depraved, always disturbed him, though he knew her well.
+
+A knock at the door threw him from his reverie. Rising to open it, an
+expression of pleasure came into his face. It was his daughter, who had
+come to see him.
+
+“Am I not disturbing you?” she asked, with a shade of uneasiness in her
+voice.
+
+“No, my darling, you never disturb me. Have you had a pleasant visit?”
+
+“Very pleasant. They were all very kind to me.”
+
+Lichtenbach said nothing; his eyes fell on the ground. He did not wish
+his daughter to catch their expression.
+
+“Madeline is very fortunate to find such devoted friends in her trouble.
+Madame Baradier is an excellent lady. She is going to keep the poor girl
+with them. Although I am very sorry she is leaving the convent, since we
+shall be separated in future, I am very glad to know that she has found
+such good friends. It will be like a renewal of life for her.”
+
+“You are so sympathetic, my little Marianne.”
+
+“The blow which has struck Madeline is so terrible. Can anything more
+terrible happen to a child than to lose its parents? And when one has no
+longer one’s mother, as was the case with both of us.”
+
+The young girl’s voice shook, tears stood in her eyes. Lichtenbach turned
+pale, but kept his eyes still fixed on the ground.
+
+“It was this similarity of situation which, from the very first day, drew
+us together. Our common sorrow has been the source of our affection. It
+seemed to us that, as we were less loved than the rest we ought to be all
+the dearer to one another. She had for her father the same affection I
+have for you. It seems he was a great _savant_. Did you know him?”
+
+He was obliged to reply. In tremulous tones he said—“No; I have only
+heard mention of him.”
+
+“He was a very close friend of M. Baradier, and the godfather of his son
+Marcel. They all bewail his loss.”
+
+Lichtenbach raised his eyes from the ground; he looked at his daughter
+with keen look—
+
+“Who has told you all this?”
+
+“Madame Baradier and Madeline.”
+
+“You have spoken to Mademoiselle Baradier?”
+
+“Yes; and to her mother as well.”
+
+“And the son also, perhaps?”
+
+The sudden harshness of tone in Lichtenbach’s questions troubled
+Marianne. She stopped astonished—
+
+“But, papa, I assure you, everybody was exceedingly kind to me. M. Marcel
+Baradier accompanied me right to the carriage. Was it not quite natural?”
+
+“Yes, yes, perfectly natural. Repeat to me all they said to you. Did they
+make no mention of me?”
+
+“Not once. Your name was not even pronounced. I was surprised at that,
+for the Baradier family must know you. You formerly lived in the same
+town.”
+
+“Yes, we lived in the same town, and left it together. But we did not
+travel the same road. For, I ought to tell you, there was no friendship
+between us. My father and the Graffs had been hostile to one another.
+Graff is Baradier’s brother-in-law.”
+
+“But all this happened so long ago that it is doubtless forgotten.”
+
+“No, my dear girl,” said Elias, solemnly. “Nothing is forgotten.”
+
+“So you are not well disposed towards Madeline’s friends?”
+
+“Had I been ill disposed, should I have permitted you to call on them?”
+
+“Then it is they who wish you ill? That must be unjust on their part, for
+you are so good and kind. There must be some misunderstanding, and you do
+not know one another sufficiently.”
+
+“It is not so, my child. We have long known one another very well, and
+have always been opposed to one another. You are grown up now, and in a
+position to learn what life has in store for you. Very well! From the
+Baradiers and Graffs you have nothing favourable to expect. Every time
+you have dealings with them be on your guard. I had made up my mind to
+enlighten you some day on the situation this inveterate hostility has
+created between us. To-day is as good a time as any. I permitted you to
+enter the house which has received Mademoiselle de Trémont that you might
+not be in a position to accuse me of having concealed from you the least
+fraction of truth. Now you have seen the Baradiers, and you are convinced
+that I can treat with them on equal terms. Your grandfather Lichtenbach
+suffered a great deal at their hands in days gone by. He was an honest
+man, who commenced life in a very humble way. They humiliated and
+tortured him. When I was a poor little trader they spread abroad all
+kinds of calumny and slander about me. But I repaid them for all their
+insolence to old Lichtenbach. All this happened before we had left
+Lorraine—long before you were born. Still, this kind of hatred leaves an
+almost indestructible ferment in the heart. Whatever goes back to days of
+childhood and youth remains graven more firmly in the memory than things
+that happen in mature life. The Baradiers and Graffs came to Paris, so
+did I at a later date. We have been separated by life more completely
+than by immense distances, for in this great city, from street to street,
+quarter to quarter, one is more separated than from province to province.
+And yet, we have never forgotten the past. The Baradiers and Graffs are
+the inveterate enemies of the Lichtenbachs. Keep that well in your mind,
+my child, and let it be the rule of your conduct under every circumstance
+in life.”
+
+Marianne looked at her father uneasily.
+
+“Then you wish me to espouse your quarrel?”
+
+“God forbid! I love you too well to endanger your peace of mind, and I
+will do all I can to protect you from anything which might cause you pain
+and suffering. I have opened your eyes, for you must know how to discern,
+at a given moment, the causes of certain events, and the bearing of
+certain expressions. Leave to me the responsibility of assuring your
+security and happiness.”
+
+“Can I go and see Madeline again?”
+
+“Why should you? If you do not call on her what will prevent her coming
+to see you?”
+
+“I shall be at the convent.”
+
+“Not for ever.”
+
+The young girl gave her father a beseeching look as she said—
+
+“Ah! If you would only let me stay with you, how pleased I should be.”
+
+Lichtenbach’s face lit up with an expression of joy and gladness.
+
+“What would you do here?” he asked good humouredly.
+
+“I would keep the house for you. There is great need of it, though I do
+not wish to criticize. A woman would not leave this fine mansion in so
+gloomy and so dismal-looking a condition. So little would be needed to
+arrange the rooms so as to make them comfortable and agreeable. Besides,
+you could devote yourself entirely to your own work, and you would see
+how much better everything would go. It is not a man’s _rôle_ to give
+orders to servants. Would you not like to have some one about you who
+would ever be affectionately on the watch to attend to your every need
+and comfort? I am eighteen years old now; they no longer know what to
+teach me at the convent. Very soon it will be I who will be giving
+lessons to the pupils. Have I been born into the world to be a teacher at
+the Sacre-Cœur? You have a daughter; she does not belong to others, she
+is your own. Why don’t you keep her to yourself?”
+
+As she spoke she flung her arms round him and pressed him to her breast,
+so that the paternal instinct of Elias warmed gently under the influence
+of her fond caresses. This man, harsh-natured and ferocious as he was,
+became filled with generous and tender sentiments as his child looked
+down upon him. A sigh escaped his lips.
+
+“If I were to listen to you, should I not be doing something very
+imprudent? One should be alone and untrammelled if he wishes to remain
+strong and safe.”
+
+“But what are you afraid of? To listen to you one would imagine you were
+in a state of war with enemies lying in ambush for you. Is life so full
+of dangers? Is there no protection in this world from one’s foes?”
+
+Elias smiled.
+
+“Simple upright minds never see anything threatening to be afraid of.
+They are blind. But sagacious observers look at everything with anxious,
+uneasy eyes, and see danger all around. Look at the sea; at the first
+glance all you can distinguish will be an immense sheet of water,
+azure-blue, the mirror of the sky, furrowed all over by vessels, and
+troubled by the winds. Then lean over, and try to pierce the ocean’s deep
+bed, and you will see frightful reefs, whose existence you never
+suspected, and terrible monsters ever on the watch. _Débris_ and wrecks,
+the lamentable remains of ships and seamen, will prove to you that danger
+is ever present, that catastrophes are everyday events, and to avoid
+them, unceasing attention and prudence are needed. It is the same with
+society, which you believe trustworthy, and with life, which you judge so
+easy. The surface is smooth and attractive, but beneath everything is
+monstrous and terrifying. Still, I am here to watch over you, do not be
+uneasy. By my side you will be sheltered from danger, and as you wish to
+stay at home, my dear child, you shall do so. Your presence will be a
+consolation and a joy to me in the decline of life.”
+
+Holding out his arms, she threw herself on his breast with a cry of
+gratitude. Lichtenbach, rather ashamed at having given way to such tender
+emotions, said briefly—
+
+“Well, that is settled. I will send to the convent for your wardrobe and
+all your belongings, and you shall settle down here at once.”
+
+“Oh, my dear father, it would scarcely be worth while to take back the
+few garments I have; they may be disposed of in charity. There are only a
+few personal souvenirs I should like to keep. You will give me some
+money, will you not, as a present for these excellent nuns who have taken
+such good care of me?”
+
+“But you are rich, my darling,” said Elias, with a smile. “You have your
+mother’s fortune, which has been accumulating interest. Besides, I must
+give up my accounts to you.”
+
+Marianne went up to her father, and, kissing him tenderly, said—
+
+“This will serve as a receipt for everything!”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+M. MAYEUR, examining magistrate, was seated in his study, near the
+fireplace, whilst his clerk, in listless mood, was engaged in questioning
+one of the agents, charged with investigating the Vanves affair. M.
+Mayeur was terribly bored; he was accustomed to carry through sensational
+affairs, without giving himself much trouble. The results were obtained
+with regularity, and as though by enchantment. Chance seemed to favour
+him, and he was reputed to be the luckiest judge on the bench. He had
+become accustomed to his good fortune, so, when the Vanves affair had
+been placed in his hands, he gave a smile of satisfaction and confidence,
+whilst his clerk, rubbing together his hands, with a look of pity for the
+culprits, said—
+
+“We shall not need to spend much time over this matter!”
+
+And yet matters were dragging along slowly. For a whole week, M. Mayeur
+had multiplied his investigations, sent out detective after detective,
+summoned witnesses, and fulfilled judicial commissions. Nothing came of
+it all. As he expressed it, he was moving about in a thick fog, from
+which he could not escape. Every evening the Government agent sent for
+him, and asked in satirical accents—
+
+“Well, Mayeur, where are we now?”
+
+And the magistrate, accustomed as he was to success, found himself
+obliged to reply—
+
+“Ah, sir, we are still on the look-out, but we have found nothing yet.”
+
+“Ah, ah! The deuce! A week already flown since the crime was committed.
+Your chances are diminishing. In proportion as time passes, false tracks
+appear, and the scent becomes fainter. I expected a better result from
+you! As a rule, your inspiration is clearer.”
+
+“But there is nothing whatever to take hold of—not the slightest clue in
+the cursed affair!”
+
+“What! Nothing? You have the corpse of the victim, the house in ruins,
+and the arm of the assassin! What are you doing with this latter? It
+ought to reveal something.”
+
+“For the present it is in the frigorific apparatus,” growled M. Mayeur.
+“But neither corpse, nor house, nor arm gives me the slightest results.
+An evil genius seems to have passed over everything, carrying with it
+death and mutilation, and leaving nothing behind. It is enough to drive
+one mad!”
+
+“Gently, Mayeur, keep a cool head, whatever happens. Persevere. You have
+been spoiled by success, but do not be discouraged; at any moment light
+may flash on the whole affair, and clear up everything.”
+
+What caused M. Mayeur the greatest chagrin was that he was perfectly
+aware of the secret pleasure his want of success gave all his colleagues.
+A magistrate who had failed in so important an investigation; how could
+he expect to be nominated to the Assize Court, contrary to all normal
+promotion, if he had no longer his invariable good luck as his supreme
+justification? And, seated in his study, with his back to the light,
+looking vacantly into the fire, whilst his clerk ran the risk of
+dislocating his jaw with too much gaping, M. Mayeur, to satisfy his
+conscience, in mournful accents, questioned one of his agents, who had
+returned after a fruitless search.
+
+“So there was no trace of the wounded man having passed through the
+cottage gardens, nor on the road to Paris?”
+
+“No, sir. I have visited all the inns frequented by the quarrymen and
+gardeners of the district. No one could give me any definite information.
+One would imagine the murderer had been annihilated by the explosion
+itself.”
+
+“Nothing of the kind! He was tracked to within three hundred paces from
+the Trémont property, and there a trail of blood, quite visible, which he
+had left all the way, suddenly disappeared. Did he, at that spot, find
+his accomplices waiting for him? Was he carried off? How and where?
+Nothing but darkness and obscurity!”
+
+“Those who committed the crime are not professional thieves, although the
+General has been robbed of objects of value he carried on his person.
+Accordingly, they will not be found so easily. That is where the whole
+difficulty comes in.”
+
+The magistrate gave a gesture of discontent, as though to signify that he
+knew all that. Stroking his beard, he said, with a sigh—
+
+“You may go now. Send me Baudoin, the General’s servant, whom I have sent
+for afresh.”
+
+The agent bowed, and left the room. A moment after the door opened again,
+and the valet’s resolute, intelligent face appeared. He already
+sympathized with the clerk, who gave him a friendly nod. The magistrate
+said, in sulky tones—
+
+“Take a seat, M. Baudoin. I have disturbed you once more, with the object
+of explaining certain details which I find incomprehensible.”
+
+“Do not apologize, sir; it is no disturbance if it is for anything
+concerning the General. Ah! I should only be too happy if I could give
+you any efficient help in your task!”
+
+How could this servant throw light on a mystery which he, Mayeur, could
+not succeed in unravelling? Well, it could not be helped. The clerk
+seemed overjoyed at his master’s humiliation. He had been worrying him
+long enough with his lack of capacity. A striking failure would make him
+less self-confident, and he would be a little more indulgent towards his
+subordinate, whom he always appeared to look upon as an imbecile. Fume
+away, my good master! That will not help you much. And the clerk gave
+another mighty yawn.
+
+“This woman you saw leave the carriage at the door of the house—was she
+tall or short?”
+
+“Rather tall. But as she was wrapped in a large mantle I could not say
+precisely. By the way in which she descended from the carriage, I should
+imagine she was rather slender in build.”
+
+“And her companion?”
+
+“Oh! her companion; I saw him distinctly. He was a strong man, with a
+thick beard, light-complexioned, and brutal in appearance. He wore a grey
+felt hat and a dark suit. His accent was foreign, and—”
+
+“Do you think it is the man your master called Hans?” asked the
+magistrate.
+
+“It could be no one else. The General received no one, except his
+friends, Messieurs Baradier and Graff. The people who came on different
+occasions at night to the villa must have been regular villains for him
+not to permit me to stay with him.”
+
+“What do you consider the reason of this precaution on the part of M. de
+Trémont?”
+
+“The fact that he would see me trying to fathom the plots of this lady
+and her acolyte.”
+
+“Then, in your opinion, it is a feminine intrigue which is at the root of
+the matter?”
+
+“Apparently, yes.”
+
+“And in reality?”
+
+“It was their object to steal from the General his formulæ for the
+manufacture of his new powders.”
+
+“Then the woman was only an intermediary?”
+
+“An intermediary, no. They well knew the General would never consent to a
+bargain. A bait, yes. I did not see the woman, but every time she came
+she left the General’s study impregnated with a peculiar perfume of a
+very captivating odour. Oh! I should recognize it amongst a hundred! The
+woman’s voice, too, was caressing and seductive. Ah! my poor master! She
+knew what power she had over him. That woman was capable of anything—of
+driving mad a brave warm-hearted man like my master, of pouring over him
+the poison of her looks and smiles, and having him cruelly killed for
+some cause I know nothing of. As for the man Hans, he was only an agent—a
+well-informed man, for the General respected his opinions, and could
+speak with him of his discoveries, but not of the same social position as
+his accomplice. He was an ordinary, even a rough individual. The woman’s
+prestige must have been demanded to have had him received by M. de
+Trémont, who was so aristocratic.”
+
+“And you could never find out, by means of the cook, who remained in the
+house, what took place when you had left the house?”
+
+“No, she was of a very dull intellect. Outside of her work, there was
+very little to be obtained from her. That is the reason M. de Trémont had
+no cause to mistrust her. All the same, she saw the woman on several
+occasions, and told me that she was a miracle of beauty—young,
+light-complexioned, with eyes that would have damned a saint. She spoke
+with the General in a foreign language. Now the General could only speak
+English and Italian.”
+
+“Was your master rich?”
+
+“No, sir, he had a very modest fortune—about twenty thousand francs
+income. But his discoveries were very valuable. And it was these the
+woman was aiming at. In all probability, whilst she was with the General,
+her accomplice was examining the papers and searching among the
+products.”
+
+“You never found any paper dealing with the relations of the General with
+this woman?”
+
+“Never.”
+
+“What became of the telegrams the General received telling him of the
+arrival of his visitors?”
+
+“The General burnt them himself. I saw him do it. Ah! Every precaution
+was taken by my brave master not to compromise the fair Baroness. God
+knows how he loved her! He trembled like a student at the idea of seeing
+her!”
+
+“And yet he never gave up to her the secret of his discoveries?”
+
+Baudoin’s face became serious.
+
+“Ah! He was reserving his secret for France. I heard him say so more than
+once, after an experiment which satisfied him: ‘Baudoin, my good fellow,
+when our artillery has this powder, we shall no longer be afraid of any
+one.’ Certainly the General was passionately fond of this woman. But he
+loved his country far more, and between the two, he did not hesitate.
+Besides, that was certainly the cause of his death. They could not
+succeed in taking his secret by fair means, so they attempted to obtain
+possession of it by force.”
+
+The clerk had ceased yawning; he was listening to Baudoin with
+sympathetic interest all the while he was writing his deposition. He
+wrote down the main outlines only, for it was the third time M. Mayeur
+was having the same thing repeated to him, as though he hoped to discover
+among expressions already heard, some special signification which would
+permit him to unravel the truth. And it was always this love intrigue,
+cloaking the criminal attempt, the bearing of which he could not succeed
+in gauging. Was it a matter that concerned international politics or was
+it mere spying? Or simply a bold attempt to seize a commercial product of
+considerable value? Still, before whatever hypothesis he stopped, there
+was obscurity with regard to cause, ignorance concerning details, an
+impenetrable mystery which maddened him, and which seemed as though it
+would compromise his career. Flinging himself back in his chair, he said—
+
+“Yes, the criminals have taken great precautions. The General is dead,
+the servant, too, is dead, and you had been sent away. The wounded man
+has disappeared, as though buried in the bowels of the earth. And the
+unknown woman is mocking at our researches.”
+
+Baudoin shook his head.
+
+“So long as attempts are made to find her, she will hide, and nothing
+will be discovered. If the matter concerned me, I know what I should do.”
+
+M. Mayeur, in his distress, flashed at the valet a look of curiosity.
+When he, the examining magistrate, so famous for a resourceful
+imagination, no longer knew what expedient to try, a simple witness
+pretended to understand the position, and point out the means to be
+followed. He was on the point of crushing him with official disdain, by
+telling him to trouble with what concerned him, when he thought that,
+after all, advice was not to be neglected, and he might despise it
+afterwards, if necessary. He accordingly asked, in mocking tones, to
+safeguard his dignity—
+
+“Then, what would you do, M. Baudoin?”
+
+“Please pardon me, sir, if what I say is foolish, but if the affair were
+in my hand, instead of sending out in every direction, seeking
+information everywhere, I would not stir a step. I should let it be known
+that I had given up the pursuit, and was engaged in something else. You
+must know what takes place in a barn, where there are mice. There is a
+general rush to the holes as soon as the sound of entering feet are
+heard. If you remain quiet, after a few moments the mice are seen to be
+risking out again, and playing about the floor as before. Well, I believe
+it would be the same in the present case. I beg pardon, if I interfere in
+the matter, but I, too, am bent on finding the rascals who killed my
+master, and if I can contribute towards their capture it will be the
+brightest day of my life.”
+
+M. Mayeur no longer cast a disdainful glance at the General’s valet. He
+smiled at him in most amiable mood. For, in a flash he had furnished him
+with the means of taking advantage of the difficulty in this cursed
+affair. When the Government agent should say to him, that very
+evening—“Well, my dear Mayeur, where have you got to now? Nothing yet?”
+instead of replying in a tone of vexation, “Nothing at all,” thus
+confessing his inability to discover, and even the absence of grounds on
+which to found his researches, he would be able to reply: “This matter
+has been badly begun, I undertake to recommence everything _ab ovo_. We
+have to deal with rogues who are exceedingly cunning. I intend to change
+my plans entirely.” This time he would no longer appear incapable, as
+though he were entrusted with a task too difficult for his capacity. He
+would secure an honourable retreat, and gain time as well.
+
+Resuming his stiff and formal gravity, he said—
+
+“There will be plenty of time to act as you suggest. But I have still at
+my disposal many other means of throwing light on the subject.”
+
+His clerk, pen in mouth, could not help laughing outright. When Mayeur
+was at bay, without a single idea in his head, befooled by the culprits
+when he had not the slightest idea where to look for them, he still
+pretended to “throw light on the subject.” Light on the subject! It was
+enough to make any one laugh! He gave Baudoin a wink, and noisily rattled
+his desk.
+
+M. Mayeur, as though he guessed the secret hostility of his subordinate,
+said to him—
+
+“Just go and see if Colonel Vallenot has come from the Ministry.”
+
+The clerk stretched himself; showed Baudoin his cigarette-case, with a
+grimace which signified, “I’m just going to smoke one,” and left the
+room. M. Mayeur followed him, bolted the door, and returning to Baudoin,
+said—
+
+“I would rather we were alone in discussing the subject I am engaged on.
+The slightest indiscretion in so delicate a matter might ruin everything.
+Just now you gave me a piece of advice which I might follow to advantage.
+Still, you did not tell me everything. You are better informed than you
+have yet shown. Perhaps they are only suspicions, still, I am sure you
+are quite determined to help justice in an energetic pursuit of your
+master’s murderers. Why have you not perfect confidence in me? We have
+the same object in view. Come, M. Baudoin, be frank and open. You imagine
+you have discovered some means of laying hands on the culprits?”
+
+Baudoin raised his head, and looking fixedly at the magistrate, saw that
+he was in passionate earnest. He thought that he had really an ally in
+him, and that professional secrecy guaranteed his discretion, and
+accordingly made up his mind to speak.
+
+“Well! yes, I have a means by which we shall lay our hands on the
+culprits.”
+
+“What is it?”
+
+“First of all, swear that what I am about to say shall not be repeated.”
+
+“But—,” protested the judge.
+
+“Take it or leave it,” declared Baudoin, bluntly. “I am risking my life
+and that of others as well. I shall say nothing, unless you give me your
+word of honour not to repeat to a living soul what I am going to entrust
+to you.”
+
+“Not even to my chief?”
+
+“Not a word to any one! Do you give me your promise?”
+
+“Very well! I promise.”
+
+“Well, then! as I told you before, in matters concerning scientific
+research, the General had confidence in no one except a young man whom he
+loved as though he were his own child, M. Baradier’s son. I have reason
+to believe that M. Marcel knows M. de Trémont’s formulæ. If, therefore,
+the villains we are on the look-out for have the slightest suspicion that
+they might in this direction try the _coup_ which failed with the
+General, as soon as they are reassured as to the result of the present
+search, they will set to work afresh. It is there my task will begin. I
+am entering the service of M. Marcel, and I shall not leave him a single
+moment. Besides, I have a friend, who is accustomed to such work. I am
+taking him with me. The two of us are organizing a continual
+surveillance. If the plot recommences, we let it develop, and intervene
+at the critical moment. That is my plan. That is why I made bold, a few
+minutes ago, to advise you to give up the game, to all appearance. With
+villains like those with whom we have to deal, there may be a great deal
+of trouble. Now, you may do all that is necessary to give me a hand, and
+as soon as developments have come to a head, I will immediately lay the
+matter in your hands.”
+
+The examining magistrate reflected for a moment, then said—
+
+“All this is outside of legal precedent, but the situation is an
+exceptional one. Above everything, we must succeed! If we have to deal
+with determined criminals, as I imagine is the case, this is not their
+first attempt, and perhaps we shall capture a whole gang. Put into
+performance, therefore, the plan you have indicated, and, at the
+slightest difficulty, come to me, and I will summon all the forces of the
+law to your aid. You need simply show me the beginning of the thread, and
+I will go right to the end.”
+
+“Good; you shall hear from me at the right time. Not another word, for
+here is your clerk returning.”
+
+The clerk knocked at the closed door, and the magistrate opened it.
+Colonel Vallenot stood in the passage, and M. Mayeur addressed him—
+
+“Come in, Colonel, take a seat.”
+
+Turning towards Baudoin, he said—
+
+“You may now retire, M. Baudoin; I don’t think I shall need you for some
+time to come. All the same, if you leave Paris, give M. Baradier your
+address, so that the summons I shall address to you may reach you in good
+time.”
+
+Baudoin bowed to the magistrate, saluted the Colonel in military fashion,
+and left the room. When he was gone M. Mayeur returned to Vallenot, with
+a smile on his face; he could not allow his discouragement to appear in
+public.
+
+“The Minister of War delivered a very solid speech last night in the
+House.”
+
+“Yes; they try to mystify him, but he is able to defend himself. He knows
+what he is talking about, and a direct attack always succeeds with
+Parliamentarians.”
+
+“_Imperatoria brevitas_,” sneered the magistrate.
+
+After a short pause he asked in honeyed tones—
+
+“Have your researches come to a point yet?”
+
+The Colonel replied bluntly—
+
+“Not at all; they are no further advanced than yours.”
+
+M. Mayeur smiled faintly.
+
+“Ah, ah! Then we make no progress?”
+
+“If I were not afraid of offending you I should say that we were going
+backwards.”
+
+“That appears to be exactly as the matter stands,” said Mayeur, with a
+look of intelligence.
+
+“Ah! Have you obtained some clue at last?” asked Vallenot, perplexed.
+
+“I am not in a position to explain, but have patience; a surprise is in
+store for you.”
+
+“How delighted the chief will be! The whole affair has put him in such a
+nervous condition that the whole staff suffers in consequence. He is
+never out of a temper; one does not know how to manage him.”
+
+“To return to our investigations abroad, what result have they given?”
+
+“We have obtained the certainty that, if an attempt has been made to
+obtain possession of the formulæ of General de Trémont, the Triple
+Alliance has had nothing to do with it. Ever since the last espionage
+affair, the different Governments have given orders to their agents to
+observe the strictest reserve. If there really has been a plot it can
+only have been made by the English. You are well aware that their
+artillery is quite out of date, and they are trying to recover ground.”
+
+“So there are nothing but suppositions; no proofs?”
+
+“None whatever. In Paris, or, at any rate, in France, there are half a
+dozen women well known for their international intrigues, and who might
+have been suspected of having acted the _rôle_ of the Baroness with the
+poor General de Trémont. Those known to have been in France have been
+strictly watched. Besides, the majority form part of our
+counter-espionage, and could have informed us, whilst still in the pay of
+another nation. So far as Hans is concerned, a police report from
+Lausanne announces the arrival in Geneva of a wounded man, whose arm has
+been amputated. He is from Baden, and is named Fichter. The accident took
+place in a wire mill in the neighbourhood of Besançon. Accordingly, he
+could not be at the same time in the Jura and at Vanves. All the same,
+the description of him corresponds exactly with that given by Baudoin. If
+this Fichter is the man we are seeking, the proprietor of the wire mill
+must have given accommodation certificates, or a substitution must have
+taken place on the way between the two men. All this is very improbable.
+So, you see, the matter is involved in greater obscurity than ever.”
+
+“Yes, yes,” hummed the magistrate, who appeared so absent-minded that the
+Colonel looked at him in amazement.
+
+“You take all this very calmly!” said Vallenot.
+
+“What is the use of getting excited? It never serves any useful purpose.”
+
+“Then you have not lost all hope?”
+
+“Why should I?”
+
+“The deuce!”
+
+“Ah! my friend, success often comes at the very time you think everything
+is lost.”
+
+“You magistrates are very lucky; it is not so in the Army. When you
+expect Grouchy it is always Blucher who comes!”
+
+“Well, we shall see.”
+
+“What do you intend to do?”
+
+“Let the whole affair slide for some time. It is too premature to do
+anything yet.”
+
+“In other words, you are shelving it?”
+
+“Yes, I am shelving it provisionally.”
+
+“Then you abandon the whole affair?”
+
+The magistrate looked gravely at Vallenot and, to the profound amazement
+of his clerk, said humbly—
+
+“I do, if no fresh incident happens.”
+
+“Have I to inform the Minister of this?”
+
+“Please do so. Tell him I am sorry, and wish I could have done better.
+That has been impossible. Still all is not lost, in my opinion. We shall
+see at a later date.”
+
+The Colonel stood there rather disconcerted by this unexpected solution,
+and as he took his leave he shook his head, saying—
+
+“A pleasant message you send me with. I shall be received like a dog in a
+game of skittles.”
+
+“Nonsense! You are the favourite. I am off to the Government agent. He
+will not grumble; on the contrary, he will poke fun at me. Still no
+matter. He laughs best who laughs last!”
+
+Shaking the Colonel by the hand, he conducted him to the passage, and
+returned to his office. He signed several sheets of paper handed to him
+by his clerk. The latter, devoured by curiosity, said—
+
+“Then the matter is really finished, sir! Are you giving it up?”
+
+“One cannot do what is impossible,” said Mayeur, negligently. “A house
+cannot be built without scaffolding. Here we have no grounds to work
+upon. I am not strong enough to invent what I am ignorant of. It is
+already difficult enough to obtain benefit from certain proof.”
+
+A look of pity came over the clerk’s countenance. So long as the
+magistrate had manifested a tranquil assurance of success he had, in his
+conscience, violently criticized him. Now that his master showed himself
+modest and simple he disdained him. Nothing but a poor fellow, after all,
+who was very lucky when things went well, but gave up the struggle at the
+very first difficulties.
+
+“Just put away that brief into my case. I am going to the Public
+Prosecutor’s office,” said the magistrate. “Afterwards you may go; it is
+five o’clock. I will see you to-morrow morning.”
+
+Colonel Vallenot, meanwhile, was rolling away in a cab in the direction
+of the Ministry. On entering his chief’s ante-chamber he came across
+Baudoin, who was leaving the Minister’s cabinet. Stopping him, he said—
+
+“You have just seen the General?”
+
+“Yes, Colonel.”
+
+“Is he in a good temper?”
+
+“Yes, Colonel. You had better hurry, sir, if you wish to find him in.”
+
+“What! He is going out?”
+
+“I heard him say that he was going to the Chamber.”
+
+“You had something to ask him, Baudoin?”
+
+“No, Colonel. I wished simply to speak to him of the affair of General
+Trémont.”
+
+“In what respect?”
+
+“The magistrate makes no progress, and seems to me as though about to
+abandon the matter altogether.”
+
+“You told this to the Minister?”
+
+“Yes, not five minutes ago.”
+
+“And how did he receive the communication?”
+
+“He whistled softly; then said aloud, ‘After all, perhaps it is better
+so.’”
+
+Colonel Vallenot looked at Baudoin, as though to make sure he was not
+making fun of him. Then he shrugged his shoulders, as though he did not
+understand, and declared, in vexed tones—
+
+“Good! Good! Well, we will say no more about it.”
+
+With a friendly gesture to the former soldier, he said—
+
+“Good night, Baudoin. If you need anything send for me. We were all very
+fond of M. de Trémont.”
+
+And he passed along, muttering to himself—
+
+“Everybody I meet seems to have lost his head.”
+
+Baudoin descended the large staircase. He went out into the street, after
+shaking hands with the concierge, and made his way towards the small
+café, where, in condescending fashion, Laforêt watched the billiard
+players, during the absinthe hour, eagerly playing pools. He was seated
+in his usual place, smoking his pipe, and speaking to a neighbour, a
+retired business man, who was telling him his domestic worries.
+
+“Yes, sir; a woman who is always out of the house, and has never enough
+money. The vaults of the Bank would not suffice for her. And whenever I
+remonstrate with her she rouses the whole house with her cries. We cannot
+keep servants, for she will not pay them, and when she is not pleased,
+then there are blows! I have already been several times before the
+Justice of the Peace on her account. The life she leads me is a regular
+inferno!”
+
+“Divorce her,” said Laforêt, curtly.
+
+“But the greater part of our common stock is hers!”
+
+“Then put up with her!”
+
+“I can do it no longer.”
+
+“Well, treat her as she treats her servants.”
+
+“Ah! No! The deuce! She would pay me back in the same coin!”
+
+Baudoin’s arrival interrupted the consultation. The unhappy tradesman
+arose, and said—
+
+“The only place where I have a little quiet is here.”
+
+“Well, that is something. Good-bye, sir. Consider me at your service if I
+can be of any use to you.”
+
+Baudoin had taken a seat. Laforêt leaned over in his direction.
+
+“Well, anything fresh?”
+
+“Yes. I want you. But we had better leave here.”
+
+The agent arose, took his stick, and left the café, accompanied by
+Baudoin.
+
+“Where shall we go?”
+
+“Where we shall be neither disturbed nor overheard.”
+
+“Then come along with me.”
+
+They proceeded along the banks of the Seine, and, on reaching a quay,
+Laforêt led the way down a flight of stone stairs leading to the
+embankment. Under the shade of the elms, which twisted their knotty
+boughs above the slimy, swift-flowing river, they sat down. On the
+opposite bank the gardens of the Tuileries exposed to view their lovely
+verdure. Lighters were unloading sand fifty yards on the left.
+Ferry-boats sped swiftly along, crowded with passengers, and the distant
+rolling of carriages formed a rumbling accompaniment to their words.
+
+“Here we are certain that whatever we say will be heard by none other
+than the birds or the fishes,” said Laforêt. “This is the spot I
+recommend to you whenever you have any secrets to communicate to any one.
+There is not even a single fisherman about. Now then, what have you to
+tell?”
+
+“Well, after three weeks’ researches, the examining magistrate is obliged
+to confess that he has not made the slightest progress. Clearly, if left
+to himself, he will never effect anything. Besides, the cleverest of them
+would have been no more fortunate. There is nothing to seize hold of. The
+culprits have plunged, and everything is quiet again. The upshot of the
+matter is that our magistrate is about to stop all investigations, and
+now I am free to go where I like, as I shall no longer have to spend all
+the day walking about the corridors of the Law Courts. Accordingly, I am
+leaving Paris.”
+
+“Ah! Where are you going?”
+
+“To stay with the son of my master, M. Baradier, who is at the works near
+Troyes, in Champagne. The district is called Ars, noted for alkaline
+springs and thermal waters, visited every summer by invalids.”
+
+“Are you going to your master with the object of forgetting your
+troubles?”
+
+“No! Rather to keep watch over him. Since I have been in the house I have
+spoken with his father, and learnt several things. M. Baradier is
+informed that his son has received communications from the General de
+Trémont, and now the famous formulæ can only be obtained from Marcel. M.
+Baradier, I believe, would give a large sum if his son had never entered
+the General’s laboratory. But that is a fact which cannot be undone. The
+only important thing now is to defend the young man. This trust has been
+confided to me. M. Baradier said to me: ‘Baudoin, Marcel is my only son,
+and although he is not so steady as he might be, I am all the same very
+fond of him. I do not want him to come to any harm. As soon as you are
+free go down to Ars, and do not leave him.’”
+
+“But why does this young man, who is so rich, and of whom his family is
+so fond, shut himself up in a quiet provincial town? Why does he not stay
+in Paris?”
+
+“For several reasons. The best one is that his father considers it more
+prudent for him to be at Ars than in Paris. Surveillance is more easy in
+the country. Besides, M. Marcel, from what I have learned, has been
+living rather too fast, and his father has cut off his supplies; but for
+his uncle Graff, the young heir would have nothing whatever. Just now he
+is desperately bent on finding a chemical process of wool-dyeing, and,
+though he is rather a hare-brained fellow, as the General called him, he
+has an extraordinary aptitude for scientific research, so that his work
+will be sufficient to keep him away from all kinds of distractions.”
+
+“He is rather a strange character.”
+
+“The finest young man you would meet anywhere. Generous and lively in
+disposition, not proud in the least. Ah! he will please you, I know, when
+you meet him.”
+
+“Then I am to make his acquaintance?”
+
+“Certainly.”
+
+“In what way?”
+
+“Listen. As soon as I learned that I could leave Paris I rushed off to
+the Minister to explain what I wanted to do, and asked him, if he wished
+the affair to succeed, to give me permission that you should come down to
+Ars whenever I need you.”
+
+“I must have permission first.”
+
+“You have only to see Colonel Vallenot, who has received instructions,
+and he will give you your papers.”
+
+“Good. And what shall I have to do afterwards?”
+
+“According to circumstances. It is my firm conviction that the
+catastrophe of which my poor master has been the victim, is nothing but
+the beginning of a drama. Many important events will take place, and we
+must arrange so as to prevent them from being harmful to the intended
+victims. Serious interests are at stake. We shall probably have to deal
+with matters that are anything but attractive. But then, afterwards,
+everything will be cleared up. We must succeed. By the way, you must know
+how to disguise yourself.”
+
+Laforêt smiled.
+
+“Do not be uneasy on that score. I will be there at the rendezvous you
+appoint; but I will not vouch for your recognizing me when you see me.”
+
+“That is all right, then. Unfortunately, I am not to be relied upon for
+playing a double _rôle_. But I can well maintain my own, which will be
+that of a watch-dog.”
+
+“Then everything is settled?”
+
+“So it seems. When I have a communication to make I will send my letter
+to the Ministry.”
+
+“Very good. Now let us get back.”
+
+Mounting the stone staircase, they reached the quay, and took leave of
+one another.
+
+Laforêt made his way towards the Rue Saint Dominique; Baudoin crossed the
+Pont de la Concorde, and returned to the Rue de Provènce by the Rue de
+Richelieu and the boulevards. Messieurs Baradier and Graff were in their
+office, along with the cashier of the firm, who was making inquiries
+concerning the collection of debts. The cashier was saying—
+
+“Do you know, gentlemen, that the ‘Commercial Explosives’ Company,’ of
+which M. Lichtenbach is chairman, is on its last legs? The shares have
+gone down considerably. It seems that there is an American company
+competing with them.”
+
+“Yes, so I have heard,” said Graff. “The Americans have found a product
+of very simple composition, costing fifty per cent. less than dynamite.
+They have already taken very large orders for Australia and South Africa.
+That is the reason of the fall of the Lichtenbach Company.”
+
+“Do not be uneasy, Bernard,” said Baradier to his cashier. “It will not
+affect Lichtenbach, but his shareholders. You have no more letters to be
+signed?”
+
+“No, sir.”
+
+“Well, then, you may go now. Good night.”
+
+“Good night, gentlemen.”
+
+Baradier rose from his seat, and stood with his back to the fire.
+
+“You see,” he said to his brother-in-law, “here we have a clear proof
+that Trémont has been killed as much to rob him of his commercial as of
+his military secret. Do you now understand how Lichtenbach would be
+interested in being in possession of the formulæ of an explosive which
+would be less costly than the American product, the discovery of which is
+ruining the French company, and would be as effective though a hundred
+times less in volume? For this is the real value of the discovery made by
+Trémont, and which Marcel has explained to me. Accordingly, if
+Lichtenbach, by some means or other, came into possession of the unknown
+formulæ, he would only have to take out a patent, and secretly buy back
+all the shares of the company which have now fallen so low. The day after
+he had swept everything before him he would sell to the company all
+property in the new explosive, and make millions at a single stroke,
+without speaking of the future success of the product.”
+
+“Yes, it would be a fine _coup_ worthy of him. He might give up to his
+confederates the profits from the war powder, for they would be little
+compared with those of the commercial product. Governments are not in the
+habit of remunerating philanthropists who afford them the means of
+marching triumphantly forward to a universal massacre.”
+
+“Oh, don’t make any mistake. Marcel affirms that this discovery made by
+Trémont is followed by the most frightful results. It is a kind of paste,
+which, according to the way in which it is prepared, causes a formidable
+detonation or else burns, without the slightest noise, even when in
+water.”
+
+“Greek fire?”
+
+“Something like it. Or, rather, like an up-to-date cannon compared with
+one of the fourteenth century. Torpedoes loaded with this paste, and lit
+by means of a well-graduated mechanism, might at will envelop a ship in
+flames at a single moment.”
+
+“That would mean the suppression of all naval supremacy!”
+
+“Ah! You understand. Now, do you think there exists any real security for
+the possessor of such a secret? A State would have to be governed by
+angels if it did not use its utmost endeavours to procure this monstrous
+power of annihilating all its enemies and subduing all its rivals. This
+is why Trémont was put to death, and why I have lost my sleep at the
+thought that my son has openly worked with him and may be suspected of
+having possession of this mysterious agent of destruction and greatness.”
+
+“Send him away from France, on a cruise.”
+
+“He would be in much greater danger away from France. The place where he
+runs least risk is here among his friends. Ah! How glad I should be were
+he rid of this heavy burden! I have begged him to hand over the General’s
+formulæ to the Minister. It would have been announced in all the journals
+that Marcel Baradier had handed over to the Technical Committee of
+Explosives all notes relating to the experiments of General de Trémont.
+After that he would have been free, and no further risk would have been
+run. Do you know what reply he gave me?”
+
+“No; tell me.”
+
+“He said to me, with a smile, and in tones of calm assurance: ‘My dear
+father, the General’s powder is still lacking in one slight detail. I
+know what he intended to do, for he explained everything to me. Well,
+then, I will continue his experiments, and when everything is complete I
+will hand over the formulæ to the State, according to his
+clearly-expressed will, and form a company with the commerce explosive to
+enrich the General’s daughter.’”
+
+“Does Marcel know what a risk he is running?” asked Graff.
+
+“I became hoarse in telling him. But he is a Lorraine; he’s as obstinate
+as a mule. To all my arguments he offered an imperturbable resistance. ‘I
+alone,’ he said, ‘can manage the affair successfully. If I give the
+General’s notes to the Technical Committee, one of those sharp fellows on
+the Board will boast that he has made the discovery himself, and obtain
+all the credit for it. Unless he spoil the invention by absurd additions,
+which is at bottom a very likely thing. As for the commercial product, if
+I open my mouth before taking all necessary precautions, it will be
+stolen in an instant, and the General’s daughter will lose her fortune.
+For these reasons, and others, I do not intend to abandon the work I have
+begun.’
+
+“‘But you are risking your life?’
+
+“‘Is it so very precious? You spend your time in telling me I am a
+rascal, that I am ruining you, and shall bring your name into dishonour.
+Very good! You will be well rid of a guilty and unworthy son!’”
+
+Graff struck his hands against one another.
+
+“You see! That is the result of your harshness towards the poor child.
+How can you expect him to listen to you?”
+
+“Ah! Leave me alone!” exclaimed Baradier, pale with anguish, “I am
+sufficiently worried with all this! You do not intend to make me
+responsible for it, into the bargain! I love Marcel as well as you do!
+The only difference is that I am not always fawning on him and giving him
+money! We should have been in a fine state had you been the only one to
+set him an example! All you did was to encourage his evil inclinations!
+If he has done wrong, it is all your fault!”
+
+“Yes! I, who have set an example to him, and practised what I preached!”
+exclaimed Graff. “I being his evil genius, as everybody knows. Really,
+Baradier, I wonder if you have gone mad!”
+
+Baradier walked excitedly about the room, then, returning to his
+brother-in-law, placed his hand on his shoulder, and said in trembling
+tones—
+
+“You are right! I believe I am losing my senses. Pardon me, this anxiety
+has completely overwhelmed me. We have only Marcel, Graff. Think of what
+would become of us, if destiny willed it that—”
+
+Graff rose quickly from his seat.
+
+“Not another word! It is unlucky to predict disaster. We must not even
+admit that there is a disaster at all. Still, I cannot blame Marcel for
+doing what he considers his duty. Did he act otherwise, he would be
+neither a Baradier nor a Graff. He is acting very courageously. All the
+same we must keep watch over him, and defend him against his own folly.”
+
+At that moment, a knock was heard at the study door. Baradier went to
+open it, and seeing Baudoin on the threshold, said—
+
+“Ah! You have come at the right moment. First of all, tell us how things
+are going at the courts.”
+
+“Everything is at a standstill, sir. The examining magistrate can find
+nothing. The culprits have left a vacuum behind them.”
+
+“Well?”
+
+“Well, M. Mayeur, in despair, unable to arrest the criminals, is simply
+stopping all investigations, and shelving the affair.”
+
+“That’s a fine idea! Is it his own?”
+
+“No, sir.”
+
+“What fool could have suggested such a course?”
+
+“I did.”
+
+“I congratulate you. Now, the rascals who have killed your master,
+believing themselves sure of impunity, will recommence—”
+
+“I am relying on their doing so!”
+
+“But! Marcel? My son! What is to become of him? Have you even thought of
+such a thing?”
+
+“I have thought of nothing else. Here I am free. If you will allow me, I
+will leave Paris this very night, and be at Ars about midnight. The news
+of the affair being abandoned will not appear in the journals for a
+couple of days. I shall have organized my surveillance by that time. I
+promise you nothing shall happen to M. Marcel, or, at any rate, they will
+have to begin with me.”
+
+“Very reassuring!” growled Baradier. “But what can one do with such a
+madman as my son? He is in danger everywhere. Ah, the cursed powder! What
+need had Trémont to tell him of his inventions? If this explosive is as
+dangerous to those against whom it is used as it is to its inventors,
+there will be fine butcheries the next war.”
+
+Baudoin philosophically paid no heed to these paternal recriminations.
+
+He understood how correct they were, but could he do more than devote
+himself to the defence of him who might at any time, be so gravely
+threatened? When M. Baradier finally sat down, in consternation, Graff
+decided to speak in his turn.
+
+“After all,” he said, “as the wine is drawn, we must drink it. The thing
+to guard against is not to poison one’s self with it. Forewarned is
+forearmed. The situation is not the same as it was for the General. With
+a little prudence it will be easy to make everything turn out right.
+Patience brings all things about.”
+
+“Have you finished with your proverbs, which have no meaning whatever?”
+exclaimed Baradier, exasperated by his brother-in-law’s optimism.
+“Without so much palaver, all that is needed is to give Baudoin
+permission to summon the police in case he sees anything suspicious in
+Marcel’s surroundings. For my part, I have more confidence in armed might
+than in providence.”
+
+“If you are interrupting me to say such nonsense,” replied Graff, “you
+might have held your peace. Let Marcel work on. The sooner he has
+finished the sooner he will be out of danger. Until that time, Baudoin, I
+entrust him to your care.”
+
+“Do not be uneasy, Monsieur Graff. I will answer for him with my life.
+Besides, I am not trusting in myself alone. I am going to send for a
+companion, who in himself is worth a score of men. I need say no more.
+Trust to me.”
+
+“Yes, my brave fellow, I will trust to you,” said Baradier.
+
+“Very good,” said Baudoin, rubbing his hands. “Have you any message to
+send to M. Marcel?”
+
+“Tell him to be very careful; give him our best love, and ask him to
+think of us at times.”
+
+“By-the-bye, have you any money for the journey?”
+
+“I have all I need, sir, thank you. Your servant, sir. _Au revoir_!”
+
+Bowing, he left the room. Father and uncle remained behind, silent and
+grave, plunged in reverie. After a time Graff stood up and said—
+
+“Nothing ill will happen. Of that I am sure. I feel it. You know I am
+never mistaken. In business, every time we have had a loss I have always
+had a very clear intuition of it beforehand. Be assured, Baradier, we
+shall come out of it without loss or damage.”
+
+The anxious father replied—
+
+“Heaven grant you may be right! But so long as there is a woman in it I
+cannot be at rest concerning Marcel. Ah! if it were only you or I, there
+would be no danger. But this young madman!”
+
+“The oldest are not always the wisest. Look at Trémont.”
+
+“Well, well. It is all in God’s hands!”
+
+Holding out his hand to his brother-in-law—
+
+“We will have no more quarrels; they serve no useful purpose, and only
+cause us pain!”
+
+“Ah! Speak to me as harshly as you like!” exclaimed Graff, greatly moved.
+“It does not hurt me, and it relieves you! But be careful to say nothing
+to your wife. There is no occasion that she should worry herself about
+the matter.”
+
+They left the office, and, as they crossed the court they saw Baudoin,
+portmanteau in hand, starting off, with alert and happy step, for the
+station.
+
+
+
+
+PART II
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+ARS is a small town of six thousand inhabitants, a distance of four
+leagues from Troyes. On the manly declivities to the South stretch miles
+upon miles of vineyards. The mineral springs of Ars are distant half a
+mile from the town, on the road to Lusigny, as is also the thermal
+establishment.
+
+It was whilst engaged in sounding for ore, in land which did not contain
+the slightest trace of it, that M. Reverend, chief engineer, unexpectedly
+discovered the alkaline and chalybeate waters, rivalling those of
+Plombieres and of Aix. But, after all, Ars is too near Paris for patients
+to have confidence in the healing virtues of its springs. It is
+frequented only by people of limited income, and hotel-keepers who are
+not in the habit of fleecing travellers. Near the forest of Bossicant,
+close by, a few villas, almost lost amid the trees, are every year placed
+at the disposal of wealthy invalids. These are modest-looking, quiet
+houses, offering their peace-loving guests nothing but the smiling
+solitudes of the forest. The weaving and spinning mills belonging to
+Messrs. Baradier and Graff are situated on the Barse, the rapid current
+of which turns the dynamos, which supply both light and motive-power. The
+private residence is separated from the works by a large court-yard and a
+beautiful garden. The road to Vandoeuvre passes in front of the house,
+whilst, on the other side of the road, through meadows in which large
+numbers of cattle are grazing all the year round, runs the railroad, past
+Chaumont, right to the German frontier. Ars is an important working
+centre. The quarries and mines give work to a large proportion of the
+male population.
+
+Two hundred men, a hundred women, and a large number of children are
+employed at the works of Baradier and Graff. The manager of the
+establishment, M. Cardez, is a native of Lorraine, who came from Metz
+with his masters. He had married at Ars, and was now a widower with two
+grown-up sons, devoted to duty, and kind towards his workmen, but of a
+taciturn disposition, and ruling with almost military discipline. One of
+his sons is in the Army, the other assistant-manager in the works at La
+Barre.
+
+A very good fellow, on the whole, whom Marcel Baradier, from his
+childhood, had been in the disrespectful habit of calling “the bear.” The
+“bear” and Marcel could never understand one another. There was the same
+distance between them as between Pascal, the inventor of the
+wheel-barrow, and the workman whose duty it was to roll it along the
+highway. Marcel likes Cardez well enough, though he is fond of poking fun
+at him. Cardez is very respectful towards the son of his master, though
+he deplores his light-heartedness and frivolity. The two might live
+together for years without the slightest affinity being manifested
+between them. As Marcel says, with a smile, the one is negative, the
+other positive. Cardez is none too glad at Marcel settling down at the
+works, for his presence is a cause of trouble for the workmen. The
+master’s son is too ready to listen to their complaints, and discipline
+suffers in consequence. The military order no longer reigns, and Cardez,
+more bearish than ever, never ceases railing at what he calls “the
+encouragement given to the rebellious instincts of the workmen.”
+
+Marcel’s researches in the colouring of cloth leave the director
+sceptical. He considers there is no necessity to change a system which
+has succeeded so well for so many years. A dye-shed always seemed useless
+to him. The raw thread, which brought so ready a sale, was quite
+sufficient for their requirements. All these new inventions, costing so
+dear, only served, in his mind, to introduce an element of trouble into
+the working of a business already prosperous. The laboratory at the end
+of the garden, in an isolated pavilion, was the object of raillery on the
+part of the director, who called it “the Capernaum.”
+
+Since Marcel had come to settle at Ars, contrary to his usual habit, he
+scarcely ever appeared at the works. He shut himself up in the
+“Capernaum,” or went off in search of recreation, with a gun and his dog,
+into the forest of Bossicant. Baradier and Graff owned two hundred acres
+of waste land, very picturesque, and abounding in game. Certain of the
+uplands of Bossicant remind one of Scotland, in point of wild,
+picturesque view, dry, arid heather, and the clear freshness of the
+invigorating air.
+
+Half-way down the hollow rose a villa, in the form of a chalet, buried in
+the trees—a red spot in the midst of so much surrounding verdure. It was
+gloomy and silent, and almost always uninhabited, by reason of its
+distance from the town, and proximity to the wood. One morning, as he
+passed by this villa, Marcel was surprised to see that the shutters were
+down, and that a servant was busily sweeping in front of the door. She
+was rather elegantly dressed, and appeared to be a stranger in the
+district, doubtless attending to some invalid who had come to effect a
+cure. Marcel was not inquisitive, and went his way.
+
+It was three o’clock when he reached the plain, which he began to cross
+with careless steps. The movements of his dog, however, drew his
+attention. He slipped a couple of cartridges into his gun, and mounted to
+the side of the slope. After a moment’s interval, on climbing the
+opposite bank, Marcel saw a rabbit bent on reaching the open. He took
+aim, pulled the trigger, and the rabbit rolled over to the foot of the
+descent. The dog was not far away; he seized the dead animal by the back,
+and brought him to his master.
+
+Marcel relieved the dog, placed the game in a light bag he carried over
+his shoulder, uncocked his gun, and, considering that he had done enough
+damage for the time being, sat down on the sand, at the foot of a fir
+tree, and looked dreamily away at the distant forests in the east. A
+delightful torpor, induced by the dull silence of the woods, took
+possession of his body, whilst his more active thoughts, as though freed
+from all material bond, began to dwell on his past life. He saw again the
+house in the Rue de Provènce, in which his father and his uncle Graff had
+quarrelled so often about him; and his mother’s salon, where Amélie,
+seated near Mademoiselle de Trémont, dressed in deep black, was quietly
+working.
+
+Suddenly his reveries were interrupted by a bark of his dog. The
+pattering step of some animal or other made him turn his head, and there,
+close by, he saw a small terrier, no larger than his two fists, a silk
+ribbon tied in a knot round his neck, advancing in his direction. A
+little farther away, a woman, dressed in black, slowly followed. He had
+no time to examine the newcomer, for the little dog, with a furious yelp,
+leaped towards the other, with the unthinking audacity of a rat attacking
+a tiger. A gentle voice exclaimed, “Bob!” It was of no use. Marcel’s dog
+stood up against his tiny adversary, and rolled him over into the dust.
+
+“Bob! Oh, _Mon Dieu_!” exclaimed his mistress, anxiously, as she rushed
+to the spot.
+
+Marcel heard the cry, saw a pair of beautiful eyes, and, without waiting
+longer, bounded forth, and seized his dog by the skin of his neck,
+flinging him over on to the ground. Then, picking up the terrier, still
+panting with the shock, but quite uninjured, he exhibited him to the
+lady, with a smile—
+
+“Do not be anxious, madame; your savage little animal is safe and sound.
+Still, we were only just in time. Please excuse us, and take into account
+that we were not the aggressors.”
+
+The lady put the dog under her arm, gave him a gentle tap, saying, in
+scolding tones—
+
+“Oh! _Che bestia_! A fly trying to devour a wolf!”
+
+Marcel could now see her at leisure, as she was tenderly scolding her
+terrier, and he stood there, filled with admiration at the gentle beauty
+of the unknown lady. Her face was of a perfect oval, surrounded by golden
+hair; her dark eyes were languishing and gentle, whilst she had the
+chaste and timid mien of a young girl. All the same, she was dressed in
+mourning, like a widow. Fixing her eyes on Marcel, she said, in quiet,
+gracious accents—
+
+“A thousand thanks, sir, for your timely intervention. I am sorry for
+your poor dog, which did quite right in defending itself.”
+
+“There can be no comparison, madame,” said Marcel, “between this charming
+little animal of yours and this large-pawed dog of mine, accustomed to
+brambles and thorns. I am sorry I have stopped your walk, but now you may
+continue in perfect safety; I will chain up my dog.”
+
+The young woman bowed her head in token of thanks.
+
+“If I am trespassing on your property, I beg you to excuse me. I am a
+stranger, and have only been in these parts the last two days. I am
+acquainted with no one to inform me as to what I have a right to do.”
+
+“Here, madame, you may do as you please. Doubtless you are living at the
+Villa de la Cavée?”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“Then these woods are easily within your reach. There are very few
+passers-by, and you may come whenever you wish.”
+
+She murmured, in constrained accents, “A thousand thanks.”
+
+Thereupon she moved away at a slow pace. Marcel stood there motionless,
+unable to remove his eyes from the ravishing figure, now slowly
+disappearing from view. Then he whistled for his dog, stroked him gently,
+as though to atone for his rough treatment a few moments previously, and
+returned, in pensive mood, to the works. After dinner he strolled about
+the garden, smoking, till nine o’clock; then, completely tired out,
+retired to rest for the night.
+
+The following morning he spent all his time in the laboratory. Suddenly
+the door opened, and Baudoin appeared.
+
+“Holla! You here?” said the young man. “Has my father sent you?”
+
+“Yes, sir. I am requested by all the family to convey to you their best
+love. Besides, I have come to stay by your side.”
+
+“For what purpose?”
+
+“To be your servant.”
+
+“Very good, Baudoin; make yourself at home. Your presence will be very
+useful here, in making things go all right. The inhabitants of this
+district are fine people on the whole, but not over-intelligent.”
+
+“We will put all that in order for you.”
+
+He walked round the laboratory, looking attentively at the objects on the
+table, and the alembics, with their copper spirals, on the stove.
+
+“So it is here that you are working! Who arranges things in this
+laboratory?”
+
+“No one enters the place but myself.”
+
+“So I see. However, I will clean your utensils; I know how to go about
+it. Are you working at the General’s formulæ?”
+
+“Not yet; I have had other things to attend to. Still, I intend to
+commence shortly. I am very glad you have come, for you will be at hand,
+in case I want any help. See here, Baudoin, these are blue, pink, and
+green dyes which I have fixed lately. They are capable of giving wool an
+unchangeable colour.”
+
+As he spoke, he handled hanks of a strong and harmonious shade,
+stretching them out before the light of day, and showing all their
+reflections.
+
+“Our poor General put this idea into my head. Ah! if he had only
+contented himself with undertaking industrial researches, we should still
+have had him alive and well among us, and in possession of a large
+fortune. But he disdained such productive discoveries; he thought only of
+the State. He would work for nothing else.”
+
+“After serving it so long, M. Marcel, it was second nature with him.”
+
+“Well, well, Baudoin! Settle down here, and commence your duties this
+very night.”
+
+Marcel stayed behind in the laboratory, inactive, as though some dull
+preoccupation would give him no peace. _He_ sat down in a large leather
+armchair he had gaily baptized the “alchemist’s armchair,” and, with open
+window to allow the sun to enter, he sat there in a reverie, until five
+o’clock struck.
+
+He went down into the garden, walked past beds of rose-trees, and halted
+by the banks of the river, watching in the crystal waters a jack chasing
+a shoal of roaches, which, to escape the dreaded pursuit, leapt out of
+the water, like silver arrows. The clock at the entrance, as it struck,
+disturbed his thoughts, and he saw approaching him, and preceded by the
+porter, a tall, elegantly dressed young man, of very handsome features
+and blue eyes. As he drew near he took off his hat, bowed with
+considerable deference, and said, in a sing-song Italian accent—
+
+“Have I the pleasure of addressing M. Marcel Baradier?”
+
+“That is my name, sir,” said Marcel, examining the stranger with a sudden
+interest. “To what do I owe the honour of this visit!”
+
+The young man gave a sidelong glance to assure himself that the porter
+had left the room, then, in haughty tones, said—
+
+“As I have no one to present me, allow me to introduce myself. I am Count
+Cesare Agostini, of the Princes of Briviesca. I live at the Villa de la
+Cavée with my sister, and I have called to thank you for the kindness
+with which, yesterday, you—”
+
+“What I did, sir, was merely natural; it was quite by chance that I met
+your sister. She is a stranger in these parts, and appeared to be sad,
+and in search of rest and quiet. All I did was to simply comply with her
+wishes so far as I could.”
+
+Count Cesare bowed gracefully; a cloud came over his handsome face, and
+in accents of sadness he continued—
+
+“My sister is, indeed, very sad; she has had a great deal of trouble. She
+has spent her strength in attending to the needs of a husband far older
+than herself, and whom she had the misfortune to lose some time ago. With
+the object of regaining her health, she has come into this valley, to
+seek calm and quiet. The waters of Ars, too, have been well recommended
+to us. But it is chiefly fresh air my sister needs, after being confined
+for long months by the bedside of a dying man.”
+
+The handsome Italian several times shook his head, and said—
+
+“Oh, it is very sad, very sad indeed!”
+
+“And you have come from Italy with your sister?” asked Marcel.
+
+“No,” said Cesare. “Madame Vignola was living in Paris, where I have
+recently been to see her. We intend to return to Naples, and settle down.
+Not before autumn, however. Yes, it is very sad indeed!”
+
+Marcel saw that the Count Cesare did not appear to wish to take his
+leave, and, as he was interested in what he related, he led the way to a
+green arbour, with rustic seats, sheltered from the rays of the setting
+sun.
+
+“Will you take a seat, sir?”
+
+The Italian chose an armchair, and drew from his pocket a gold
+cigarette-case, which he held out to Marcel. “A cigarette?”
+
+“Willingly.”
+
+They began to smoke, and the tobacco seemed to render Cesare even more
+loquacious.
+
+“This villa where my sister now lives is far from the village. Is the
+country round here quite safe?”
+
+“Perfectly safe. Your sister will have nothing to fear from any one.”
+
+“All the better! I myself am not staying here long. My business takes me
+back to Paris, and the idea of leaving her alone with a chamber-maid and
+a servant-girl whom I do not know makes me very anxious, that I will not
+deny. Is Ars always so quiet as at present?”
+
+“Always, at this time of the year. The season begins in June, and it is
+now only April. In a few months the hotels will be filled, and the roads
+overrun by all the stage waggons in the district. That is the time I
+shall choose for going away.”
+
+“You do not stay here the whole year round?”
+
+“No; I only call here at rare intervals. My home is at Paris; I am at Ars
+on business.”
+
+“Your works are very large?”
+
+“One of the largest in the department. My grandfather founded the
+industry. It is the cradle of our family and the source of our fortune.
+Accordingly, my father, who is a banker, could never make up his mind to
+give it up, although he has far greater interests in other enterprises.”
+
+“I see he has trusted to you the responsibility of managing the works.”
+
+“Oh no. My father is represented by a director. I am simply the master’s
+son, and interfere in no way with the weaving. Here I have a laboratory,
+in which I undertake chemical experiments. But all the people in this
+district will tell you that I am an amateur, anything but serious, and
+that I spend more money on experiments than my pretended discoveries will
+ever bring me.”
+
+As he spoke he laughed gaily. The handsome Italian joined, and said, in
+his sing-song voice—
+
+“Rich men’s eldest sons are always ill-judged. When one is wealthy it is
+extremely difficult to get one’s self considered as a serious worker.
+Because one has no need of money, people are only too ready to conclude
+that one is incapable of earning any. And yet, why should not a rich man
+be a genius?”
+
+“Ah, sir, then what would become of other poor wretches?”
+
+“So you pretend, yourself,” said the Count, with a graceful wave of the
+hand, “to despise these investigations, though they probably interest you
+greatly?”
+
+“Almost as much as the experiments of a dyer. I have woollen stuffs
+steeped in coloured vats, and I try to fix the tints indelibly, so that
+the stuff sold in future will not become discoloured under the influence
+of either light, rain, or wind. The tapestries placed on furniture or
+walls, nowadays, are scarcely in their places than they have to be taken
+down—they are already quite faded. All the same, the stuffs of former
+times lasted, and exist even now. Our ancestors were in possession of
+dyeing processes superior to ours, and yet modern chemistry offers us
+mighty resources. That is what I am working at, sir. It is very
+commonplace, as you see.”
+
+“Evidently, it is not the philosopher’s stone! Still, all researches have
+their value. Have you obtained satisfactory results?”
+
+Marcel bowed in mock humility.
+
+“You are very polite, sir, but you wish to take advantage of my vanity.
+Inventors always like to speak of their investigations, you are thinking;
+and I wish to repay this gentleman for the kindness he has shown my
+sister. But it would doubtless serve you right if I bored you with my
+discoveries, took your curiosity seriously, and showed you my samples.”
+
+The Italian bent down his head, and, in contrite tones, said—
+
+“I am indeed sorry you imagined I was not sincere. All you have told me
+interests me greatly. Doubtless I am not so frivolous as your
+compatriots, and since you appear to defy me examining your results, with
+satisfaction to myself, I now ask you to have the kindness to show me
+them, unless you were joking, in which case I should not have understood
+you, as I do not always seize all the finesse of your language. In which
+case I must ask you to pardon me.”
+
+“Indeed, I was not jesting; I was perfectly serious,” said Marcel, gaily.
+“I still believe you will be punished for your curiosity. But since you
+insist, follow me; I will show you my laboratory.”
+
+“Many thanks!” exclaimed Cesare. “I was afraid I should vex you.”
+
+“In what way? You would believe in the most marvellous things, did I not
+show you my poor results. Take care not to soil yourself; everything here
+is not perfectly clean.”
+
+Opening the door of the summer-house, he introduced the Count into the
+panelled room, leading to the laboratory, and which he used as a
+workroom. A blush mounted to Cesare’s temples. He looked eagerly around.
+On a Louis XVI. bureau, leaning against the wall, were scattered some
+papers covered with figures. A half-opened drawer exhibited boxes of
+different sizes and colours, carefully labelled. A massive table
+supported wide-mouthed jars, on the rough glass of which could be read
+the indications: sulphuric acid, nitro-benzine, picric acid, and a whole
+series of chlorates. The Italian, pointing to the table, said—
+
+“Ah! Here are some chemicals you do not make use of for your dyes!”
+
+“No,” said Marcel, evasively; “those are for something else.”
+
+And, as his visitor drew near, stretching out his hand towards one of the
+wide-mouthed jars—
+
+“Do not touch these jars—they are dangerous. If, by any chance, you were
+to upset the contents, both yourself and myself might find ourselves in a
+very disagreeable position. Come this way!”
+
+Opening the door of the laboratory, he bade him take a seat in the
+alchemist’s armchair, by the window, as he said—
+
+“Here you may smoke, if you like, without danger; there is nothing
+explosive here.”
+
+“Whilst in the next room?” asked the Italian, carelessly.
+
+“In the next room, if you threw down a match in the wrong place, you
+might explode the whole works!”
+
+“Diavolo! Then I will stop smoking even here, my dear sir, for I have no
+wish to leave the place by way of the roof.”
+
+He patiently examined Marcel’s fine samples of dyed wool. Apparently he
+was listening attentively, but his awakened intelligence, his piercing
+eyes under his half-closed eyelids were busied with that “something
+else,” of which Marcel had spoken so briefly. But nothing in the
+laboratory appeared to have any reference to that mysterious task, which
+demanded the manipulation of such dangerous products.
+
+“I should like you,” said the Italian, “to give me some of these
+beautiful cloths, of such a rich and harmonious colouring. I will take
+them to my sister, who can embroider like a fairy. She will start some
+magnificent piece of work, which will sooth her solitude, and thus you
+will see the effect of your colours, artistically employed.”
+
+“If you will permit me, I will bring them myself,” said Marcel.
+
+“As you please. We are always at home about five o’clock. But do not
+delay, for I shall soon be leaving the neighbourhood.”
+
+“Very well! To-morrow, if that will not inconvenience you?”
+
+“Not at all. To-morrow, then.”
+
+The Italian rose from his seat. He walked round the laboratory, and drew
+near the window overlooking the river.
+
+“Ah! You are close to the water here. You might even fish from the
+window, without descending into the garden. Are you not afraid of some
+one entering the laboratory? A few marauders in a boat could enter the
+summer-house.”
+
+“Who would ever think of such a thing!” exclaimed Marcel. “Besides, as is
+well known, there is nothing to take. And, then, the inhabitants of this
+district are very honest people.”
+
+“But have you no foreign employees at the works?”
+
+“Very seldom. A few from Belgium or from Luxembourg. As few as possible,
+for they are difficult to deal with.”
+
+“You do not live in this summer-house? You never sleep here?”
+
+“No; there is no convenience—simply a barn above the ground floor, that
+is all. I live in the house opposite the manager’s. It is small, but very
+comfortable. My uncle Graff lived there several months.”
+
+“You are very fortunate to have family relations,” said Cesare, in
+sorrowful tones. “My sister and I are alone—private dissensions have
+alienated us from the Briviescas. M. Vignola had no relations. We are
+obliged to be all in all to one another.”
+
+“Your sister is a young and charming lady. She may marry again.”
+
+“She never thinks of it. After all the sorrow caused by her union with M.
+Vignola, she aspires after nothing but peace and rest. Oh, she has
+suffered so much! The diseased and unhappy Vignola was madly jealous. He.
+could not endure his wife to be absent from him a single hour. He must
+have her constantly before his eyes. He left her a great fortune at his
+death. Poor compensation for all the tortures he inflicted on her! But
+now he is dead. Peace to his memory!”
+
+“Your sister has no children?”
+
+“No, sir; that is her greatest sorrow.”
+
+The image of the young woman, in deep mourning, walking sorrowfully about
+the woods, was evoked in Marcel’s imagination. Very pretty to be
+inconsolate at the loss of an old husband! How old could she be?
+Twenty-five years, perhaps, at the most, and no knowledge of life except
+grief and sadness. Cesare arose, and took his leave. Marcel accompanied
+him across the garden to the gate, and there said, with a cordial smile—
+
+“Till to-morrow, then, sir, my respectful homage to your sister.”
+
+When he had gone, Marcel made his way towards the works, when he saw M.
+Cardez coming in his direction, even redder than usual, and with a dark
+frown on his brow.
+
+“Ah, M. Marcel, I was calling to see you! I have a great deal of worry,
+and am indeed very pleased that you are here, so that you may understand
+yourself, and inform Messieurs Baradier and Graff.”
+
+“What is the matter?”
+
+“The fact is, the dyers are not pleased with their working hours, and
+threaten to come out on strike.”
+
+“Ah! That is something fresh.”
+
+“Fresh? No, it has been coming on for more than three weeks; the plot has
+only been developing. I was in hopes that, summer coming on, and the
+hours of daylight being more numerous, some arrangement might be reached.
+Now there is another cause of grievance. Instead of working more, they
+want to work less and earn more!”
+
+“Ah! Are their claims justified?”
+
+The manager, standing upright, cast a look of indignation on the son of
+his master.
+
+“Are workmen’s claims ever justified? This class of people have only one
+programme: the minimum of work and the maximum of wages.”
+
+“After all,” said Marcel, calmly, “they are only like other men.”
+
+“Ah, sir, let their ringleaders talk in that way; do not speak so
+yourself.”
+
+“Why not?”
+
+“Because, with philanthropic theories, and _laisser-aller_ tendencies, we
+should soon be no longer masters of our own works; they would put us out
+of doors.”
+
+Marcel looked gravely at the manager, and replied—
+
+“My opinion is entirely opposed to yours. I think that if workmen were
+treated as partners they would work better and keep better discipline.
+There is a huge misunderstanding between Capital and Labour. They treat
+one another as enemies, when they ought to proceed in concerted action,
+like allies.”
+
+“Eh? That is downright Socialism.”
+
+“No! It is simply co-operation.”
+
+“And do you know,” said Cardez, looking slily at Marcel, “what is the
+principal reason of the discontent of the dyers?”
+
+“The principal reason? Then the grievances they have manifested are only
+a pretext?”
+
+“Nothing more. These workmen, in whose lot you are so interested, are
+full of deceit and treachery; they never show their real motives. Well,
+the dyers, in their secret meetings, rail at your inventions—they are
+displeased with your new dyeing processes!”
+
+“Ah! The fools!”
+
+An expression of triumph appeared on Cardez’s ill-tempered face.
+
+“What did I tell you! Here are processes they are not yet acquainted
+with; and they maintain that your object is to simplify the workmanship,
+and, consequently, to do without workmen. Now they want to strike, to
+obtain concessions regarding both work and wages.”
+
+“They have been ill-advised. When the real state of things is explained
+they will easily understand. Then they will see that, far from injuring
+them, the improvements I shall introduce into the manufacture are
+entirely to their advantage.”
+
+“They will never admit that.”
+
+“Suppose I prove it to them?”
+
+“Their ringleaders will prove the contrary.”
+
+“Who are these ringleaders?”
+
+“A few Belgians.”
+
+“Send them away.”
+
+“Ah, that would be very imprudent! Better have patience, and try to come
+to an understanding. These men are from the Wallon district, and when
+they have drunk one glass of brandy too many you may fear anything at
+their hands. It was one of these Belgians who struck the overseer with a
+knife last year. They are good workmen, but terribly exacting and
+disagreeable. There is nothing to fear for the present. They want an eye
+keeping on them. Now, if you would like to call them together and speak
+to them, you will see what you can make of the matter.”
+
+He spoke in sneering tones. Marcel well understood that the manager,
+speaking from experience, was thinking: Have a little experience of these
+brutes, my young novice, and you will learn to know them. Speak to them
+nicely, explaining that it is to their advantage to work without
+grumbling, so that you may have a fine profit at the year’s end, whilst
+they have had the greatest difficulty to make ends meet. Try to obtain
+their approval. Afterwards, come and tell me what result you have
+obtained. Unless you give them the works, and capital to keep it going,
+perhaps even guaranteeing them dividends, you will never make them
+satisfied!
+
+Marcel would not discuss any longer with Cardez. He did not consider it
+necessary to weaken the authority of the manager at such a critical
+moment. He determined to give him all possible help to avoid the
+difficulties he foresaw.
+
+“You may be sure, M. Cardez, that if I can do anything to help you, you
+have only to mention it. It is possible we may not have the same ideas on
+the way of settling Labour difficulties. Still, it is of no use waiting
+till the house is on fire before discussing the fire-brigade system by
+which the conflagration may most surely be extinguished. The best thing
+to do is to use the means nearest at hand. Consequently, do as you think
+best. Have you informed my father of the matter?”
+
+“No; indeed, I am not in the habit of tormenting _my_ masters with an
+account of the difficulties of the works here. There will be plenty of
+time, in case things become more serious.”
+
+“Very good; we will wait.”
+
+At that hour the Count Cesare Agostini reached the Villa de la Cavée, and
+after traversing the garden he entered a small salon on the ground floor,
+where the young lady, in mourning, lolling on an easy-chair, was lazily
+reading a novel. The setting sun, entering through the window, shed his
+golden rays on the reader’s face. She was no longer the melancholy and
+timid widow Marcel had met in the woods. Her hair, thrown back on to her
+forehead, gave her delicate profile a look of audacious pride. On hearing
+Cesare enter the room, she flung down her book, rose eagerly to her feet,
+and, in joyous tones, said—
+
+“Well, _caro mio_, you are back at last! Are you satisfied with your
+mission?”
+
+“As far as one can be. I have seen your pigeon. He actually holds out the
+wing, without being asked. You will obtain no merit in plucking such a
+confiding youth, Sophia.”
+
+She laughed outright.
+
+“Never mind merit! I can do without glory. Success will suffice for me.
+So you found the ground well prepared?”
+
+“I am afraid distractions are sadly lacking in this district, and that
+our appearance in the woods has already produced its effect on Marcel.”
+
+“Then he will come?”
+
+“Yes; and not later than to-morrow. I told him I was going away.
+Consequently you will have the field free to do as you please. Do not let
+this affair lag; you have your revenge to take.”
+
+“Ah, _mio caro_, the _coup_ missed the first time, all through Hans’
+stupid obstinacy. Had he left me to act as I pleased, the General would
+finally have offered me his formulæ on a silver plate, and kneeling into
+the bargain. Hans wished to rush everything through, and old Trémont,
+infatuated as he was, became distrustful. Sorry adventure, in which our
+friend lost his arm, and almost all of us just missed being compromised.
+The most stupid part of it was that the General had said to Hans, as he
+pointed out to him the steel box—a fine box of Fichet’s, supplied with
+one of those admirable locks, so very complicated, but which are of no
+use whatever: ‘Look here, my friend, it is impossible to open this
+without my permission. All my secrets are inside. On raising this lid all
+my formula would be found. But then one must know how to do it; otherwise
+one may die in the attempt.’ Ah, ah! Old Trémont spoke the truth! He had
+made his box into a kind of reversing bomb. One must know how to handle
+it. Hans perceived the necessity of this. All the same, he distrusted
+himself. He had taken the precaution to go out on to the perron of the
+house, and there he tried to open the box. Ah, _caro mio_, when the
+explosion took place the very earth trembled! I had already returned to
+Paris in the carriage. The vibration was so great that the very windows
+of the brougham shook. I thought to myself: There, Hans has smashed up
+everything! I had no idea I was so near the truth, for the house was
+entirely destroyed. I cannot possibly understand how Hans, who had
+succeeded in opening the lock of the box, and who, lying on the ground a
+score of yards away, behind a tree, drew off the lid with a cord, justly
+dreading some devilish trick or other, was not completely blown to
+pieces.”
+
+“But since the lock was opened, how was the explosion produced?”
+
+“It was when the lid was raised that the explosion happened. Did the box
+overturn? It was a very heavy one. Was there some special manner of
+placing it, when removing the lid, to prevent a prime of fulminate going
+off? Was it clock-work, arranged in a certain manner? All is mere
+conjecture. What is certain enough is that, in a second, box, formulæ,
+powders, house, Hans’ arm, and all our hopes disappeared at the same
+time. Our friend must have shown extraordinary energy not to have been
+surprised by all the people who came running up from all directions. You
+may believe me when I say that, so long as I was not assured that he was
+out of danger, I felt very anxious.”
+
+“Ah, you are an intelligent woman, Sophia—really clever and brave! Now we
+must make amends for a preliminary defeat, and nonplus this young booby
+of a Marcel.”
+
+“Just leave the matter to me. He seemed a very nice young fellow.”
+
+“You are right; but don’t go and fall in love with him, whatever you do.”
+
+She burst into a laugh.
+
+“I have other things to attend to. Besides, Cesare, is it so easy to find
+a rival to yourself?”
+
+The handsome Italian shook his head.
+
+“You are so strange, Sophia, whatever is difficult is the very thing to
+tempt you.”
+
+“A scene of jealousy between you and me, Cesare!” said Sophia,
+ironically. “Do we not know one another well enough to be _blasés_ as
+regards our mutual qualities and failings? Shall I be jealous, the day I
+have married you to Lichtenbach’s wealthy daughter? Just close your eyes,
+and leave me free to act. Besides, if you acted otherwise, that would be
+all of no use. You are well aware that I have never done anything that
+did not please me, even with personages far more redoubtable than
+yourself.”
+
+“Come, come, Sophia, do not get excited! If I do not stop you, you will
+be threatening me in a minute. Ah, you have a will of iron!”
+
+“Yes; and just now it is my will to completely subjugate this young
+Baradier.”
+
+“Poor fellow, you will succeed only too easily!”
+
+“Ah! Now you are going to pity him, are you?”
+
+They both laughed outright. Then the young woman asked—
+
+“Have you visited the dwelling?”
+
+“Yes. I have also obtained an entrance into the laboratory without the
+slightest effort.”
+
+“Did you see anything special?”
+
+“A number of spiders’ webs, several broken phials, and tubs of various
+colours, in which pieces of cloth were soaking.”
+
+“Nothing resembling the powders we are in search of?”
+
+“Nothing whatever. I must say that, in one of the rooms of the
+summer-house, the young man charitably warned me that if I touched a
+single one of the flagons lying on the table some catastrophe might
+result. Accordingly, it is there he manipulates his products, or, at any
+rate, conceals them. In the next room there is nothing suspicious. He
+said to me: ‘Here you may smoke, if you like, and that without the
+slightest danger.’”
+
+“That is worth knowing.”
+
+“Do you think of going to see him?”
+
+“I think of nothing and of everything. Does one ever know what means will
+have to be employed in the performance of anything? Wisdom consists in
+preparing several, so as not to be caught unexpectedly. I have undertaken
+to obtain possession of and hand over the formulæ of the General de
+Trémont. For me, it is a matter of self-respect, as well as a question of
+interest. I will not admit that I cannot succeed in anything I undertake.
+Our friends abroad would consider me as having depreciated in ability if
+I failed, and you know what their support is worth to me. So long as my
+influence lasts, the Baron Grodsko will remain aloof, and not trouble
+about me. If my protection were to cease to-morrow, Heaven knows what
+sort of account I should have to give him!”
+
+Cesare looked at the young woman in surprise.
+
+“Ah! You are almost overcome with emotion. Are you afraid of him?”
+
+Sophia became serious.
+
+“I am afraid of no one in the world, as you know. Still, Grodsko is a
+terrible man, especially when he is not drunk.”
+
+“But then he is always drinking. Is it because he likes drink?”
+
+“No! It is to forget,”
+
+“Forget what? You?”
+
+“Perhaps.”
+
+“He was passionately fond of you, I suppose?”
+
+“So were all the other men.”
+
+“Is it long since you saw him?”
+
+“Some years.”
+
+“And he is still at Monte Carlo?”
+
+“In the winter. During the summer he lives at Vienna.”
+
+“And he drinks both at Monte Carlo and in Vienna?”
+
+“Yes, and gambles as well. He has a way of drinking which leaves his
+brain perfectly clear, so that he is able to play.”
+
+“Does he win?”
+
+“Often. But then, what does that matter to him?”
+
+“Then he is so rich that he is indifferent to his winnings? Lucky man!”
+
+“Grodsko is proprietor of a whole district in Moravia. He owns forests,
+mountains, and villages. His forests furnish the finest pines in Europe.
+The mountains are bored through and through with mines from which copper
+and tin are extracted. As for villages, Grodsko, with the peasants on his
+domains, could, in case of war, furnish a couple of regiments.”
+
+“And you left this nabob?”
+
+“Yes, for a young man, who had nothing but his beauty to recommend him.”
+
+“What did Grodsko say to that?”
+
+“He said nothing, he set out in our pursuit, overtook us, and killed my
+companion.”
+
+“Whilst you?”
+
+“I had reached the frontier when Grodsko came up to me.”
+
+“And there followed—”
+
+“An explanation, in the course of which, as he dared to raise his hand
+against me, I planted in his arm one of the knives lying on the table, on
+which I had just finished lunch.”
+
+“What exquisite relations you had with one another! And did that satisfy
+him?”
+
+“No. He bound me with cords and took me back to Vienna in his carriage.
+There I succeeded in escaping from him, thanks to certain irresistible
+influences. It cost me very dear to regain my liberty. Still, from that
+day I had no longer anything to fear, and could travel all over the world
+as I pleased.”
+
+“What was the name of the great personage who rendered you this service?”
+
+Sophia looked at the handsome Italian mockingly; she clacked her fingers
+as though they were castanets, and replied—
+
+“If any one asks you, you will say you know nothing about it?”
+
+“Then you have no confidence in me, Sophia?”
+
+“I have confidence in no one, scarcely in myself. Acknowledge that I am
+frank with you. I might tell you all kinds of tales—that it was the
+minister of police, or an archduke, or a foreign ambassador, or all three
+combined, who set me free. Be assured, all the same, that I have
+contracted obligations towards those who served me, and whom I am serving
+in my turn.”
+
+“Whatever obligations you are under to them, they have done a very good
+stroke of business in obtaining such an ally as yourself. Is there
+another so good in the whole world? You have the genius of corruption,
+and I do not think there is a conscience anywhere strong enough to resist
+you. If seductive charm is needed, you will succeed in everything you
+undertake. Ah, your power is indeed very great and terrible!”
+
+Sophia smiled bitterly, she raised her head, and her countenance assumed
+a threatening expression.
+
+“All my power consists in my scorn of humanity. I believe men are capable
+of everything. The sole question is to find the way to make them act. I
+have seen men, though heroes in the face of death, turn pale and
+trembling at the idea of being deprived of their pleasures. The most
+rigid from the point of view of honour, brought into contact with
+poverty, become accessible to the basest compromises. To turn an honest
+man into a thief, all that is needed is a woman’s smile. To make the
+mildest of men shed the blood of another, you need simply arouse his
+jealousy. These poor wretches who people the earth act, and are
+unconscious of the influence inspiring them. Men are like puppets, the
+strings of which are held by firm, audacious hands, whilst they
+accomplish the most sublime or the most infamous actions at will. And all
+this, merely through some favourable or perverse influence, a string
+pulled on one side or the other. And man, irresponsible agent of a
+destiny he is unable to modify, is treated as a hero or a brigand,
+carried aloft in triumph or flung into the gutter.”
+
+“But virtue, Sophia, the love of right?”
+
+“Mere accidents, my friend. Do not make them into general rules. The
+majority of people are virtuous because they have never had the
+opportunity of being rascals. But have no doubt that they would have
+been, and very successful ones, with the greatest ease. The human soul,
+Cesare, is a ground ready prepared for vice and crime. It is simply a
+question of what seed you intend to sow there. Very well! I am a sower,
+as you have said. I excel in growing the fruit of corruption. Young
+Marcel Baradier is now going to be my experiment field.”
+
+“Great good may it do him!”
+
+“Had he been content with the profession of a banker, or the business of
+a cotton manufacturer, nothing of what is now being prepared would have
+happened; he would have lived a happy, quiet life. But he has dabbled in
+chemistry, and that has spoiled everything.”
+
+The sun had sunk behind the hill, and the small room was quite dark.
+Sophia and Cesare could no longer distinguish one another. At last the
+young woman arose from her seat, and said—
+
+“Come, we have had sufficient philosophy. What does all that prove? They
+are nothing but mere words. Fortune does not come to those who speak, but
+to those who act.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+AFTER Baudoin had been a fortnight at the works, he was astonished to
+find that Marcel had passed from a state of perfect calm to one of
+extreme agitation. The young man, who spent the greater part of his time
+in the summer-house, either working or indulging in day-dreams, had
+suddenly begun to leave the laboratory after lunch, and did not return
+before night set in. A more significant fact was that Marcel’s appearance
+had changed as well as his habits. Instead of a country costume—soft felt
+hat and heavy shoes—a quiet, refined elegance now characterized him. The
+expression of his countenance, too, was far different from the one he had
+assumed previously; his eyes shone more brightly, even his voice sounded
+more vibrating. Baudoin thought, “There is a woman at the bottom of all
+this.”
+
+He had had experience when with the General de Trémont, and was well
+acquainted with that tension of the nerves which enters into the
+slightest movements. He knew the meaning of that satisfied little humming
+and that firm step on the floor, of conquering though feverish sound.
+There was a woman at the bottom of it, without the slightest doubt.
+Baudoin felt anxious. In that quiet country district, how had his master
+found the opportunity of falling into a passion? He instituted a discreet
+inquiry.
+
+He had made the acquaintance of the landlord of the Golden Lion, the
+principal hotel of Ars, a former cook, who had served in the Army, and
+proudly wore at his buttonhole, on Sundays, a blue and yellow ribbon,
+brought from Tonkin. Whilst drinking a bitter, Baudoin chatted with him,
+and listened to all the local gossip he retailed. He questioned him: Were
+there any strangers in the district? Did his hotel contain any fresh
+arrivals? Had any fair ladies been seen lately in the town?
+
+All these questions received categoric replies. No one staying with him
+or anywhere in Ars could be suspected by any stretch of imagination of
+having disturbed Marcel’s peace of mind. The only thing to do was to make
+inquiries in the outskirts.
+
+“A young gentleman and a young lady,” said the landlord, “are staying at
+the Villa de la Cavée. But they are in mourning, and never visit the
+town, but live in very retired fashion. They have hired carriages on
+three occasions, for driving in the environs. The young lady has never
+shown herself at Ars, and I could not say whether she is pretty or ugly.
+My coachman, who drove them, said that they look very sad, and speak very
+politely to one another. He thinks they are brother and sister. At any
+rate, they are not French.”
+
+Baudoin could obtain nothing more. This, however, was quite sufficient,
+and he determined to secretly watch his master, to try to find out the
+object of his walks. The fact that the young Jady was very sorrowful and
+in mourning seemed no reason to him why his master should not fall in
+love with her. On the contrary; besides, he had an instinctive distrust
+of foreigners who passed as brother and sister.
+
+The following day, his friend of the Golden Lion said to him—
+
+“I have some news for you regarding the people at the villa. The young
+man left this morning. He was driven to the railway, and is going to
+Paris; his luggage was registered by the coachman. The young lady is now
+alone.”
+
+That evening Baudoin noticed that his master returned home later than
+usual, and on the coat he flung off he discovered small pieces of moss,
+as though Marcel had been seated in the woods. The following day, about
+two o’clock, the young man went out as usual. Baudoin, who had made
+arrangements to keep a watch on him, starting out before him, waited for
+him at the bottom of the Cavée, to make certain that he had proceeded in
+that direction. Seated under the arbour of an inn, close to the town, he
+did not lose sight of the Ars road, which mounts towards the woods of
+Bossicant. After waiting half an hour, he saw Marcel, wearing a grey
+suit, and with a new straw hat on his head, come along, at a brisk pace,
+his stick under his arm, and his face lit up with pleasure.
+
+“Ah, my friend,” said Baudoin to himself, “you are on the way to meet
+your lady-love! You would not be stepping out at such a brisk pace were
+your mission merely to gather herbs on the hills.”
+
+He allowed the young man to go on ahead, then he followed him with
+infinite precautions. Marcel was, indeed, going in the direction of the
+villa. Since he had been introduced to Madame Vignola, the whole tenor of
+his life had changed. He no longer thought either of chemistry, of the
+works, or even of his family. There was nothing in the world for him
+except the ravishing Italian. Could his uncle Graff have seen him, he
+would have said, “Ah, caught again! He has lost his head and his heart
+once more!” The fact was, he well knew that feverish state, which
+rendered Marcel incapable of thinking of anything else than his
+inamorata, and capable of the greatest acts of madness in the pursuit.
+
+But the special sign of love with this inflammable young fellow was the
+reasoning rigour with which he pursued the conquest of the loved one. He
+was an engineer and a mathematician even in his passion, neglecting
+nothing, and profiting by everything to advance his cause, and the court
+he paid was a veritable siege.
+
+Madame Vignola had only needed half a day, spent with Marcel, in her
+brother’s presence, to obtain sole possession of the young man’s mind.
+She had shown herself so charming and modest, and so cajoling, and
+chaste, that Cesare, who was, all the same, well aware what this
+remarkable actress was capable of, was quite stupefied at the result. The
+art of deception reaching such a stage of perfection became real genius.
+In dilettante fashion the handsome Italian had followed the progressive
+phases of his pretended sister’s manoeuvring. The two hours Marcel had
+passed at the villa had sped away like a flash of lightning. And the
+young swain, already love-smitten, had been obliged to retire, when he
+thought he had only been there a few moments.
+
+True, Madame Vignola, at her brother’s request, had seated herself at the
+piano, and, with penetrating and expressive tones, had sung a few
+Dalmatian airs in true artistic style. Marcel, an excellent musician
+himself, had accompanied the young woman, and afterwards offered some
+musical scores he kept at Ars as a distraction for the solitary evenings
+he often spent there. At his earnest request, Cesare had postponed his
+departure, and the following afternoon had been spent in the woods of
+Bossicant wandering along the narrow alleys, breathing the keen fresh air
+of the plain, and chatting in friendly fashion. That evening Cesare had
+pointed with a smile to his sister’s animated and healthy looking
+countenance, saying to Marcel—
+
+“You see what good it does her to have change and distraction. You would
+scarcely take her to be the same person. Ah! If only she could forget her
+grief every day in the same way, her usual health and good spirits would
+quickly come back.”
+
+“Then stay on; why should you go away?” asked Marcel.
+
+“Ah! It is not I who can give her the distraction she needs,” said the
+handsome Italian, heedlessly.
+
+A moment later he appeared to regret having spoken so frankly.
+
+“It is much easier for strangers, you see, than for intimates to obtain a
+fortunate change in the dispositions of people who suffer.”
+
+“But your sister is not suffering! Look with what an alert and supple
+step she is walking there, in front of us.”
+
+“Yes; but just now her nerves sustain her. This very night she will
+relapse into a feeling of melancholy, and be completely prostrated. I
+shall not be able to draw a single word from her.”
+
+“If you would authorize me to call and see her, and she also would permit
+me, I should find great pleasure in her company.”
+
+The Italian grasped Marcel effusively by the hand.
+
+“I do not know how to thank you for your kindness. But it would be
+expecting too much from you. Poor Anetta would quickly tire out your
+patience. She is a capricious child. You do not know her yet.”
+
+They had no opportunity to continue, for Madame Vignola turned towards
+them a questioning look, which asked—
+
+“What are you two plotting there?”
+
+“Count Cesare, madame, is handing over to me his authority over you
+during his absence,” said Marcel, gaily. “He is making me responsible for
+your state of mind. Accordingly, from to-morrow, I am in charge of your
+good or bad temper. But you must be willing to put up with my tyranny.”
+
+Her countenance became grave; in low but fascinating tones she said—
+
+“Yes, he is right. You must not leave me. When I am alone all kinds of
+gloomy thoughts come into my head. Be a friend to me. Cesare will not be
+long away, and then we will resume our walks in the woods. Until then,
+call for me at the villa; you will always be welcome.”
+
+Count Agostini had left, and Marcel, by invitation, was now calling at
+the Cavée. The nearer he drew the faster became his pace, and his temples
+were quite flushed. On reaching the villa he suddenly slackened his
+steps, for he had heard Madame Vignola’s voice. She was alone in the
+salon, the windows were open, and the passionate melody, in which both
+art and sentiment were wonderfully blended, had filled Marcel’s soul with
+a keen jealousy. It was the “Gipsies’ Cantilena,” by Marackzy, the great
+Hungarian artist, who died of grief when in full possession of his genius
+and glory—
+
+    “Viens sur ma levre parfumée,
+    Rose fremissante et pamée,
+    Trempée encore des pleurs d’amour,
+    Cueillir le baiser, dont la flamme
+    Fera de mon cœur a ton âme
+    Jaillir. . . . ”
+
+The song stopped suddenly, as though the voice were broken by sobs. It
+seemed to Marcel that the singer’s very heart had broken under the
+influence of some mysterious grief. Unable to contain himself, he rushed
+through the garden, and reached the salon. Madame Vignola was still
+seated at the piano. She was weeping bitterly, her beautiful pale face
+leaning on her hand. At the sight Marcel gave a cry of pain, which made
+the young woman suddenly look up. Holding out her hand to Marcel,
+apparently ashamed at being thus surprised, she said—
+
+“Pardon me. I ought never to sing when I am alone. These harmonious
+strains agitate me, and recall to my mind souvenirs that are too
+painful.”
+
+“_Mon Dieu_! What is the matter? Have confidence in me.”
+
+“No, no! Do not ask me.”
+
+Closing the piano, and summoning a smile to her face, she said—
+
+“Let us talk about you, not about me.”
+
+She looked at Marcel, and said, in tones of affectionate reproof—
+
+“How warm you are! You have been walking too fast, and the hill is so
+steep! It will be my turn to scold if you do not act sensibly. Now come
+out into the garden.”
+
+He quietly followed her. They walked along the small alleys of the tiny
+garden, then seated themselves under the shade of the blossoming lilacs,
+where they entered into a chat, talking of everything except of what they
+really thought.
+
+On the road, Baudoin had not lost sight of his master. When Marcel had
+entered the villa the servant had approached with considerable
+precaution. Madame Vignola’s singing had stopped as soon as Marcel
+appeared, so that Baudoin had heard nothing. He took good care not to
+pass in front of the door, but followed a footpath along the wall which
+continued in the direction of the wood, along a high copse crowned with
+large trees. On reaching the thicket he climbed the slope, and, concealed
+behind a bush, was able to catch a glimpse of the garden. The lilacs,
+under which Anetta and Marcel were chatting, grew at the foot of the
+mound which Baudoin had chosen as his observatory. There they were,
+seated with their backs towards him, about thirty yards away.
+
+Baudoin reflected. Who can this woman dressed in black be? She looks
+young, and of very good figure. Marcel loses no time once he sets out on
+a campaign. But perhaps all preliminaries have been facilitated for him?
+What is this young stranger doing here, and what interest is it of hers
+to place herself in immediate communication with M. Marcel? What are they
+speaking of, there, under my very eyes? Certainly it cannot be business.
+Then love must be the bait at the end of the line. The hook is well
+concealed, and will appear at the right moment.
+
+During this monologue the two friends continued their conversation. They
+sat there, near one another, but the sound of their words did not reach
+Baudoin. At the end of an hour they stood upright, and the young woman
+turned round so as to face Baudoin. _He_ examined her with astonishment
+and admiration, for seldom had he seen a more beautiful face. He was
+obliged to acknowledge that he had never seen her hitherto. After all,
+what resemblance had he expected? The “other” woman, the one of Vanves,
+he had seen only in the shadow of night, and so as to render it
+impossible to recognize her again. The only clues he possessed were that
+characteristic favourite perfume of hers, and the sound of her voice,
+which still vibrated in his ears.
+
+He thought, “If I could only hear her speak! A single sentence would be
+sufficient to enable me to recognize her.” His heart leaped with joy, for
+the couple were now slowly walking along the circular alley which passed
+close to the foot of the mound not a dozen steps from where Baudoin was
+concealed. They were speaking to one another without the slightest
+suspicion that any one was listening. The former soldier, like a hunter
+on the watch, who sees his long-expected quarry approach, with beating
+heart and slightly dimmed eyes, listened with all the attention he was
+capable of. He heard Marcel say—
+
+“Now that you are free, do you intend to take up these former plans of
+yours?”
+
+And the woman, in caressing tones, but with an Italian accent, replied—
+
+“What is the use? I am now quite old. I am twenty-seven years of age.
+Artistic triumphs would have no value for me now. Sing in a theatre, in
+public;—be the object of everybody’s gaze? Oh no. I no longer think of
+such a thing.”
+
+“And yet you would obtain a great success!”
+
+“For whom?”
+
+They passed by, and Baudoin was obliged to confess to himself that this
+woman in mourning had not the same voice as the “other,” the one who had
+brought death with her. He saw the two promenaders disappear into the
+house, then he heard the clear tones of the piano, and the pure vibrating
+voice of the young woman arose, filling the silence of the woods with its
+melodious accents. Thereupon Baudoin descended the mound, and returned to
+Ars preoccupied and reflective. As he passed in front of the post-office
+he entered and wrote the following despatch:—
+
+“Laforêt, War Office, rue Saint Dominique, Paris. Come to Ars, near
+Troyes. Ask for me at works. Baudoin.”
+
+After paying he watched the transmission of his telegram, and, slightly
+relieved, returned home. At seven o’clock Marcel arrived. He dined
+without uttering a single word, and immediately afterwards retired into
+the laboratory, where Baudoin heard him pacing to and fro, far into the
+night.
+
+Meanwhile Madame Vignola, seated in her small salon, an Oriental
+cigarette between her lips, was cutting a pack of cards under the
+complaisant looks of her chambermaid. The latter, a confidential
+companion rather than a servant, was a small, dark-complexioned woman,
+whom Sophia had had with her for the last ten years. Her name was Milona,
+but she was always called Milo. She had been born in the Carpathians, in
+the midst of a gipsy encampment. Her mother had died by the side of a
+ditch, leaving her, at the age of twelve, quite alone, and exposed to the
+attentions of a villain of the band, who had been smitten with the
+precocious grace of the child.
+
+Sophia, as she passed through Trieste, in the course of her adventurous
+life, had been present, in the court of the inn where she had put up, at
+a quarrel between Milona and her ferocious suitor. The little one boldly
+opposed the zingaro, who wished to compel her to follow him, and to his
+loud-voiced threats uttered in the Romany tongue, she replied by a
+determined denial and a flashing look of defiance. The whole band, the
+only relations Milona knew, supported the young bandit’s pretensions. But
+Milona continued her refusal, when the chief of the band, an old man with
+grey beard and white curly hair, a regular patriarch, whose chief
+business was to steal poultry from the villages they traversed, tried to
+reason with the young girl.
+
+Sophia, with her elbows resting on the window-sill, was enjoying the
+sight, and a feeling of sympathy came over her for this proud child who
+would not submit to the man’s tyranny. She appeared to understand the
+language these gipsies spoke, and smiled at the highly-coloured
+expressions of their speech.
+
+“Milona,” said the venerable poultry-thief, “you are not acting aright.
+You refuse Zambo, who belongs to the tribe, and loves you well, because
+you have been listening to this little Hungarian hussar who has lately
+been making love to you. And yet you are well aware that he is a dog, an
+enemy of our race, who will soon tire of you, and leave you all alone. It
+was to me your mother left you when she died. I have paid for your
+training and food, taught you to tell fortunes, and all about chieromancy
+and the composition of love philtres. Will you be ungrateful and refuse
+to be the wife of my little nephew Zambo?”
+
+“I do not love him,” said the girl, dryly.
+
+“But he loves you.”
+
+“That does not matter to me.”
+
+“But if you resist him, he will kill you.”
+
+“That is my business!”
+
+“Do you intend to leave us, then?”
+
+“Yes. I am tired of living on robbery, and being clothed in rags!”
+
+“Then pay for your freedom.”
+
+“I have no money. Wait, and some day the hussar will give me my hands
+full of money.”
+
+At these words, Zambo gave a terrible imprecation, and leapt towards the
+child with the words—
+
+“That is the last word you shall ever speak!”
+
+And, brandishing a long dagger, he threw himself on Milona. At that
+critical moment the Baroness Sophia gave a shrill, whistling sound, which
+drew the attention of the whole band, and speaking in their own tongue,
+she said—
+
+“That is quite enough. I intend to send for the police. You, old man,
+would you like to sell the girl?”
+
+“Yes, your ladyship.”
+
+“How much?”
+
+“Twenty golden ducats.”
+
+“You thief!”
+
+“I cannot take less, your Excellency!”
+
+A purse fell into the courtyard at the patriarch’s feet. He picked it up
+with the rapidity of a juggler, counted the money, and, after bowing to
+the Baroness, said to Milona—
+
+“Thank your noble benefactress. She has paid; you are free!”
+
+“Come up here, little one,” said Sophia.
+
+Immediately Milona, followed by the imprecations of her disconcerted
+lover, flew into the inn. The window of the Baroness was closed, and the
+gipsies, with vehement words and exaggerated gestures, tried to give
+Zambo to understand that girls were far less rare than ducats, and that,
+though his love remained to him on account, the till of the troupe would
+be filled for a whole year. Ever since this strange introduction, Milona
+had become attached, with a wild and savage affection, to her deliverer.
+She had served her indefatigably, and, with the exception of those
+terrible secrets which Sophia entrusted to no one, she knew the
+life-story of her mistress.
+
+Sophia exhaled a puff of blue smoke, and hesitated before the combination
+of her cards—
+
+“King of hearts, nine of spades, and knave of clubs,” said Milona,
+calmly, her finger pointing to the spotted cards. “And then, queen of
+clubs, knave of hearts, and seven of spades. Still the same reply. You
+will not succeed!”
+
+Sophia raised her bold though beautiful eyes up to her companion, and, in
+her ordinary accents, which were different from those in which she spoke
+Italian, said—
+
+“I must succeed, I tell you, I must, Milona: do you hear?”
+
+“Shall we try the water test?”
+
+“Yes, we have not tried it for some considerable time.” Milona took a
+crystal cup filled with flowers. She threw the bouquet on to the floor,
+and after extinguishing the wax candles in the chandelier, with one
+single exception, placed the cup on the table in such a way that the
+light might fall upon it from behind. Then, drawing out one of the long
+gold pins which fastened her hair, she crouched down on a stool, dipped
+the metal stem into the vase, and commenced a strange chant. In the
+water, through which the light penetrated, irisated eddies formed, and
+the two women attentively watched the broken fugitive lines, the tiny
+drops sparkling like diamonds, and the brilliant spirals of the water
+stirred to motion by the gold needle. Milona sang—
+
+“Water is nought but trouble and mystery, light is certainty and truth.
+Let the light penetrate the water, and cause its secrets to be revealed.
+Turn, needle; shine, ray; water, divide.”
+
+“Look, Milo, look!” exclaimed Sophia, excitedly. “The water is turning
+red, it seems to be turning into blood!”
+
+Milona continued her chant—
+
+“Blood is strength and life. The blood of the brain is victory. The blood
+of the heart is love. Turn, needle; redden, blood. Grant us victory and
+love!”
+
+Sophia, on her knees by the side of the table, was anxiously watching
+with ardent eyes the crystal vase in which the water was whirling round
+under the impulse given to it by the gold needle.
+
+“Look! Look again!” she exclaimed. “The water is turning green! It is
+shining like an emerald!”
+
+“The emerald is the colour of hope, and hope is the joy of life. Turn,
+needle; water, become glaucous, like the eyes of the sirens, whom a man
+follows to his death!”
+
+Milona withdrew the gold needle. The water, again restored to a state of
+calm, after having ceased turning around the sides of the crystal vase,
+first assumed a greyish tint, then turned to a dark colour.
+
+“Milo,” exclaimed Sophia, in dismay, “the water is black! It is a sign of
+mourning! Who is to die?”
+
+The servant, without replying, relit the candles, took the crystal vase
+and threw out of the window the water which had just been used for the
+experiment; then, in anger, she spat out into the night—
+
+“May he die who opposes you!” she said fiercely. “Fate announces love,
+happiness, and death. You have the privilege of not continuing the
+enterprise you have begun. The spotted cards say you will not succeed.
+The water predicts death! For whom? That we cannot learn. Stop, there is
+still time.”
+
+Sophia walked silently to and fro in the salon, then halted in front of
+Milona, who sat there, in pensive calm.
+
+“Do you believe in these predictions of yours?”
+
+“I do.”
+
+Sophia lit a cigarette.
+
+“What is the use of being superior in thought and courage, of a bold
+audacity that recognizes no obstacle, if one acts with the weak cowardice
+of an ordinary mortal? It is only in whatever is difficult, if not
+impossible, Milo, that there is any interest. How can one live like a
+common citizen when one possesses the soul of a sovereign of mankind? No!
+Cost what it may, one must follow one’s instinct, give evidence of one’s
+will. You know me, Milo; you know that I give way before no obstacle,
+once my resolution is taken. Why did you say to me just now, ‘Renounce
+what you are undertaking; there is still time?’”
+
+“And you,” said Milona, gravely, “since you are so firm in your plans,
+why do you consult cards, and ask the water to lay bare to you its
+secret?”
+
+Sophia smiled.
+
+“What you say is just. But, after all, little one, mortals are only
+human; that is to say, beings accessible to fear and superstition. Don’t
+you know that doctors—who, after all, are well aware how precarious and
+powerless is their art—call other doctors to their bedsides when they are
+ill? A concession to human frailty, Milo. Still, people do not think any
+the worse of them.”
+
+“And is all this in honour of the young man who has been coming here
+every day since the Agostini first brought him?”
+
+“The Agostini, as you disrespectfully call him, brought me this young man
+because I ordered him to do so. Do you not know that he obeys me without
+discussion?”
+
+“Oh, he will never discuss. But, some day or other, he may no longer
+obey.”
+
+“Poor Cesare is no favourite of yours,” said Sophia, gaily.
+
+“He is false, and a coward as well. If ever he tries to strike you, it
+will be in the back.”
+
+“But he loves me.”
+
+“And do you return his affection?”
+
+“Perhaps; though I am not very sure of it. Why do you call him a coward?
+You are well aware that he fought a duel at Palermo with the Marquis
+Belverani.”
+
+“Because he knew he was the stronger or the more skilful, and the other
+had struck him in the presence of fifty people at the club, after
+accusing him of having cheated at cards. And it was quite true; he did
+cheat!”
+
+“No one will ever say so again, now that he has killed a man for that
+very reason! Besides, the proof that he does not cheat is that he always
+loses.”
+
+“You know something about it?”
+
+“Ah, what should I do with my money if I did not give it to him?”
+
+“You are right. Money is vile; it should serve no other purpose than to
+satisfy one’s caprices. Its only value is in the pleasures it procures;
+in itself it is worth no more than the pebbles lying at one’s feet. Will
+the young man who comes now give it you or receive it from you?”
+
+“I do not think he would accept it, Milo,” said Sophia, laughing. “You
+are a regular barbarian, and incapable of understanding anything beyond
+bribery. There are honest people on earth, little one, and they cannot be
+paid for obtaining from them what one wishes. Other seductive means must
+be employed.”
+
+“Ah, that is why you sing when he is here! You will make him mad, like
+all the others. And yet he looks so gentle and charming!”
+
+“That is true, but he is our enemy, Milo; and if he were to discover who
+I am, and what I wish to obtain from him, I should run the most terrible
+danger.”
+
+“So the Agostini has brought him here to ruin him?”
+
+“In a way.”
+
+“And he already loves you? Ah, your power over men is irresistible. Take
+care, however, or some fine day you will be caught in your turn. Then it
+will be terrible for you!”
+
+“I have loved, as you well know. Love has nothing new to teach me.”
+
+“Your heart has never been touched, for all those you have loved have
+been your victims. Sincere and pure love is no assassin. It is a
+protection and self-sacrifice. Up to the present, however, you have had
+to deal with none but fortune-hunters, and it was pure justice to treat
+them as they had been in the habit of treating their own victims. The day
+you show the Agostini to the door, you may summon me to open it for him.
+I will do it most gladly!”
+
+“That day has not come yet.”
+
+“What a pity!”
+
+Sophia gave a weary toss of the head, and Milona understood that she must
+cease this light jesting tone. She said—
+
+“I am going to close all the shutters, mistress, do you need me any
+longer?”
+
+“No, I am going to write. You will hear me when I retire to rest.”
+
+Seating herself in front of the table, she took an elegant blotting-pad
+and began to trace, on perfumed paper, in a large masculine hand, the
+following lines:—
+
+    “MY DEAR CESARE,
+
+    “Since you left me, I have not been wasting my time, nor have you, I
+    imagine, been inactive. Let me know how your Lichtenbach affair is
+    progressing. Here everything is going along smoothly. Our young
+    Marcel came to-day, overflowing with enthusiasm, and surprised me
+    singing the most plaintive songs imaginable. Milona, who was on the
+    look-out for him, had signalled to me his approach, and I played the
+    _rôle_ of despair with extraordinary success. He seemed frantic with
+    grief at seeing my tears flow. You know that I can weep at will, and
+    that in the most seductive fashion. I led him away into the garden,
+    and there, made him talk about himself. He is a regular child, of
+    most disconcerting simplicity, and so frank and open that you would
+    smile. To tell the truth, there will be no merit in triumphing over
+    such innocence. This lamb will hold out his neck to the sacrificial
+    knife. And we shall have our formula willingly handed over, or I am
+    greatly mistaken. Besides, I am enjoying a delightful rest in this
+    abandoned spot, and never suffer from _ennui_, even for a single
+    moment. In the midst of such an adventurous life, it is long since I
+    had time for reflection, and now I am astonished at the result. The
+    joys and pleasures for which I have sacrificed everything hitherto,
+    form, I am afraid, only one of the phases of life. There is another I
+    did not suspect, far more seductive and beautiful. This afternoon, as
+    I was listening to young Marcel speaking to me of his father, his
+    mother, and sister, with such tender and delicate affection, a
+    feeling of sadness came over me. These are all good, honest people.
+    They are happy in a mutual love, and would be ready to undergo the
+    greatest sacrifices for one another. And, although nothing could be
+    simpler, more upright and monotonous than their existence, it cannot
+    be disputed that they find happiness in it.
+
+    “It is this lamb of a Marcel, who is the scapegrace of the family.
+    From time to time his father threatens him with his malediction, and
+    the poor fellow is very repentant for a whole week. He comes and
+    buries himself at Ars, like an anchorite in the desert. During his
+    penance he works in the laboratory, eats the most ill-cooked food
+    imaginable, and has quarrels with the manager of the works, who seems
+    to be a disagreeable fellow to deal with. It is during these periods
+    of repentance that the interesting discoveries on the dyeing of wools
+    and other industrial stuffs—which, it appears, have a certain value,
+    as he explains to me in rather too much detail for my liking—have
+    been due.
+
+    “But, after all, he is a very fine fellow. He actually asked me how
+    old I was! He does not imagine that I am older than himself, and I
+    should not be astonished in the slightest, if he were to cherish the
+    idea of marrying me. I lead him by a thread—he neither feels nor
+    sees—on towards absolute slavery. Then, after he has delivered up to
+    me his secret, as all the rest have done, I shall disappear. Once the
+    mourning weeds of Mme. Vignola flung aside, I shall again become the
+    Baroness Sophia, in which character I challenge my lover to recognize
+    the plaintive sorrowful widow he is paying court to just now. So, you
+    see, I am not neglecting business matters. I hope you are doing the
+    same on your side. The little Lichtenbach heiress will be a
+    multi-millionaire; that is well worth the trouble of whispering words
+    of love into her ear.
+
+    “A thousand kisses, Cesare. _Sempre t’amero_.
+
+                                                                 “SOPHIA.”
+
+She sealed the letter, took up a cigarette, and was preparing to retire
+to rest, when three slight taps on the shutters sent a shudder through
+her veins. She listened, an anxious frown on her face, and, after a
+moment’s interval, the taps were repeated. Opening a drawer, she seized a
+revolver, and, walking deliberately to the window, half opened it, and,
+speaking through the closed shutter, said in Italian accents—
+
+“Who is there?”
+
+A voice replied in muffled tones, “It is I—Hans; there is nothing to
+fear, Sophia.”
+
+A slight pallor came over her face, but she placed back the revolver in
+the drawer, and, without replying, left the salon. On reaching the
+outside door she drew the bolts, and noiselessly opened the door. A tall
+man entered. Without the exchange of a single word, she led the way to
+the salon, then carefully closed the door. The man removed the felt hat
+which covered his head, displaying a bold, rough countenance. He was a
+man of athletic build, and very broad-shouldered, whilst a reddish beard
+covered the lower portion of his face.
+
+Taking a seat, he cast a keen look at Sophia, and said—
+
+“Who is with you, here?”
+
+“Milona.”
+
+“Where is Agostini?”
+
+“In Paris. And where have you come from?”
+
+“From Geneva. Lichtenbach sent me your address.”
+
+“How did you enter?”
+
+“Over the wall.”
+
+“With your wounded arm?”
+
+“My arm is healed.”
+
+As he spoke he extended it with a threatening smile. The arm was indeed
+whole. A glove covered the hand. He continued—
+
+“The Swiss are very fine mechanics. They have made for me a jointed
+fore-arm which works like a natural one. The hand is of steel. It is the
+best fisticuff imaginable. A blow from that hand, Sophia, would kill a
+man.” With a sigh he continued. “But, after all, this arm is not worth
+the one I have lost. Still, those who have mutilated me shall pay for my
+flesh and blood.”
+
+As he spoke his face assumed a ferocious expression, and _he_ ground his
+teeth savagely. Sophia, in grave accents, replied—
+
+“Have you not already been paid? At the time you were struck, the General
+de Trémont was dead. Perhaps it was he who was taking his vengeance on
+you!”
+
+“The old fool! He had only to accede to your request when you were
+inducing him to tell you the secret of his safe. Then nothing would have
+happened!”
+
+“Hans, it all happened because you were in too great a hurry. You
+destroyed all my combinations through your brutality. Had you merely
+given me another week the poor fool would have given up to me his secret,
+his honour, and everything else. Your intervention put him on his guard;
+he recovered from his torpor, and all was lost!”
+
+“No reproaches, please. This mistake has cost me dearly enough. Now, how
+do matters stand here?”
+
+“If you will leave me to act in my own way, I shall succeed.”
+
+“Good! Good! I, too, am preparing a slight diversion, which will be of
+use. Besides, it will please Lichtenbach.”
+
+“What do you intend to do?”
+
+“Stir up the workmen at the manufactory.”
+
+“Then you intend to make a tool of socialism?”
+
+“Certainly. In it lies the future of society. The thoughtless, brutal
+mob, under the sway of a few bold leaders, will obtain for themselves
+universal dominion and rule.”
+
+“How long will this be your rule of conduct?”
+
+“Until everything in this execrably rotten society is destroyed.”
+
+“What will you put in its place?”
+
+“That is the secret of time. The revolution will tell it to us.”
+
+“I hate your opinions as well as those who maintain them.”
+
+“I know, I know,” interrupted Hans, with a loud laugh. “You are an
+aristocrat, Sophia, and equality is not to your liking. You must have
+luxury and superiority always around you. But how do you know that we
+shall not give them to you? We aim at levelling, but it is the levelling
+of those who rise above us. Have you ever seen a flock of sheep without a
+shepherd and his dog to guide them? Then how could nations live without a
+head? The great thing is to command. For this power must be snatched from
+the hands of those who now have it, by means of certain privileges we
+pretend to suppress because we do not enjoy them. Once power is in our
+hands, torrents of blood will have to be shed before it can be taken from
+us. Who would try to do so? Only revolutionists have any energy left, for
+they alone are governed by passion. Revolution is the only means of
+succeeding rapidly. To-day I am nothing; in the near future I intend to
+be everything. To attain to my object I suppress everything in my way.
+This is the meaning, expressed briefly, of all the burlesque rigmarole
+uttered by these apostles of humanity. Their love and thoughts are
+entirely for themselves. And that suffices.”
+
+Sophia laughed aloud.
+
+“They are mere brigands. You are another, but you must take care, Hans,
+for those you dream of spoiling will not let themselves be robbed so
+easily as you think. They have invented the police, a tolerably effective
+safeguard. But what are you preparing for these poor Baradiers and
+Graffs?”
+
+“For the past fortnight I have been exciting the workmen by means of my
+agents. I am going to turn their works upside down. That will divert
+their attention, for they are far too wide awake concerning what we are
+doing. I do not know who is informing the sly rogues, but they seem to
+understand Lichtenbach’s game with the greatest ease.”
+
+“Lichtenbach is such a coward! He has done something stupid again. I have
+sent Cesare to him, quite as much to keep a watch over him as to pay
+court to his daughter. But you cannot put courage into the heart of a
+coward.”
+
+“It seems the shares of the Explosives Company had fallen so favourably,
+thanks to the bear system undertaken by Lichtenbach, that the re-purchase
+was on the point of being effected under the most favourable conditions.
+Suddenly, without apparent reason, the brokers began to buy in enormous
+quantities on the Stock Exchange, and the shares rose by leaps and
+bounds. Lichtenbach held firm, but he had to deal with some one superior
+to himself. The threatening ruin was checked. He, personally, has lost a
+pile of money at the liquidation. And, from information received, it is
+the Baradiers and Graffs who have formed a syndicate, along with a large
+number of shareholders belonging to the threatened Company, with the
+object of checking the too complete depreciation of the shares. There is
+a rumour in business circles that, thanks to a new patent, you
+understand, Sophia, the prosperity of the affair is assured for the
+future. That is why I am here; direct competition against Lichtenbach
+means a challenge to us. The war has begun; it must be maintained, and
+the victory won. You all appear to me to be doing nothing but play here.”
+
+“Now, Hans, nothing rash this time,” said Sophia, firmly. “We are going
+along very well; take care not to spoil everything again. You have only
+one arm left to lose, my dear friend. Do not attempt too much.”
+
+Hans’ features contracted.
+
+“You are in a very gay humour, Sophia. I have only one arm, true; but it
+is the better one of the two, make no mistake. Little chance for him who
+comes within its reach!”
+
+“So you have come to settle down here?”
+
+“With your permission.”
+
+“You will be greatly in my way.”
+
+“Do not be anxious. I shall only be out-of-doors at night time. It is not
+to my interest to be seen in the open daylight. Darkness suits me better.
+You attend to your business, and I will attend to mine. All I ask of you
+is a room up in the garret, where I may write and sleep during the
+daytime. Milona alone will know that I am here. We can have entire
+confidence in her.”
+
+“Entire, unless there is harm threatening to myself.”
+
+“Who would think of doing you any harm? Not I, at any rate, so long as we
+have the same end in view.”
+
+They exchanged looks, and in their eyes could be read the memory of
+long-standing complicity and collusion. Sophia was the first to avert her
+glance, which she did with a sign of acquiescence.
+
+“Then follow me.”
+
+She opened the door, and showed the way to the man who appeared to her an
+object of mingled dread and hate.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+BAUDOIN had just finished arranging everything in the summer-house where
+Marcel lived, when he heard his name called by the concierge of the
+works. On showing himself at the window, the concierge bowed with
+deference, and said—
+
+“M. Baudoin, some one wishes to speak to you at the gate.”
+
+“Good; I will be down in a moment.”
+
+It was three o’clock in the afternoon, and, as Marcel had just set out in
+the direction of the woods, Baudoin was alone in the house. He had just
+placed the furniture in order, and now, after closing the window, he took
+off his apron, and went out into the courtyard. On reaching the entrance
+to the works, he saw standing in the street a ruddy-faced man, with
+untrimmed beard, dressed like a workman, and wearing a pair of large
+rough shoes. The concierge disdainfully pointed out the man, and said—
+
+“There he is!”
+
+At the same moment the man turned round, and, seeing Baudoin, came up
+with smiling face and extended hands. Baudoin, astonished, watched him
+draw near, ransacking his memory, but unable to call to mind if he had
+ever seen him before. He said to himself, “Who the deuce can it be? Some
+one who has made a mistake!” On coming close up to him, the man said—
+
+“Good day, M. Baudoin.”
+
+Then Baudoin recognized Laforêt. Taking him by the arm, he conducted him
+along the garden wall in the direction of the main road; then, sure that
+he would be out of the hearing of any one, he said—.
+
+“So you are here at last! What a perfect disguise! I had no idea who you
+were till you spoke.”
+
+“We must not remain in the open air, for no one must see us together. Is
+there no small inn where we can talk?”
+
+“Certainly; come with me to the Soleil d’Or. I know the landlord; he will
+let us have a small room to ourselves, where we shall not be disturbed.
+He is an old soldier, and to be relied upon.”
+
+“Very good!”
+
+Seated before a bottle of beer, the two men began their confidential
+talk—
+
+“It was quite time you came,” said Baudoin. “There is something new at
+last. M. Marcel’s solitude has been broken in upon by two strangers, who
+pass as brother and sister, jabber away in Italian, and who, from the
+very first week of their stay here, have found means of entering into
+friendly relations with my master.”
+
+“What kind of a woman is she?”
+
+“Ah, unless I am mistaken, she is a very cunning woman, like the one who
+called to see my poor General, and tricked him so cleverly.”
+
+“And the man?”
+
+“A foreigner. His first appearance. He calls himself a count, but he is
+probably a mere fortune-hunter. A handsome-looking fellow, though I have
+only seen him at a distance.”
+
+“And the sister?”
+
+“A splendid woman! Light-complexioned, with hair arranged in Madonna
+fashion. The most innocent, harmless-looking creature imaginable! In deep
+mourning, reminding one of ‘Mignon’ bewailing her country. What is her
+object in coming here just at this time?”
+
+“We will do our best to throw some light on the matter if possible.”
+
+“I can do nothing, you understand, for I am too well known here. At the
+very first sign of activity I gave, it would be equivalent to saying to
+these people, ‘Look out, I am watching you.’ They would be at once on
+their guard, and the game would be over! I have already hazarded a rather
+risky examination of the house in which they live, and the surroundings.
+But I cannot recommence without running the risk of being caught by M.
+Marcel; and, if he questioned me, what reply could I give him? To warn
+him of the toils being skilfully drawn around him would be to cut short
+the intrigue now in preparation, and which, in all probability, will give
+us an opportunity of laying hands on the villains we are on the look-out
+for. And not to warn him is to leave him exposed to the greatest dangers!
+I have been thinking of all this for some days, and the more I reflect,
+the more I hesitate. Accordingly I was very anxious to see you, as you
+can give me your advice in the first place, and afterwards we can
+deliberate as to the best means of defending M. Marcel in case he comes
+to be threatened.”
+
+“We must proceed methodically. Where is this house situated?”
+
+“Oh, it is very easy to recognize! It is half-way between Ars and the
+woods of Bossicant, and is named the Villa de la Cavée. Impossible to
+make a mistake, for it stands all alone.”
+
+“To-morrow morning I will take up my post at the door.”
+
+“How?”
+
+“That is my business. You will see how it is possible to keep a watch
+over people without appearing to do so.”
+
+“But there is no house for more than half a mile around.”
+
+“That will make no difference. How does the lady live?”
+
+“Very quietly. She never leaves the house, except to take a walk in the
+wood. Until lately, alone, or with her brother, but now with my master.”
+
+“Then he is bitten?”
+
+“Very badly.”
+
+“Good!”
+
+“And what, in your opinion, must we do as regards M. Marcel?”
+
+“Nothing.”
+
+“Not even warn him of his danger?”
+
+“Under no pretext. What danger does he run? I will keep watch over him
+outside, and you will look after him inside. No one has any interest in
+threatening him. If, as is very probable, according to usual tactics, a
+pretty woman has been told off to try to catch him, all he risks is
+falling in love with a worthless creature. Will it be the first time this
+will happen to him? You do not think so, nor do I. Meanwhile, we will set
+a few caltrops to try and catch our freebooters. Are you sure it is not
+the same woman who came to Vanves?”
+
+“She has neither the same voice nor the same accent. But then, can one be
+certain of anything when one has to deal with people of such cunning? As
+for the man, I can answer that it is not he, for I saw the man at Vanves.
+He was a head taller than this tom-tit of an Italian. His speech, too,
+was very peculiar. Oh! I should at once recognize the man who killed my
+General! And if ever he comes within my reach—”
+
+As he spoke his fists were tightly clenched, and a fierce glare shone in
+his eyes. Laforêt calmed him by saying—
+
+“Do not get angry! Especially in the matter now engaging our attention;
+we must keep cool heads. Suppose you suddenly found yourself in front of
+this man, what would you do?”
+
+“I would seize him by the throat, and he should not escape, that I would
+swear to before God!”
+
+“What folly! Your duty would be to pretend not to recognize him. You
+could follow him, find out where he lives, and keep a watch over him, so
+that we might capture both himself and his accomplices. My dear Baudoin,
+let us agree at once to some such course beforehand. For if we act in too
+sentimental a fashion, we shall fail utterly.”
+
+Baudoin sighed—
+
+“You are right; still, it would be very hard for me to keep my fingers
+away from the rascal’s skin! But then, you have had experience; I will
+obey you.”
+
+“Well, then, let us find some means of correspondence. For the future we
+must not be seen to have any communications with one another. See here;
+when I have anything to say to you I will go to the entrance door of the
+works, and write on the top of the gate on the left side the day and hour
+of the rendezvous in red pencil. For instance: ‘Tuesday, 4 o’clock.’ Then
+you will arrange to come round to this inn, where you will find me. If
+you wish to speak to me you will do the same on the other pillar on the
+right of the gate. I shall pass by every morning and evening to see if
+the rendezvous has to take place that evening or not.”
+
+“Very good.”
+
+“Then good-bye for the moment. When we leave here we no longer know one
+another. I will go now, and leave you to pay. Good luck, and keep cool!”
+
+“I will, if possible.”
+
+At that very hour Marcel was walking to and fro in the woods with Madame
+Vignola. The small terrier was running about along the path, which was so
+narrow that the young man and his fair companion were brought into close
+proximity to avoid the shooting branches which invaded the way. A feeling
+of languor seemed to emanate from the earth, gently warmed by the early
+spring sun. On reaching the edge of the plateau they halted by a rocky
+ledge overshadowed by large ash-trees.
+
+The whole valley of Ars lay before them. The tile roofs of the works, the
+large chimney-steeple with its plume of black smoke, and the church and
+houses capriciously grouped, formed a smiling and delightful picture. The
+young woman pointed out with the end of her parasol the different parts
+of the panorama, and Marcel named all the points of interest visible. It
+was a kind of taking possession of the country under the auspices of
+Marcel. He said to her, with a smile—
+
+“You are asking questions, as though you intended to settle down in these
+parts.”
+
+“It is a custom of mine,” she said. “I like to know where I am, and to
+make inquiries about the district. Things have no meaning or interest for
+me unless I know their names and purposes. For instance, you point out to
+me down there a railway line which passes into the plain. To the fact
+that it is a railway I am absolutely indifferent; you add, it is the line
+running from Troyes to the frontier, _viâ_ Belfort. Immediately my mind
+begins to work, and the precise representation given by the thing
+attaches my mind to the thing itself. As you see, I am of anything but a
+poetic nature.”
+
+“You appear to me to have an extraordinary intelligence.”
+
+“And one which is not of a very feminine nature, now confess.”
+
+“True, I find you anything but silly or fickle in disposition. But I give
+you credit for a good quality.”
+
+“In any case, confess that it is not a graceful one.”
+
+“Oh! You have so many others!”
+
+“I did not ask you for a compliment.”
+
+“You must accept it now, all the same.”
+
+She looked at him with an air of simple content, then shook her head.
+
+“That is not right of you; you have broken our agreement. It was
+understood between us that you should treat me as a companion, in return
+for which I would allow you to accompany me in my walks, and call on me
+unceremoniously. But you are a Frenchman, and it is impossible for you to
+give up all pretensions to gallantry.”
+
+“Would an Italian have stayed so long in your company without telling you
+how charming you are?”
+
+“Yes, if I had forbidden him to speak of such things. But he would have
+thought the more!”
+
+“How can you tell?” said Marcel, eagerly. “Do you think I am indifferent
+because, obeying you too well, I have addressed to you nothing but simple
+expressions of cold courtesy? Do not judge my feelings by my words; they
+are very different from one another.”
+
+“You have only known me for a week.”
+
+“Is a longer time needed to love for ever?”
+
+“For ever! What an engagement to make! And so quickly decided on!”
+
+“And so easy to keep when one first sees and afterwards comes to know
+you!”
+
+“And which can have no result, as I must soon leave, and go away far
+from—”
+
+“What need is there for you to follow out plans formed during the early
+days of sadness and solitude? Is it wise to decide for a whole lifetime
+in a single moment at your age, and with such a store of future
+compensations to draw upon? At the age of twenty-four to think that
+everything is lost, because destiny has separated you from a husband old
+enough to have been your father? Your life has only just begun, at the
+very time you think it is all over.”
+
+“Yes, my brother has often said the same thing to me. That is the usual
+way of looking at things. New tenderness to replace a dying affection.
+But then, how wretched to lend one’s self to such social arrangements,
+and undergo such an unexpected fate! And yet a heart cannot be swept out
+like a room for new tenants. The memories of the one who occupied it
+cannot be so speedily effaced; they remain. And is it not a kind of
+profanation for a delicate soul to allow itself to cherish a new
+affection, when it imagined the light had vanished for ever?”
+
+“I will reply in your own words: ‘For ever! What an engagement to make!
+And so lightly decided on!’ Can you be sure of keeping it? Let the world
+wag along. Your decision will not alter anything. There is nothing
+definite in this world, not even the sincerest grief.”
+
+She stood there silent for some time with downcast eyes. Her companion
+admired the graceful curves of her supple form, and the youthful grace
+that appeared on the beautiful countenance. She seemed scarcely twenty
+years of age. Her cheeks had all the appearance of a tempting and savoury
+fruit, Finally she continued, with a sigh—
+
+“If I listened to your protestations, what trouble should I be preparing
+for myself in the future? You are not dependent on yourself, as I am, for
+I have only a brother, though, after all, he is very indulgent towards
+me. You have a family which will claim you. When you leave this district
+where will you go?”
+
+“I shall return to Paris, where I generally live. What prevents you
+taking up your abode there also? Your interests are in Italy? What then?
+Your brother will look after them, and you will have nothing to do but
+consider your own happiness.”
+
+“Paris frightens me. That immense stir and commotion troubles me, and I
+imagine it would be impossible to live there in calm and quiet.”
+
+“What a mistake you make! The excitement of Paris life is very deceptive;
+it is only the surface that is troubled. Its depths, as in those of the
+sea, are quiet and peaceful, and the storms on the surface never disturb
+them. In Paris itself are peaceful corners, filled with verdure, light,
+and flowers, where a happy and gentle life may be passed. We would find
+such a spot for you, chosen with tenderest care, and there you would
+learn to spend your time free from melancholy and feverish anxiety. Far
+from noise and distraction of every kind, within easy reach of the utmost
+refinements of taste and intellectual pleasures, you will find out the
+most precious thing in the world: a quiet home, embellished by a love at
+once sincere and tender.”
+
+“That is a very seductive picture you have drawn, and you know how to
+present it in the best light. Is there a touch of the fairy about you?
+Are you in possession of an enchanter’s wand, to be able thus to dispose
+of the destiny of others? You summon up characters and scenes to suit
+your fancy. Were I to listen to you, would you be free to realize your
+programme? To me you appear to be building castles in the air. What would
+your parents and friends say of this arrangement?”
+
+“Oh! they would accept it, there is not the slightest doubt of that. If
+you only knew how fond they are of me, and how joyfully they would
+welcome anything giving proof of moderation and wisdom on my part! My
+father, though rough to outward appearance, is the finest man in the
+world. He is anxious about my doings, only because of his affection for
+me, and his anxiety regarding my future welfare. He never gave the least
+sign of egoism, even when we quarrelled. His own pleasure and peace of
+mind, even, were subordinated to my interests. Only when he saw that some
+action of mine which he judged harmful—would injure me in some way, did
+his anger burst forth against me. He loves me so well that, were he
+certain my happiness might be assured under honourable conditions, he
+would sacrifice his own without the slightest hesitation. As for my
+mother, she is the very embodiment of virtue and goodness.”
+
+She bit her lips, and answered with sudden harshness, as though tired of
+listening to this wealth of praise.
+
+“Very fine sentiments, indeed! Then you are not a dutiful son if you have
+not been in perfect accord with such loving parents.”
+
+“I have not been undutiful, though not always reasonable.”
+
+“Then what has been lacking to make you so?”
+
+“A serious love.”
+
+Raising a delicate finger, with threatening gesture, to Marcel, she said—
+
+“I am afraid you are anything but a model of virtue!”
+
+“Do not judge me ill for having spoken so frankly. That would be neither
+benevolent or just. For, really, you would form a false idea of me.”
+
+She continued, gaily—
+
+“Come! I see that you are quite a model, after all!”
+
+“Now, you are joking! How changing is your mood! How can one hope to get
+the better of you?”
+
+“Ah! my dear sir, did you think that a single word or look would suffice
+to seduce me? If so, I am more rebellious than you imagined. Did you
+suppose that the influence of spring, amid this charming scenery, an
+inactive solitude, and the length of the evenings, joined to your own
+particular qualities, would have induced me to fall down at your feet?
+You are going rather too fast. My melancholy mood cannot accommodate
+itself to such a rapid change! There, now, don’t look so down-hearted; I
+am speaking to you very gently. Had I wished I might have assumed an
+offended attitude, for, after all, you offer me your heart without taking
+the slightest precaution. Still, in this out-of-the-way place one cannot
+help feeling nearer the simplicity of nature. It is easy to return to
+habits and manners that are almost primitive, even without troubling
+concerning forms and customs, and saying what one really thinks and
+feels. I will forgive you, on condition you do not recommence.”
+
+Astonished at hearing the young woman speak in such a vivacious tone of
+raillery, Marcel wondered if she were really the same sorrowful
+languishing widow whose tender melodies were so often broken by sobs. Her
+face sparkled with a malicious harshness, and those caressing eyes of
+hers belied the coldness of her words. She offered so irritating a
+mixture of decency and profligacy, of modesty and sensuality, that Marcel
+no longer knew what to think. Suddenly the church-bell of Ars began to
+toll the evening Angelus, changing the trend of their thoughts. The young
+woman suddenly stood upright, exclaiming—
+
+“Six o’clock already! How time passes! They will wonder what has become
+of me.”
+
+“But you are quite alone!”
+
+“My servant—”
+
+“That extraordinary creature you call Milo.”
+
+“Do not speak ill of her; she likes you.”
+
+“Thanks for the favour!”
+
+“Oh! she is not fond of everybody. With you, however, she is like my dog,
+which licks your hand; he does not treat everybody the same way!”
+
+“Yes, I may charm the servant and the dog, but the mistress disdains me.”
+
+“Oh! the mistress. She is the one who orders, and the others obey.”
+
+“Then I will obey.”
+
+Giving him a charming smile, she summoned to her the little terrier,
+which was hid among the heather, and, walking slowly by Marcel’s side,
+returned in the direction of the villa. On approaching the gate they saw
+a man engaged in arranging on the road a pile of stones discharged from a
+tumbrel that very morning. A large sledge-hammer lay near his vest under
+a straw covering. Politely raising his cap to the two passers-by, and
+without appearing to bestow any further heed on them, he continued his
+task. Madame Vignola seemed vexed at this installation so near her home.
+She looked carefully at the man, and, as soon as the garden gate was
+closed, asked—
+
+“What does that person intend to do there?”
+
+“He seems to be engaged in breaking stones,” said Marcel. “Most likely a
+journeyman who will be working on the road for some time.”
+
+“Will he stay here long?”
+
+“A few days, perhaps.”
+
+“He has a villainous-looking face. Is there nothing to fear from such
+people?”
+
+“Nothing whatever, except the sound of their hammers breaking the stones.
+But you will not hear that from the house.”
+
+Madame Vignola did not appear to be quite satisfied by what Marcel said.
+A look of anxiety shaded her brow.
+
+“If the presence of this poor fellow disturbs you so much,” said the
+young man, “would you like me to request the authorities to have him
+removed? He will be sent to work a few hundred yards away. I have
+sufficient influence to obtain this change.”
+
+“Do nothing of the kind. I shall get accustomed to his presence. After
+all, he has his living to earn.”
+
+She held out her hand to Marcel, with a smile. Holding it for a moment
+within his own, he said, softly—“You are not angry with me?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“You will allow me to return to-morrow?”
+
+“Yes, I should like you to do so.”
+
+“And you will allow me to tell you that I love you?”
+
+“If it gives you pleasure to do so.”
+
+They said nothing more; night was falling, and a gentle obscurity was
+overshadowing all nature. Still, they were less alone than on the plain
+of Bossicant, and it was, perhaps, this very fact which rendered them
+more audacious. Marcel drew near to himself the young woman, without the
+slightest resistance on her part. The tissue of her black dress came in
+contact with Marcel’s shoulder. A kind of fever seized him, and for a
+moment he lost all notion of the surrounding world.
+
+A cry of pain, and an effort of resistance, recalled him to himself. He
+saw Anetta fleeing towards the house. On the threshold she halted, looked
+at him for a moment, as though trying to find something to say to him. He
+took a step forward, but she stopped him with a gesture. Placing his
+fingers to his lips, he sent a kiss to the enchantress who had so
+completely gained possession of his heart, and took his departure.
+
+A disagreeable surprise awaited him on his arrival at the works. The
+gates, usually open, were now closed, and small knots of men were
+collected in the street. They removed as he approached, only to form
+again a little further distant. What the manager had told him a few days
+previously concerning the evil dispositions of the workmen returned to
+his mind. In his eagerness to overcome his love difficulties he had
+forgotten business worries. Going up to the concierge, he asked—
+
+“What is the matter here? Why are the gates closed? What is the meaning
+of all these people in the streets?”
+
+“Ah! M. Marcel, there are troubles with the workmen. They went on strike
+at three o’clock to-day, and are scattered about in the cafés and inns,
+along with the strikers from the Troyes works, who have turned their
+heads.”
+
+“No damage has been done?”
+
+“No, M. Marcel. But the manager has been looking for you everywhere.”
+
+“I will go at once and speak to him.”
+
+He made his way towards the office. Through the closed shutters a ray of
+light announced the presence of M. Cardez in his study. Marcel entered.
+The manager was seated before his desk writing. On seeing the son of his
+master he rose at once, and, without waiting to be questioned, began—
+
+“Well! what did I tell you, M. Baradier? Here they are in open revolt!
+And that without the slightest plausible reason! Simply to do as their
+comrades! Their heads have been turned by the leaders of the strike. I
+have reasoned and talked gently to them, but all in vain; they are
+nothing but machines! Ah! you are interested in the workers, now you will
+learn to know them!”
+
+“What measures have you taken?”
+
+“I have closed the doors, so that no one may enter without our
+permission, or without incurring a penal responsibility. Now I am
+expecting a delegation of the workmen.”
+
+“Under what pretext have they ceased work?”
+
+“They demand the suppression of sweeping and lighting, the supply of
+needles at a lower price.”
+
+“Is the demand a just one?”
+
+“It is something quite new.”
+
+“But is it just?”
+
+“_Mon Dieu_! Concessions might, doubtless, be granted, but then others
+would immediately be made. Their grievances would never come to an end.
+We are only at the beginning. Is it wise to yield all at once?”
+
+“Why not give them the impression that we wish them well?”
+
+“They would look upon it as a sign of weakness.”
+
+Marcel remained pensive.
+
+“So the weavers of Troyes are on strike, and are inciting our workmen to
+follow their example?”
+
+“They were at Sainte-Savine yesterday, and to-day they are at Ars. They
+made sufficient noise; you must have been very busy not to have heard
+them.”
+
+“I was away from home,” said Marcel, embarrassed.
+
+“All the same had you been here; that would have made no difference;
+their plan of action is fixed. They would have insulted you, as they did
+me, that is all.”
+
+“Insulted?” exclaimed Marcel.
+
+“Listen.”
+
+A vague sound was heard breaking the silence of the night. The harsh
+untrained voices of the mob were heard singing a kind of workmen’s
+Marseillaise—
+
+    “Les patrons, les damnés patrons,
+    Un beau matin, nous les verrons
+    Accrochés au bout d’une branche!
+    En se sentant morts a moitié,
+    C’est alors qu’ils crieront pitié!
+    Mais nous leur repondrons: Dimanche!
+    Retroussez vos manches, luron!
+    Bientôt va commencer la danse.
+    Ayons la victoire, ou mourons
+    Pour notre indépendance!
+          Ayons la victoire, ou mourons
+          Pour notre indépendance!”
+
+A shrill clamour, mingled with the shrieks of women and children,
+followed this threatening refrain; then came a formidable hooting—
+
+“Down with Cardez! Down with the manager! To the gallows with him!”
+
+“Do you hear them?” said Cardez. “The gallows, indeed! And what have I
+done to them? Simply exact from them a conscientious amount of work, and
+respect for the regulations. The gallows! If they think they can frighten
+me with their threats they are mistaken. An old soldier like myself
+cannot be intimidated so easily. Besides, these are nothing but idle
+cries; no deeds will follow!”
+
+“Have you written to my father and uncle?” asked Marcel.
+
+“I have telephoned to them. They must, by this time, have entered into
+relations with the prefect to insure the protection of the works, and
+respect for the rights of labour. But for that troops will be needed, and
+no one can tell how far things will go with people of the character of
+these Champagne fools. We have a loyal police at Ars, who are well known
+and respected. I think that ought to be sufficient.”
+
+“Are you afraid of a conflict?”
+
+“I am afraid of nothing, but I am obliged to take every precaution. Our
+Ars workmen, as I said, are more noisy than evil-intentioned. But there
+are strangers who have incited them to action, and it is with them that
+we shall have to deal.”
+
+“A mob is a brute force, both blind and deaf. You cannot undeceive a
+hundred men. If they all clamour aloud at once, how can any possible
+understanding be reached?”
+
+“That is what leaders of strikes rely upon! Tumult and violence.
+To-morrow I shall receive a delegation of workmen, with whom, I hope, it
+will be possible to come to reasonable terms.”
+
+“I will help you.”
+
+“If you wish.”
+
+“Will there be any hostile manifestation this evening?”
+
+“No. Not before to-morrow.”
+
+“Then I will go and dine. Good night.”
+
+Baudoin was waiting for him. In serving his meal the devoted servant, to
+whom Marcel permitted a certain amount of familiarity, lingered near the
+table instead of returning to the kitchen. He looked carefully at his
+master, and seemed to wish to read his secret impressions on his face.
+Never had the young man been so silent and preoccupied as during the past
+few days. In solitude he lived over again the hours he had spent in the
+company of the beautiful Italian, and never appeared tired of thinking
+about her. Not a word did he say, but his countenance was illumined by an
+inner radiance. Still, in spite of his absentmindedness, Baudoin’s
+persistence in standing there before him, like a note of interrogation,
+struck Marcel at last. Looking at him for a moment, he said—
+
+“What is the matter with you, this evening, Baudoin? You seem quite
+agitated.”
+
+“One might be so with less cause. You are aware, sir, that the employees
+have assumed a very threatening attitude?”
+
+“Well! Are you afraid?”
+
+“No, indeed, sir, not for myself, at any rate!”
+
+“For whom, then?”
+
+“For yourself, sir. When I left Paris M. Baradier gave me precise orders
+to protect you from all harm. If anything were to happen I should not
+know what to do. That is what agitates me, as you say, sir.”
+
+“There is nothing to do, Baudoin, except wait.”
+
+“I beg your pardon, sir, there is something far preferable to that—that
+is, to take the first train back to Paris.”
+
+“And leave my father’s works exposed to the violence of his workmen?”
+
+“M. Baradier’s works are doubtless very precious, but not so precious as
+his son.”
+
+“Do not be uneasy, Baudoin; no one will harm either the son or the works.
+The deuce! Are there no laws in existence? The people of Ars are not
+savages.”
+
+“Neither are the people of Troyes, nor those of Sainte-Savine, savages,
+and yet, this very morning, they destroyed everything at the works of
+Messrs. Tirot and Malapeyre.”
+
+“Hard masters!”
+
+“The question is not whether they are hard or lenient masters, but simply
+whether they are masters at all. Your presence here, sir, is not
+absolutely necessary. It would be better if you would go and spend a week
+in Paris.”
+
+“They would say that I had run away. And old Cardez, who is none too fond
+of me, will say that I am good for nothing except making chemical
+experiments! That, when the works are to be defended, I am no longer to
+be found. No, no! Chance has brought me here, and chance will keep me. I
+shall even try to arrange everything for the general good.”
+
+“Then you will take all necessary precautions, sir?”
+
+“What precautions?”
+
+“A good revolver on your person, in the first place.”
+
+“What an idea! What would be the use of a revolver, Baudoin? If I have to
+deal with a crowd of men, I could not attempt to defend myself. With one
+or two men only, I shall run no danger.”
+
+“At any rate, if you have anything important here, sir, it might be
+useful to put it in safety.”
+
+They looked at one another in silence. Marcel had understood what the
+General’s servant meant. He became very serious.
+
+“You allude to the powders, I suppose, Baudoin?”
+
+“Yes, sir, I am aware that you possess the formulæ. Can nothing be stolen
+which would place the one who should be audacious enough to attempt the
+_coup_, in possession of the secret?”
+
+“The powders, even the formulæ might be stolen, Baudoin, without the
+secret being discovered. There is a peculiar trick of manipulation the
+General revealed to me, which alone constitutes the real value of the
+discovery.”
+
+“All the same, it was to obtain possession of the formulæ that my master
+was killed.”
+
+“No, Baudoin, he was killed because he refused to tell the proportions of
+the ingredients. It was madness at finding himself deceived that inspired
+the murderer’s arm. He imagined he could substitute his own for the
+genius of the inventor, and find out the mixtures himself. He wished to
+storm the mystery and brutalize science. It was then the General was
+struck.”
+
+“Is it not possible he may try again?”
+
+“Is he even alive? Come, Baudoin, are you attempting to discover some
+relation, however far-fetched, between these disturbances, which are
+putting the whole district in commotion, and this powder affair?”
+
+“I know nothing; but I am on my guard against everything that appears of
+a suspicious nature. There are strangers in the works. It is they who
+lead the strikers. Strangers were also in the powder affair. _Mon Dieu_!
+I may be stupid, sir, but I would give a great deal to be safe back in
+Paris with you.”
+
+“You are very imaginative, Baudoin.”
+
+“Well, then, as I see you are determined to pay no attention to what I
+say, I should be glad, sir, if you would give me the key of the
+laboratory. I will keep watch by day, and sleep there by night. In that
+way I shall be more completely at ease.”
+
+“Very well, Baudoin. You will find the key in my room, over the
+mantelpiece. If that will restore your peace of mind, it is easy enough.”
+
+“That will not restore my peace of mind entirely, sir; but, at any rate,
+it will give me a certain amount of satisfaction.”
+
+The dinner being now at an end, Marcel went out for a stroll in the
+garden and along the river bank. It was a cool evening, and the stars
+shone forth in undimmed brilliancy. At times a dull, rumbling sound was
+heard coming from the inns and cafés of the town, where the workmen were
+celebrating the strike in numerous bumpers. A feeling of sadness came
+over Marcel at the thought of the women and children awaiting in their
+poor dwellings the return of the father for the evening meal, whilst the
+latter, under the persuasion of raillery or threats, lingered before the
+table covered with glasses, and drinking the most poisonous and maddening
+liquors imaginable. What wretchedness would result from this interruption
+of work! The paltry savings of the thrifty would vanish, the debts of the
+improvident would increase. And the net result of all this tumult and
+agitation, excited by hypocritical leaders, would be nothing but severity
+and rancour.
+
+Turning aside his thoughts from these evils, to which he could see no
+remedy, he directed them to the Villa de la Cavée. There, at the same
+time as himself, Anetta would be walking to and fro in the garden. He
+pictured her passing down the winding alley in dreamy solitude. What
+could she be thinking of, if not of himself; whose heart was filled with
+her memory? Were they not united in soul, and was not that delicious kiss
+a proof of her affection. A thrill of pleasure came over him in the
+silence of the night, and he thought to himself, “Suppose I were to pay
+her a visit now? She does not expect me, true. What would she think of my
+eagerness to see her again? Would not the untimely hour, and the
+isolation she is in, make her consider my visit offensive? The more
+defenceless she is, ought I not the more to respect her? Ah! She loves
+me, I feel it. Am I on the point of spoiling by my rashness all the
+happiness the future has in store for me?”
+
+In his tenderness Marcel was anxiously solicitous of sparing the
+susceptibilities of her who had set the terrible trap in which he was
+hopelessly caught. Had he been able to penetrate into the Villa de la
+Cavée, and reach the salon unperceived, he would have heard Sophia and
+her Dalmatian servant exchanging their impressions; whilst, seated
+astraddle on a chair, the terrible Hans was listening to them, smoking
+the while, and with an expression of ironical contempt on his face.
+
+“After all, madame, what will you do with this poor young man when you
+have obtained from him what you want?”
+
+“Oh, that will not trouble me! He is very agreeable and charming, and
+will doubtless bewail my departure. But he has not yet reached the point
+I wish to bring him to.”
+
+“What we chemists call the incandescence point,” said Hans, harshly. “We
+know what that is, Sophia, when you have a hand in the matter. For young
+Zypiatine it was the moment when, in his madness, he handed over the
+secrets concerning the concentration on the frontiers of Afghanistan; for
+poor Stenheim, the hour when he stole from the War Office the plan of
+defence of Herzegovina, and for our friend, the handsome Cesare
+Agostini—”
+
+“Don’t speak of Cesare,” interrupted the young woman, frowning.
+
+“Why not, indeed? The _coup_ he effected was a very fine one. Were he to
+attempt to cross the Italian frontier I believe he would be sent to rot
+in the darkest fortress of Sardinia. For he is not one of those whom they
+risk passing judgment on, even in private; he knows rather too much.
+Certainly, this fair-complexioned young fellow from Champagne you are now
+preparing to shear, is a pascal lamb compared with the dangerous
+characters you have hitherto led to their ruin without the slightest
+compunction. All the same, you must beware, Sophia; I know you well. You
+are not quite at your ease just now, you have become silent and
+dreamy—preoccupied, in fact; not a good sign at all! Are you on the point
+of doing something stupid?”
+
+Sophia shuddered. Fixing her eyes full on Hans, she asked suddenly—
+
+“What do you mean?”
+
+“Ah, ah! Now you are interested. I am not surprised. You are too
+intelligent to form any illusions regarding yourself. You must have
+noticed that something abnormal is taking place in your mind. The other
+day there was something in your way of saying that no harm whatever
+should come to the young Baradier, which gave me serious grounds for
+reflection. This very evening, on returning home, I saw you in a state of
+languor anything but natural to so practical a woman as you are. Usually,
+after playing a _rôle_, you resume your ordinary expression and clear
+directness of speech, as though, after removing a mask, you had become
+your own self once more. This time it is not the same. You are under the
+sway of external influences. In short, to sum up, you seem to me as
+though about to fall in love with this young Baradier!”
+
+“I!” exclaimed Sophia, almost angrily.
+
+“Yes, you, Sophia, Baroness Grodsko, known here under the name of Madame
+Vignola. Now listen, my dear, such an occurrence would be an out-and-out
+act of stupidity!”
+
+“You are mad, Hans!”
+
+“I shall only be too glad if I am mistaken. But I have a very keen
+intuition! We all have our little weaknesses, Sophia, and I should not
+wonder in the least if this young man pleased you. But I should be very
+much astonished if you thought of attaching yourself really to him, for
+nothing would be more dangerous to us, or to him, or even to yourself. If
+you could keep the young Marcel from the works for a short time I will
+not deny that such a course would serve my purpose. But no passion,
+remember, just a passing fancy. Keep him in the villa just long enough to
+enable us to execute our plans. That is how I understand things.”
+
+“As I, also,” said the young woman, coldly.
+
+“Very good. If you can keep a cool head and heart, there is nothing to
+fear and everything to hope for. You hear that, Milo. If your mistress
+shows any inclination to go astray, you will be there to remind her of
+her engagements.”
+
+“My duty is to obey her,” said Milona, with scowling look, “and not to
+order. As for you, never presume to order me to do anything.”
+
+“Why not, if you please, my young savage?”
+
+“Because a girl like myself is willing to give up her liberty for the
+sake of one she loves, but she will not serve one she detests.”
+
+“That means simply that we are not friends, my little one,” jeered Hans,
+with a loud laugh. “As you please; I will not force you to like me.”
+
+Milona gave him a steady look, and shrugged her shoulders, pronouncing a
+few words in an uncouth tongue. She then left the room.
+
+“What did she say in that Romany tongue of hers?”
+
+“She said, ‘Son of a she-wolf, may you die of a burning fever without any
+one at hand to give you a glass of water.’”
+
+“Many thanks for her gracious wishes. Some day my stick shall make the
+acquaintance of your back, charming creature.”
+
+“Do not think of such a thing, Hans, she would repay you with
+dagger-blows!”
+
+“What delightful relations! But you know well that I am afraid of no one.
+Now let us speak of something more serious. Have you heard from Cesare?”
+
+“He writes to say that he is back from London, where business matters are
+progressing well. As you are aware, our English friends are very
+practical. They have launched a company with a capital of fifty million
+francs. They will need a whole territory for their money, and they will
+certainly succeed.”
+
+“Assuredly. When one’s calculations are based on human folly and
+incredulity, failure is impossible. That is why business matters possess
+so little interest.”
+
+“At the bottom, you have no esteem for anything but force and might. Your
+temperament is that of a _condottiere_ of the fourteenth century. You
+have been let loose in this coward society of ours, there is no scope for
+your talents in such a restricted civilization as the present. Come,
+Hans, since we are speaking to one another to-night, with apparent
+frankness, who are you, and where do you come from? It is five years
+since I first met you, and yet I know you no better than I did the first
+day. We have mutual interests, and yet I have no hold on you. You are
+generally called Hans, but sometimes Fichter; although you look like a
+German, you can speak both Russian and Spanish admirably. I have known
+you to accomplish the most abominable actions, and yet you are never
+cruel without necessity. You attempt to obtain possession of huge sums of
+money, though your style of living is anything but extravagant. Where do
+all your resources go to? What end have you in view? What is this
+mysterious task you are engaged on, for the little you accomplish with us
+is only a small part of your work? You have trusty companions who do not
+belong to us. Suddenly you disappear, to accomplish some work or other we
+know nothing about. I sometimes suspect that we are merely tools in your
+hands, and are collaborating, without the faintest suspicion of it, in
+the execution of some far-reaching plan which embraces the whole of
+humanity. At times, I wonder if you are not the visible head of some
+enormous and terrible international federation, which, at a given moment,
+and everywhere at the same time, will set the revolution aflame.”
+
+Hans smiled, shook his head approvingly, and then said in railing tones—
+
+“Women are far better than men, after all, for being possessed of
+delicate tact and a clear perception of things. Ah! So you have wondered
+who I really was, Sophia? Well, well! my dear, you are more inquisitive
+than either Lichtenbach or Agostini, without speaking of the rest, for
+not one of them ever attempted to find out what I was unwilling to show.
+Good! Sophia, good! I am interested in you, my child, for you are no
+fool.”
+
+Rising, he took the young woman by the waist, drew her to himself, and
+gave her a friendly kiss on the forehead. Then, looking at her
+steadfastly as though to force his words to enter her brain, he said—
+
+“If you attempt to make a psychological study of me you will lose your
+time, Sophia. Know that I am Hans Fichter to you, and shall never be any
+other. All the same, do not forget that I am not really Hans Fichter. You
+have sought my personality with amusing clear-sightedness, but you will
+never discover it, and that is very lucky for you, otherwise you would
+not survive your discovery a single moment. Yes, my child, I have too
+many people around me, interested in my freedom of action, for any one,
+who thought of playing the spy on me, to be permitted to live. Do not
+imagine, however, that I am a kind of evil genius, a master of rebel
+souls, or the arbiter of future social transformations. If you did you
+would be on the wrong track. My power is great, but not sovereign. I am
+one of the numerous soldiers of a cause which will triumph in time, and I
+bow to no master!”
+
+“Hans!” exclaimed Sophia; “you speak like the nihilists of my own
+country. I knew a young student, named Sewenikof, who propagated nihilist
+literature among the Moujiks in Moscow, and spoke in almost the same
+tones as you are using now. One day he disappeared.”
+
+“Yes, my child, as you will disappear if you repeat a single word,
+however seemingly simple and inoffensive, of what I have just said. Your
+Sewenikof, whom I have never met, but whom I know, after all, as though I
+saw him, was merely an instigator, an agent who has been suppressed. That
+kind of thing happens every day. Be careful, Sophia. I am very fond of
+you, and should be sorry if any trouble befell you. All the same, I
+should be unable to do anything. Now it is time to say good night.”
+
+“You are going to bed?”
+
+“No. I have a rendezvous with my men at Ars. Have you not heard them
+shouting themselves hoarse all day long, fools as they are? What a pack
+of simpletons! These people have no idea that they are hurling threats
+and imprecations simply because such a course suits my convenience.”
+
+“Be prudent yourself, Hans.”
+
+“Ah! This is nothing more than child’s play for me!”
+
+Lighting a cigar, he took his leave. The garden was dark. He proceeded,
+without the slightest noise, along the edge of the turf; gliding along
+like a shadow. On reaching the gate he opened it noiselessly, and
+remained there a moment against the wood panel, so as not to be noticed
+from the road. Then he looked all around, as though possessed of the
+faculty of seeing in the darkness. After a moment’s hesitation he set out
+in the direction of Ars. It would have been impossible for any one coming
+behind him to believe that he had come from the garden of the villa.
+
+When he had advanced a hundred yards the branches of a bush silently
+separated on the opposite side of the road, and another man, in his turn,
+appeared. He was the stone-breaker who had been working for the past few
+days at the Cavée. Walking along in step with Hans, he, too, made his way
+towards the town.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+ON leaving Marcel, Baudoin, after obtaining permission to keep watch over
+the laboratory, had gone out on to the main road. It was dark. Taking his
+pipe, he filled it with tobacco, then halting near the pillar which
+served for Laforêt’s correspondence, he struck a match. By the light he
+examined the plaster, and discovered the following inscription in red
+pencil, “This evening. Nine.” The old soldier lit his pipe, looked at his
+watch, and muttered to himself—
+
+“Nine o’clock to-night. At last! I will go and wait for him.”
+
+He made his way towards the inn, which was no longer dark and silent as
+usual. A vivid light shone through the glass on the door, and a rumbling
+sound arose from the bar. Baudoin drew near one of the windows on the
+ground floor, and listened through the shutters. A voice, as of some one
+delivering a discourse, could be heard, interspersed from time to time
+with shouts and exclamations. At one time it sounded louder and more
+violent, and a thunder of applause rang through the room, as though all
+the tables had been struck at one and the same time by the robust fists
+of the men present.
+
+“The deuce!” said Baudoin; “this place does not seem very safe for one
+belonging to the master’s household. The strikers have met at the Soleil
+d’Or, and they appear to be paying favourable attention to one of their
+usual haranguers.”
+
+Making the round of the house, he reached the door of the courtyard, and
+looked around for an entrance into the kitchen, where he expected to find
+his friend the innkeeper. A hand was placed on his shoulder. Turning
+round, he recognized Laforêt, who had arrived, noiselessly, and was
+standing by his side.
+
+“I was watching you,” said the agent. “The place is full. I was convinced
+you would enter this way. We must not stay in the middle of the
+courtyard. Many eyes to-night are on the watch around us.”
+
+“Where shall we go?”
+
+“Come along into my room.”
+
+An outer staircase led to a wood corridor, running along the first floor,
+and continued right to the top story. It was right under the roof that
+Laforêt had taken a room, the wretchedest in the whole establishment, and
+quite in accordance with the condition of a poor labourer. Opening his
+door, he signed to Baudoin to take a seat on the bed; then, raising the
+skylight, he looked along the roof to make sure no one was watching.
+Dropping the iron sash, he said in low tones—
+
+“Speak close to my ear. There are rooms on either side of this. The
+partitions are very thin, and it is possible to hear everything that is
+said.”
+
+“What have you summoned me for?” whispered Baudoin.
+
+“Because I have news from the Cavée. The lady is no longer alone. There
+is a man in the house.”
+
+“What kind of a man? A dark, handsome young fellow, who speaks Italian?”
+
+“No; tall, strong-looking, and light-complexioned, with a thick beard,
+and speaking with a kind of German accent.”
+
+Baudoin’s eyes shone. He vigorously grasped Laforêt’s hand, and, in
+trembling tones, asked—
+
+“Did you see him?”
+
+“Yes, as distinctly as I see you.”
+
+“Had he both arms?”
+
+“He has both arms.”
+
+Baudoin gave a sigh of disappointment.
+
+“Then it is not he! Ah! For a moment I hoped—”
+
+“That it was the man of Vanves? Could you recognize him if he were shown
+to you?”
+
+“Perhaps not, for I never saw him except in the dark, but if I heard him
+speak, yes, without the slightest doubt, I should recognize his voice
+from among a thousand.”
+
+“Very well! I hope I shall be able to give you satisfaction; the man is
+here.”
+
+“In the inn?”
+
+“In a room on the first floor with three others, the ringleaders, who
+were summoned from the common room when he arrived. He himself has no
+relations with the mass of the workmen; he communicates only with the
+staff. I shadowed him from the villa to this very spot. The cunning
+rascal forced me to keep my wits about me. He changed direction three
+times, and twice tried to throw me on a false scent. One would have
+thought he felt me close at his heels, though I followed him with the
+utmost precaution. He went to the Café de la Gare, where he drank a
+bitter; then he left by the servants’ door, after entering by the front.
+I suspected the trick, so I went round to the back. Then he went to the
+station itself, crossed the waiting-room, and reached the platform. He
+walked the whole length, right on to the storeroom; there he found an
+open gate, through which he entered the town, and came straight to the
+Soleil d’Or. At this very moment he is beneath us, holding a conference
+with his confederates.”
+
+“How will you manage to give me an opportunity of hearing him?” whispered
+Baudoin.
+
+“You will see shortly. But, first of all, what does the rascal want at
+the Villa de la Cavée?”
+
+“Well, you see, it has reference to M. Marcel, that I would swear to.
+There is trouble in the air. Why are the works in this condition when
+there has never, hitherto, been the slightest difference between the
+kindest of masters and the best-treated of workmen? The same thing is at
+the bottom of it all. When I summoned you I knew what I was doing. This
+Italian is here for M. Marcel, and so is this new arrival, and everything
+has been planned by the villains who killed the General!”
+
+“Well! We will throw some light on the matter. If I can succeed in laying
+hands on this gang the Minister of War will be delighted. After all,
+Baudoin, if you are not mistaken, this affair is simply the result of the
+attempt at Vanves. We have to deal with a whole company, and an
+experienced one, too, which has already had a crow to pick with us.
+Follow me.”
+
+Raising the sash, he placed one foot on a chair, and mounted on to the
+roof. Baudoin imitated him. A large leaden pipe surrounded the building.
+This they followed until they reached the front, overlooking the
+courtyard twenty feet below. Laforêt pointed out to his companion a small
+zinc roof below the first floor. It was the covering of a shed, used as a
+saddle-room.
+
+“Now, then, our friends are in the room where you see that lighted window
+above this roof. If you can get there unnoticed, and without making the
+slightest noise, you may see from the roof into the interior; certainly
+you could hear.”
+
+Baudoin leaned over into the courtyard, looking for some means of
+descending.
+
+“How can I get there? Twenty feet and no ladder.”
+
+Laforêt pointed to something projecting from the angle of the wall.
+
+“That is a cast-iron pipe used for the drains.”
+
+“You are right! Come along!”
+
+“Put your shoes in your pocket.”
+
+After doing so the agent seized hold of the leaden pipe with his hands,
+and separating his knees in the angle of the wall to protect himself by
+the friction, he silently began to descend. Baudoin, leaning over the
+roof, watched the operation with anxious curiosity. He was not afraid
+that Laforêt would be found lacking in strength or agility, but was
+wondering if the pipe would prove solid. Suppose the attaching
+cramp-irons became loose, both pipe and man would fall to the ground with
+a terrible clatter. The alarm would be raised, and the consequences of
+such an accident might be disastrous. But his anxiety did not last long.
+At the end of a few seconds Laforêt had reached the roof, and was lying
+there extended at full length.
+
+Baudoin thereupon followed suit. On reaching the bottom of the window,
+where the meeting was being held, he knelt down and looked. Through the
+muslin of the curtain the human forms appeared indistinct, like the
+silhouettes of a badly-focused magic-lantern. According to the position
+he was in, and his distance from the light, each of the three men
+assembled appeared either like a giant or a dwarf. One of them had risen
+from his seat, and was walking to and fro. According as he approached or
+went away from the window, a voice, distinct or indistinct, reached
+Laforêt’s ears. The latter, without turning round, drew Baudoin nearer,
+and whispered in his ear—
+
+“It is difficult to see, but you may hear. Come a little nearer and
+listen.”
+
+Baudoin obeyed, and listened attentively in the effort to discover the
+object of his keen curiosity. It was not the man who was walking to and
+fro whose voice could now be heard. It was rather the voice of some one
+seated near a table, who appeared to be examining some papers. Difficult
+as it was to find any meaning in what was said, all the same certain
+expressions reached them, “No use using violence—nothing would result.
+Alarm the workmen. Excite the attention of the authorities.” All the
+same, it was easy to understand that he was not of the same mind as the
+man on his feet, who appeared to be pacing to and fro with downcast head,
+as though impatiently submitting to opposition. Suddenly the walker
+stopped, and in harsh tones said—
+
+“It shall be as I wish!”
+
+The other replied, though, on account of the distance, only a few broken
+phrases reached the listeners.
+
+“General interest; unfavourable opinions.”
+
+The man on his feet resumed his walk, and was listening to his opponent.
+
+Once more he stopped, and said—
+
+“It shall be as I wish, I tell you.”
+
+Laforêt whispered—
+
+“Is he the man? Do you recognize the voice?”
+
+“No!” said Baudoin, anxiously. “I don’t recognize it at all.”
+
+The man seated before the table thereupon folded up his papers, and put
+them in his pocket, with the words—“Then there is nothing to do but
+obey!”
+
+The other thereupon went up to the table, laid his hand on the shoulder
+of his opponent who had capitulated, and said in joyful accents—
+
+“That’s right! You were a long time before you would give in! Now we must
+set to work. No one will repent the decision reached!”
+
+And he burst into a loud laugh.
+
+Laforêt felt the hand of his companion shake, and, at the same time,
+Baudoin murmured in accents of frightful anguish—
+
+“It is he—yes, that is the man; I recognize his laugh!”
+
+He gave a gesture of anger, but Laforêt immediately restrained him.
+
+“Listen once more! Make sure that you are not mistaken!”
+
+“It is he! I cannot be mistaken! Ah! that laugh of his; just as I heard
+it on the night of the crime, when he descended from the carriage.”
+
+“Well, then, we know all we want. We must not stay any longer here; it is
+useless to risk any unnecessary danger.”
+
+Thereupon he glided down to the edge of the zinc roof. Baudoin followed
+him, and the two men put on their shoes and reached the courtyard. There
+they halted. The door of the inn was closed, but Laforêt knew how to deal
+with locks, and, a second later, his companion and himself were in the
+open street.
+
+“What are you going to do now?” said Baudoin. “The police are at hand.
+Will you hesitate to lock up this villain at once?”
+
+“Good!” said Laforêt. “That is one solution. And afterwards?”
+
+“What do you mean—afterwards?”
+
+“Nothing is easier than to take him. We need only wait till he leaves the
+inn, and then carry him off to the police! But what then?”
+
+“Of course he will be accused of the crime committed at Vanves; then he
+will be tried, convicted, and finally condemned.”
+
+“Indeed! Convicted? You think so? Such a man as the one with whom we have
+to deal? Take him unawares? Could he not easily find an alibi to prove
+that he was five hundred miles away from Vanves on the night of the
+crime? Even yourself, five minutes ago, hesitated about recognizing him.
+And then, whilst we have this bird safe under lock and bolt, only to be
+obliged, later on, to set him at liberty, perhaps, all the others will
+take to flight. That will be a fine end to everything!”
+
+“All the same, we cannot fold our arms quietly, and let this rascal get
+off scot-free?”
+
+“The villain is plotting something here, and the play must not be
+interrupted at the very moment the principal character is about to enter
+on the stage. What about the beautiful lady of the Cavée and her
+pretended brother? And all these rascals who are just now doing their
+best to ruin the works of Baradier and Graff? Do you not think of them?
+Should we let them know that the whole affair is over and their plot
+discovered?”
+
+“But we cannot remain inactive spectators in all this?”
+
+“Spectators, yes, for the moment. Inactive, never! I did not come from
+Paris to Ars simply for the purpose of breaking stones on the road. I am
+engaged in my profession, and I intend the whole affair to be
+successful.”
+
+“But can I not, at least, warn M. Marcel?”
+
+“Under no pretext! His first impulse would be to have a frightful scene
+with his lady-love, and everything would be ruined. In the name of
+Heaven, let us keep those who are under the influence of passion out of
+our confidence! From them you may expect nothing but the most utter
+folly!”
+
+“But suppose Marcel falls into some trap or other?”
+
+“Have no fear for him. He will come out of it all right. For my part, I
+intend to shadow our man, and shall not let him give me the slip until I
+have everything necessary for giving him up to the magistrate in Paris,
+who is extremely mortified at his failure in this affair. Do you agree?”
+
+“I must do so, I suppose.”
+
+“Then we will each attend to our own business.”
+
+They shook hands, and separated in the darkness of the night. The
+illuminated inn rang with shouts and exclamations, alternating with the
+cadence of mugs of beer, as they struck the wooden tables. Away in the
+distance the factory raised its sombre bulk under the star-lit sky. At
+the very moment Baudoin passed in front of the concierge’s room, the
+latter stopped him, and, in joyful tones, said—
+
+“M. Graff has just arrived!”
+
+Uncle Graff, uneasy at what Cardez had telephoned, had not hesitated, but
+had left Baradier to continue an important operation at the Bourse on the
+shares of the Explosives Company, and, taking the train, had made
+straight for the works. Marcel, who was taking a walk by the riverside,
+had seen the worthy uncle come along the flower-beds, and had rushed
+joyfully forward to meet him.
+
+“What! Is it you, Uncle Graff?”
+
+“Yes, my nephew, I wanted to see for myself what is taking place here. I
+have just had a talk with Cardez, and at present I know how matters
+stand. Now, let us speak of yourself. How are you getting along, and what
+are you doing? I don’t want to find fault, but you send us very little
+news. Your mother is anything but pleased, and said to me only last
+night, ‘He no longer thinks of us; he loves us no more.’”
+
+“I! Not think of you all!” said Marcel.
+
+“How can your poor mother have any illusion on the subject? Certainly,
+you do not spoil her! Ah! I well know that children do not live for their
+parents, but for themselves. All the same, they might do a little, from
+time to time, for those who have brought them up and loved them from
+childhood.”
+
+“Oh, uncle! What you say pains me very much!” said Marcel, penitently.
+“Has my silence been interpreted in this way? To obey my father I have
+come to bury myself at Ars for several weeks. I think I have given him
+sufficient pledges of my good intentions, in spite of a few silly
+escapades I have been guilty of.”
+
+“Debts amounting to three hundred thousand francs, my little Marcel,
+without counting what I often gave you unknown to your parents, eh?”
+
+“Ah! Uncle Graff, why return to discuss such matters?”
+
+“Yes, you forget them very soon, don’t you?”
+
+Marcel smiled.
+
+“You are a very indulgent uncle; you know what young men are!”
+
+“All the same, I have never been young! Ah! Marcel, I should have adored
+pleasure and luxury had I not looked as solemn as a churchwarden.”
+
+“So you gave yourself up to finance, and succeeded brilliantly! My good
+uncle, it is you who pay when your spendthrift of a nephew is in
+difficulties! All the same, I am very fond of you, Uncle Graff.”
+
+He had taken him by the shoulders, and was embracing him with warmth. The
+old man, his eyes filled with tears, looked tenderly at the handsome
+young fellow by his side. He coughed to conceal his emotion, and said—
+
+“Yes, I know you are fond of me. Well, well! Promise me that you will
+write a nice little letter to your mother.”
+
+“I promise, Uncle Graff, I will write to-morrow morning, and one to my
+father into the bargain.”
+
+“That is right! By the way, things don’t seem to be going along very well
+here! Are these rascally strikers going to ruin our workmen?”
+
+“There is every appearance of it. Cardez has not sufficient tact; he is
+too straightforward in his talk. A fine man, in reality, but one who
+appears to act too tyrannically.”
+
+“I will attend to the matter myself. To-morrow I will see the syndicate.
+And you—what are you doing? Has your work been progressing?”
+
+“Considerably. I have discovered the pale green and the golden yellow I
+have been looking for. You shall see my samples.”
+
+“And the other affair?”
+
+Lowering his voice, he asked in anxious tones—
+
+“The powders?”
+
+“The formulæ have been tested, and their success is assured.”
+
+“Have you made any experiments?”
+
+“Yes, Uncle Graff, and they have been terrible in their simplicity. I set
+off, carrying a small piece of the commerce-explosive, in the direction
+of Bossicant; I placed it all around the roots of a huge oak. After
+igniting it, the immense tree, without noise or smoke, lay there level
+with the ground, lying in the heather, as though cut down by a giant
+scythe.”
+
+“No one saw you?”
+
+“No one. The following morning the gamekeeper said, ‘Ah, M. Marcel, what
+a loss we have had! The old oak of the flat Mare was struck to the ground
+last night by the storm. It is strange how those old trees go; but the
+wind is a famous wood-cutter!’ In fact, it would be impossible to form
+any idea of the destructive force of this powder. I wished to test it
+once more, and this time in the breaking up of a rock. Going to the old
+stone quarry on the Sainte-Savine road I placed a squib in an excavation.
+There were three hundred yards of earth and sand-stone to explode. When
+night came I set fire to it, and withdrew. There would be no one passing
+in the neighbourhood till morning came; accordingly I feared no accident.
+The detonation was extremely feeble, and I was only half a mile away. In
+fact, I scarcely heard it. The following morning I returned to judge of
+the result. It was terrible! The whole cube had been lifted, and a hole
+six yards deep had been dug out in the shape of a funnel. With a
+sufficient charge I would wager that a mountain could be blown into the
+air! See here, Uncle Graff, if the Spaniards took it into their heads to
+destroy Gibraltar they would succeed with this powder. What a fine sight
+it would be, that huge mass, rocks, parapets, casemates, cannons, and all
+the rest, thundering down into the sea!”
+
+“Have you drawn up your formulæ?”
+
+“No, not yet.”
+
+“Well, draw them up, and give them to me. I will take them away with me
+to Paris, and deposit them at the Patents Office. The time is come to
+make use of them.”
+
+“You shall have them to-morrow morning, Uncle Graff. It is a mere
+trifle.”
+
+“You see, your father and myself have for some time been putting into
+execution a plan, the consequences of which are far-reaching. Baradier,
+who has a fine intuition for business, has found out Lichtenbach’s plans.
+The old rascal caused several shares in the explosives to be sold at a
+loss, and brought the stock down to nothing. We were wondering why the
+depreciation kept getting greater and greater, when chance afforded us
+the proof that it was Lichtenbach who was plotting to ruin the company,
+so as to reconstitute it to his profit. He had seven or eight
+stockbrokers under his orders. One of them, however, committed an
+indiscretion, which placed us immediately in possession of the secret.
+Then your father, equal to the emergency, did not hesitate, but bought up
+all Lichtenbach was selling, and after the fall had reached the limit,
+the rise began. At this moment we hold two hundred thousand shares in the
+explosives, bought at a very low price, and which to-morrow, in case the
+patent of the new powder is acquired by the company, will rise above par.
+It is a formidable party stroke. If we succeed, the fortune of the family
+is increased tenfold. We shall have directed against Lichtenbach the
+attack he wished to inflict on the Explosives shareholders. He will lose
+on what we gain, and this time I think we shall have finished with him.”
+
+“Very well! Uncle Graff, you shall have the formulæ to-morrow, and you
+may do what you please with them.”
+
+“It will be a fortune for Mademoiselle de Trémont, and one for ourselves
+into the bargain.”
+
+“Ah! Are you not rich enough?”
+
+“Yes. But your father is ambitious. He wants the maximum in everything,
+and affirms that there is no reason why French fortunes should not be as
+great as those of the Americans.”
+
+“Ah! The Vanderbilts and the Astors! What a weakness to think of such
+things!”
+
+“My young friend, you cannot understand this intoxication of success
+which takes possession of the calmest and most level-headed of men. You
+know well enough that your father is very simple in his tastes, and
+spends less money than you do. But it is no longer a matter of pleasure;
+it is a question of arithmetic.”
+
+“Yes, I know. But it is precisely there that the harm lies. It would be
+far better if he were not so rich, and spent more money. What weapons you
+place in the hands of these socialists, who are, at this very moment,
+causing us so much trouble! How can you justify in their eyes such a
+piling-up of capital at the disposal of one individual whilst the
+generality of men toil and suffer from all kinds of privations? You see,
+Uncle Graff; the sole excuse of wealthy men is that they spend a great
+deal, so as to throw their superabundant riches into general circulation.
+It would give me pleasure to see my father fling money out of the window,
+since he has so much. Those in the street would pick it up, and their
+momentary wretchedness would be relieved, at any rate. I should be glad
+if he would order statues of sculptors, and pictures of artists, and set
+rolling all the wealth now being piled up in the safes. How can you
+expect me to be interested in the shares of such and such a company? What
+does this paper represent in my eyes, if not the labour of a whole crowd
+of workmen, who toil and sweat to produce dividends which will enrich the
+shareholders? Uncle Graff, all this is neither moral nor just, nor even
+human! And I believe that a prodigal son like myself is the just ransom,
+from a social point of view, of a treasure-hoarder like my father.”
+
+“But consider, my little Marcel, your father’s work enriches, and his
+wealth strengthens the country. It is the resources of the rich which
+keep up the vigour of a nation in time of national peril. Your father is
+a citizen useful by reason of his wealth, just as an inventor is by his
+genius, or a general by his talent for war. It is your father who will
+give the inventor funds to perfect his invention, and who will pay for
+the improved cannons and guns of the soldier. Every man has his function
+in life, as in society. And, I can assure you, your father is not one of
+the most despicable.”
+
+“Uncle Graff, I speak sentiment to you, and you reply with political
+economy. It is impossible for us to come to an agreement. We are both
+right, only we are not speaking of the same thing.”
+
+“Neither are we of the same generation. Ideas change several times in a
+single century, and one generation does not reason like the following.
+Your father and I have seen the war of 1870, invasion and ruin on every
+side, and we remember what a ransom we had to pay. That has made us
+parsimonious for the rest of our days. You came into the world only when
+prosperity had returned; you have been brought up under the breath of
+Republican ideas. Your thoughts are quite different from ours; you are an
+advocate for equality. We are nothing of the kind. My father inspired in
+me respect for caste. I have less consideration for a tradesman than for
+a mill-proprietor, more respect for a lawyer, a magistrate, or a notary,
+than for a painter or man of letters. It is my nature. I cannot change if
+I would. I am well aware that ideas are changing all round me, but I
+shall die impenitent. Your generation has no bump of veneration as ours
+had. You consider yourself on the same footing as an elderly man, famous
+and respected, and you treat him on the most familiar terms. That is
+something which would be impossible for me, any more than I should expect
+the foreman at the works to look upon me as his equal, and pat me
+familiarly on the shoulder. Possibly you and your companions may be
+right, but I don’t think so. At any rate we shall see what your children
+will be like, if you have any, for even family life is another
+institution quite out of fashion now.”
+
+“Well, uncle, you have a very effective way of discussing, without giving
+yourself any pretensions! Father would long ago have called me a fool,
+without offering the slightest argument. With you, it is different, and
+when I listen to you I am by no means sure that I am right. Besides, you
+are so kind and tolerant, Uncle Graff, that I do not feel myself capable
+of resisting you for any length of time!”
+
+“Ah, you little rogue! Now you are flattering me; you know how to make me
+do as you wish. At bottom you are a sly fox, and I believe you trick the
+lot of us!”
+
+“Oh! Uncle Graff!”
+
+“Come now, you are not so nice as that for nothing,” said the old
+bachelor, with a laugh. “What is it you want me to do for you now?”
+
+“Nothing, upon my word, uncle. I am perfectly sincere in everything I
+have just said!”
+
+“Then you are conducting yourself very well just now.”
+
+Marcel raised his eyes, and said calmly—
+
+“How could I do anything else here?”
+
+“Ah! Do you think you could not find an opportunity if you wanted? I
+really believe that if you were thrown on to a desert island you would
+find means to fall in love and get into debt, even there!”
+
+“But who would pay them if my Uncle Graff were not at hand?”
+
+“You are jesting with me, you rascal!”
+
+“No, I am quite serious. I never leave my laboratory except for a walk in
+the woods; and I have not spent twenty-five francs since I came here.”
+
+A violent clamour, coming from the direction of the town, cut short the
+conversation. A light shone in the sky. Songs, at the same time as a dull
+tramp of a marching band, were heard on the road. And the workmen’s
+Marseillaise, shouted out by hundreds of voices, again broke the silence.
+On leaving the inn the workmen, accompanied by their wives, were marching
+through the sleeping town, hurling out against the startled citizens
+threats of revolt and violence. Marcel and his uncle Graff, halting there
+in the garden, listened, and watched the shouting mob as it passed by,
+waving in the air torches made of pine branches. It was the smoke and
+flame hovering above a crowd which was hurling imprecations against the
+masters.
+
+Uncle Graff pointed to the street, and said—
+
+“You hear what these people are saying. ‘All the masters shall be strung
+up!’ And yet there is not one of them who, were he ill or infirm, would
+not have the right to rely on us to mitigate his suffering. We have given
+them workmen’s dwellings where they are lodged, schools where their
+children are educated, hospitals where they are treated with every
+attention when ill, and co-operative societies where they may buy
+everything at cheap rates. There is only the public-house we have been
+unwilling to give them, and it is there they go, to become filled with
+sentiments of hatred against us! It is alcohol which is their master, and
+he is a pitiless tyrant who will give them no mercy!”
+
+The end of the column had just passed. Whether it was that they had seen
+the two men in the garden, or they simply wished to fling to the winds
+their cries of rebellion and rancour, these latter, the most intoxicated
+and miserable of them all, screamed forth in a shrill chorus, “Down with
+the masters! Down with exploiters!” Then silence was restored by degrees.
+Uncle Graff sadly shook his head, and said—
+
+“Come along, exploiter, let us turn in!”
+
+And they made their way towards the house.
+
+The following morning Uncle Graff was up early. He hunted up Cardez, to
+come to some arrangement with him; Marcel made his way to the laboratory.
+He had promised the powder formula, and he wished to draw it up at his
+leisure, As he entered he found Baudoin arranging the chemical utensils.
+He admired the unwonted order reigning in the capharnaum.
+
+“Ah, that is better!” said he; “here is a room which has not been so
+clean for several weeks. The dust cannot know what it all means to be
+disturbed in this way. But you must take care, Baudoin, not to touch a
+single product. There are some very dangerous ones here.”
+
+“Ah, sir, I know all about them; I handled any quantity of products
+during my poor General’s lifetime. I always obeyed the orders he gave me.
+And after what has taken place at Vanves, I am not likely to risk
+handling them.”
+
+“You have been sleeping in the summer-house, Baudoin?”
+
+“Yes, M. Marcel, I have arranged a bed very comfortably in the attic.
+Now, I am no longer uneasy. Still, so long as there are doubtful
+characters in the neighbourhood, I shall sleep with one eye open.”
+
+“In my opinion, the people to whom you allude have intentions on the
+works rather than on the laboratory.”
+
+“I cannot tell, M. Marcel. There are sufficient mixed characters in the
+company which has come here the last few days.”
+
+“One would imagine you had discovered something extraordinary.”
+
+Baudoin bent his head. He was afraid he had said too much, and recalled
+to mind Laforêt’s prudent advice.
+
+“Oh! I am not clever enough for that; but I warn you, M. Marcel, to be on
+your guard. Have confidence in no one—in no one!”
+
+He left the room, leaving Marcel astonished at his persistence. What was
+the meaning of this mysterious warning his servant kept giving him? Did
+he know more than he meant to tell? To whom did he allude when he said,
+‘In no one.’ The beautiful and charming silhouette of Madame Vignola
+sprang up in his imagination. Was it of her that he ought to be on his
+guard? He pictured her again in her dreamy, careless attitude,
+promenading sorrowfully in the woods of Bossicant. What had he to fear
+from her? What danger could she make him incur, except that of adoring
+her without obtaining a return of affection? There, indeed, was a very
+grave and serious peril! It was the most dreadful he could imagine just
+then, and one against which he felt himself utterly helpless. To love,
+without obtaining love in return! What would become of him if such a
+misfortune befell him? He could not think of it without a kind of
+distraction, so long as the young woman was mistress of his heart and
+mind. For a few moments he walked up and down the laboratory with anxious
+mien, and only halted when he heard the door open. It was Uncle Graff.
+
+“You know we have to meet the syndicate of workmen this morning, at ten
+o’clock?”
+
+“Yes; I have not forgotten.”
+
+“What is the matter with you? You do not appear at your ease. Is there
+anything that troubles you?”
+
+“Nothing whatever; it is simply this distressing situation that makes me
+anxious. Now that you have spoken to Cardez, uncle, what is it the
+workmen want?”
+
+“Oh, several things! In the first place, less work and more pay.
+Afterwards, themselves to nominate their own overseer. To have personal
+administration of the pension and assistance funds. To submit to no
+stoppage of wages for insurance against accidents. _Mon Dieu_! On all
+these points some understanding may be reached, and I am quite disposed
+to meet them half way. But there is on the point of being formulated a
+final demand which may render all conciliation impossible.”
+
+“What is that!”
+
+“They will demand the dismissal of Cardez, who is accused by the workmen
+of being extremely severe in enforcing the regulations.”
+
+“Dismiss the director? To-morrow they will want to send us away also.”
+
+“Ah, my nephew, is not that the collectivist doctrine, pure and simple?
+The works to the workers, the land to the tillers—that is to say, the
+dispossession of the master and the landlord. We are advancing in that
+direction.”
+
+Marcel said coldly—
+
+“We cannot give way on these points. Abdicate all authority, be no longer
+master in one’s own house? At no price and under no pretext. Be kind to
+the workmen, certainly! But be their dupe, never!”
+
+“Come,” said Uncle Graff, with a smile, “do not get excited. You always
+go to extremes. Yesterday all fire and flame; this morning full of
+reactionary energy. You must keep to the golden mean as I do. I still
+have hopes of seeing the triumph of reason and common sense. But I should
+like to obtain one thing from you.”
+
+“What is that?”
+
+“That you go out for a stroll instead of being present at the meeting.”
+
+“Ah!” exclaimed Marcel; “that is not your own idea, Uncle Graff. It is
+Cardez who has given you this hint.”
+
+“Well! I confess you are right. He mistrusts your impetuosity, and is
+afraid you cannot keep perfect possession of yourself. He knows what your
+opinions are.”
+
+“The fool! Let him trouble himself with his own opinions! After having
+alienated our workmen by useless reforms, how can he have the assurance
+to ask that the son of his master should not be present at a debate in
+which his own interests, both material and moral, are engaged? And he
+thinks I shall submit to this eviction? Decidedly, he knows me very
+little!”
+
+“But if I myself asked you not to come to the meeting!”
+
+“For what reason?”
+
+Uncle Graff hesitated a moment, but finally decided to speak.
+
+“I did not wish to tell you all my reasons. This morning’s debate may
+cause grave disorders. We have been informed that the workmen, who have
+been worked up to a high pitch, will admit of no refusal to their
+demands. In short, it is feared violent measures will be resorted to.”
+
+“Very good! The greater reason I should be there!”
+
+“If I consent, think what responsibility I assume in your father’s eyes!”
+
+“But what do you think I should do?”
+
+“You would do well to take the next train for Paris.”
+
+“And leave you to resist these madmen, all alone? You have a fine opinion
+of me, indeed!”
+
+“Come, now, Marcel, do not get angry. I am an old man, and command a
+certain amount of respect. It will be easy for me to keep out of a
+quarrel, but it will be no easy matter to keep an eye on you. To tell the
+truth, you would be greatly in the way. Here, you have no official
+standing; you are simply an inventor, and there is a whole group of
+workmen who regard you with no kindly feelings on account of your
+investigations in dyeing. They pretend that it is your intention to take
+away their living by manufacturing with the machine what they now do by
+hand. I assure you, Marcel, I have good reasons for keeping you away,
+and, if you are reasonable, you will obey me.”
+
+“Well, Uncle Graff, I am not reasonable. That you have long known; on
+many occasions have I proved it, and I will prove it once again to-day. I
+don’t care what people think. I will keep close to your side, without
+giving you any cause for trouble. But I will be present, because it is
+both my duty and my right. Besides, if I did not come, some time after
+you would say to yourself; ‘After all, he obeyed me very readily. My
+young nephew is bent on pleasure only, and is quite willing to keep out
+of the way when there is danger in the air.’”
+
+As the old man listened to his nephew the look of anxiety, by degrees,
+disappeared from his countenance. Doubtless he blamed him for his
+unwillingness to obey him, but approved of his showing himself at once
+determined, devoted, and affectionate. Oh yes, affectionate above all! In
+the bachelor’s tender heart Marcel’s protests found a delightful echo. He
+felt himself loved by this nephew of his, whom he himself loved as though
+he were his own son, and all his discontent melted away in an exquisite
+sensation of happiness. Still, he would not confess to a satisfaction so
+little in accord with his expressed wishes. He gave himself an angry and
+displeased mien; but a smile shone in his eyes as he murmured—
+
+“Very good! I cannot force you. As you please! If anything happens
+through you we shall know whose fault it is!”
+
+“Uncle Graff, we will perish together!” exclaimed the young man, gaily.
+“What more brilliant end could I hope for! What a glorious item of news
+for the journals!”
+
+“That would be the last straw!”
+
+“What precautions are you going to take to prevent our being devoured by
+the popular lion?”
+
+“None whatever! I am convinced that a display of force would effect no
+useful end. Accordingly, I begged the authorities not to disturb
+themselves. They wished to send us out the dragoons! Why not the
+artillery at once?”
+
+“And who are the delegates to whom we shall have to reply?”
+
+“There are eight of them. But it is the famous Balestrier who is at their
+head and acts as their mouthpiece.”
+
+“He is a very intelligent fellow, only he reads too many books beyond his
+power of comprehension.”
+
+“The rest are honest enough, but they have been incited to revolt by
+their companions at Troyes, and I am afraid I shall find them more
+violent than they are naturally disposed to be. They assume an attitude
+and play a _rôle_.”
+
+“We will judge them by their actions.”
+
+Pointing out to his uncle on the laboratory table a glass recipient of
+moderate size, Marcel said—
+
+“Look at this jar, Uncle Graff. If I were to throw a lighted match into
+it, in a moment I could annihilate all these ill-advised strikers.”
+
+“Then that is the famous powder?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Show it me.”
+
+Marcel took the jar, removed the stopper, and poured into his hand a few
+small brown shavings. An odour of camphor spread throughout the room.
+
+“It is the war powder in flakes, but I intend to manufacture it in
+pastilles. Then it will resemble an ordinary button without holes. In
+flakes it is more convenient for charging large projectiles. In pastilles
+it will be better suited for cartridge sockets. Non-compressed it burns
+like German tinder, with a smell of disinfecting powder, and entirely
+without smoke. Would you like to see it?”
+
+“No!” said Uncle Graff, eagerly. “I do not care to see you handling such
+substances. One never knows! They might explode without any one expecting
+it!”
+
+“Impossible! Besides, as this powder smells of camphor it might be placed
+with one’s clothes during the summer to prevent the moths from spoiling
+them.”
+
+He laughed aloud. Uncle Graff, slightly reassured, forced him to place
+the bottle back on to the table.
+
+“And the commerce powder?”
+
+“I have none manufactured. But the formula is already there in the
+drawer.”
+
+“With this formula Trémont’s discovery may be exploited?”
+
+“Certainly, on condition one knows how to make use of it. But that is my
+secret, which I shall reveal only at the moment the exploitation
+commences. The different kinds of products employed, with their dosings,
+are specified.”
+
+Opening a drawer he took out a sheet of paper, at the head of which were
+written the words: Powder Formula. No. I. Then followed lines of
+abbreviated words, with figures.
+
+“Leave it in this drawer; I do not need it just now. You will give it me
+this evening, after the conference. Then I will write to your father and
+send on the paper to him.”
+
+“As you please,” said Marcel.
+
+Placing back the paper he shut the drawer. Uncle Graff left the room
+saying—
+
+“I am going to see Cardez; if you want me you will find me with him.”
+
+Marcel, left all alone, walked up and down the laboratory, then drew near
+the open window, and looked out on to the river flowing beneath. A
+fisherman was sitting there in a boat, moored in the middle of the
+stream, engaged in throwing baked grain as bait into the water all around
+him. A large straw hat covered his head, whilst the wind blew out his
+grey smock-frock into the form of a balloon. He did not appear even to
+see Marcel, but filled his pipe with tobacco, lit it, and began to throw
+out his line, at the end of which was a ball of worms as bait. After a
+few moments a bite came, he struck adroitly, and landed a small
+silver-bellied fish in the boat. Marcel, interested, sat and watched from
+the window-ledge. After watching for a good quarter of an hour, the
+fisher, in his smock-frock, who, by the way, appeared to have the best of
+luck, the door of the laboratory opened, and Baudoin appeared. He seemed
+embarrassed, but came straight up to his master, and said, in tones of
+seeming regret—
+
+“Monsieur Marcel, there is some one at the porter’s lodge who is asking
+for you.”
+
+“Who is it?”
+
+Baudoin said, with a wry grimace—
+
+“A kind of chambermaid.”
+
+Marcel arose eagerly. He thought, “It is Milona, sent by Madame Vignola.
+Something has happened.” In a trice he was out of the room.
+
+Baudoin followed him with ill-pleased look.
+
+“How he runs off to meet her! Ah, that crafty woman holds him tight
+indeed! And this servant, who looks like a gipsy! This kind of company
+does not inspire confidence in one!”
+
+Marcel, on reaching the porter’s lodge, had found Milona there, as he had
+conjectured. Drawing her aside, he asked anxiously—
+
+“No harm has befallen Madame Vignola?”
+
+“No; I am with her all the time. But my mistress is uneasy for your sake.
+She heard cries and threats, and saw flashes of light through the
+darkness of the night. She well knows what these mad acts of folly
+committed by an angry mob mean, and would like to see you and have you
+explain the meaning of all this tumult.”
+
+“May I go to her at once?”
+
+“She is expecting you every minute.”
+
+He gave a gesture expressive of the joy he felt.
+
+“Then start back at once. We must not be seen crossing the plain
+together. In a few minutes I will follow you. Tell this to your
+mistress.”
+
+Milona bowed with a kind of haughty deference. With a tender look at the
+young man she said—
+
+“Do not tarry; she is never happy except when you are there!”
+
+Marcel stifled a cry of joy.
+
+“Oh, Milona! What has she told you?”
+
+“Nothing. But even had she taken me into her confidence I would not
+betray her. All the same, I see the difference between when she is alone
+and when you are with her. She is not the same at all. Come! She was in
+tears all the morning.”
+
+With a bow, she placed her fingers to her lips and withdrew.
+
+Marcel watched her take her departure. His heart beat wildly; flashes of
+light seemed to pass before his eyes. He had forgotten everything—works,
+strikes, danger, Uncle Graff, and his good resolutions. Now he thought of
+nothing but the radiant blonde awaiting him in that solitary villa, for
+which he set off with all the ardour of youth and love.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+IN the dimly-lit salon Marcel and Madame Vignola were seated chatting
+near the window. It was ten o’clock. In the clear blue sky the sun shone
+brightly, and its warm rays breaking through the branches of the trees
+came with caressing gentleness to the lovers. Madame Vignola was saying
+in grave accents—
+
+“Even in this out-of-the-way little place, right in the midst of the
+forest and far away from the rush of town life, there is no perfect peace
+and calm.”
+
+“You seem to have no luck. Never before have the inhabitants of Ars shown
+themselves so turbulent. Generally they are quite peaceable and harmless
+creatures. If they have any claims to make they do it with moderation and
+politeness, sure, in advance, of obtaining what they want. I do not know
+what madness has come over them!”
+
+Madame Vignola smiled.
+
+“Doubtless they have listened to bad counsel and advice. But that is of
+little importance. The main thing is that you are not exposed to the
+violence of these madmen. When I heard them last night shouting out their
+threats of death I trembled.”
+
+“Then you do take a certain amount of interest in me?”
+
+“Can you ask me such a question?”
+
+Passionately he seized hold of a dainty hand, which she made no attempt
+to withdraw.
+
+“Well, now, listen, Anetta. I cannot understand how I have been able to
+find any joy in life before I knew you. I seem to myself only to have
+been alive the last month.”
+
+Graciously raising her hand with threatening gesture, she said—
+
+“Not another word! I know you have been anything but perfect. Don’t try
+to deceive me like all the others you have said you were in love with.”
+
+“Oh! I have never been in love before. That I understand well enough
+now!”
+
+“Marcel, for pity’s sake, be quite frank with me. I have gone through
+such suffering hitherto, but that was because my heart was untouched. I
+am afraid of suffering now, as I shall love—”
+
+“No, have confidence in me. I will make you forget all your past sorrow.
+You are so young, and the future may yet be so bright for you. I want you
+all to myself. Once your mourning over you will again become mistress of
+your own destiny, and if you will authorize me to speak to your brother—”
+
+The young woman gave a gesture of fright.
+
+“To Cesare? Do nothing of the kind. You do not know him! In a moment he
+would become your most bitter enemy!”
+
+“Why so?”
+
+“Ah! It is sad to think of and even sadder to mention. Cesare is without
+fortune, and I have been left a wealthy widow by M. Vignola. Were I to
+leave my brother, and cease to be free, he would be absolutely without
+resource. How could I induce him to accept a modest station in life? He
+is already unhappy, indeed, at not being able to do honour to his birth,
+for we are descended from a princely family. The Briviescas formerly
+reigned in Padua. An Agostini was ruler of Parma. But ruin came, and
+Count Cesare receives only the pay of a captain of cavalry. A sorry
+position for a man of his disposition! Accordingly, ever since I have
+been a widow he has undertaken the direction of my property. He finds it
+to his advantage, I believe, and I am well pleased that it is so. For he
+is very kind, and I am fond of him.”
+
+“In that case give him what belongs to you. Have I any need of your
+fortune? I only want yourself! Leave Count Cesare all your possessions.
+I, too, shall be rich, and if I wished I could restore to you to-morrow
+more than all you would have sacrificed in becoming mine.”
+
+She seemed astonished. A light shone in her beautiful eyes as she said—
+
+“Tell me how?”
+
+No suspicion came across his mind. He saw nothing but that exquisite
+mouth and those gentle eyes which questioned him so eloquently.
+
+“I am in possession of a commercial secret calculated to bring about a
+complete revolution in the economic conditions of work in mines. The
+assured profit will not belong to me entirely, but I shall have my share
+of it. That sole share alone will be immense. They can do nothing without
+me, for I alone know the secret of the process of manufacturing the
+powder. A company will be formed to exploit the patents of this
+discovery. All this means fortune—you hear, Anetta?—an immediate and
+enormous fortune.”
+
+“Oh! continue! Tell me all, my dear friend.”
+
+“You are the first to whom I have said so much. But, then, can I conceal
+anything from you? Were you to ask me for my very honour I would
+sacrifice it for your sake. Besides, what have I to fear from one so kind
+and disinterested? Yes, I am the possessor of a glorious and powerful
+secret. The glory of the discovery will belong to the inventor, and I
+shall be happy to have helped in making him world-famed. To those who
+have organized and rendered his work practicable will belong an
+incalculable financial power.”
+
+Madame Vignola interrupted Marcel.
+
+“But suppose you were to disappear—suppose some misfortune happened you;
+in these noisy street quarrels of the strikers you might be struck to the
+ground. Then what would become of this invention of yours? Probably you
+have given no more thought to the protection of your secret than you have
+to that of your life.”
+
+As she spoke she pressed him to her heart, a look of anguish
+overshadowing her face. Her looks seemed to burn into Marcel’s brain as
+she gently passed her hand over his brow.
+
+“No!” he said. “Do not deceive yourself. I took the precaution this very
+morning to write out the formulæ of this wonderful invention.”
+
+“You have it on your person?” she asked in terrified accents.
+
+“No, do not be anxious, dearest; I left it in my laboratory. It cannot be
+destroyed now. My Uncle Graff would take it from the drawer of my desk in
+case anything were to befall me. But I love you, and nothing can possibly
+happen to me. I must succeed and triumph if you love me!”
+
+With a gesture expressive of infinite content, she said—
+
+“Can you doubt it, after what I have said? How could I help loving one so
+fervent and capricious as you are? It is this youthful folly of yours
+which pleased me from the beginning. You are so different from those with
+whom I have hitherto lived. My early life was passed with my old parents,
+who were very strict and severe with me, in a cold and gloomy house in
+Milan. Then my husband, though so kind and anxious to please me, could
+not bring his cold and reasoning habits into harmony with my youth and
+inexperience. Sorrow and _ennui_ were my daily portion. It seems that I
+have only awakened to life from this very day, as though I had all my
+life been like the sleeping princess in the fairy tale. You have appeared
+before me, and now my eyes open to the light of day, my ears listen to
+your tender, loving words, and with inexpressible delight I awake to a
+new birth of happiness.”
+
+The most accomplished actress could not have more artfully uttered such
+ravishing words as these which fell from the lips of the beautiful
+temptress. Turning aside her face, as though to conceal her blushes, her
+lithe form seemed to quiver with delight. He, maddened by this
+confession, and burning with the passion this redoubtable enchantress
+knew so well how to inspire, dropped his fevered head on Anetta’s
+shoulder. His reason seemed to leave him as he murmured—
+
+“I adore you!”
+
+At this moment she turned her head to look at him, perhaps to reply.
+Their lips met, and united in a burning kiss. Suddenly, above the green
+expanse of forest, in the midst of the calm in which the peaceful house
+was wrapped, rose a shout which grew louder and louder, whilst the clang
+of an alarm-bell could be distinctly heard. Anetta exclaimed—
+
+“What is that?”
+
+Marcel listened attentively.
+
+“It sounds like shouts and cries for help coming from the direction of
+Ars.”
+
+He rushed towards the window, and, already trembling with secret anguish,
+exclaimed—
+
+“It is the alarm-bell! Perhaps the works are on fire! _Mon Dieu_! What
+can be the matter? You are well aware to what risks we were exposed at
+Ars, and I am afraid that matters have taken a turn for the worse in my
+absence.”
+
+Madame Vignola opened the door, and called—
+
+“Milo.”
+
+The servant appeared. Without waiting to be questioned, she said—
+
+“There is something wrong at Ars, madame. Bells are ringing, and a black
+cloud of smoke is rising above the trees. It might be possible to see
+from the roof.”
+
+“I will mount at once!” exclaimed Marcel.
+
+“I will follow you. Go with him,” she said to Milona.
+
+But instead of keeping her word the young woman entered the small office
+where she was in the habit of writing her letters, took up a sheet of
+paper, and traced a few rapid lines. Steps could already be heard on the
+staircase. Marcel, pale and agitated, appeared before her.
+
+“The fire must have caught the works. Oh, Anetta, I have forgotten
+everything by your side! Good-bye, I must rush off at once.”
+
+“Marcel, do not forget that you are mine.”
+
+With a look of fright she pressed him in her arms, and held him back.
+
+“Darling, I must go. What would they think of me? I will return to-night.
+Let me go now.”
+
+“Very well. But Milona will follow you, and bring me back the news.
+Promise me you will be very careful.”
+
+A final kiss, and he was already in the garden. Anetta turned to the
+servant and handed to her the note she had just written.
+
+“Run to Ars. On the river, in a boat, you will see Hans, dressed like a
+peasant. Give him this paper, and return at once. Go, Milo! This time we
+shall succeed.”
+
+“And the young man, madame—what will you do with him?”
+
+A look of anxiety came over her brow.
+
+“I cannot tell yet, Milo. I believe I love him.”
+
+The servant smiled faintly as she said—
+
+“Poor fellow! What a pity!”
+
+And, without another word, she disappeared.
+
+Marcel was running towards the works. At the first turn of the road the
+whole town lay before his eyes. From the Supply Stores a lofty column of
+black smoke mounted towards the sky, and flames were beginning to break
+through the roof.
+
+“Ah, the wretches!” exclaimed the young man. “They have set the place on
+fire! And Uncle Graff? _Mon Dieu_! if only he is safe and sound!”
+
+Young and vigorous, spurred on by fear and anger, he ran along faster
+than ever. A mass of onlookers was standing in the street, kept in check
+by the police. Marcel rushed through them like a bullet and entered the
+yard, perspiring and out of breath. Workmen were manipulating the
+fire-engine belonging to the works. On seeing their master’s son arrive
+they exclaimed eagerly—
+
+“Ah, M. Marcel! You have come at last!”
+
+“How did the fire happen?” exclaimed the young man panting for breath.
+
+No one replied. They were two hundred; he was alone. All the same he
+exclaimed, in angry tones—
+
+“So it is you, rascals, you who have set fire to the works which afforded
+you your only means of livelihood?”
+
+They protested noisily.
+
+“No, M. Marcel, we did not do it! We set forth our demands, but we did
+not enforce them by such villainous means. There are strangers about. We
+had nothing to do with it.”
+
+“Where is my uncle Graff?”
+
+Terror-stricken, a foreman advanced—
+
+“Ah, M. Marcel, we could not prevent him entering.”
+
+“Entering where?”
+
+“Into the managing department, with M. Cardez and your servant. They
+wanted to find the account books, etc.”
+
+“But the managing department is on fire!” shrieked the young man, in
+despair. “If you could not prevent them going, you might at least have
+accompanied them.”
+
+A crash was now heard coming from the burning building. Millions of
+sparks shot forth into the air, and a black dust filled the sky. It was
+the roof of the stores, which had fallen in.
+
+“How can we reach them now?” said the overseer, anxiously. “They are
+caught between the weaving department and the stores. The fire is all
+over the place now.”
+
+“By the roof.”
+
+The workman shook his head discouragingly.
+
+“Who will dare to go?”
+
+“I will!”
+
+“But it means death!”
+
+“Well, I will risk it with them!”
+
+“We will not let you go. What would your father say?”
+
+“What would he say if I did not go?”
+
+Scarcely knowing what he was doing, Marcel seized hold of a hatchet, and
+rushed into the works. A violent biting sensation of heat seized him by
+the throat, but he did not halt. He mounted the staircase leading to the
+door of the book-keeping department. Here he was forced to stop. Before
+him was a wall of flames. Climbing higher, he came out on the roof, ran
+along a drain-pipe, entered the loft, which was filled with smoke, and,
+almost suffocated, reached that part of the building which lay above the
+offices. The fire had not reached them. He halted. If Cardez and Uncle
+Graff were in the book-keeping compartment they were surrounded on every
+side by the fire. Accordingly, they could only effect an escape either
+from above or below. Without the slightest hesitation he began to cut
+away at the floor. Suddenly he heard his name called from the roof.
+Without stopping he shouted back—
+
+“This way! In the loft!”
+
+It was the overseer and three of the workmen, who had followed with picks
+and levers. They set to work. Marcel, with his hatchet, seemed possessed
+of the strength of ten men; the beams appeared to fall away like reeds
+before the blows he dealt. Bricks and plaster were flying in all
+directions. At last a hole was made in the floor, and Marcel, lying flat
+on the ground, shouted with all his might—
+
+“Uncle Graff, Cardez, Baudoin—are you there?”
+
+A stifled voice replied—
+
+“Ah! This is you, Marcel. Yes, we are here. Be quick; we are almost
+exhausted. The smoke is suffocating us. We cannot open the window on
+account of the flames.”
+
+“Take care of yourselves!”
+
+Seizing the lever he gave a powerful lift, which considerably enlarged
+the hole. Then he saw the smoke rise as though by an escape-flue. There
+appeared in full view the three men, who had not let go their books and
+registers, stolidly awaiting deliverance or death. It was deliverance
+that came. A rope was lowered down the hole.
+
+“Baudoin, fasten my uncle firmly under the arms with this rope. Are you
+ready?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Pull away, my men!”
+
+The rope, hoisted by impatient arms, was drawn up, and Uncle Graff, black
+with dirt and smoke, trembling, and scarcely able to breathe, though
+perfectly happy, was pressed in Marcel’s arms, whilst tears flowed down
+their cheeks, though not a word was uttered. Cardez and Baudoin were
+hoisted up in the same way.
+
+“By the way,” said Marcel, “is there anything else you want from the
+office? I will go down, if you like.”
+
+“No!” exclaimed Uncle Graff; finding his voice; “we have all the books we
+want. That is sufficient! The place is insured, so there is nothing more
+to do.”
+
+“Then we must beat a retreat at once,” exclaimed Marcel. “The smoke is
+getting denser here.”
+
+Marcel, helping along his uncle, made his way to the drain-pipe. From the
+yard they were seen returning safe and sound. An immense shout arose,
+almost deafening the roar of the flames. They reached the works, where
+the firemen had already taken up their positions with the object of
+preserving the buildings still intact. Once in the yard Uncle Graff sank
+down on a bale of wool, turned pale, and almost fainted. He had come to
+the end of his strength.
+
+“A glass of water!” exclaimed Marcel.
+
+In a moment a decanter was in his hand. No matter what he had asked for,
+his demand would have been immediately obeyed. Full of respect before
+courage and devotion, the mob regarded him with indulgent and reverent
+tenderness. The very men who had cried out only the night before, “Down
+with the masters!” were ready to shout out, Hurrah for M. Marcel! The
+reason was that he had just performed a feat none of them had had courage
+to attempt, and in their inmost souls they were conscious that he was
+braver and better than themselves, and, accordingly, they felt nothing
+but admiration for him.
+
+“Cardez, take these registers and the money home,” said Marcel. “We will
+go to my home, Uncle Graff. You must try to regain your strength
+completely.”
+
+“No! I feel better already. I can breathe more freely. Ah, Marcel, you
+came just in time. Another quarter of an hour and you would have found us
+all dead.”
+
+“I was miserable at the thought that I was not with you all the time.”
+
+“Had you been with us everything would have been lost! We were dying.
+Your absence was quite providential! But for that, all would have been
+over with us!”
+
+“But how did it all happen?”
+
+“We cannot understand anything yet! For an hour we had been discussing
+with the delegates, and I must say the peaceful settlement of the strike
+seemed very doubtful, when we were suddenly interrupted by shouts of
+‘Fire! Fire!’ The workmen assembled in the yard awaiting the delegates
+had just seen a dense cloud of smoke issue from the stores. To tell the
+truth, they were ill-disposed towards us. When we crossed the yard on the
+way to the office they received us with a hostile silence. Not a head was
+uncovered. Veritable enemies on our own ground! In a moment the fire
+effected a complete change. They became like madmen when they saw the
+works burning. At bottom these workmen are not evil-disposed, for they
+rushed forth from every direction, shouting out, ‘To the pumps!’ When
+they saw me appear with Cardez they shouted: ‘M. Graff, this is not our
+work!’ A moment after one of the strangers, who has been here only a
+week, a native of Luxembourg, named Verstraet, being caught prowling
+about the works, they half killed him, accusing him of being the
+incendiary. We were obliged to tear him from their hands.”
+
+Marcel listened with gloomy interest to this recital. He associated the
+fire with the strange fears, manifested on different occasions by
+Baudoin, respecting the safety of the laboratory. He heard the servant
+say, “Just now, there are men here whose appearance is anything but
+prepossessing.” The workmen also spoke vaguely about strangers.
+Everything was wrapped in mystery. Instinctively, Marcel felt himself
+enveloped in a network of threats and hatred. Was it still this secret of
+the General de Trémont, which brought disaster on all those who possessed
+it? Looking round for Baudoin, he found that he had disappeared. The fire
+was raging less fiercely, for the torrents of water poured on the stores
+had extinguished the bales of wool. The works themselves did not seem to
+have suffered to any considerable extent; the loss was only partial. The
+captain of the Ars fire brigade, a plumber by trade, came out from the
+rest and stood there, hot and panting, with cap in hand, before M. Graff
+and Cardez.
+
+“Well, gentlemen, we shall come out of this affair better than we might
+have expected. At present, more than two-thirds of the works are safe. We
+may take our breath a little. It has been warm work, indeed, the last
+hour!”
+
+“Yes. But for M. Marcel,” said Cardez, “we should not be speaking to you
+at this moment, M. Prevost.”
+
+“That was a very noble act of his,” said the captain. “Ah! neither my men
+nor myself had thought of doing as he did. There was courage enough in
+us, but we should not have thought of piercing a hole in the roof. He did
+not lose his head; and that was the main thing.”
+
+Just at that moment, a voice quivering with anguish, was heard, and
+Marcel, pale and excited, came rushing from the laboratory, exclaiming—
+
+“Uncle Graff. Come here, quick!”
+
+“What is the matter?” asked Cardez.
+
+“Stay here! My uncle only!” said the young man. Monsieur Graff
+immediately went up to his nephew. Baudoin was already on the threshold
+guarding the entrance.
+
+“Come in! _Mon Dieu_! Come in!” said Marcel, pushing the old man before
+him. “Baudoin, shut the door and place the key inside.”
+
+“What is the matter now?” exclaimed the old man.
+
+“Look!”
+
+Standing there on the threshold of the capharnaum, the three men looked
+around in bewildered astonishment. All the signs of a desperate fight had
+thrown the room into the utmost disorder. A curtain, half torn from the
+window still open on the river, was hanging from its broken pole. Jars,
+retorts, and alembics of every description crushed to pieces lay
+scattered about the floor. On the table was a large clot of blood, still
+wet, as though some one had there met his death. The paper everywhere was
+splashed over with large red spots, and the drawer of the table lay wide
+open before their eyes.
+
+“What has taken place here?” asked Uncle Graff, in low tones.
+
+“Look in the drawer, Uncle Graff,” said Marcel. “Try to find the formula
+I placed there before your eyes.”
+
+“Well!”
+
+“It is there no longer! It has been stolen! Look for the flagon
+containing the war powder, which was on the table. Disappeared!”
+
+“Stolen? By whom?”
+
+“Perhaps by the same person who set fire to the works? Whose blood is
+that on the floor? Uncle Graff, we have brought about our heads a
+terrible stream of enemies. Think of what has happened concerning the
+inventions of M. de Trémont. There has been a whole band of rascals at
+work for months, bent on stealing these secrets at whatever cost, and in
+face of the greatest difficulties! My father guessed this, for it was
+with the utmost trouble that I succeeded in obtaining his permission to
+continue this discovery. Baudoin knew it, for he asked my permission to
+keep watch in the laboratory. It was the excitement caused by the fire
+which forced him to quit his post; doubtless, had he stayed here, he,
+too, would have lost his life. But whose blood is this that has been
+shed?”
+
+“Come, my child, do calm yourself,” said the old man, alarmed at the
+increasing agitation of his nephew. “Speak, Baudoin, tell us all you
+know.”
+
+“Monsieur Graff, I know who has fallen here, and I know, too, whose hand
+struck the blow. The victim is a man devoted to our cause, who, from the
+very first, had scented the culprits. He could not help the robbery being
+committed, and, had he not been killed, he would certainly have arrested
+the thief.”
+
+“And who is the man who struck him?”
+
+“Ah! This is by no means the first attempt. He is a determined villain;
+all the troubles in the district have been caused by this man. It is he
+who started the conflagration. He who stabbed General de Trémont. It is
+the man of Vanves. In a word, it is Hans!”
+
+“How do you know this?”
+
+“Because I have seen him. Laforêt, whom I had sent for to keep a watch on
+these people whom I suspected, and who has doubtless paid with his life
+for his zeal and devotion, followed him last night, and we both spent
+part of the night in tracking his movements. We were present at his
+conferences with the leaders of the strike at the Soleil d’Or. We heard
+him give his orders to his acolytes. It is he our unhappy workmen obeyed,
+without knowing it, seduced as they were by the rabid language of the
+leaders. This is the villain who, secretly, and from a distance, directed
+the riot, and set fire to the works!”
+
+“But how could he know that the written formula was in the table of the
+laboratory? Why did he come here?”
+
+“He came here because I ran off to the fire and left my post. He has,
+somehow or other, received precise information.”
+
+Baudoin stopped. He gave his young master a look of anguish.
+
+“Ah, Monsieur Marcel, must I speak? Will you pardon me?”
+
+Marcel turned pale. All the same he said, in firm tones—
+
+“Speak. I insist upon it.”
+
+“Well, then, this man, for the past week, has been living at the Villa de
+la Cavée.”
+
+“Impossible!” exclaimed Marcel. “Hans! This villain?”
+
+“Monsieur Marcel,” resumed Baudoin, bravely, but with infinite sadness,
+“I have seen him there myself. Laforêt has been watching him for a whole
+week. He lived in the attic, and only went out at nights.”
+
+“And I never suspected anything!” exclaimed the young man, in stupefied
+grief. “Then who is this woman who has been there the last six weeks?
+What is this atrocious farce she has been playing with me?”
+
+“Ah!” exclaimed Uncle Graff. “A woman! Another woman? Incorrigible
+child!”
+
+Marcel, seated by the table on a stool, his head in his hands, was
+endeavouring to collect his ideas. He was falling from a pure heaven of
+delight in which he had been living into the degradation of blood and
+crime.
+
+“Come, it is impossible!” he continued, with trembling voice. “Why should
+she have deceived me so atrociously? Was there any need to make me so
+madly in love with her? No, I cannot believe her guilty; she never lied
+once to me. Her very looks were frank and true. No, no! You are mistaken;
+you are heaping calumny on her! Even though the man be a villain, she, at
+least, is no accomplice of his. She is his victim, as we all are. If they
+tried to harm me, she had not the strength or the authority to resist.
+And if she knows what has happened, she is lamenting it all, as we are,
+this very moment.”
+
+His desperate protests were stifled by sobs, and, leaning his head on the
+blood-stained table, he wept bitterly. His uncle respected his grief,
+and, taking Baudoin to the window, he said to him, in subdued tones—
+
+“In your opinion, who has been in the laboratory after you left it?”
+
+“Laforêt, who was keeping watch over our man, must have followed him to
+this very spot. During the tumult caused by the fire Hans entered the
+yard of the works, and went right to the summer-house. Laforêt must have
+surprised him whilst he was examining the drawer. A terrible struggle
+must then have taken place between Hans, who is a giant in form, and
+Laforêt, who is very muscular. Hans doubtless made use of some arm or
+other to rid him of his adversary. Laforêt, killed outright, or stunned,
+fell on the table, thereupon Hans seized him and dragged him to the
+window. He became entangled with the curtain, which has been torn away;
+the weight must have been a heavy one, for the pole is broken.”
+
+“And afterwards?” asked M. Graff, anxiously.
+
+“Afterwards Hans flung the ill-fated Laforêt out of the window. The
+current has carried him off. Probably he will be picked up in the sluice
+of the mill of Sainte-Savine.”
+
+“And the woman, Baudoin?” whispered the old man.
+
+“Ah, Monsieur Graff, I do not know if she is the woman of Vanves or not.
+Both the scent she uses and her voice are different. But a voice may be
+modified, and a perfume changed. What remains unchanging is villainous
+skill and seductive charm. This one has all that is needed to madden a
+man—beauty, distinction, grace. Look at M. Marcel there, in tears. It is
+neither crime nor theft that has brought him into that state. It is the
+grief caused by suspecting the one he adores, and the fear that he may
+now be under the obligation of hating her.”
+
+“Poor fellow! He, at least, did not deserve to suffer. He has been very
+brave. But for him, Baudoin, we should not now be in the land of the
+living.”
+
+“True; and but for this wretched woman all this trouble would have been
+avoided. She well knows what she has done, and with whom she has had to
+deal. It is not you she would have undertaken to corrupt. She would have
+known beforehand that your calm and tranquil reason would have guarded
+you from her attacks. But with the General and M. Marcel it was
+different. Oh, M. Graff, she has made no mistake! Had she had either the
+necessary time or desire both the old and the young man would have given
+up their secret of their own accord.”
+
+Uncle Graff, astonished at such clear-sightedness, looked at Baudoin with
+considerable interest.
+
+“Ah, sir, you are astonished at hearing me speak in this way. But what I
+have said is not an invention. My General, on those days when he was
+master of himself, spoke to me in similar terms. He accused and blamed
+himself, well knowing how weak he was.”
+
+“And his weakness brought him to his death. Let us consider ourselves
+fortunate that Marcel has not been treated so harshly. The poor fellow
+suffers; he is unhappy. But, then, he is only twenty-five years of age,
+and in one’s youth no sorrow lasts long. But if these rascals had killed
+him? Ah, his father seemed to guess the danger he ran! He imagined his
+son would be safer at Ars, in the midst of the workmen, but you see how
+mistaken he has been.”
+
+“Ah! But, after all, this woman knew how to track him. And in this quiet
+spot her power was more manifest than ever.”
+
+“What will she do now?”
+
+“Disappear with her acolytes.”
+
+“Are there many of them?”
+
+“There is a pretended brother, a handsome, dark-complexioned young
+fellow; the servant, who called this morning for M. Marcel; and then
+Hans, without counting those we know nothing about. A whole band, you may
+be certain. Sir, not a single act of rascality or treachery happens in
+the country without those rascals having a hand in it. Laforêt told me so
+himself: ‘France is exploited by foreigners. The Government will do for
+strangers what they will not do for Frenchmen. If only an individual
+offers himself, speaking with a foreign accent, and wearing a
+many-coloured decoration, all kinds of privileges are showered upon him.’
+We are a set of ninnies and simpletons, M. Graff, though we imagine
+ourselves very clever.”
+
+Marcel drew near. During the past few minutes his face seemed to have
+become quite furrowed.
+
+“Uncle Graff,” he said, “the present is not the time for lamenting. We
+must act at once. Perhaps we may still come across the bold scoundrel who
+has been here. We must give a description of him to the police. For
+myself, I shall go to the villa and find out the whole truth.”
+
+“We know very little, Marcel, about the people with whom we have to deal
+if we can think they have lost a single second in escaping.”
+
+“How can they imagine they are even suspected?”
+
+“The _coup_ is effected; all they need do now will be to clear off!”
+
+Marcel gave a gesture of protest.
+
+“Yes,” continued the old man, gently. “You are asking why she could have
+gone? How could she have taken her departure without seeing me again? My
+poor child, you are still under the effect of the delusion practised on
+you! You cannot yet understand that all the tenderness she lavished on
+you was calculated, interested in its nature, that, in short, you were
+only a victim. And you still expect her to be waiting for you. Well! we
+will all go and see, my child. Then we shall know the value of the
+promises by which you have allowed yourself to be deceived. Meanwhile we
+must inform the authorities. Take my advice, and say nothing about the
+powders. We must speak of the murder only. Our man will be caught just as
+easily, if he is to be caught at all, which I very much doubt. We will
+keep our secret in the background. Ah! We have to deal with enemies
+stronger than ourselves! Do not reproach yourself in any way. Everything
+was too well arranged. In one way or another, you were bound to succumb.
+Luckily, your life is out of danger.”
+
+“Thanks, Uncle Graff, you do your best to console me. But I shall never
+forgive myself, in case you are right. Come along.”
+
+They descended into the yard. The fire had been extinguished, and the
+pumps were now silent, with the exception of the one belonging to the
+works, which was still dashing water on the ruins. On their approach, the
+crowd of workmen stood there in respectful silence, all heads uncovered.
+This misfortune had kindled renewed sympathy with their masters, and
+their devotion enjoined an attitude of respect. Cardez came forward, and
+said—
+
+“Monsieur Graff, the workmen want you to speak to them. They do not wish
+to remain suspected.”
+
+Graff advanced, and said in grave accents—
+
+“My friends, I know you too well to accuse you of the crime which has
+been committed here. I am well aware that you are hot-headed, but you are
+very honest all the same. Besides, what would have been the use of such
+wilful destruction, if not to throw you on to the streets and cause you
+to die of hunger? The very moment the fire broke out, your delegates and
+ourselves were on the point of coming to a mutual understanding. After
+the good will you have just given proof of, in uniting to save the works,
+I can only admit of one solution, the one most favourable to you.
+Accordingly, I grant you your demands.”
+
+An immense cheer of mingled joy and gratitude burst from five hundred
+throats. Caps were waved high in the air. Graff raised his hand; silence
+was instantly restored.
+
+“I beg you to remember that it is to the manager quite as much as to
+myself that you owed this result. If he is severe in point of discipline,
+it is because he feels it to be necessary in the interest of the work.
+But no one is a stauncher upholder of your interests than your excellent
+director.”
+
+“Hurrah for M. Cardez!”
+
+Uncle Graff smiled.
+
+“Come, come! You are like overgrown children! Yesterday you wanted to
+hang him. And myself into the bargain! To-day you receive him with shouts
+of joy. And it is at this moment that you are more just and reasonable.
+Remember what has taken place. And next time you have any demands to
+make, do not begin by threats of murder. Now, go home, all of you, and
+to-morrow morning, at the usual hour, we shall expect you back at work!”
+
+The crowd melted away in respectful silence. With its usual fickleness it
+now showered blessings on those it had formerly cursed. Obeying its
+instincts, which are always generous and kind when left to develop
+freely, it congratulated itself on the happy ending of a day which might
+have been so tragic, and now withdrew, delighted at the prospect of
+resuming the labour it had contemptibly looked upon as utter slavery.
+
+
+
+
+PART III
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+WHILST Milona was running in the direction of Ars, her mistress returned
+quietly to the salon. Flinging herself on the sofa, she abandoned herself
+to a delightful reverie. What a difference she found between Cesare
+Agostini and Marcel! A feeling of nausea came over her when she compared
+them with one another. The complaisant and needy lover, who always knew
+when to close his eyes, when some mysterious interests of his were at
+stake, and this tender, sincere lover, who thought of nothing but her
+happiness, and sacrificed for that his own.
+
+She remembered Hans’ sarcastic remarks, “Take care you are not caught in
+your own net, and fall in love with this young man.” Had he then read her
+inmost thoughts, this dread accomplice of hers, who trampled humanity
+under foot, and who had no more respect for joy and happiness than the
+hail has for the harvest? Suppose it were so? Had she not the right to do
+as she wished? Was she a slave, linked to obscure and threatening
+adventurers engaged in some formidable though tremendous task? Or was
+there equality for both them and herself, in danger, success, and
+pleasure alike? Who could compel her to do what was displeasing to
+her—above all, who would dare to attempt it? She knew she was as
+dangerous as any of them, and they, too, were well aware how powerful and
+audacious she was. If it were necessary to try conclusions with them,
+they would see who would come out the winner.
+
+She smiled, and her face shone with the light of a glorious graciousness.
+In that young woman, with those delicate, refined features, who would
+have discovered the bold, sarcastic Sophia Grodsko? What would
+Lichtenbach have said, had he seen her, and what would all those have
+thought who had known her, so faithless and vice-stained, fatal to all
+who had loved her, and whom she had led on to ruin, dishonour, or death?
+A young man, the least remarkable of all she had hitherto met, in all
+probability, had obtained the triumph of making her uneasy and anxious at
+the thought of what might become of him. Following him in imagination, on
+his way back to the town, she wondered if it would not have been better
+to have kept him by her side, instead of allowing him to rush off to the
+burning works, and especially towards the spot where Hans was
+watching—Hans, more to be dreaded than all the other scourges combined.
+
+She rose, and, already repenting of having shown such a lack of decision,
+she was deliberating whether or not she ought, herself, to go to Ars, and
+find out what was taking place there. Prudence checked the impulse. All
+the same, she mounted to the second floor of the villa, on to a balcony
+from which a view of the valley could be obtained beyond the trees. There
+she quickly saw that the danger, if there had been any, had lessened. The
+smoke was disappearing, not a single flame was to be seen, and the hubbub
+from the town had calmed down, whilst even the church bell had ceased
+ringing. She was about to descend, when she saw Milona open the garden
+gate. The servant was coming along the alley with rapid and uneasy steps.
+Sophia had a presentiment that she was the bearer of bad news, and gave a
+sharp, low whistle. Milo mounted the steps all out of breath, and came
+straight to her mistress—
+
+“I have performed your commission,” she said. “I found Hans. He read your
+note, and placed it back in my hands. Here it is.”
+
+“Good. That is not all. What is the matter?”
+
+“Agostini is close behind me. He has just landed at Ars.”
+
+Sophia frowned. A slight blush mounted to her cheeks. Taking a match, she
+lit it, and set fire to the paper Milona had handed to her. Thoughtfully,
+she watched the ashes fly away in the wind. Then she asked—
+
+“How is he coming here?”
+
+“In a cab. Listen, you may hear the horse’s hoofs already.”
+
+The cab stopped in front of the door, and Cesare descended. The cabman
+waited. Sophia slowly descended the staircase, and found herself in the
+hall, to receive the handsome Italian. He advanced with shining eyes and
+eager gait. Carelessly, and with an air of indifference, she held out her
+hand.
+
+“Well, well! my dear,” said he. “Is this the way you receive me after a
+fortnight’s absence?”
+
+“Silence!” she said firmly; “this is no time for nonsense. Hans at this
+very moment is doubtless risking his life to obtain possession of the
+powders.”
+
+“Have you then succeeded with our young victim?”
+
+“You may see for yourself. There will be more to learn later on.”
+
+“Diavolo!”
+
+Rushing from the room, he exclaimed—
+
+“Milo, tell the cabman to wait.”
+
+He returned—
+
+“Who knows if we shall not need him shortly? As I passed by I saw the
+town was in the greatest commotion imaginable, and that the works were on
+fire. Is this accident an invention of yours?”
+
+“I believe Hans arranged the whole affair.”
+
+“Gay disposition, Hans! He is fond of an attractive _mise en scene_. But
+I should be glad to have a little lunch; I left Paris quite hurriedly.”
+
+“Milona will serve you.”
+
+They passed into the dining-room. The table was set, and Cesare took a
+seat.
+
+“Come and talk to me, my beautiful Sophia. Time has weighed heavy on my
+hands since last I saw you. I have vainly sought for distractions.”
+
+“What have you been doing?”
+
+“Ah! Trying to win a little money at cards. A kind of fatality seems to
+pursue me, my bad luck never leaves me, and I cannot touch a card without
+losing.”
+
+“You have lost much?”
+
+“Too much! I so easily get excited, you know.”
+
+“Well, how much?” asked Sophia, impatiently.
+
+The handsome Italian replied with a smile—
+
+“Nothing at all, cara; I had the money!”
+
+“Who gave it you?”
+
+“Lichtenbach. I was obliged to accustom him to my little fancies. When he
+becomes my father-in-law I shall appeal to him rather often.”
+
+“Take care. He may tire.”
+
+“He will not be allowed to do so.”
+
+“His resources are not inexhaustible.”
+
+“You are jesting. I am well acquainted with the source of his wealth.”
+
+“Indeed! Who has been informing you?”
+
+“A relation of mine, the Very Reverend Monsignor Boldi, whom I saw in
+Paris a few days ago. Lichtenbach, in addition to his wealth, is a church
+trustee. I no longer wonder at the influence he wields. He has the
+disposal of immense sums, and of almost limitless power. But he is not a
+man of action. He is always hesitating and trembling. Had you seen how
+terrified he was when I alluded to his position as a kind of
+ecclesiastical banker, you would have laughed outright. Ah! cara, his
+brow was covered with perspiration. Whatever can he be afraid of?”
+
+“From his constituents, nothing. From you, everything. That he doubtless
+guessed at once.”
+
+“Oh! _Mon Dieu_! All that trouble for such a trifle! A mere bagatelle of
+forty thousand francs. That cursed baccarat! But Lichtenbach never plays,
+except on the Bourse. And there he always wins!”
+
+“Question!”
+
+“Ah! Can he, too, be cursed with bad luck?”
+
+“We are now doing our best to arrange matters so that he may have nothing
+but good luck!”
+
+“The powder affair?”
+
+“Yes. Listen, what is that?”
+
+A sound was heard outside. Taking from a cupboard a small revolver, she
+slipped it into her pocket, and said—“Are you armed?”
+
+“I am always armed. What are you afraid of?”
+
+“Wait!”
+
+In the silence a curious whistling sound was heard. Sophia’s features
+relaxed.
+
+“It is Hans!”
+
+A rapid step was heard on the sand of the alley. The door of the salon
+opened, and Milona made her appearance, followed by the colossus. He was
+still clothed in his mean-looking fisher’s costume. Flinging his hat on
+the ground, he removed his blouse and his huge shoes, without the
+slightest thought of Sophia’s presence, and exclaimed—
+
+“Milo, my clothes.”
+
+Placing on the table a glass recipient and a sheet of paper, he said,
+with a grimace—
+
+“Here it is!”
+
+“Then you have succeeded at last?”
+
+Sophia and Cesare approached with a kind of respect, and saw through the
+jar the brownish shavings of the powder which had already cost so much
+blood!
+
+“Yes, here it is! This small phial and this piece of paper again
+represent the life of a man.”
+
+“You were surprised in the act?”
+
+“Yes. And I have killed again.”
+
+“Who is the victim this time?” exclaimed Sophia, pale as death.
+
+“Do not alarm yourself, my dear; it is not your turtledove.”
+
+_He_ gave Cesare a glance, which immediately put the Italian on the
+alert. His light, careless attitude disappeared, and a cold, hard look
+came into his face.
+
+“It was a troublesome fellow I have had on my track for several days,”
+continued Hans. “A Government spy. It was not the first time we had met,
+either. He almost caught me three years ago at Lyons, in the affair of
+the Sergeant-Major. I took good note of him at the time, and his account
+is now settled!”
+
+“But will his murder not be discovered?”
+
+“What then? We must clear off at once; the authorities never trouble
+about detectives, that you know very well. This one will undergo a curing
+process, with his broken head, in the river, until he is fished out.
+Meanwhile, we shall be on the other side of the frontier.”
+
+Milona entered, carrying a suit of elegant-looking clothes, a grey felt
+hat, and yellow shoes. Unceremoniously, Hans dressed himself.
+
+“The cabman is at the door. Did he see you enter?” asked Sophia.
+
+“No. I am not such a fool as to show myself to him. It was very
+convenient to come along the end of the garden, where the wall is
+conveniently low. I am returning the same way, and I would advise you, my
+children, to vacate this place as soon as possible. As you are aware, we
+are due shortly in Venice. The first who arrives will wait for the rest.
+There, I again become Major Fraser.”
+
+Placing in a leather bag his glass recipient and the folded paper, he
+shook hands with Agostini, smiled familiarly to Sophia, and disappeared
+as he had come. The Italian gave a kick at Hans’ cast-off clothes, and
+said—
+
+“Milo, all this must disappear, my child.”
+
+“In the kitchen fire,” said the Dalmatian, gravely.
+
+“And you, Sophia, what do you intend to do? You have heard what our noble
+friend has just said. In my opinion, the best thing we can do is to start
+at once.”
+
+The young woman made no reply. She passed into the salon with slow,
+steady steps, as though laboriously seeking the right form to explain her
+meaning. Sitting down, she took a cigarette, and, looking at the handsome
+Italian standing before her, said—
+
+“Yes, indeed, I do think you would do well to start off. There is no
+reason for you to stay here. As for myself, a sudden disappearance would
+excite suspicion; it would, in fact, be a very tactless thing to do.”
+
+“But will you not be suspected if you remain behind? Will no action be
+taken against you?”
+
+“I? Suspected? In what way? Who could suspect me? Have I done anything
+whatever calculated to excite mistrust? There has been no one here except
+Marcel Baradier; he alone knows me.”
+
+“But doubtless he gave you the information by the help of which Hans
+succeeded in his enterprise.”
+
+“He did certainly give it me, a couple of hours ago. The execution has
+been concomitant with the revelation, so to speak. By what miracle could
+I, who have not stirred from here, have informed the one who entered the
+laboratory, and rid himself of his spy? This latter will not speak, as he
+is dead! The laboratory will be found ransacked and in disorder. Very
+good! Have there not taken place to-day, at the works, sufficient events
+in which several rascals have been implicated, without there being any
+need to charge me with a deed so much more likely to have been wrought by
+any of them? If I leave I shall be suspected. Why have I taken to flight?
+How is it I have left no explanation of my departure? What has become of
+me? Then, afterwards, what and who am I? Whilst if I remain quietly here
+with Milona, Marcel returns, finds me serene and calm, and everything is
+safe. Is the arrangement not a good one?”
+
+Cesare smiled, and, in ironical tones, said—
+
+“Very good, indeed; too good, in fact!”
+
+Sophia frowned.
+
+“What do you mean?”
+
+Drawing near her, with subtle grace, and still bent on adopting gentle
+means, he said—
+
+“Have you no longer confidence in me, cara? Why are you trying to deceive
+me?”
+
+“In what way, may I ask?”
+
+“You are not telling me the truth. This is the first time you have played
+me false, Sophia.”
+
+She bit her lips, and turned slightly pale.
+
+“My dear Cesare, do not ask so many questions. Do as I tell you, as you
+have always done hitherto. You have never found it a bad policy, have
+you? Very well, continue as before.”
+
+“No!”
+
+This refusal rang out sharp as a lash.
+
+“Ah! Might I be permitted to know the reasons influencing you?”
+
+“They are the same as yours. You will not come with me on account of this
+young Marcel Baradier. But it is on that very account that I am bent on
+your accompanying me.”
+
+“Can you be jealous?”
+
+“I am.”
+
+“That is something quite novel; and I must confess I am greatly
+surprised!”
+
+“It is diversity of sensations which gives a charm to life!”
+
+“Then you think—”
+
+“That this fair-complexioned young fellow has pleased you more than was
+agreed upon in our programme. Now, though I was disposed to allow you to
+practice your wiles on him, in the interests of business, I no longer
+feel inclined to permit you to flirt with him for art’s sake. The play is
+over, let us drop the curtain without continuing the love scene in the
+green-room.”
+
+“You are a very practical lover, Cesare.”
+
+“Did you not know that before?”
+
+“I have been very generous to you.”
+
+“Many thanks.”
+
+“And now I intend to act as I please, and to-day I cannot obey you.”
+
+They looked at one another like two wrestlers about to come to close
+quarters. Cesare’s eyes sparkled with anger, while Sophia stood there
+calm, with lowered eyelids, as though unwilling to meet his look. The
+Italian, with an effort, controlled himself, and speaking with affected
+gaiety, said—
+
+“Come, cara, let us not quarrel. We have every possible reason to be
+indulgent with one another; have we not been acquainted so long? Tell me
+what you have resolved on. I will do all I can to further your wishes. Is
+it a week’s liberty you want? When that length of time has elapsed will
+you promise to come to Venice? _Mon Dieu_! We may well be complaisant
+with one another. I will imagine I am nothing more than the brother of
+Madame Vignola, and will bear you no ill-feeling; that I promise. Will
+that satisfy you?”
+
+She replied with a sigh—
+
+“I do not know.”
+
+“But I must know.”
+
+“How can you be so stupid, Cesare, as to speak to the Baroness Grodsko as
+you would to any other woman? One would think you had forgotten what she
+is when some fancy takes possession of her. My poor friend, I am sorry
+for you; Lichtenbach’s company must have spoiled you. You must stop
+seeing him; he has turned you into a mere bourgeois!”
+
+“You are jesting with me?”
+
+“No!”
+
+“You refuse to promise to come and rejoin me?”
+
+“When I left Zypiatine, was he ever a source of annoyance to me?”
+
+“Then you confess you wish to leave me?” exclaimed the Italian, pale with
+anger.
+
+“You will know later, my friend. At present I have not the slightest wish
+to see you again.”
+
+“Ah! Now you are speaking frankly. Do you forget that we have several
+secrets in common?”
+
+“No; nor do I forget there is no obligation for you to remember them.”
+
+“That means?”
+
+Sophia raised her eyelids, and flashed a look on Agostini which
+astonished him.
+
+“It means that if for my own safety your disappearance were necessary,
+your life would be very cheap.”
+
+“You threaten me with death?”
+
+“Fool! You are well aware that if you breathed a single word calculated
+to throw light on our enterprises, there are at least five persons who
+would kill you at once.”
+
+“But the affairs of the association are not your affairs, and you know
+that I am acquainted with the ones as well as with the others.”
+
+“Listen, Cesare; people like ourselves ought to be agreed in everything
+we do, if we wish to run no risk of ruin. The slightest discord places us
+at the mercy of our enemies. We must serve one another with the greatest
+self-sacrifice. Every selfish demand detracts from the force necessary to
+common success.”
+
+“Ah! Do you pretend to impose an apathetic indifference on people who
+live with an intensity a hundred times greater than the rest of mankind?
+You forget that I love you, and I will submit to no rivalry, Sophia.”
+
+“And how will you compel me to obey your wishes, may I ask?”
+
+“In the simplest manner imaginable. I will inform Marcel Baradier of your
+life before you gave up your whole existence to international
+investigations and diplomatic intrigues, and we shall see if his love for
+you will survive, for instance, an account of the incident of Segovia.”
+
+Sophia turned so pale that Cesare was afraid of the impression he had
+produced. Grinding her teeth, and stamping about the room like a wild
+beast at bay, she seized upon the revolver she had taken up on the
+arrival of Hans, and, levelling it at the head of the Italian, said—
+
+“Ah, you villain; never again shall you betray a single human being!”
+
+With extraordinary agility, Agostini leapt on to her, dashed her arm
+upwards, so that the shot could not reach him, and pitilessly twisting
+her beautiful white wrist, he took possession of the revolver, which he
+calmly placed in his pocket. Then looking resolutely at Sophia, he said—
+
+“Now let the dagger have a turn!”
+
+She fell into a chair.
+
+“You dog! To dare to raise your hand against me! You shall be punished
+for it.”
+
+“Good! But we cannot lose our time with such nonsense. Can it be admitted
+that the man the Countess Grodsko has chosen as her companion will submit
+to being fooled like the veriest ninny? You may hate me if you like,
+Sophia, but you shall not despise me! This is the first time we have
+tested our strength against one another, and as you see, I have not been
+found to be the weaker. Do not recommence the struggle; if you do, I
+shall treat you without the slightest gallantry?”
+
+Shaking her head, and looking at her bruised hand, she said,
+submissively—
+
+“You have hurt me, Cesare!”
+
+“Whose fault is it? Upon my word, I believe you were mad, for a moment.
+You brave me, all for the sake of this young fop! Do you know I am going
+to kill him?”
+
+“I forbid you!” said Sophia, emphatically.
+
+“I shall be delighted to obey you,” he said gallantly. “There is this
+difference between us, that I am dominated by respectful attentions
+towards you, and treat you like a sovereign, whilst you, by your language
+and your attitude, wish to reduce me to the rank of a lackey! Is that
+just?”
+
+She made no reply. He walked to and fro for a short time, then drawing
+nearer said—
+
+“Never have I seen you in such a passion before. What in the world can
+this young fellow have taught you? For the future I shall not be able to
+trust you at all, though hitherto I have had the most complete confidence
+in you! Is it possible that just now you thought of blowing out my
+brains? Afterwards, what would you have done with my body? Your Marcel
+would have arrived. He would have found the floor stained with blood, and
+my corpse lying in the middle of the salon! How would you have explained
+the matter to him? You see, Sophia, it was a fit of madness which came
+over you. And all for what? Place in the balance these love-dreams of
+yours, weigh them against the immense interests in which you have a part,
+and decide whether the former weigh down the latter? Really, women must
+at times be mad for one like yourself to give way to such acts of
+extravagance!”
+
+He gave her a side-long glance as he spoke, but the expression on her
+face did not appear to satisfy him, so he continued—
+
+“We neither have nor can have strength, unless we support one another. I
+rely on your beauty, and you ought to be proud of my skill and courage.
+Wherever we pass, it is your _rôle_ to charm and please, and mine to
+defend you. Have I ever failed in my duty? When Colonel de Bredmann, last
+year in Vienna, spoke of you in a manner you considered derogatory, did I
+hesitate to challenge him the following day, and drive six inches of cold
+steel through his throat in the Prater? I must confess that you, with
+charming generosity, enabled me to support the run of ill-luck which
+always overtook me at the club. Mutual exchange—you, of money; and
+myself, of respect. Meanwhile, we carried on our affairs. And with what
+success? Do you remember? Was it not better than quarrelling? Come,
+Sophia, don’t look so gloomy; I know your feelings are bitter, but don’t
+let them be more bitter than my own. Diavolo! Wake up and speak. Give me
+an answer.”
+
+Appearing to shake off the feeling of numbness which had come over her,
+she once more looked at her reddened fingers, and said, with a strange
+smile—
+
+“Very well! Order, since it is you who are the master!”
+
+With displeased air, he replied—
+
+“No! Don’t adopt such an attitude! Now you are acting the part of a
+resigned victim! You must act according to your own free will and
+pleasure. I think I have proved to your satisfaction that you are turning
+your back on the right path, and that it is time to turn round. Am I not
+right?”
+
+“One is never right when one is the stronger!”
+
+“That is a woman’s reply. Well, Sophia, I am very sorry, but I will not
+assume this advantage of imposing on you any resolution whatever. I leave
+you free to do as you wish. Stay or go as you like. For my part, I must
+go; I do not feel inclined to let myself be caught in this house like a
+fox in a poultry-yard. I will give you ten minutes while you make up your
+mind and prepare your luggage. I will smoke a cigarette in the garden.
+Decide your future for yourself.”
+
+He left the room. A flash of hate shone in Sophia’s eyes. She arose, gave
+a sigh of despair, and then murmured—
+
+“He is right!”
+
+She called for Milona. The servant appeared.
+
+“The trunk at once. We are leaving,” she said briefly.
+
+“Good, madame.”
+
+Sophia sat down before a small desk, took up a sheet of writing-paper
+edged with black, and wrote—
+
+    “MY DEAR MARCEL,
+
+    “When you return to the villa I shall no longer be here to receive
+    you. My brother, to whom I have been denounced by some person
+    unknown, has arrived in a passion, and is taking me far away. Never
+    try to see me again. Keep the remembrance of my kisses ever fresh in
+    your heart. I am carrying off the delicious flavour of yours on my
+    lips. Good-bye.
+
+                                             “Yours with life-long regret,
+                                                                 “ANETTA.”
+
+Sealing the envelope, she placed it in full view on the table of the
+salon, and, after looking all around, she went out into the small garden.
+Cesare was walking to and fro, along the alley, where she had spent so
+many hours by Marcel’s side. She sighed deeply. But her mind was made up,
+and she was not a woman to draw back.
+
+“Well?” asked the Italian.
+
+“Well, you have convinced me; I will accompany you.”
+
+“Very good. Now you are yourself again. It was only a momentary weakness
+which came over you.”
+
+“Indeed, I was mad,” she said, mockingly. “Just think, I was in love with
+this young Baradier.”
+
+“That I can well understand,” he conceded graciously. “He is a charming
+young fellow. But everything comes to an end. And since, thanks to this
+intrigue, you have obtained the result so ardently followed up by Hans,
+the only thing we can now do is to quit. And that is what you are now
+doing, with your usual good sense. Just now you surprised me, I must
+confess, by your resistance. This is the first time I have ever seen you
+sentimental. This fit of idyllic tenderness seemed quite incomprehensible
+to me. Now, can you explain to me what has taken place?”
+
+“Oh! It is very simple. In this young Marcel I found a love and affection
+at once simple and disinterested, quite refreshing. It seemed as though I
+were in a thirsty desert, and came upon a limpid spring, at which no one
+had drunk previously. I stopped at the edge, looked into the crystal
+water, and the reflected image was so different from myself, that I stood
+there astonished and delighted. I thought I was about to find tranquil
+rest, and a delightful regeneration, and cease being the Sophia who had
+gone through so many adventures, to become a simple harmless woman in the
+eyes of a love-stricken swain. Perhaps my mouth would forget its lying,
+and my eyes their deceit and fascination! What a dream! And how near
+realization! What unexpected happiness, ruined in a moment by your
+reappearance. Ah! I have cursed you, Cesare, and Hans as well! But what
+can I do, how can I tear myself away from my destiny? It was the height
+of madness for me to think that a sincere love could unfold in my heart,
+as though a wild floweret of the open fields could spring up in a marsh!
+Come, let us think no more of all this. Society shall pay the price of my
+disillusion!”
+
+“Now you are speaking sensibly. But all you have been telling me is most
+deplorably romantic. To think of your settling down in a village like the
+Dame aux Camelias to live on new-laid eggs with Armand Duval! How
+ridiculous! Ah! Here is Milona with your hat and cloak.”
+
+“Ask the coachman to mount the luggage.”
+
+Sophia, apparently impassive, watched her trunk and bags change position.
+As Cesare stood at the garden-gate calling her, she looked around for the
+last time, raised her hands to her lips, and to all she associated with
+Marcel—green trees, forms on which they had sat, birds that had sung
+above their heads, sky which had shone on their happiness—she sent a
+rapid kiss.
+
+“Are you ready?” asked the Italian.
+
+“Here I am.”
+
+“We will not leave by Ars, the town is in too great a commotion. This
+worthy coachman will drive us to Saint-Savine, where we will take the
+express for Paris.”
+
+“As you like.”
+
+“Come along, then, quick!”
+
+She mounted the open carriage. Milona took up a position opposite her
+mistress. A lash of the whip, a sound of bells, and at the turn of the
+road everything was out of view.
+
+It was four o’clock when Uncle Graff, after arranging for the search for
+Laforêt, and giving orders for the management of the works, in short
+arranging for whatever was absolutely pressing, came for his nephew to go
+with him to the Villa de la Cavée. Baudoin, with a trusty revolver in his
+pocket, went on in front as a scout. Marcel and his uncle followed, a
+hundred yards behind. The excitement of the struggle and danger was now
+past, and they were beginning to examine the position more coolly.
+
+It was not a brilliant one. The boldness and violence of their enemies
+had been manifested with too few precautions, for the utmost excesses
+were to be dreaded at their hands in case the struggle were continued.
+Now, at this moment, they appeared to be on the point of triumph. They
+had just obtained possession of the scientific treasure, the commercial
+application of which would assure them an enormous fortune. How exultant
+they must feel, accordingly! But then, on the other hand, how
+disconcerted they would be on attempting to utilize the stolen formula!
+As Marcel had said, to obtain the explosive in its full power, and with
+its special destructive qualities, a particular manipulation, a twist of
+the hand, so to speak, discovered by General de Trémont, was necessary.
+They might try to apply the formula; but if they did not know how to
+handle the different doses, their hopes would fail of realization. Now
+the thief-assassin, who had found his way into the laboratory, had
+carried off the precious document, but would it not remain utterly
+worthless, like the golden crown in the legend, which changed into a dry
+leaf?
+
+Uncle Graff was meditating on all this as he walked by Marcel’s side. He
+said nothing to the young man. What was the use? It was also certain that
+the villains, bent as they were on obtaining the secret, had already
+killed two men and set fire to the works to accomplish their object.
+Granting that they had once more failed, would they not recommence the
+struggle, and purchase victory at the cost of no matter what sacrifices?
+Under these conditions there was no drawing back; they must risk much to
+try and check an offensive return, and not hesitate in case the unknown
+beauty were an accomplice in the crimes already committed; it must be
+their object to keep her in view, question her, and if need be, deliver
+her into the hands of justice in order to try and throw light on this
+dark and dangerous affair.
+
+They reached the wood, and, the house being no more than a hundred yards
+distant, Baudoin, who had waited for them, said—
+
+“I will go all round the garden, and bear off in the direction of the
+wood, so that, if any one tries to escape, I may be able to cut off his
+retreat.”
+
+“No,” said Marcel. “Let us remain together.”
+
+Just at that moment an old woman appeared before them, dragging a faggot
+of decayed wood.
+
+She smiled with her toothless mouth, and, stopping to take breath, said—
+
+“Is it the young lady of the villa you want to see? If so—”
+
+“Well?” said Marcel.
+
+“You will not find her here. An hour ago she went away in a cab with all
+her luggage, in the direction of Sainte-Savine. Cacheu, of the Lion d’Or,
+drove the cab himself.”
+
+“Gone?” exclaimed Marcel, stupefied.
+
+“So it seems,” said Uncle Graff. “The _coup_ is effected.”
+
+“Impossible!”
+
+“Poor young man! His walks with the young lady were very agreeable,”
+muttered the old woman.
+
+She shook her head, encircled with a kerchief, accepted the two-franc
+piece Uncle Graff slipped into her hand, and walked slowly away, in the
+direction of the town, dragging her faggot along the road.
+
+Marcel had already entered the villa. On the threshold his heart seemed
+almost to stop beating. The door remained open, as though, in the hurry
+of flight, they had not had time to close it, or rather, as though she
+had left nothing behind worth keeping. Crossing the garden, he entered
+the hall, and called—
+
+“Milona! Anetta!”
+
+No reply came; nothing but silence and darkness. Entering the salon, he
+saw a letter lying on the table. Tearing it open, he rapidly ran over the
+contents, sat down to read it once more, finally understood it, and sat
+there, with bowed head and throbbing brow, as though in the presence of a
+terrible disaster. There Uncle Graff found him. He had gone over the
+whole house, and acquired the certainty that it was abandoned. Baudoin
+was seated in the garden. Seeing his nephew’s anguish and the pallor of
+his countenance, the old man’s heart melted; he placed his hand
+affectionately on the young man’s head, softly stroked his hair, and
+seeing the letter pressed between his passive fingers, asked—
+
+“Has she written to you?”
+
+At these words, simple though they were, his fugitive love seemed almost
+reinstated in his eyes, as he felt that she had not forgotten him, and
+Marcel burst into sobs as he silently held out the paper and hid his face
+in his hands. Uncle Graff drew near the window and read the letter, after
+which he stood there in a reverie. Marcel, regaining possession of
+himself to defend the one he loved, finally rose from his seat, and said
+in supplicating accents—
+
+“Uncle Graff, is this the letter of a woman who lies? Do not her protests
+appear sincere to you? Has she the faintest complicity in the crimes
+committed? Do you accuse her of having deceived me? Is she not rather a
+victim undergoing a rigorous tyranny at the hands of the very monsters
+who threaten us? This letter, Uncle Graff, this letter—does it not
+breathe despair in every line? Is it not a confirmation of her love for
+me?”
+
+“The letter appears to be sincere,” said the old man, calmly. “I cannot
+but recognize that grief is evident in every word, and that the one who
+wrote it was evidently acting under compulsion when she left the house.
+That is a proof that she loves you, and regrets your absence. But is that
+a proof that she is not guilty, and the accomplice of the rest?”
+
+“Oh, Uncle Graff, do you think it possible?”
+
+“I do, and I am afraid it is so, my dear Marcel, and that would be more
+serious than anything else, for, if this woman loves you—and how could
+she help loving you, my dear child, once she knows you—ah, if this woman
+loves you, my anxiety will become greater than ever. For she might try to
+see you again, and then—”
+
+A light of hope illumined Marcel’s face.
+
+“Ah, if only that could be!”
+
+“Marcel, you see what grounds I had for fear. At the very thought of
+seeing her again you at once become radiant with joy. And yet she is a
+rascal, there is not the slightest doubt of it. I will not dispute her
+charms, since she has obtained such control over you; but she is very
+dangerous all the same, for, in short, suppose she were the woman of
+Vanves?”
+
+“Impossible!”
+
+“Do not say impossible. You know nothing about it. These women, you see,
+are terrible creatures. In matters like the one now engaging our
+attention they are a kind of female Proteus, capable of assuming all
+forms, even the most diverse and disconcerting, to deceive their enemies
+and allay suspicion. Cosmopolitan adventuresses, living on human folly;
+spies, on the track of State secrets; corruptresses, sufficiently
+fascinating to obtain the mastery over all consciences. You are aware
+that these women are insinuating and of plausible manners, generally very
+beautiful. And this one—”
+
+“Oh! No, no!”
+
+Uncle Graff insisted authoritatively.
+
+“This one, very clever and dangerous, more dangerous than the rest, even,
+has played her _rôle_ with you, whilst satisfying her caprice at the same
+time. Come, Marcel, be reasonable; do not blind yourself. Why was the man
+of Vanves concealed here? Why have the powders been removed from the
+laboratory, and why is the house deserted, now that the burglary is
+accomplished? It is not a mere departure, it is a flight. Consider the
+rapidity and suddenness of the resolution reached. This morning only she
+had no thought of it, or, rather, in that case she deceived you, since
+she said nothing about it, and was to receive you to-night. Crime and
+duplicity are manifest everywhere. You have been deceived by words of
+tenderness, whilst the others, her accomplices, were stealing and
+murdering.”
+
+Marcel gave a movement expressive of anger.
+
+“If only I had the proof of this!”
+
+Uncle Graff looked at him fixedly.
+
+“Well, what would you do?”
+
+“Ah! I would have my revenge, that I swear! All my love would turn into
+hate. If my heart has been deceived with lying words, I would tear it out
+of my breast, rather than cherish a poisoned love! If that woman was not
+a victim, she would be a monster. And, by what I hold most sacred in
+existence, I would punish her!”
+
+The old man looked at his nephew with considerable satisfaction.
+
+“Oh! _Mon Dieu_! We don’t ask you to do that! Simply forget her. Above
+all, make up your mind not to fall into her toils again, if ever you meet
+her.”
+
+At that moment the door opened, and Baudoin appeared. Holding a book in
+his hand, he approached mysteriously, and said—
+
+“It is useful to make a thorough search. One can never examine too well.”
+
+He laughed as he spoke and held the book aloft—
+
+“Had I done nothing but cast a careless glance over the lady’s
+bed-chamber, I should not have found this.”
+
+“What is it?” asked Graff.
+
+“A book—a simple book.”
+
+Marcel took it up, looked at the title, and said—
+
+“Yes, it is a book she has been reading lately.”
+
+“Oh! the book in itself signifies nothing,” said Baudoin. “It had fallen
+down by the side of the bed nearest the wall. In a hurry of departure she
+did not see it, and it was left there. But there was something between
+these leaves.”
+
+Baudoin took between his fingers a piece of paper, and showed it to his
+masters.
+
+“This envelope, torn in two, and folded to serve as a book-mark. To whom
+does it belong, if not to the one who has been making use of it? Now on
+the folded part, there is a line of writing and an address.”
+
+“An address?”
+
+“Look!”
+
+He handed the paper to Marcel, and on the small band, concealed by the
+folding, the young man read aloud the name: “Madame la Baronne Grodsko.”
+The bottom of the envelope, on which was doubtless written the street,
+number and town, had disappeared. On the top, however, a large stamp
+contained the postmark: “Wien, April 18.”
+
+The rest was effaced.
+
+“Baroness Grodsko,” repeated Marcel. “But her name was Anetta Vignola.”
+
+“Ah!” said Uncle Graff; “these women change their names as easily as
+their dresses. She has only kept this envelope from the most incredible
+and imprudent carelessness. And how is it this letter, which came from
+Vienna a fortnight ago, is now here? It must have been forwarded under
+another envelope to the name and address she assumed here!”
+
+Baudoin then remarked—
+
+“Perhaps I may be permitted to state that the woman who called on my
+master on the night of the crime was addressed by him as Baronne—”
+
+Marcel turned pale.
+
+“True,” he murmured, in a low tone. “But what relation is there between
+Anetta Vignola and the Baroness Grodsko?”
+
+“That is what we must discover, for it is the clue which may guide us
+through the darkness in which we are now groping. Courage, my child; if
+this woman is the same who has committed such infamous actions—”
+
+“Ah! Uncle Graff, in that case I should feel no pity whatever for her.”
+
+The uncle shook his nephew’s hand, in sympathetic approval.
+
+“Now, there is nothing more for us to do here. The house has delivered up
+to us part of its secret. The rest we must seek elsewhere.”
+
+The three men went out into the garden, after carefully closing the
+doors, and slowly returned to Ars.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+LICHTENBACH was sitting in his study, listening to young Vernot, his
+broker, who was speaking with the utmost volubility.
+
+“Baradier and Graff will not long be able to maintain their position on
+the Explosives now. It has already been remarked at the Bourse that they
+have not reduced their stock. The coming liquidation will be a decisive
+one; or else they will remain firm; then what a bankruptcy it will be! Or
+they may sell everything. What a fall that will mean!”
+
+A faint smile came over the banker’s lips.
+
+“I should like to see that!”
+
+“_Man Dieu_! My dear master, I cannot conceal from you the fact that, in
+business circles they say it is a duel between the firm of Baradier and
+Graff and the firm of Lichtenbach. One of the two will go under.”
+
+“I know it; but I have no fear.”
+
+“I have negotiated this affair for you, so I know our mode of action.
+Hitherto it has been an admirable one. To sum up in a word, you have sold
+what the Baradiers have bought.”
+
+“Yes, my friend, and I have their money, as they have my vouchers. Now,
+Vernot, be wideawake as to what is about to happen. The explosives, which
+are now at their highest price, will rapidly fall to the very lowest.”
+
+“Are you sure?”
+
+“Absolutely certain.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Because a rival company is being formed, which is in possession of the
+patents of a product destined to replace, within a very short time, all
+the mining powders and other dynamites hitherto employed, and which will
+cost fifty per cent. less in commerce. What do you say to that?”
+
+“It will be a crushing blow!”
+
+“You are right. Read my journal to-night; it will contain the first
+article of a series destined to set forth before the world this new
+discovery. In two months from now I wish to see Baradier and Graff
+bankrupt!”
+
+“Oh, they have a long purse to draw on,”
+
+“We shall see about that.”
+
+“So now you engage me to sell?”
+
+“From to-morrow sell as fast as you can. There will be a gain of five
+hundred francs per share. You will see the movement begin. All my
+personal orders will be executed on foreign Exchanges. Profit by this
+opportunity.”
+
+“I shall not be likely to forget.”
+
+“Now go. My daughter is expecting me, and I am punctual in my habits.”
+
+“My dear master, many thanks, and my respectful compliments.”
+
+The stockbroker left the room. Lichtenbach did not even rise from his
+seat to accompany him to the door. He was thinking. From Venice a letter
+had reached him which, on the one hand, caused him great satisfaction,
+and, on the other, brought him a certain amount of uneasiness. Sophia
+Grodsko had written to him: “The war powder is a triumphant success.
+Experiments made at Spezzia and Trieste have given prodigious results
+with marine cannons. Plates of Siemens steel a foot thick are pierced
+like sheets of paper. We have received two million francs, the rest will
+come afterwards. The affair is big with magnificent results. Things are
+not progressing so well with the commerce powder. Hans has been at work
+for the last fortnight at Swalbach with Prunier, from Zurich. He has been
+disappointed. All the attempts have been unsatisfactory. They have
+manipulated the product in different manners, but no result has been
+obtained. The explosive is worth no more than dynamite. True it is not so
+dear, but we are far from what we hoped, and from what must actually be
+the case. There must be some secret or other in the fabrication of the
+powder unknown to us. Hans is trying to find it, and has not abandoned
+all hopes of doing so. But, up to the present, fiasco. Don’t be
+discouraged, but thank me for telling you the exact truth. Agostini sends
+you his best wishes, and informs you that you will shortly receive your
+brevet of baron.”
+
+Lichtenbach growled.
+
+“Baron! That will be of some use to me, indeed, if this affair fails.”
+
+Rising, he gave a gesture of defiance.
+
+“It will not fail! Hans is a skilful chemist. He will find out the
+secret. Besides, if need be I will retrace my steps. They will not catch
+me so easily, altogether unprepared.”
+
+He smiled. His daughter entered the room. She was no longer the little
+schoolgirl, dressed in the blue convent robe, but an elegant and graceful
+Parisienne. The banker looked at her with considerable satisfaction.
+
+“Are you ready?”
+
+“Yes, father. It was agreed we should start at four o’clock.”
+
+“And where are you taking me?”
+
+“To the Charity Bazaar in favour of the Alsace-Lorraine orphans. You must
+come.”
+
+“I might have sent a cheque.”
+
+“But I must be there. Madame Sainte-Alix has charge of a stall, along
+with several of my old school companions. I promised to be there.”
+
+“Well, let us start.”
+
+They set off. The sale took place in the Agricultural Hall of France. All
+over the walls hung groups of flags, whilst above a verdant groove stood
+a marble bust representing Alsace, with a mourning sash flung across the
+breast. The wife of a Deputy from the Vosges, surrounded by a group of
+ladies belonging to official circles, performed the honours. A large
+double sofa occupied the middle of the room, between two rows of stalls,
+in which the most aristocratic families of Alsace and Lorraine were
+represented by white haired grandmothers who had never been willing to
+acknowledge the conquest of these two lost provinces, and elegant young
+ladies, smiling and careless, educated or born in exile, and finding
+France beautiful, and life pleasant, even though it were passed far from
+their native soil.
+
+Lichtenbach and Marianne were warmly received immediately they entered
+the room. Here the financier’s prestige and the influence of the journal
+proprietor could be exercised in uninterrupted sovereignty. Nothing but
+smiles on every side. The more republican one’s opinions, the more
+unctuous was the respect lavished on Lichtenbach, the reactionary.
+Marianne, timid and anxious, was looking for the stall presided over by
+Madame Sainte-Alix.
+
+A young attendant, anxious to serve so rich an heiress, placed himself
+under the young girl’s orders, and Marianne passed through the crowd of
+buyers and sellers until she reached the stall where her old companions
+were selling children’s clothing at five times its real value, and that
+without the slightest difficulty. Geneviève de Trémont, dressed in
+mourning, presided over the hosiery department. After exchanging a
+friendly greeting she asked—
+
+“Are you all alone?”
+
+“Oh no. My father has stayed behind for a moment to speak to the wife of
+a Senator.”
+
+“He is going to leave you here for some time?”
+
+“I do not know. Perhaps it would not be convenient for him to return for
+me.”
+
+Turning towards the nun presiding at the cash-box, she said—
+
+“Are you pleased with the result of your sales, madame?”
+
+“We have made three thousand francs since noon, my child. But it will
+soon be five o’clock. In an hour everything will be over. We have still a
+third of our stock left.”
+
+“Very well. Send me everything you have not sold to-night,” said the
+young girl, simply.
+
+“Ah, my child, how grateful I feel to you. But what will your father
+think?”
+
+Mademoiselle Lichtenbach smiled calmly.
+
+“My father? He never opposes my wishes. Besides, I am rich.”
+
+She exhibited a purse full of gold.
+
+“And, if that is not sufficient, papa will make me an advance.”
+
+“Ha, look in front!” said Geneviève de Trémont. “There is Amélie at the
+stall of Madame Baradier.”
+
+Marianne blushed. She remembered what her father had said regarding their
+quarrels with the Baradiers and Graffs, and felt considerably embarrassed
+in consequence. What kind of relations could be set up between these
+hostile families? Suddenly the smiling face of Marcel Baradier awoke in
+her memory. The hostility of the parents could not bind the children,
+since he had so graciously received Lichtenbach’s daughter when she had
+called at the Rue de Provènce. Turning her eyes in the direction of
+Geneviève, she recognized the one of whom she was thinking, near the
+counter where Madame Baradier and Amélie were selling. He smiled as he
+talked to an old man who was purchasing a porcelain vase of a very ugly
+pattern. After the bargain was struck he took it from his hands, placed
+it gaily back again on to the stall, and said, in tones sufficiently loud
+to be heard by Marianne—
+
+“This is the third time, Uncle Graff, that we have sold it, and it has
+been left behind. People don’t object to paying for it, but it is so
+frightful that no one will decide to carry it off.”
+
+The old man put back his purse into his pocket and said—
+
+“Now, where is the stall of Mademoiselle de Trémont?”
+
+“We will go there together. The very thing you want, uncle. _Trousseau_
+and baby linen. Indispensable for bachelors!”
+
+“You rogue!”
+
+They crossed the room. Suddenly Marcel became very grave; he had
+recognized Mademoiselle Lichtenbach. She, too, had seen him approach,
+and, trembling, had not had the courage to look him in the face. Uncle
+Graff, with his usual good nature, said—
+
+“Well, Mademoiselle Geneviève, what are you going to sell me? Children’s
+hoods? How much a dozen?”
+
+“Sixty francs, as it is you, Monsieur Graff. And you can leave them with
+us if you like.”
+
+“Certainly. It would be too much trouble to carry them all off.”
+
+“What you leave us we will give to the Sainte-Enfance institution. After
+you have finished, if there is anything which remains one of our friends
+has promised to buy it up.”
+
+“Who is she?”
+
+“Mademoiselle Marianne Lichtenbach.”
+
+Graff started. His face changed expression, and he said—
+
+“The daughter of—”
+
+As he took a step backwards he heard a gentle voice say—
+
+“On the ground of charity there are no enemies, only competitors as to
+who shall do the most good.”
+
+“You are quite right, mademoiselle,” replied the old man, with a bow.
+“And I will immediately put your precept into practice.”
+
+Leaning towards the nun, he asked calmly—
+
+“How much for the contents of the stall?”
+
+“My dear sir,” stammered Madame Sainte-Alix, astonished.
+
+“Is two thousand francs enough?”
+
+“Oh, that’s nothing! I will give four thousand!”
+
+And Count Cesare Agostini, smiling and elegant, appeared by the side of
+Mademoiselle Lichtenbach.
+
+“Our father has sent me to you, mademoiselle,” he said, with a bow. “He
+will be here in a moment, and, really, he would not have tolerated that
+_any_ one should rob you of the honour of your generosity at so moderate
+a price.”
+
+Glancing around at those present, and recognizing Marcel he affected a
+joyful surprise.
+
+“Ah! Monsieur Baradier! I am delighted to meet you. We have had a great
+deal of trouble since last I saw you. I heard all about it on my return
+to call for my sister. I greatly regretted not being able to stay and
+tell you how sorry we felt for you. You were so kind and gracious to us
+in that quiet country place.”
+
+He spoke without the slightest hesitation, and with a boldness which
+stupefied Marcel. As he looked at Agostini he wondered whether he were
+not dreaming—whether this calm, phlegmatic person speaking to him at this
+charity bazaar in the heart of Paris, without even thinking of escape,
+was indeed the man he suspected of having mystified him at Ars, of being,
+doubtless, the accomplice of murderers and incendiaries; at the very
+least in collusion with this enigmatical woman whose memory still filled
+his heart. He listened with astonishment, and replied—
+
+“And your sister, Madame Vignola?”
+
+“Ah! Poor Anetta!” interrupted Cesare. “She is at Venice, engaged in
+troublesome family affairs. But she will probably come to Paris this
+summer to assist at my marriage.”
+
+“Ah! You are about to be married, Count?”
+
+“Yes, M. Lichtenbach has given his consent at last.”
+
+This news of the marriage of Agostini into the Lichtenbach family
+produced an electric effect. Marcel immediately regained full possession
+of his faculties.
+
+Looking at the Italian from head to foot, he said ironically—
+
+“Ah! you are about to enter the family of M. Lichtenbach. It was to be,
+and it would have been a pity could it not have taken place!”
+
+“I do not understand very well,” replied Cesare.
+
+“Yes, you understand perfectly. And if you wish further information ask
+for it from your sister.”
+
+“These are strange words,” said the Italian, arrogantly.
+
+“Every one does as well as he can; all men have not the privilege of
+being strange in their actions.”
+
+Agostini was about to reply, and the two men stood threateningly in front
+of one another, when a hand was laid on the Italian’s arm, and the voice
+of Mademoiselle Lichtenbach was heard saying—
+
+“Monsieur le Comte, will you come this way, please? My father is looking
+for you.”
+
+Cesare gave Marcel a defiant glance. Then, turning with flattering
+humility to the young girl, he said—
+
+“Your slightest wish shall be obeyed, mademoiselle. But I shall see this
+gentleman again, and—”
+
+“I forbid you!”
+
+“Very good.”
+
+Lichtenbach came up to them. He passed in front of Graff, without
+appearing to see him.
+
+“What is this they are telling me, Count?” he said, addressing Agostini.
+“You have been bidding up to four thousand francs for the contents of
+this stall? What a trifling sum! You must have had some very sorry
+competitors against you!”
+
+An expression of disdain came over his face as he looked round on Marcel
+and Uncle Graff.
+
+“Formerly my opponents were more tenacious. The struggle for gold has
+considerably cooled them down.”
+
+Turning towards the nun he wrote a few lines on a piece of paper, saying—
+
+“Here, madame, is a cheque for ten thousand francs.”
+
+“What shall I give you in return?” asked Madame Sainte-Alix, stupefied.
+
+“Your prayers,” said Elias, humbly.
+
+A group had formed round the stall, and a murmur of approving admiration
+reached the ears of Lichtenbach. Agostini exclaimed, with emphasis—
+
+“This is a magnificent gift!”
+
+“Come along, my daughter,” said Elias.
+
+Marianne kissed Geneviève de Trémont, and, lowering her head, so as not
+to see Marcel, followed her father and Agostini. As she passed in front
+of Graff she heard him say—
+
+“Ten thousand francs’ worth of prayers! At a franc per villainous trick
+he has committed he loses nothing!”
+
+The old man had not time to further exhibit his bad temper, for Marcel
+interrupted him—
+
+“Not so loud, Uncle Graff; his daughter might hear you. Poor child; it is
+not her fault!”
+
+Marianne felt sad at heart, and, more afflicted at the nephew’s
+humiliating indulgence towards herself than at his uncle’s scorn for her
+father, she left the room.
+
+Since his return to Paris, Marcel had been restored to the good graces of
+M. Baradier. Graff’s story of the conflagration at the works, and the
+rescue effected by his nephew, had touched the old man’s heart. The
+danger incurred by his brother-in-law, Cardez, and Baudoin, had made him
+quiver with anxiety; the intervention of his son at the critical moment,
+when even the bravest among the workmen drew back from the danger, had
+aroused his enthusiasm. He had taken Marcel in his arms, and said to
+Madame Baradier and Amélie, who were sitting there in tears—
+
+“You seem quite astonished. Did you think this child, on account of a few
+silly escapades, was not a fine and brave fellow, after all? For my part
+I was sure, if the opportunity occurred, he would act as nobly as he has
+done! It is because I knew what he was capable of that I treated him
+harshly when he went astray. But, after all, he is a Baradier!”
+
+The same evening, alone with his wife, he said—
+
+“Indeed, I am very well pleased with Marcel. Graff has told me things
+concerning him which have touched me very much. I am beginning to hope
+that, once the passion and giddiness of youth is over, he will turn out a
+remarkable man. All he lacks is a certain amount of order. But that will
+come in time. He is both intelligent and warm-hearted. Now, it is time he
+thought of marrying.”
+
+“He is only twenty-five years of age.”
+
+“The very best age imaginable. One’s happiness in life is assured when
+one finds a good partner and marries young, as I did. What kind of
+attitude does he show with regard to Geneviève?”
+
+“He treats her like a sister, neither more nor less.”
+
+“Not the slightest sign of flirtation?”
+
+“I believe she has a faint liking for him, but I know nothing about his
+feelings for her.”
+
+“Ask Amélie a few discreet questions.”
+
+“I will think of it.”
+
+Marcel’s mind was occupied with things entirely different. He thought of
+everything except marriage. His return home appeared very pleasant, for
+he was very fond of his parents. Perhaps the exile’s son, more than
+another, possessed a liking for home. He had so often heard his father
+and uncle regret the old home at Metz, their friends and customs of
+former times, that the bonds which attached him to his father’s house
+were very strong, and when away from them all something essential seemed
+to be lacking in his life. Doubtless this something was his father’s
+affectionate chiding and his mother’s consoling smile.
+
+Since his return he spent almost the whole of his time out of the office;
+went out very little at nights, and worked away at a task known to no one
+except Uncle Graff. M. Baradier, greatly troubled at the turn of events
+the Explosives had taken, expressed his anxiety to no one but his
+partner. Uncle Graff, however, calmly replied—
+
+“We must keep wide-awake, but we need not exaggerate the danger.
+Everything will come out right in the end, that I am sure of.”
+
+“Eh! Do you expect a miracle?” murmured Baradier. “These Explosives
+shares continue to go down, in spite of all our efforts. Yesterday there
+was a rumour out on the Bourse that a patent had just been taken, in
+Germany, England, and France, by an Englishman named Dalgetty, for some
+marvellous powder or other superior to dynamite. They go so far as to
+state that this substance is so manageable and harmless, in spite of its
+destructive power, that they expect to make use of it for engine power.
+That would mean the suppression of steam, gas and petroleum. A complete
+revolution. If a quarter of all this is true we are ruined! Doubtless it
+is an application of Trémont’s formulæ, and Dalgetty is the dummy of the
+villains who stole them.”
+
+“Possibly,” murmured Graff, calmly.
+
+“And you can find nothing else to say?” exclaimed Baradier, furiously.
+“You resign yourself to all this robbery and murder?”
+
+“No; I am simply waiting for the Dalgetty powder in use. It may be the
+Trémont explosive, but then, on the other hand, it may be something
+entirely different, and in that case worth nothing at all.”
+
+“But suppose we are ruined in the meantime?”
+
+“We shall obtain the upper hand in the long run.”
+
+“But it is this villain of a Lichtenbach who is leading the campaign
+against us. This is what I am informed from both London and Brussels.”
+
+“Give him his head. The farther he goes the greater will be his fall.”
+
+“I should like to know the cause of your confidence.”
+
+“It is Marcel, your son, who is stronger in himself, than Trémont,
+yourself, myself, and all the others. You will see.”
+
+“But, after all, cannot you tell me?”
+
+“No, I will say nothing. Let Dalgetty go ahead, and the shares continue
+to lower. Above all else, do not sell. He laughs best who laughs last.”
+
+The calm assurance of Uncle Graff had its due impression on Baradier at
+the time. But afterwards, in his study, in front of his correspondence,
+which brought him nothing but bad news, fear again took possession of
+him. He was aware that Marcel was working hard. He saw him start every
+morning for the laboratory of the Arts-et-Métiers. But what was he
+engaged in? Doubtless some improvement of the Trémont powder; perhaps
+simply the exact doses of the products. How could he prove, after all,
+that he knew the dosing, which was the General’s invention? And Baradier,
+red and excited, would take up his hat and go out for a walk, to avoid a
+congestion.
+
+At night, when they were dining, he again saw Marcel in the salon, seated
+between his mother and sister, or playing the piano with Geneviève de
+Trémont. He was an excellent musician, this son on whom Nature had
+lavished such gifts. And Uncle Graff, a passionate melomaniac, lay
+stretched out in an armchair, listening, in delighted ecstasy, to some
+_lied_ of Schubert or a concerto by Schumann. He pointed out to Baradier,
+who had entered the room on tip-toe, the charming picture of these two
+young people playing duets together, and murmured—
+
+“What a fine couple. She is dark; he is fair. Perfect match. And as their
+fortune—the General’s powder.”
+
+“Nothing but smoke!” growled Baradier.
+
+“No, it does not give any,” laughed Uncle Graff.
+
+In his partner’s feeling of security, though he was mistrustful enough in
+business matters, there was a kind of unconsciousness which astonished
+Baradier. Evidently Marcel was preparing something extraordinary, which
+Graff was well aware of and which promised to have extraordinary results.
+But what was it? Besides, with rascals who went about everywhere carrying
+into action their murderous plans, under the indulgent regard of the
+Government, was one sure of anything? Accordingly he fumed and raged, but
+that in itself was something, and kept him occupied.
+
+Baudoin, on his part, had not remained inactive. His first visit had been
+to Colonel Vallenot. He had found him at the War Office, busily engaged
+on a question the Minister was to receive from a socialist Deputy, who
+complained that anarchist journals were not permitted in barracks. How
+could the people be educated if the soldier were refused the right of
+knowing why it was his duty to despise his superiors? The good Colonel
+had bristled up like a wild boar. Only the night before he had been
+abused by his superior, who, greatly worried, himself, had passed on his
+ill-temper to the other, and so it descended from grade to grade right
+down to the concierge. The latter had given a drubbing to his dog, which
+had been at a loss to understand the reason for this treatment. It was
+the only difference between the animal and the functionaries.
+
+“What is it you want?” growled Colonel Vallenot to Baudoin, as he
+saluted. “To see the Minister? Well, you are lucky. If you go in there I
+will not guarantee your safe exit. And, then, what is it you want to tell
+him? That the agent he had placed at your disposal has disappeared? It is
+now three weeks since we heard from him.”
+
+“I have brought you news of him.”
+
+“Ah! What is the matter?”
+
+“He is dead.”
+
+“The deuce! How did that happen!”
+
+“He has been killed.”
+
+“Who has killed him?”
+
+“The same who killed General de Trémont.”
+
+“What was his object?”
+
+“The same as before—to obtain possession of my master’s secrets.”
+
+“Was he successful?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“So now he is in possession of the powder formula?”
+
+“He is.”
+
+“Well, this is a fine business. We suspected something of the kind, for
+we have received notice from abroad that experiments have been made with
+smokeless powder of extraordinary power.”
+
+“That is the one.”
+
+Colonel Vallenot had forgotten all about the Deputy’s question. He pulled
+and twisted his moustache furiously. Finally he asked—
+
+“When was poor Laforêt murdered?”
+
+“Nearly a fortnight ago. But it was only later that we had the proof of
+his death. The poor fellow had been flung into the river, and the current
+had carried him into a millrace. He remained several days fastened to
+some piles under water, and it is only just recently that his body
+mounted to the surface. It was taken out, recognized, and buried as was
+fitting for an old soldier and an honest man. Now he is lying under the
+green turf of the cemetery of Ars.”
+
+“And his murderers?”
+
+“Ah, that is what I have come to speak to the Minister about. I know the
+villains.”
+
+Vallenot sat upright.
+
+“Those spies! You know who they are?”
+
+“And you, also, Colonel, without doubt, for this is not their first
+attempt. The Minister, before now, has had a crow to pick with them. They
+are professionals in treason!”
+
+The Colonel rose, and, with changed expression, said—
+
+“Ah! Here, at any rate, is something which will distract him! I will risk
+entering his room without being summoned. Yes, it is possible such news
+may restore him to good humour again. Wait for me here.”
+
+Opening a door, he left the room. Baudoin, standing near the
+mantel-piece, stood there a few minutes ‘attentively listening to the hum
+of voices which proceeded from the next room; then suddenly the door
+opened, and a voice called—
+
+“Baudoin!”
+
+The old soldier advanced, and, on reaching the threshold of the study, he
+saw the Minister standing there, a frown on his face, which was even
+redder than usual.
+
+“Come in!” he said.
+
+Baudoin entered. The General, who wore a black frock-coat and grey
+trousers, was striding to and fro. Vallenot stood waiting in the
+embrasure of the window.
+
+“The Colonel informs me that you have very important news to relate
+concerning the death of M. de Trémont and my agent.”
+
+“Yes, General.”
+
+“You think you know the rascals who have committed these murders?”
+
+“Yes, General.”
+
+“Tell me all about it.”
+
+“I must ask permission to speak in the presence of no one but yourself.
+It is a secret which interests the lives of those who are too dear to me
+to warrant my entrusting it to any other than yourself.”
+
+“Not even to Colonel Vallenot?”
+
+“A secret which belongs to several persons,” said Baudoin, coldly, “is no
+longer a secret. I will tell it either to the Colonel or to yourself.”
+
+“Very good, my friend, you are right. Will you retire, Colonel Vallenot?
+This good fellow means no offence. I approve of his thoughtfulness.”
+
+Vallenot smiled and saluted. It was evident he would gladly have stayed.
+But his chief had given the order. A quarter of an hour later the
+telephone bell rang. Placing the apparatus to his ear, he heard the
+Minister call out—
+
+“Bring me File Z, No. 3, from the secret press.”
+
+Vallenot opened a large iron safe, and took out a yellow bundle of
+papers, which he carried into his chief’s room. Baudoin was standing
+before the desk, and the General _was_ attentively listening to him.
+Vallenot withdrew. Another interval for a quarter of an hour, then a
+fresh ring at the telephone—
+
+“Send me Captain Rimbert, who had charge of the Valance affair.”
+
+Vallenot murmured—
+
+“The deuce! There is something in the wind here!”
+
+Ringing for his office-boy, he gave the order and waited patiently. Half
+an hour passed, then the study-door opened, and Baudoin, conducted by the
+General himself, appeared. The latter now appeared satisfied, and said—
+
+“Very good, Baudoin; so it is understood?”
+
+“Yes, General.”
+
+“You will request M. Marcel Baradier to call on me?”
+
+“Yes, General.”
+
+“And if you hear of anything, let me know of it at once.”
+
+“Yes, General.”
+
+“Good day. Come in, Vallenot.”
+
+Baudoin left the room. The Minister returned to his study, where the
+young Captain Rimbert stood waiting.
+
+“Colonel, will you kindly make out a _resumé_ of the Espurzheim and
+Vicomte de Fontenailles affairs. I believe we are on the point of laying
+our hands on this crafty woman who so completely tricked all my
+predecessors, and mystified myself two years ago. Ah! If I can have my
+revenge it shall be a complete one!”
+
+“Then we have to deal with the woman who has successively borne the name
+of Madame Ferranti, with Espurzheim, . . . ” said the Colonel.
+
+“And of Countess de Vervelde, with poor Fontenailles,” added Captain
+Rimbert.
+
+“And finally of La Ténébreuse,” summed up the Minister.
+
+“Oh! What trouble and money the wretch has cost us without our succeeding
+in laying hands on her!”
+
+“Well, gentlemen, we will try not to fail this time. Prepare the notes I
+requested, Colonel. And you, Captain Rimbert, not a word!”
+
+Both Colonel and Captain left the room. The Minister rubbed his hands
+with satisfaction. Meanwhile Baudoin had made his way along the quays,
+and reached the Law Courts as four o’clock was striking. Crossing the
+large entrance hall, he mounted to the second floor, and stopped in front
+of M. Mayeur’s study. The attendant was an old friend of his, and
+welcomed him cordially—
+
+“Holloa! you here?” he asked. “Have you come as witness in another
+affair?”
+
+“No. I simply wish to speak to the magistrate. Is he engaged?”
+
+“Always! Just now it is a gang of oil-painting thieves, who have been
+overhauling the hotel of a marquis in the Champs-Elysées.”
+
+“Can I speak to him?”
+
+“As soon as he rings, I will tell him you are here. Ah, he is in no
+amiable mood. He and the attorney seem to be quarrelling all the time!”
+
+The bell rang, a door opened, and three men of slouching gait, regular
+types of Parisian blackguards devoured by absinthe, advanced, casting
+sly, searching looks in every direction. But there were neither doors nor
+windows by which they could gain the open-air, so they quietly continued
+their route.
+
+The attendant said—
+
+“M. Baudoin, will you come in now? M. Mayeur is disengaged.”
+
+The old soldier entered the study. The registrar looked at him as he
+passed with a certain amount of curiosity. M. Mayeur smilingly pointed to
+a chair, placed his papers in order, and, turning to the clerk, said—
+
+“You may go now. Put all the files in order. Goodbye.”
+
+The clerk gave a grimace, which might at will have been taken as a mark
+of politeness or of insolence, and withdrew. M. Mayeur, doubtless tired
+of questioning, looked steadily at Baudoin, and invited him to explain
+himself.
+
+“I undertook, monsieur, to inform you of whatever fresh might happen
+concerning the Vanves affair. I have come to keep my promise.”
+
+“Has something taken place of a nature to throw light on the affair?”
+
+“A great deal has happened.”
+
+“What?”
+
+“A fire, a murder, and a robbery!”
+
+M. Mayeur’s face lit up.
+
+“And where have these crimes been committed?”
+
+“At Ars, in the Aube.”
+
+The magistrate’s countenance darkened, as though the inner light which
+had just illumined it had died away. He said—
+
+“In the Aube? That is not within our jurisdiction, and does not concern
+us.”
+
+“I beg your pardon; it concerns us very much. For the people who have
+committed these crimes have also the Vanves affair to their credit, and
+it is for this affair, of which the other is only the consequence, that
+they are wanted.”
+
+“Then you know them?”
+
+“I do.”
+
+“And you know where to lay hands on them?”
+
+“No. But I can tell you how to do so.”
+
+“So the affair we were so unfortunately obliged to shelve a couple of
+months ago is about to recommence? Perhaps this time we shall be able to
+reach a satisfactory conclusion!”
+
+“I maintain without the slightest hesitation that we shall succeed if you
+will do your duty.”
+
+“I?” exclaimed M. Mayeur, his face purple with agitation. “I! After all
+the trouble I have had, and the humiliation I have endured.”
+
+He felt that he was giving himself away. The passionate and ardent nature
+of the man disappeared, and the calm, cold nature of the magistrate
+resumed sway.
+
+With a sigh, he said—
+
+“Tell me everything in detail.”
+
+Baudoin resumed one by one all the events that had taken place at Ars. He
+depicted the character of Madame Vignola, and of Agostini, and finally
+explained the dreaded intervention of Hans. Motionless, the magistrate
+listened, taking short notes from time to time. The time sped swiftly
+along, the sun as it sank tinged with a ruddy glow the waters of the
+Seine, and the veil of darkness had fallen when the magistrate ceased
+listening, and began to question.
+
+“So this Cesare Agostini is in Paris?”
+
+“M. Graff, M. Marcel’s uncle, has seen him, and M. Marcel has spoken to
+him. It appears he is engaged to the daughter of M. Lichtenbach, the
+banker.”
+
+“Lichtenbach? A man in his position, with his fortune and relations? Is
+it possible?”
+
+“You will see. If you wish to know where Agostini lives, set a watch over
+Lichtenbach. They are hand and glove with one another.”
+
+“And the woman Vignola?”
+
+“Agostini will take you to her abode. And when you have the Vignola, you
+come to Hans, and the rest of the accomplices, if there are any. And I
+believe there is a whole gang of them!”
+
+“And what will M. Marcel Baradier do?”
+
+“Do not trouble about him; he does not wish to appear in the matter. A
+mere question of scruples!”
+
+“But suppose some attempt is made against him? Does he not wish me to
+take precautions to assure his safety?”
+
+“No. He is strong enough to protect himself. Besides I am with him.”
+
+“And so was Laforêt.”
+
+“Yes, that is true; still, it is my master’s wish—do not do any more than
+he asks you to undertake. I think you will be well pleased with the
+result. That has cost dear enough! But if we can obtain vengeance for the
+murder of my General and poor Laforêt we shall be quits!”
+
+“Very well,” said the magistrate. “If I need you, M. Baudoin, where can I
+find you?”
+
+“I am living with my master, M. Baradier.”
+
+“Good. Now that you have been working so well, it is my turn. This gang
+will find that they have not been mocking at justice with impunity.”
+
+“Ah! This has been going on a considerable time, from what I understand
+at the War Office.”
+
+“I shall put myself into relations with that Office; we will act in
+co-operation. Keep your courage up, and have good hopes, M. Baudoin; the
+affair is about to start afresh.”
+
+Baudoin, conducted to the door by the magistrate, went out into the
+passage, shook hands with the attendant, and left the building. Returning
+straight to the Rue de Provènce, he mounted to Marcel’s rooms.
+
+This evening he was seated in a small salon examining with minute care
+the plan for a machine at which he was working. On seeing Baudoin enter
+he placed the diagram on the table, looked at his visitor, and said—
+
+“You have just left?”
+
+“Yes, M. Marcel.”
+
+“You have seen the Minister?”
+
+“Yes. At the very first words I uttered he was all attention. He wishes
+to see you, and affirms that the lady in question is a spy of the most
+dangerous category, who has had the police on her tracks for the past six
+years. That woman must have a number of crimes on her conscience.”
+
+“That is not what I asked you,” said Marcel. “Are they going to take
+measures to keep a watch on Agostini and his companions? If so—”
+
+“The Minister told me that was the business of the Detective Department,
+and advised me to see Mr. Mayeur. I have just left him. Ah! he will not
+allow the affair to lag.”
+
+“Good!”
+
+The tinkling of a bell in the yard interrupted the conversation. It was
+the signal for dinner, which, from time immemorial, had thus been
+announced every evening, as is the custom in the provinces. Marcel took
+off his coat, and replaced it by another, after which he made his way to
+the salon. On entering, his father, Uncle Graff, the two young ladies,
+and Madame Baradier, were already waiting before passing into the
+dining-room. More comfort than luxury was evident everywhere; not the
+slightest sign of ostentation was manifest. Usually, dinner was the time
+when all the company related the events of the day. This evening one
+would have thought that nobody wished to speak. All the same, Graff, when
+the joint was brought on the table, risked the remark—
+
+“The Bourse has been firmer to-day.”
+
+“No great improvement!” growled Baradier.
+
+A deeper silence than before followed. But Uncle Graff had the patience
+of a Lorraine, and he continued after a while—
+
+“I have received a letter from Cardez, in which he says they have reached
+the second floor of the new building. The Assurance Company has paid the
+claim. After all, everything has turned out for the best.”
+
+“Are the workmen quiet now?” asked Madame Baradier.
+
+“Poor creatures! They were sorry for what they had done. But they were
+not responsible. It was the leaders of the strike! The deuce take them!”
+
+“Have they fixed upon a larger building-site for a new steam-engine?”
+asked Baradier, who forgot his bad temper as soon as business was on the
+tapis.
+
+“Father,” interrupted Marcel, “I should advise you to postpone this plan
+of yours. Something might happen which would cause the system of power
+employed in the works to be radically changed. Better wait a little.”
+
+“Mere idle fancies and whims! Some wild impracticable invention, I
+suppose.”
+
+“No,” replied the young man, with warmth. “No idle fancy at all! My dear
+Geneviève, it would cover your father’s name with glory, for it was he
+who had the idea of this invention first, and, indeed, if it is
+realizable, as I believe will be found to be the case, it will bear his
+name.”
+
+“Then this is something at which you have been working the last month?”
+asked Baradier, inquisitively.
+
+“The last two years, father. It is on this application of the regulated
+explosive power of the Trémont powder—you understand, regulated, that is
+the point—that I have been working with the General. We were on the point
+of success when he disappeared. But I was in possession of all the plans,
+sketches, and calculations we made together, and I have continued the
+work all alone.”
+
+“And you think you have succeeded?”
+
+“I do.”
+
+“And what result will you attain with your machine?”
+
+“A substitute for coal, petroleum, and even electricity, in the
+production of force. That is to say, the suppression of magazines in war
+vessels, permitting them to increase to an indefinite extent their sphere
+of action. There would be no necessity for locomotives to be supplied
+with a tender, and in all industries coal need only be used for
+metallurgic and heating purposes.”
+
+“Oh, oh!” said Baradier. “And what will you put in the place of coal,
+petroleum, and electricity?”
+
+“That, my dear father, is what I will tell you the day the patents have
+been taken all over the world.”
+
+“When will you take them?”
+
+“To-morrow, if you will advance me the forty thousand francs necessary.”
+
+“I will give you them,” exclaimed Uncle Graff, with warmth. “I have
+confidence in you.”
+
+“Who says I am not ready to advance the sum myself?” resumed Baradier. “I
+would do it merely to honour the memory of Trémont.”
+
+“Very good, father; I warrant you have never advanced money at better
+interest,” said Marcel, joyfully. “It is a discovery calculated to
+completely change the methods of commerce, and yet it is the simplest
+thing in the world!”
+
+“Like all good inventions!”
+
+Baradier remained silent for a moment, and then said—
+
+“But the invention of this machine is connected with the discovery of the
+Trémont powders?”
+
+“Yes, father.”
+
+“And the powders have been stolen?”
+
+A sad smile passed over Marcel’s lips.
+
+“Yes, father, the powders have been stolen. The war powder, for instance,
+and it is very unfortunate. For the General intended to present France
+with this marvellous product, which would have assured for our army a
+supremacy of several years over the other Powers of Europe. Then you know
+what would have happened; foreigners would have set to work, and either
+discovered or bought our secret, and equilibrium again have been
+restored. There will be no superiority for any one, since the formula of
+the Trémont war-powder will be given by me to-morrow to the War Office.
+That will establish equality. And if there is war, valour and
+intelligence will have to undertake the victory. As for the business
+powder, that is another matter. They may have stolen the formula, even
+manufactured it themselves, but I defy them to find the means of using it
+for its destined purpose.”
+
+“There is a secret about it?”
+
+“Yes, which I discovered quite by chance when working with the General.
+That is the peculiarity of this powder, which, under ordinary conditions,
+is destructive enough, being ignited by simple friction—in a word, very
+dangerous to use; but which, employed according to our method, is under
+perfect control, and regulates its dynamic effects, even to the movement
+of a pendulum, according to my pleasure.”
+
+All present were listening attentively, thinking of the importance of
+this discovery, and the wretched fate of its initiator. M. Baradier said—
+
+“To-morrow you shall have your money. If the affair is worth merely the
+hundredth part of what you claim, Geneviève will be rich and Trémont
+world-famed.”
+
+“As for the Explosives Company,” added Graff, “it is in a bad way.
+Lichtenbach is likely to have met his match at last!”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+IT was five months since Marcel had solemnly promised his father to break
+with his giddy companions, give up his fast life, and no longer set foot
+in the club, but, instead of all this, to work and obliterate the acts of
+folly he had previously committed. Scrupulously keeping his word, he
+withdrew to Ars, and only seldom appeared in Paris. So well had he worked
+that the result of his efforts were manifest. The Minister, after the
+conversation he had had with Marcel, had expressed himself to Baradier,
+concerning the young savant, in such terms that the father was quite
+disarmed. All these deprivations of rights, which he had patiently
+submitted to, were now removed, and, not without considerable
+satisfaction, this fine young fellow of twenty-six years of age had
+resumed his former habits.
+
+The first time he appeared at the club he had been welcomed with open
+arms by his companions, young and old alike.
+
+“What has become of you; we have seen nothing of you for several months!
+Probably you have been travelling?”
+
+Marcel replied that he had indeed been away from Paris, but added that he
+had been thinking seriously concerning gambling, and had determined to
+give up baccarat.
+
+“How often have I heard you talk in that way,” said the Baron de Vergins.
+“All the same, you could not resist the temptation to play if you were in
+front of the baccarat-table a single quarter of an hour!”
+
+“Come along, then, and you will see.”
+
+They passed into the large room. Beneath the ceiling floated a grey mist
+of tobacco smoke, like a fog.
+
+On either side of the room was a green table, around which thronged a
+crowd of sour-visaged punters.
+
+“Ah! You have two baccarat-tables now,” remarked Marcel.
+
+“Yes; it is an innovation. At the one the minimum stake is a louis; at
+the other, it is ten francs. So that, when a punter has had a run of
+ill-luck at the large table, he goes to the small one to try and recoup,
+with the privilege of returning afterwards to the other, to lose once
+more what he may have won.”
+
+“Very ingenious. A double sieve from which nothing escapes!”
+
+He approached the large table, and his look immediately became fixed. In
+front of him, dealing the bank, he had just recognized Agostini.
+Impassive and smiling, a flower at his buttonhole, he gracefully
+distributed the cards at both tables. He did not see Marcel. With his
+sing-song voice he called out—
+
+“Cards!”
+
+Marcel, addressing the Baron de Vergins, asked—
+
+“Who is the banker?”
+
+“Count Cesare Agostini.”
+
+“Newly joined the club?”
+
+“For a time. Agreeable fellow, good fencer, and reckless player.”
+
+“Is he lucky?”
+
+“Ah, no. He has very bad luck. Loses more than any one else, in fact.”
+
+“Do you know anything about him?”
+
+“He was introduced by the Prince de Cystriano and M. Beltrand. The
+Agostini family is well known; they are the younger branch of the great
+Italian family, the dukes of Briviesca.”
+
+“Why do they receive so many foreigners at the club?” asked Marcel, with
+a displeased air.
+
+“Ah, my dear friend, the club lives on them, so to speak. I know they
+make themselves as much at home here as at their hotel. It is not very
+pleasant for us. But what is there to be done? The establishment must be
+kept going.”
+
+“Has he any relations in Paris?” asked Marcel. “A sister?”
+
+“No; he is unmarried, and has never been seen in the company of a lady.”
+
+Marcel changed the conversation, made an excuse for leaving his
+companion, and went to the writing-room. Taking up a directory, he found
+a recent indication, handwritten as follows: “Count Cesare Agostini, 7
+Rue du Colisée.” It was something to know this address, though what he
+wanted was information respecting that mysterious woman, Anetta or
+Sophia, Madame Vignola or the Baroness Grodsko. What was Agostini to him
+besides that infinitely charming creature, who had suddenly become
+metamorphosed into a most dangerous monster. Her brother, really? Her
+accomplice, without the slightest doubt. That was what he wished to know,
+and, at the risk of the greatest danger, he was determined to have his
+doubts removed.
+
+He had taken a seat in a large armchair, the back of which, turned
+towards the door, almost entirely concealed him. Two members of the club
+were writing letters. The quiet of this retired spot, the ticking of the
+timepiece, seemed to numb his faculties. The murmur of distant voices
+lulled him into a reverie.
+
+Suddenly a quiver ran over him, and he listened attentively. The voice of
+Agostini had just joined in the conversation.
+
+“I have again lost two thousand louis. With the thousand yesterday, it is
+quite enough.”
+
+He laughed, and one of his companions said—
+
+“You ought to hold off for a few days, Agostini! It is useless being
+obstinate against ill-luck.”
+
+“But if I did not play, what should I do? It is my only distraction.”
+
+“That was a beautiful lady, at the opera, to whom you introduced Colonel
+Derbaut the other night.”
+
+Marcel’s heart seemed to stop beating. He had a presentiment that the
+woman in question was the one who was engaging his own attention so
+strongly. He could not hear Agostini’s reply, and the other continued—
+
+“If she is no more than a compatriot of yours, I should be pleased to
+make her acquaintance.”
+
+Agostini laughed, but made no promise. And Marcel said to himself: “His
+compatriot? An Italian? It is Anetta, I am sure of it. What is she doing
+here with this villain? The army once more in danger, for she has made
+the acquaintance of Colonel Derbaut, a staff-officer.” Meanwhile, he had
+lost the thread of the conversation, but a second sentence told him all
+that was necessary—
+
+“Very good! To-night, at the opera?”
+
+“Agreed!”
+
+Silence was restored. The members of the club continued their
+correspondence. Marcel rose from his seat, sure that he was about to meet
+the pretended sister of Agostini. She was not in Italy, as the adventurer
+had had the audacity to tell him at the charity sale. She was in Paris
+and, without thinking of the past, engaged on some fresh intrigue. Along
+whatever path she travelled she sowed corruption, infamy, and death.
+
+Suddenly in Marcel’s memory arose the smiling, tender image of Madame
+Vignola with that bewitching smile, and those clear, limpid eyes. Was it
+possible that such a creature should be a monster? If so, then one
+greatly to be dreaded!
+
+How can one help trusting in that exquisite gentleness which pervaded her
+whole person? And yet, had she not betrayed him? Had she not revealed the
+presence of the secret documents in the laboratory? And that, too, with
+marvellous rapidity, and a skill scarcely compatible with honesty. He
+would have liked to free her from every suspicion which hung over her;
+but was it possible?
+
+Leaving the club, he returned to the bank, and, entering his father’s
+study, found his uncle Graff, attentively reading an evening paper. The
+old man arose on seeing his nephew enter, and, holding the printed sheet
+out to him, said—
+
+“See here, Marcel, here is an article on this affair of ours. It is a
+report of a meeting of the Academy of Science, where Professor Marigot
+read his notice on the Trémont powder.”
+
+Marcel carelessly took the journal. Without even glancing at it, he laid
+it on the desk.
+
+“Is that all the interest you take in the matter?” exclaimed the uncle.
+“You are not inquisitive about the effect produced by Marigot’s official
+communication? Very well, I will tell you what he says. The _Globe_ has
+given up a whole column to the discovery, which it states is an important
+one, and it predicts, within a short date, a revolution in the use of
+motive power. On the other hand, the _Panache Blanc_, Lichtenbach’s
+journal, is dead against the invention, which it qualifies as a
+shamefaced imitation, insinuating that it is simply the Dalgetty process,
+without the slightest change in the doses of the products.”
+
+“What a brazen falsehood!” Marcel exclaimed, unable to restrain himself.
+
+“Here is something better. At the Bourse a rumour has got abroad that the
+Explosives Company is in possession of the Trémont patents, and the
+shares have begun to mount, in spite of the desperate efforts of the
+bears. Accordingly, our situation is saved, and, on the other hand, that
+of Lichtenbach seems to be in a terrible pass!”
+
+“You do not expect me to get excited over that?”
+
+“I do not, indeed. But your father, who for the past three months has
+hardly been able to sleep, is now happy and smiling. He has just gone to
+Aubervilliers to examine a plot of land, covering seven acres, which has
+been offered to us, and which would be the very spot for constructing the
+works necessary. He is especially pleased at owing this result to you.
+Though not very expansive, he is enthusiastic and warm-hearted, and
+exceedingly proud to be obliged to confess that you are so gifted. Up to
+the present, it is Trémont that has been mentioned, but, when it is known
+that it is you who brought the affair to its completion, and your name is
+in everybody’s mouth, as soon will be the case, then you will see your
+father expand.”
+
+Marcel made no reply. He walked to and fro in the study, with so
+absent-minded an air that Graff exclaimed—
+
+“What a strange fellow you are! And yet you must be well pleased with
+what I have been telling you. Though you will scarcely listen to me. What
+is the matter with you?”
+
+The young man shook his head, and, with an attempt at a smile, said—
+
+“There is nothing the matter with me, Uncle Graff. What do you expect me
+to say?”
+
+“Ah! Perhaps you have no suspicion of the plans Baradier has been forming
+for you. He explained them to me this very morning. We are going to put
+Marcel at the head of the works as director. At the same time he shall be
+one of the managing directors of the Explosives Company we are about to
+completely reorganize. You see, Marcel, you are about to play a very
+important _rôle_ in life at twenty-six years of age. And your father
+added, ‘If he will marry, I shall no longer have anything to wish for. He
+will have satisfied me in everything.’ What do you think of the idea? I
+believe he was thinking of Geneviève de Trémont. What will your reply
+be?”
+
+Marcel replied quietly—
+
+“Nothing whatever, Uncle Graff.”
+
+The old man touched Marcel on the shoulder, and, looking attentively at
+him, said—
+
+“I do not understand you, Marcel; there is something you are hiding from
+me. Have you seen the woman of Ars again?”
+
+This time, the young man broke out—
+
+“No, I have not seen her; but I know she is in Paris. I know where I
+shall see her this evening. Uncle Graff, I intend to have the key to this
+living enigma.”
+
+“Ah! My child, there is no enigma; she is simply a villain, nothing more!
+How anxious you make me in still troubling yourself with this woman! Take
+care! You know how dangerous she and her companions are. Remember the
+poor General, and this brave fellow killed at Ars. Just inform the
+police, she will be arrested, and all will be over.”
+
+“If I were certain she were as guilty as you suspect her to be, I would
+do so. Though it is not very gallant to give up a woman.”
+
+“What! Chivalry with such people?”
+
+“But I have my doubts, Uncle Graff. I cannot make up my mind to condemn
+her unheard.”
+
+“Yes! In a word, you wish to see her again. Don’t tell me any idle
+stories; I am not so stupid as to be taken in by them. She still holds
+you in her power. And you are about to risk being murdered, in some dark
+corner or other, for the pleasure of being deceived once more by such a
+traitress.”
+
+“Uncle Graff, no one will kill me at the opera. It is there I rely on
+seeing her to-night.”
+
+“Are you in earnest?”
+
+“Have you disposed of your orchestra stall?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Very well, give it to me.”
+
+“Promise me you will do nothing extravagant, and that if this woman wants
+you to accompany her, you will not do so.”
+
+“No; I cannot promise that. But I will be on my guard all the same.
+Agostini shall not knock me over like a pigeon.”
+
+“Take a good revolver with you.”
+
+“Certainly.”
+
+“Ah! _Mon Dieu_! And I was feeling so happy!” groaned the old man.
+“Suppose you take Baudoin with you?”
+
+“Under no pretext. Be assured, however, I am running no risk this time.
+Later on, we shall see.”
+
+The arrival of Baradier cut the conversation short. Marcel returned home
+to dress before dinner.
+
+That evening the _Walkyrie_ was being given at the opera. When Marcel
+reached his stall, the second act was commencing. The domestic troubles
+of Wotan, the Scandinavian Jupiter, with Fricka, a real Juno without her
+peacock, possessed only a slight interest for the young man. Turning
+round, he leaned his elbow on the back of his stall, and looked about
+him. Slowly, the boxes began to fill, as though the subscribers had only
+decided to come at all because they had paid dearly for the privilege. Up
+above in the amphitheatre was a sea of eager faces turned on to the
+stage. There was the real amateur and artistic public.
+
+But Marcel was not looking for critical observations as to the musical
+capacity of the different auditors of a masterly piece, rather for the
+face of a woman. Nowhere could he catch a glimpse of the beautiful
+profile of Madame Vignola. Two side boxes on the right of the actors
+still remained unoccupied. And Marcel, again turning towards the stage,
+kept a watch on them.
+
+Towards the end of the act the sound of an opening door drew his
+attention. He saw a light appear in one of the side boxes, then a vague
+uncertain form appeared in its velvet frame. The door closed again, the
+background again darkened, and a woman, clothed in white, _décolleté_,
+and wearing a necklace of beautiful pearls, came to the front of the box.
+As her face was turned away from Marcel he could not distinguish her
+features. Still, what relation could there be between this vigorous
+brunette and the blonde and languishing Anetta? Strength, where he had
+found grace. No. This could not be the one.
+
+As the curtain fell amidst a tempest of cheers, and the artists
+reappeared on the stage to bow their acknowledgments, the lady turned
+round, in such a way as to face Marcel, who, stupefied, recognized the
+look of the one he loved. He might have been mistaken in everything else,
+but not in the languishing look which formed so delightful a contrast
+with that mocking smile and imperious brow. He examined her attentively,
+without her being aware that she was observed. But what grief he felt at
+being obliged to recognize her in such a disguise!
+
+Was not the very fact of this metamorphosis, the most complete of
+confessionals? Why, if not to disarm curiosity, these changes, in
+head-dress, in the colour of the hair, and the expression of the face?
+What was this comedy she was playing, and when? Was it at Ars that she
+was painted and disguised, or at the opera?
+
+Marcel arose. All around him were leaving their seats. Madame Vignola was
+no longer in front of the box. Marcel counted the number of boxes. This
+one was the fourth after the passage. Standing behind a column, he kept
+watch.
+
+This self-imposed waiting seemed interminable to him. The passers-by
+irritated him, he replied to a few bows, but avoided shaking hands with
+any one. Finally, the door of the box opened, and Agostini and an elderly
+man, wearing the rosette of the Legion d’Honneur, appeared. The count and
+his companion made their way towards the grand staircase, before Marcel,
+who had his back turned to them, and disappeared. Then the young man
+opened the door of the box, and entered.
+
+The spectator was seated on the sofa. Marcel closed the door, and walked
+up to her. Turning her head, she looked at the intruder, and said,
+without the faintest agitation—
+
+“You are in the wrong box, sir.”
+
+He replied ironically—
+
+“No, madame, there is no mistake, if I am in the presence of Madame
+Vignola, unless you are the Baroness Grodsko.”
+
+At these words, the young woman’s face appeared frightfully agitated. Her
+eyes turned pale, and her lips trembled.
+
+“Whose name is that you have uttered?” she murmured, in unsteady accents.
+
+“Evidently one of your own! So far as I can judge, you change names,
+according to circumstances, just as you change faces, according to the
+men you associate with.”
+
+“I do not understand what you mean. Once more I say, you are mistaken,
+retire.”
+
+“No! I shall wait here till Count Agostini returns. We will have an
+explanation in his presence. He, at any rate, will not be able to deny
+his identity. And that will help to establish yours.”
+
+Rising from her seat, and no longer taking the trouble to deny, she said—
+
+“And he will kill you! Wretched man, leave here at once, without a
+moment’s delay. You do not know what dangers you are running!”
+
+“I know them quite well. General Trémont is dead, Laforêt, the police
+agent, is dead, and so, doubtless, are many others who have resisted your
+fancies or intrigues. And if I, too, do not yield, you will try to
+compass my death also. But, before that happens, I will know who and what
+you are.”
+
+The woman’s countenance darkened. Raising her beautiful arm, she said in
+tragic tones—
+
+“Do not attempt it! You will never succeed!”
+
+“Still, I have made a beginning,” he said madly. “Spy—thief—actress; yes,
+actress even in love!”
+
+She did not appear to have heard the other insults he hurled at her, but
+from this last one, she recoiled. Blushing, she seized Marcel by the arm,
+and fixed on him a pair of eyes which seemed to flame with passion.
+
+“No! I have not lied! Don’t believe that of me! Do not accuse me of
+having been false in love. I did love you! Can you think otherwise?
+Accuse me of whatever you wish, it matters little to me! We shall never
+see one another again, you hear!—never see one another again in this
+world. Therefore, believe what I now swear to you: I loved you; I still
+love you! I have never loved any one as I have loved you, and that is why
+I shall never see you again. Do not attempt to understand or to fathom my
+secrets; they would cause your death. Content yourself with what you know
+of me, and with the fact that you have not paid for it with your life.
+Become blind when I pass by your side; deaf, whenever my name is
+mentioned. Do not enter the darkness in which I am shrouded. Oh! Marcel,
+my loved one, go away, do not suspect me of having lied to you. Clasped
+in your arms, your lips pressed against mine, I told the truth, I—”
+
+She stopped. Tears shone in her eyes, and her beautiful arms are flung
+around Marcel’s neck. He felt himself pressed to her throbbing bosom, the
+fire of her eyes blinded him, and he shuddered at the contact of that
+ardent mouth pressed to his own in a delirium of delight. Amid her sighs,
+he heard the word “Adieu!” and found himself near the door. There, her
+embrace relaxed, and he stood dazed and maddened in the passage, amidst
+the spectators who were returning to their seats. Taking up his coat, and
+staggering along like a man intoxicated, he obeyed his mysterious love,
+and left the theatre.
+
+He no longer doubted. That cry, “I love you still!” was sincere. She was
+not lying when she confessed her love. Besides, why had she driven him
+away from her, if not inspired by the passionate fright of the woman who
+trembles lest her loved one meet his death. Then it was some strange
+will, superior to her own, which had compelled her to fascinate him, and
+which was again controlling her in the performance of some dark,
+mysterious deed or other! That he was, and must remain, ignorant of.
+
+On reaching the Place de l’Opéra, he felt calmer. The open air did him
+good. But the memory of those glorious eyes, and that quivering voice, as
+she held him in her arms, came back to him with painful intensity. Ah!
+What a woman!
+
+But she was a monster of corruption and depravity. He had told her so
+without the slightest protest. She was, beyond doubt, an accomplice in
+several murders; perhaps even that white and delicate hand of hers had
+itself been stained in blood! She was the secret agent of threatening
+hostility and venal treason. Her beauty, grace, and intelligence were so
+many attractions which served to captivate her dupes. Her love was only a
+means to an end.
+
+A feeling of revolt came over him. He said to himself, “Really, I am too
+much of a coward. The attraction this woman exercises over me is taking
+away my moral faculty! At the very moment she appears in such a
+despicable light before me, I yet love her. And yet, I scarcely know her.
+She loved me; that is the reason she left me, unwilling as she was to
+ruin me!” He laughed in a nervous fashion, and thought, “Very soon, I
+shall be obliged to feel grateful towards her! And yet she is an infamous
+wretch. Yes; but how beautiful!”
+
+A prey to these contradictory thoughts, he reached the Rue de Provènce,
+and immediately retired to rest. The following morning, when he awoke, he
+was astonished to find his uncle Graff at his bedside. It was eight
+o’clock. He had had a dreamless sleep. The old man, feeling uneasy, had
+been turning over and over in his bed, and, at daybreak, had not been
+able to resist the desire of making sure that nothing had happened to
+Marcel. For some time he had been watching his nephew sleep, and now he
+wished to question him, but, finding him silent, or evasive in his
+answers, he abandoned all hope of learning anything just then, and called
+on Baradier for a cup of coffee. He had left his room, fasting, and was
+dying of hunger.
+
+The same morning, in Lichtenbach’s study, about ten o’clock, Agostini and
+Hans were engaged in a _tête-à-tête_ with the banker. Count Cesare was
+sitting in dreamy attitude, smoking a cigarette. Hans, impassive, was
+listening to Elias, who was speaking in even a duller voice than usual.
+
+“The situation is certainly serious for you,” he was saying, “but for me
+it is becoming very grave. Relying on your information, I undertook a
+bear campaign, which was to place the Explosives Company in my hands, by
+permitting of my redeeming the shares for a mere trifle. It happens that
+my closest rivals, and deadly enemies, the firm of Baradier and Graff,
+have undertaken the counter-part of my operations, and all my efforts to
+shake them off have been unavailing. Then, I did not understand the
+causes of their firmness, but now I do. The notice read at the Academy of
+Science gives me the key to their calculations. They are in possession of
+the secret you have failed to find. They are in a position to exploit the
+Trémont powder, and the Dalgetty patent is worth nothing! This is the net
+result of all your intrigues. You have indeed something to be proud of!”
+
+“What will all this cost you?” asked Agostini, coldly.
+
+“How much will it cost me?” exclaimed the banker, furiously. “Almost all
+I possess! You seem to look at things in a very philosophical light! It
+is easy to say to a man one has ruined, ‘How much has it cost you?’ Can I
+rely on my physical attractions? To have money I must work, and it has
+been so with me for the past forty years!”
+
+“Come, Lichtenbach,” said Hans, “don’t cry about it. We are aware that
+you will lose considerably, in case the affair does not succeed. But
+there will be something left. I will offer you ten million francs for
+whatever remains, if you like!”
+
+“Stupid rogues as you are!” exclaimed Elias. “You are speaking of what
+you know nothing about! This filthy affair of yours, managed by such
+silly dolts, has cost me the labour of half my life, and even more—my
+pride! For I, who have always had the upper hand of Baradier and Graff,
+am now at their mercy. Your famous Sophia has, indeed, been brilliant in
+this matter! A man-eater who has never failed. A flower of rottenness,
+one need only breathe to be intoxicated, such corrupting ferments does
+she exhale! A simple young man is given into her hands; a mere
+child’s-play for her, and here she remains, inactive and powerless,
+either unable or unwilling to make him give up his secret. Meanwhile, I
+have been losing all my money. You idiots! You stupid rascals! Will you
+give me back my money? I know of nothing in the world more despicable
+than an imbecile bandit! And that is what you are, both of you, and your
+Sophia into the bargain!”
+
+Hans’ countenance remained unchanged. Agostini, with sombre look, flung
+away his cigarette, and said—
+
+“There is some truth in what you say, Lichtenbach, so I will overlook
+your insolent words. But for that, I would have made you pay dearly for
+what you have just said.”
+
+“Not another word!” growled Lichtenbach. “I defy you!”
+
+“You will be foolish to do so,” continued the Italian. “A Count Cesare
+Agostini will not receive a gratuitous insult from a Lichtenbach.”
+
+“Gratuitous? Indeed!”
+
+“Come! Peace!” said Hans, in tones of authority. “We are not here to
+exchange compliments with one another, but to find some solution to the
+difficulty. It is true the Baroness has failed. We know the reason now,
+when it is too late. She has been stupid enough to fall in love with this
+young man, and has only half accomplished her mission. When she led him
+on to talk confidentially to her, she was afraid that he would despise
+her later on. To sum up, the _coup_ failed. The young man is now on his
+guard; he will say nothing more, unless I undertake, as a last resource,
+to question him. For the present, however, the situation is as follows:
+We possess an excellent patent, similar, as regards the composition of
+the powder, to the one taken under the name of Trémont. But we are in
+ignorance of the trick of working it. Our powder is a brutal explosive.
+The Trémont powder is graduated in action. There is the real value of the
+discovery. Under these conditions, Dalgetty could establish a claim, and
+accuse of counterfeit the exploiters of the Trémont patent, which was
+taken out after ours. The result—scandal, trial, blackmailing. This is
+the line we must follow, and it may serve as a means for a settlement.”
+
+“In what way?” asked Lichtenbach, interested.
+
+“By sending a trusty ambassador to Baradier and Graff to offer them terms
+of peace.”
+
+“They will not accept!”
+
+“How do you know? It all depends on the manner in which the proposal is
+made; you may have to concede to them both material and moral advantages,
+in order to reach a fusion of the two affairs.”
+
+“That would mean safety, and even triumph!” exclaimed Lichtenbach. “Just
+let me get them into my power, and they shall not escape so easily!”
+
+“Then I will rely upon you! Ah! You sly rogue, you have come back to life
+again.”
+
+“The fact is, the idea of being their dupe was killing me! The whole of
+my life would have been spent in vain! Ever since I have been in Paris, I
+have only had one desire—to injure them! Give up this joy! I could not!
+Whom shall I send them?”
+
+“A priest,” insinuated Agostini.
+
+“The Abbé d’Escayrac, if he would do me this service! Fine idea! He well
+knows how to lull one’s conscience by moulding a man’s intelligence to
+his will. But what can we offer Baradier and Graff?”
+
+“Anything you imagine they might decently accept. What will it cost you?
+Have you not a daughter? She has been carefully brought up, and is of an
+amiable disposition, so I am told.”
+
+“Well!”
+
+“Offer her to young Baradier, with an enormous dowry. If Sophia were only
+willing, she would arrange the matter well enough!”
+
+This time, Agostini manifested symptoms of violent discontent. He brought
+his hand down forcibly on the table, and, looking at the others with
+murderous eyes, said—
+
+“And what is to become of me in this combination? Are you forgetting that
+Mademoiselle Lichtenbach is my affianced wife?”
+
+“The engagement can easily be broken,” replied Hans, coldly.
+
+“Do you intend to jest with me?”
+
+“I never jest with any one to no purpose.”
+
+“Then you are seriously thinking of overthrowing all my plans?”
+
+“What use will your plans be to you, if Lichtenbach is ruined? Besides,
+you silly fellow, do you think Elias is a man likely to trouble himself
+with you, if you are no longer of any use to him? Already you have gone
+down several notches in his esteem. If an arrangement has to be made with
+you, we will offer you money. I know where to find it.”
+
+The handsome Italian laid his hand on his heart.
+
+“And what compensation will be large enough to satisfy me?”
+
+“Ah, ah!” jeered Hans. “We are well aware that your conscience is as
+tender as it is delicate!”
+
+Lichtenbach, who had remained silent, after hearing the suggestion
+concerning his daughter, now said—
+
+“A Baradier marry a Lichtenbach! Is it possible? Never would the Graffs
+and Baradiers consent to such a thing! For my own part, I ought to
+protest with all my might against such a proposal.”
+
+He remained silent, as though absorbed in thought, and then said slowly—
+
+“Still, my daughter is well worthy of entering such a family. They are
+honest people, after all! And she is a charming and proud child. If only
+they would consent! My daughter would be certain of a happy future. She
+would have a peaceful and tranquil life. These Baradiers are honest and
+respectable, after all! If they would receive my daughter as their own,
+they would treat her well, and she would not be the prey of an
+adventurer! True, I hate them, and wish to do them harm, for all the
+humiliations they have inflicted on me. But if they would accept my
+daughter!”
+
+A tear shone on the cheek of this hardened man—a tear more precious than
+a diamond, for it owed its source to a father’s love. Hans interrupted
+the scene; he was not a man to understand such tender feelings.
+
+“So you adopt my plan? You will make an attempt at conciliation with our
+opponents. Offer them what you like, that is your own affair, and if we
+succeed, we will unite the two patents. You alone carry on the
+transaction, though, naturally, you reserve us our share. You see, this
+young Count Cesare might turn out troublesome. Is it agreed upon?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+Hans and Agostini took their leave. Elias walked to and fro about his
+study, then he proceeded to his daughter’s room. Marianne was seated near
+the window overlooking the garden, working. She rose on seeing her father
+appear. Wearing a blue dressing-gown ornamented with quipure lace, her
+fair hair tied up in bands, she had about her a kind of virgin
+gentleness, which caused her father’s heart to swell with love and
+tenderness. Sitting by her side, he drew her near to himself, and entered
+into conversation.
+
+“You have now been settled down here some considerable time. Are you
+satisfied? Is everything progressing as you wish?”
+
+“Yes, father, I should be very ungrateful if I were not satisfied. You
+let me do whatever I want. But I hope you are well pleased yourself,
+also.”
+
+“Certainly, little one, and I wish us always to remain so. But, you know,
+some day we shall be obliged to separate.”
+
+Marianne looked serious; her smile vanished.
+
+“A day in the distant future, father; there is no hurry.”
+
+“You will marry. Would you not like to be married?”
+
+“That will depend on the husband.”
+
+A silence followed. The controller of men felt ill at ease before this
+child, whose future he had disposed of by calculation. He did not dare
+speak to her of Agostini, whom he had introduced to her, and praised in
+her presence only the night before. It was Marianne who took it upon
+herself to explain the precise situation of things.
+
+“I am rather troubled, I confess, at the favour you accord this young
+Italian count, and at the way in which you speak to me of him.”
+
+“My dear child!” exclaimed Lichtenbach.
+
+“No! Let me continue,” interrupted Marianne. “Afterwards you may praise
+your candidate as much as you like. But allow me to speak to you quite
+freely. Your _protegé’s_ conduct and habits make me uneasy. He does not
+seem to me frank; he is too polite, and full of compliments. There is
+something suspicious about this man who is always smiling and flattering.
+Besides, his voice has no genuine ring about it. His cold, cruel looks
+belie his handsome face and gentle words. Lastly, dear father, he is a
+foreigner. Are there no more Frenchmen to marry in France that one should
+be obliged to look for a _fiancé_ for one’s daughter on the other side of
+the frontier? He is a count, but I have no ambition in that direction. He
+does not work, and I should not care to marry any one without business of
+any kind. Papa, if you wish to please me and consult my tastes, you will
+choose another suitor. Your daughter is something to you—that you have
+often given me to understand; you have, perhaps, insisted rather too much
+on the fact, for I might have formed too good an opinion of myself.
+Luckily, I am reasonable and modest in my demands. Do not marry me to an
+idle man, who is also ambitious and wicked. If you want me to be free
+from anxiety, send away this handsome Italian. He is not the man for me!”
+
+Lichtenbach smiled good-humouredly and said—“Then who is?”
+
+Marianne blushed, but made no reply.
+
+“Ah, ah!” continued Lichtenbach. “So there is a secret, is there? Better
+tell your father all about it, little one. Have you met some one you
+like, my dear? Tell me everything; don’t be afraid. You know very well I
+will do nothing opposed to your wishes. If you do not like Agostini, why
+did you not tell me so sooner? Come, now, tell me all!”
+
+With downcast head she said—
+
+“No, no! It is useless. I have only one wish—to stay by your side just as
+I am. I shall be very happy.”
+
+“You are not telling me the truth,” exclaimed Lichtenbach, excitedly.
+“You must tell me what you mean. Do you imagine there are difficulties in
+the way? Yes? Of what kind? Is it some one I know?”
+
+“Let us say nothing more on the subject, father,” said Marianne. “I was
+wrong in introducing the subject. It can be nothing but a painful one for
+both yourself and myself. You had given me warning. But it was too late.
+The subject shall never be brought up again between us; that I promise
+you.”
+
+“You could not speak to me otherwise if it were my greatest enemy. Is it
+so?”
+
+He did not utter the name of Baradier, but Marianne read it upon his
+lips. She raised her eyes up to her father’s face, as though to ask
+pardon from him for what he must consider a kind of treason. She did not,
+however, find in his countenance that angry and threatening expression
+she dreaded to see there. He was passive and calm, and sat there for a
+moment without uttering a word. Then, in accents of great deliberation,
+he asked—
+
+“We are thinking of Marcel Baradier, are we not? Yes, it must be he. I
+was wrong to let you visit Geneviève de Trémont. That was very imprudent
+on my part. However, it cannot be helped now. We must try to arrange
+matters.”
+
+“Arrange matters!” stammered Marianne.
+
+“Yes, my dear child. We must make an attempt. I would do anything to make
+you happy.”
+
+“Forget your bitter feelings of the past?”
+
+“I will try to make the Baradiers forget theirs.”
+
+“Oh, father, dear father!”
+
+She flung her arms around his neck with such a burst of joy, that
+Lichtenbach turned pale with shame. For the first time in his life, he
+had a very clear impression of the significance of a cowardly action,
+doubtless, because his victim in this case was his own daughter. At the
+same time, he felt that the evil deeds of a whole lifetime accumulate,
+and that, at some time or other, the interest must be paid, in
+humiliation and suffering. He looked at Marianne tenderly, and said, in
+accents of sincerity—
+
+“Ah! is it so serious as that? Very well, my child, I will do everything
+possible to make you happy.”
+
+After kissing her, he returned to his room, ordered his carriage, and
+drove away to call on the Abbé d’Escayrac.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+ABOUT five o’clock Madame Baradier had just returned, and was reading in
+her small salon; her daughter, Amélie, and Geneviève de Trémont were
+working at the table, chatting pleasantly the while, when the servant
+entered, and said—
+
+“There is a priest here, who wishes to speak to you, madame.”
+
+Madame Baradier, lady patroness of several charitable institutions, was
+continually receiving appeals to her generosity. She made no distinction
+between the clergy and the laity, but received all with equal
+benevolence. Accordingly, she ordered the visitor to be showed in. The
+first glance she gave him showed her a fine, intelligent face, the
+general aspect being rather that of a fashionable and carefully dressed
+priest. The first words he uttered confirmed this judgment—
+
+“Madame,” said the visitor, “I am the Abbé d’Escayrac, secretary of the
+Issy establishment, which is under the lofty patronage of the Bishop of
+Andropolis.”
+
+“Superior of the Absolutionists, unless I am mistaken.”
+
+“You are not mistaken, madame.”
+
+“What can I do for your work, Monsieur l’Abbé?”
+
+“You can do much, madame. But, first of all,”—here the Abbé lowered his
+voice—“I have information of special importance to communicate to you,
+and it might be better, if you have no objection, if we were alone.”
+
+“As you please, Monsieur l’Abbé.”
+
+The two girls had been well brought up. On a look from Madame Baradier,
+they arose, bowed, and left the room.
+
+“You may now speak freely, Monsieur l’Abbé.”
+
+“I am well aware, madame, how you are animated by a sincere Christian
+fervour,” continued the priest, “and it is on the certainty that all
+apostolic work must receive your cordial assistance that my mission is
+based. As you know, we are devoted heart and soul to the service of the
+poor. Poverty and misery, nay, even vice itself, have an exclusive claim
+on our interest and attention. To us a criminal is a brother we try to
+restore to the path of virtue, just as we use our best efforts to save a
+sick man. In this way a vast amount of misfortune and crime is revealed
+to us. We are the confidents of the most painful of physical vices, the
+most lamentable of moral back-slidings. We offer help to all, without
+exception, and often serve as intermediaries between those who have the
+power to punish and those who wish to be spared. We are never deaf to
+repentance, and try to turn it to the advantage of our holy religion.”
+
+He spoke with grave earnestness, and an insinuating voice, turning on one
+side the obstacles in the way, preparing his ground, and gradually
+attempting to win over to his side the intelligence of the wife, so as to
+make of her an ally against the husband. Madame Baradier, astonished at
+this lengthy introduction, was beginning to wonder what was the meaning
+of it all, so she asked—
+
+“Is it pecuniary help you want, Monsieur l’Abbé? If so, you will find us
+very sympathetically disposed towards your work.”
+
+“We shall be very grateful, madame, for whatever you may do for us, but
+money is not at present the object of my visit. Recently, we have founded
+in the Var an important establishment, where we propose, in imitation of
+other powerful religious orders, to open a business establishment. To
+facilitate our efforts, we have received very important assistance. We
+are full of gratitude towards those who have helped us, and, the
+opportunity of doing them a service now offering itself, I, your humble
+servant, have been appointed to bring to you a message of conciliation
+from a man who, for many years, has been in a state of hostility with
+your family, but who now wishes to end his life in concord and peace.”
+
+Madame Baradier, for the last few minutes, had been manifesting serious
+symptoms of uneasiness. She saw that the interview was assuming a form
+which did not please her; accordingly, she cut short the speech of the
+amiable Abbé, and said—
+
+“Will you kindly tell me what you wish, Monsieur l’Abbé? The man’s name
+will, I believe, explain the affair far better.”
+
+The young priest smiled; and, with the suppliant look of a martyr, he
+said—
+
+“I am a minister of charity and pardon, madame. The man’s name is M.
+Lichtenbach.”
+
+“I suspected it.”
+
+“Am I to imagine that his personality will render all understanding
+impossible, even in the interests of religion?”
+
+“It is not my place to form such a resolution, Monsieur l’Abbé. I cannot
+forget that there are in this house two men who are alone entitled to
+reply: my husband and my brother. Permit me to call them.”
+
+“I am at your disposal, madame.”
+
+“No. Monsieur l’Abbé, do not speak so. Whatever happens, be sure that we
+all rightly appreciate the mission of conciliation you have accepted. We
+shall not confound the mission with its agent.”
+
+Bowing to the priest, she left the room. The Abbé remained motionless in
+his armchair, buried in thought. He was fulfilling a mission useful to
+his order in a double sense. No preoccupation foreign to his religious
+duties troubled him. He rightly appreciated Elias, but the evangelical
+spirit would not allow him to neglect the salvation of even the most
+despicable of men. Had not Christ permitted the kiss of Judas? Did not
+the Holy Father lave the feet of the filthiest of beggars? Besides, the
+interests of the Church inspired him. The door opened, and Graff
+appeared. Coming up to the young Abbé, he bowed—
+
+“My sister, Madame Baradier, has just informed me of your presence,
+Monsieur l’Abbé. My brother-in-law, Barassin, is busy in the office, and
+begs to be excused. Besides, I have full permission to act as I think
+best. Will you explain?”
+
+“Has not Madame Baradier told you?”
+
+“In a few hasty words. You are sent by Lichtenbach? Good! That does not
+astonish us in the least. So long as he was the stronger, he did us all
+the harm he could. Now that we have the upper hand, he is trying to stop
+the game. Let us hear what he wants.”
+
+M. d’Escayrac smiled.
+
+“It is pleasant to talk to you, monsieur; one knows at once where one is
+going.”
+
+“Very well, Monsieur l’Abbé; since you know, proceed at once to facts.”
+
+“By chance, your firm and that of Lichtenbach have met on the same ground
+concerning the exploitation of a patent.”
+
+“You call that chance? Good! Good! As for the ‘same ground,’ there is
+some truth in that, since, in order to obtain the patent in question,
+they have exploded a house, that of one of our friends; set fire to a
+manufactory, our own; assassinated two men, and risked killing several
+others. It is a ‘ground’ sprinkled with blood, Monsieur l’Abbé! But,
+still, it is that abominable ‘same ground!’”
+
+The priest crossed his hands with an expression of horror.
+
+“Monsieur, I knew nothing of what you are now revealing to me. Were it
+any one but yourself who were speaking, I should think he had taken leave
+of his senses. It is impossible that the man, in whose name I am here,
+should have committed the frightful acts you now reproach him with.”
+
+“Let us understand one another,” replied Uncle Graff, eagerly. “I do not
+accuse Lichtenbach of having shed blood. He is incapable of it for
+several reasons, the best of which is that he would not dare to do such a
+thing. But the patent of which you speak has been obtained by the means I
+have just informed you of. Monsieur l’Abbé, you have been beguiled into a
+disagreeable enterprise. Still, in us you have to deal with those who
+have too much respect for religion for you to need to fear any
+responsibility. You may explain yourself without any further beating
+about the bush. Whatever may be said between us will not be repeated.
+After all, this interview may have some useful result, who knows?”
+
+“I have no doubt whatever of that,” said the Abbé, considerably troubled
+all the same. “Oh, monsieur, how pleased I am to have to discuss the
+interests entrusted to my charge with so benevolent a man as yourself!
+God be praised! If possible, we will bring about a perfect understanding.
+If only you knew what I myself dread! In very truth, M. Lichtenbach is
+not so responsible for all that has happened as you suppose. He is not
+his own master in this matter; he has to deal with powerful personages,
+who will not lay down their arms, and who, I am afraid, will have
+recourse to the most extreme measures to obtain the supremacy over you.”
+
+“We have nothing to fear!”
+
+“There are poisoned weapons which will kill even the most invulnerable.
+Be on your guard, monsieur, against the plots to which your adversaries
+at bay may have recourse. I speak to you in all sincerity. I was not
+aware of the past, but I have been terrified at the glimpse into the
+future that has been permitted me.”
+
+“By whom? Lichtenbach?”
+
+“Oh! He was terrified himself; and begged me to come and speak to you,
+simply knowing me to be one whose character could offer him sufficient
+guarantee for discretion. I can assure you that in him you no longer have
+an enemy to deal with. Of that he is ready to give you whatever proof you
+wish.”
+
+“He is deceiving you, Monsieur l’Abbé. You have been his dupe, and know
+him well. What does he want?”
+
+“He proposes the complete fusion of the two enterprises by the
+exploitation of the two patents. Though the Dalgetty is previous to the
+Trémont patent, the two discoveries, being almost similar, shall be
+considered as equal.”
+
+“What is that?” exclaimed Uncle Graff. “Lichtenbach is, indeed, very
+kind. One is genuine, the other counterfeit. The Trémont patent is the
+result of work and intelligence; the Dalgetty patent is the result of
+fraud and theft.”
+
+“My dear sir,” exclaimed the Abbé, uneasily, “official declarations are a
+guarantee of faith. One cannot go against facts. The Dalgetty was taken
+out by an English company before the Trémont.”
+
+“And how does that affect us? The Dalgetty has no value; those who have
+sent you here are well aware of that fact. We have them in our power, I
+tell you; they can do nothing. Their patent is not worth the money they
+have spent in taking it out. For months past Lichtenbach and ourselves
+have been adversaries over the Explosives Company. We hold the right end,
+that he well knows. He will soon have to undertake a liquidation. And
+then?”
+
+“He offers to stop his bear operations.”
+
+“He cannot continue them any longer.”
+
+“He will take at half price the shares of the Explosives of which you are
+the holders, and pay for them at once.”
+
+“I dare say he will; they will rise at a leap to two hundred francs
+each!”
+
+“He is ready to offer you a pledge of his frank and, henceforth,
+invariable co-operation. If, in your family, you had a person belonging
+to his family, if an alliance united your common interests, would you not
+consider that an absolute guarantee of his sincere cessation of enmity
+against you?”
+
+Graff turned pale, but succeeded in mastering his emotions, and, wishing
+to know his opponent’s inmost thoughts, he said—
+
+“Who is the person in question on Lichtenbach’s side?”
+
+“Mademoiselle Marianne, his daughter.”
+
+“And on ours?”
+
+“Your nephew, M. Baradier.”
+
+“So these two would be married, and Baradier, Graff, and Lichtenbach
+would form one single family.”
+
+“I do not know whether or not you are acquainted with Mademoiselle
+Lichtenbach. She is a charming young lady, brought up under the loftiest
+religious influences, and calculated to offer your nephew the most
+serious guarantees of happiness possible. It would be a joy to us to have
+contributed to the reconciliation of former enemies, separated by
+quarrels, which might, doubtless, easily be forgotten in the midst of
+general satisfaction. Concord and peace instead of enmity; no more fears
+or threats. One common and complete prosperity! Come, my dear sir,
+pronounce the words of redemption and hope, make an effort over your
+pride, and give the world an example of gentleness and charity.”
+
+Graff had silently listened to the priest’s earnest pleading. His bent
+forehead and closed eyes gave the Abbé d’Escayrac to believe that his
+words were having their due effect on the old man’s thoughts. There was a
+moment’s silence. Then the uncle looked the Abbé straight in the face,
+and, in firm tones, said—
+
+“Monsieur l’Abbé, in the cemetery of Metz, there are Graffs who would
+leap from their tombs if one of their descendants were to demean himself
+so far as to marry the daughter of a Lichtenbach!”
+
+“Monsieur!” exclaimed the Abbé in surprise.
+
+“Then you do not know the Baradiers and Graffs, or you would not propose
+to them an alliance with a Lichtenbach? Do you know who Lichtenbach is?
+Between Lorraine and Paris, there is not a mile of ground which has not
+been strewn with French blood, on account of this wretch. A spy, to lead
+the enemy to victory; food-supplier to the foe; when our troops were
+dying of hunger, he fattened on war, and enriched himself on treason. He
+sold his brothers of France—the Jews, who fought in our ranks and died
+like brave soldiers, double Judas as he was! And after receiving the
+reward for his treason, he turned Christian, and set about defiling
+another religion, by the disgusting intransigence of his apostate zeal!
+There you have a picture of Lichtenbach, Monsieur l’Abbé. Must I now tell
+you who Graff and Baradier are?”
+
+“Oh, I know well, my dear sir! Your honour and patriotism are universally
+respected. But what animosity and rancour! Is this what I shall have to
+tell the one who sent me?”
+
+“Tell him he is an impudent rascal for having charged such a man as
+yourself with such a mission. Tell him our scorn for him is only equalled
+by his hatred against us. Assure him we have not the slightest fear. If
+he wishes to slander us, we will pay him back in the same coin; if he
+dares to strike us, we will defend ourselves. In the latter case, let him
+be careful!”
+
+“Monsieur!” said the Abbé, in tones of entreaty. “Reflect? Anger is a bad
+counsellor.”
+
+“Monsieur l’Abbé, I am perfectly calm. You do not know me. I never give
+way to passion. If I did, the result would be terrible. But a great deal
+would be needed to bring about such a state of things!”
+
+“Must I then leave you without obtaining any result? I am well aware that
+you are exposed to the most terrible dangers.”
+
+“I thank you for warning us. We shall be on our guard.”
+
+“Is that your last word?”
+
+“No, Monsieur l’Abbé. Never has a priest entered this house without
+taking away, for himself and his work, a testimony of our respectful
+deference and humble piety.”
+
+Graff took from his pocket a cheque-book, wrote a few words, and, handing
+the piece of paper to his visitor, said—
+
+“For your poor parishioners, Monsieur l’Abbé.”
+
+“Oh!” exclaimed the priest. “This is princely liberality. I will pray for
+you, monsieur, with all my heart.”
+
+“Thanks, Monsieur l’Abbé,” said Graff, with a smile. “But pray, above
+all, for Lichtenbach.”
+
+And, opening the door, he conducted the priest out.
+
+That same evening, about nine o’clock, after dinner, Lichtenbach
+descended from his brougham, close to the entrance of the Boulevard
+Maillat. It was a brilliant night, and the groves in the Bois, under the
+silvery light of the moon, raised their dark masses against the horizon.
+The banker hurried along, not without some anxiety, for the spot was a
+deserted one, and a likely haunt of undesirable characters. After walking
+about a hundred yards, he halted in front of the ivy-covered gate of a
+villa, and knocked. A few seconds passed, then a small door turned on its
+hinges, and a woman appeared. It was Milona. Recognizing the banker, she
+stepped backwards, without uttering a word, and led the way into a garden
+in front of the house.
+
+“Is madame at home?” asked Elias.
+
+“She is expecting you,” said the Dalmatian, in guttural accents.
+
+“Good. Have the others arrived?”
+
+“Yes; an hour ago.”
+
+They proceeded along a flower-bed, the flowers of which gave out fragrant
+odours on to the night air. The servant mounted a flight of steps,
+followed by Lichtenbach. On reaching a dark ante-chamber, Lichtenbach
+handed his overcoat and hat to Milona, who opened a door, and out of the
+darkness he passed suddenly into the light of the salon, the windows and
+curtains of which were hermetically closed. Seated at a table, Hans and
+Agostini were playing at piquet and drinking grog. On a divan Sophia
+reclined, in an elegant white deshabillé. The two men scarcely raised
+their heads on hearing Lichtenbach enter. The Baroness slowly sat
+upright, nodded graciously, and said—
+
+“Sit down by my side. They are finishing their game. How did you come? I
+did not hear the wheels of your carriage.”
+
+“I left it near the Porte Maillot.”
+
+“What precautions! Can you not trust your coachman?”
+
+“I trust no one.”
+
+“And suppose some night prowler had struck you to the ground, to teach
+you not to walk about alone at night in these parts?”
+
+Elias raised the butt-end of a revolver from his pocket, and said—
+
+“I should have been able to speak to him in his own language.”
+
+“I see; then you never travel without an interpreter?”
+
+“I cannot let myself be murdered for a paltry twenty francs; it would be
+altogether too stupid!”
+
+The conversation was interrupted by an exclamation from Cesare, who, in a
+passion, threw the cards down on to the table. Hans laughed to himself,
+and made a rapid calculation on a piece of paper.
+
+“That makes thirty-five louis for you to pay. You have lost fourteen
+hundred points!”
+
+“It is enough to make one believe in the Evil Eye!” growled the handsome
+Italian. “Ever since this Marcel Baradier cast his eyes on me, I cannot
+touch a single card without losing, at no matter what game!”
+
+Glancing angrily in the direction of Sophia, he said—
+
+“This must come to an end!”
+
+“Come, now, peace!” ordered Hans, authoritatively. “What noise you make
+for nothing at all! What news have you, father money-bags? Has your
+jesuit d’Escayrac seen our friends?”
+
+“He has. They refuse.”
+
+“Refuse what? Be precise. Your daughter or our affair?”
+
+Elias changed colour, and his eyes flashed. However, neither anger nor
+chagrin appeared from his voice.
+
+“They refuse both alliance with me and co-operation with you. Everything,
+in short!”
+
+“Donnerwetter!” growled Hans. “Are they mad?”
+
+“No; they are aware that you have nothing, and they have everything. This
+they prove by sending us about our business.”
+
+“You take all this very calmly,” exclaimed Count Cesare. “I have seen you
+less resigned than you now appear.”
+
+“I am not in the habit of fighting windmills. You have tricked me into an
+absurd and dangerous business; now I am simply leaving it, that is all.”
+
+“Leaving your feathers behind.”
+
+“As you say. But as few as possible. I have already turned round about
+and effected a counter-operation.”
+
+“You rogue! You will end by earning money, where we lose everything!”
+replied Agostini, pale with anger.
+
+“If I do so, it is because I am not so stupid as you, who can do nothing
+but spend it.”
+
+Hans burst into a laugh. As Agostini seemed to be on the point of losing
+his temper, he laid his hand on his arm, and forced him to keep his seat.
+
+“Old money-bags is right; but we must not act like horses when there is
+no hay in the rack, and begin to fight. Let us study the situation, and
+see what can be done. First of all, what does the beauty say? Up to the
+present she has not spoken a word. Still, she must have an opinion on the
+matter; we will allow her to give it first.”
+
+The Baroness appeared to awake from a reverie, and she said, in
+disdainful tones—
+
+“It is not my custom desperately to follow up badly-conceived operations.
+You know what I have always told you since the Vanves night: that there
+was an evil spell over the whole affair. You will arrive at no successful
+end. After all, you have obtained half of what you wanted—the war powder.
+Follow the example Lichtenbach sets you. Give it up, and pass on to
+something else.”
+
+“Something else, indeed!” growled Hans. “No, I shall not let go an affair
+which has cost me so dear. Some one must pay me for the arm I have lost!”
+
+“Well, what plan have you to offer?” asked the Baroness, impatiently.
+
+“You will arrange to strike up a fresh acquaintance with Marcel Baradier.
+Bring me the young man here one of these evenings. He knows the secret of
+the manufacture, and he shall either give it up to you of his own free
+will, or I will undertake to force him to do so.”
+
+Lichtenbach’s hands trembled nervously. Sophia remained impassive.
+
+“Well, what do you say to my proposal?” asked Hans, in jovial tones.
+
+“I will have nothing further to do with the matter!” declared the
+Baroness.
+
+“Ah! take care!” exclaimed Agostini. “I know why you refuse to help us
+against young Marcel. You are afraid for him. That is the difficulty.”
+
+“And what if it were so?”
+
+Hans made no reply. He appeared to reflect deeply. Then, with feigned
+good temper, he said—
+
+“After all, you may be right. In any case, we can do nothing without
+you.”
+
+Lichtenbach heaved a sigh of satisfaction. The conciliating attitude
+suddenly assumed by Hans seemed to be full of meaning. Wishing to know
+what this terrible partner of his really thought, he judged it useful to
+dissimulate his own ideas.
+
+“Come, we will say nothing more on the matter! What this affair has cost
+me I will pass through the profit and loss account. Still, it is a pity
+we could not find that secret trick of manipulation. There was a great
+deal of money to be earned by it, after all!”
+
+Hans bit his lips, but made no reply; whilst Agostini turned gracefully
+round to Lichtenbach, and said—
+
+“And my marriage? What is to become of it?”
+
+“What has become of this affair of ours,” replied Elias, roughly,
+“nothing. The one fell with the other! My fine fellow, you have no longer
+a prospective dot. I took you with the Trémont powder, and the only
+powder now left is blinding dust!”
+
+“Ah! You treat me in this way. I may give you reason to repent it!”
+
+“And if I wished, you would not be allowed in France another twenty-four
+hours. Let us be going,” added Lichtenbach; “it is already late.”
+
+“We will accompany you to the toll-gate, for fear something may happen to
+you. This quarter is not very safe at nights. Good night, Sophia.”
+
+“Good night.”
+
+She held out her white hand, which her dreaded ally touched with that
+iron hand of his, covered with a glove.
+
+“May I not stay a few minutes, Sophia?” asked Agostini.
+
+“No,” said the Baroness, emphatically. “Good night!”
+
+Ringing the bell, Milona appeared.
+
+“Show these gentlemen out, Milo.”
+
+Silently they left the house, preceded by the Dalmatian, who held a round
+lantern to light the way through the sinuous turnings of the path leading
+to the little ivy-covered door. This she opened, and then disappeared.
+They proceeded along the Avenue Maillot in silence, each occupied with
+his own thoughts. Suddenly Hans stopped, and said, in low accents—
+
+“Sophia is tricking us. But things shall not happen as she imagines. I
+pretended to give way, the better to deceive her. Now this is what we
+will do. Cesare will send a letter in a disguised hand-writing to young
+Marcel Baradier, fixing a rendezvous at the Boulevard Maillot about ten
+o’clock at night. I shall be there to receive him, with others on whom I
+can rely, and I will undertake to introduce the pigeon into the dovecot.
+Once there, Sophia must be forced to employ her wiles, whether she will
+or not. It is the same plan I mentioned just now, and which she refused.
+The only difference is that I do not ask for her permission before
+putting it into practice.”
+
+“But suppose Baradier does not come?” said Cesare.
+
+“What? Not come? Can you imagine that he would not come to a rendezvous
+fixed by the Baroness? He will fly to it at once. And when we have him!”
+
+“What will you do?” asked Lichtenbach, in quivering accents.
+
+“That is my own business. Just trust to me to loosen this young man’s
+tongue!”
+
+“Violence?”
+
+“A mode of persuasion he cannot resist.”
+
+“And suppose he denounces you on leaving the house?”
+
+“If only he will speak beforehand he will have plenty of time to say what
+he wishes afterwards.”
+
+Lichtenbach shuddered. He felt that Hans had made up his mind to kill
+Marcel Baradier, and that the bandit was pursuing a double end:
+possession of the secret, and revenge for his mutilation.
+
+“For the future,” he said, “I will have nothing more to do with your
+actions, in which I repudiate all share. I do not wish even to know the
+result of your attempt. You seem to have gone mad!”
+
+“Ah! don’t think we ever relied on you for anything else than an advance
+of funds?” said Count Cesare, jeeringly. “To us you have been the hen
+which laid the golden eggs; now that you have stopped laying, go your own
+way!”
+
+“No tricks with us, Lichtenbach,” said Hans. “If we succeed, the Dalgetty
+patent will have its full effect, you know; consequently you will share
+in the profits. What you say now is only another instance of your
+hypocrisy; you reject the responsibility, but are willing to accept the
+profits. Very well, my friend, you shall have them!”
+
+They had reached the spot where Lichtenbach’s carriage stood. Agostini
+gracefully opened the door, saying—
+
+“Good night, my prince, pleasant dreams!”
+
+Meanwhile, M. Mayeur had acted in accordance with information received
+from Baudoin and Colonel Vallenot. For a week now he had known the
+details of Count Cesare’s life. Of very good birth, belonging to an
+illustrious family, Signor Agostini had been obliged to leave the Italian
+army after an affair of honour.
+
+Concerning Hans, nothing could be discovered. The Baroness had been
+tracked, through Agostini, to her rooms in the Boulevard Maillot. The
+hotel had been let furnished. She lived very quietly, under the name of
+Madame de Frilas. M. Mayeur had sent an intelligent agent to the Baron
+Grodsko at Nice, and obtained from him full information concerning her.
+
+Provided with his notes, M. Mayeur had returned to the War Office to
+communicate them to Colonel Vallenot, and ask of him the result of his
+personal investigations. Introduced at once into the Minister’s cabinet,
+the magistrate had seen the results of his examination confirmed by
+supplementary details. In proportion as light was thrown on the
+personality of the different actors in the drama, the gravity of the
+affair became more and more evident. They discovered, beyond the faintest
+shadow of doubt, that they had to deal with an association of
+international espionage, which had been working for at least ten years on
+behalf of foreign governments, probably exploiting them in turn, and
+betraying them to the profit of one another.
+
+It was possible that the whole of Europe had been duped by these clever
+rascals. The least false step might alarm the culprits and cause them to
+disappear! M. Mayeur grew pale at the restraint placed on him. But how
+was it possible to neglect such imperious political necessities? Colonel
+Vallenot was the first to speak out clearly on the subject—
+
+“From this moment, General, it is certain we hold the Ténébreuse, as our
+agents call her. This is the woman of whom I spoke to you at the outset
+of our investigations some months ago, the one involved in the Cominges,
+Fontenailles affairs, etc. We have only to order, and she is in our
+power. Is it possible that we can let her escape?”
+
+“It is these deuced formalists, with their politics!” growled the old
+chief. “If the matter were in my hands it should not be allowed to linger
+in this way. These lawyers and quibblers astonish me! I only regain
+possession of myself when in the midst of my officers. What do you say,
+Monsieur le Juge?”
+
+At that moment the door opened, and the porter brought a card to Colonel
+Vallenot. The latter handed it to the Minister, who exclaimed—
+
+“Marcel Baradier! Show him in!”
+
+The young man entered, bowed, and, addressing the General, said—
+
+“I undertook, General, to keep you _au courant_ of anything fresh that
+might happen. I have come to keep my promise.”
+
+“Very good, my friend, explain.”
+
+“This morning, General, I received this letter.”
+
+He placed on the desk a sheet of paper, which the Minister examined
+attentively.
+
+“No date, very common paper, an evidently counterfeit handwriting, and no
+signature. Now let us see what it says: ‘If you wish to see once more the
+one who still loves you, go to-night, at ten o’clock, to the Place de
+l’Etoile, at the corner of the Avenue Hoche. A carriage will be stationed
+there. Enter it, the coachman will ask no questions, and will take you
+where you are expected.’”
+
+“Good. The classic mode of procedure, except that you are not asked to
+submit to having your eyes bandaged. What have you made up your mind to
+do?”
+
+“I shall go to the rendezvous.”
+
+“Ah, ah! Without the slightest apprehension?”
+
+“That is another matter, General. All the same, I shall go. I am
+determined to have the solution to this enigma.”
+
+The magistrate interrupted him in gentle tones—
+
+“Permit me to remark, monsieur, that this resolution of yours is an
+exceedingly imprudent one. Ninety-nine chances to a hundred they are
+attempting to entrap you. Do not add to our trouble by exposing yourself
+to danger for an uncertain result.”
+
+“If it is she who has written to me, I have nothing to fear.”
+
+“The deuce!” exclaimed the General. “You are very affirmative!”
+
+Marcel replied gently—
+
+“You may have concerning this woman whatever opinion your information has
+permitted you to form. False with the others, she was truthful to me. She
+betrayed the rest. To me she has been faithful and devoted.”
+
+“Listen!” exclaimed the General. “He is convinced of the truth of what he
+says. She persuades each and every one of them that she is sincere, and
+they all believe her!”
+
+“I will run the risk!”
+
+The old soldier brought down his fist on to the desk—
+
+“Well, you are a brave fellow! I like this obstinacy, Vallenot. The deuce
+take me if I would not have done the same thing at his age. Well, it is
+understood, go to the rendezvous. But we, too, shall take precautionary
+measures to protect and defend you, if necessary.”
+
+“Oh! General, do nothing whatever, please! The slightest intervention
+would ruin everything! If it is really Sophia who has written the letter,
+I have no need of an escort or protection of any kind. If it is a trap,
+those who have prepared it have their eyes open, and will notice all your
+preparations.”
+
+“Do you know where the lady lives?” asked the magistrate.
+
+“No, sir; as you see, no address is given in the letter.”
+
+M. Mayeur then said in measured tones—
+
+“My dear sir, your reasons are not bad ones at all. True, I have
+recommended you to be prudent, but if you will go to the rendezvous, go.
+Still, as we must always look at things from a practical standpoint, what
+result do you expect to obtain?”
+
+“Monsieur,” said Marcel, gravely; “General de Trémont was my friend; his
+death has not been avenged. Our works have been fired; my uncle Graff, my
+servant, and myself were almost burnt alive. This crime has not been
+punished, any more than the assassination of Laforêt. I intend to throw
+light on all these facts, though it be at the peril of my life.”
+
+“Very good, sir, all I can do is to wish you good luck.”
+
+Marcel bowed and shook hands with the three men.
+
+“He is a true Baradier! But he is too venturesome!”
+
+As soon as the door was closed, M. Mayeur rose from his seat,
+exclaiming—.
+
+“Here is an opportunity, General, to seize all these rascals at once. Of
+course, you know as well as I do that it is their object to entice M.
+Baradier into the house in the Boulevard Maillot, and there force him to
+give up his secret. Just now you said that these villains must be induced
+to resist, and then massacred. Without going to that extremity, we have
+now an opportunity of simplifying the whole proceedings.”
+
+“But you promised Marcel you would not interfere!” said Colonel Vallenot.
+
+“I don’t intend to interfere. He shall do as he likes. But I cannot take
+no interest in these preparations, nor will I, like young Baradier, be
+chivalrous with bandits. This is my plan: The rendezvous is for ten
+o’clock. You know the situation of the Boulevard Maillot; there is a
+ditch separating it from the Bois de Boulogne. A splendid hiding-place to
+hide a posse of police entering by the wood. I know a detective officer
+who is as intelligent as he is determined. I shall give him instructions
+to post himself there, and keep watch. In case M. Baradier is right, and
+there is nothing to fear, my men will simply have passed a night in the
+open-air. If he is mistaken then the danger will be a real one. You heard
+him say that he would be armed and ready to defend himself. At the first
+cry or shot my men will invade the house. If they are threatened they
+resist, if they are struck they will fire. Whether diplomacy wishes or
+not, if the villains are caught in the act the matter must take its
+course.”
+
+“Whatever happens, do not let young Baradier be killed, and above all try
+to lay hands on the woman.”
+
+“What do you think of the plan, General?”
+
+The old soldier looked at the magistrate, then at Vallenot. He noticed
+the impassive countenance of the latter, and replied—
+
+“You need not ask for my advice. All these judicial operations are out of
+my province. Act as you think best; I have nothing to say.”
+
+The magistrate shook his head, with a mocking smile; then, taking up his
+hat, he said—
+
+“Ah, I know what you mean! So long as the affair is not over, no one
+wishes to have anything to do with it. If it succeeds, then I shall be
+the only one to be left out of it all. But that matters little. It is my
+duty, and I will not hesitate. Your servant, General.”
+
+And he left the room accompanied by Colonel Vallenot.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+IT was about half-past nine, and Uncle Graff had dined in the Rue de
+Provènce as usual. Baudoin approached him, and whispered in his ear—
+
+“Two ladies have called, and one of them wishes to speak to M. Marcel.”
+
+“What kind of a woman is she?” asked the uncle.
+
+“A very respectable-looking person, sir. The other must be a governess or
+a lady’s maid.”
+
+“Where are they?”
+
+“In the ante-chamber.”
+
+“Turn on the electricity in my room, and show them in.”
+
+Baudoin did as he was ordered. Uncle Graff continued his descent,
+murmuring to himself—
+
+“Another of Marcel’s escapades! I wonder what it is this time.”
+
+On approaching his room he saw, standing by the door, a young lady
+dressed in black, and wearing a veil. Uncle Graff’s first impression was
+a favourable one. Pointing to a seat, he said kindly—
+
+“My nephew, madame, is not at home. Cannot I—”
+
+He was not allowed to finish the sentence. The young lady said in
+beseeching tones—
+
+“Monsieur, it is a question of life or death.”
+
+“For whom?” asked Uncle Graff, anxiously.
+
+“For your nephew!”
+
+“How have you been informed of this? And who are you?”
+
+The visitor replied immediately—
+
+“I am Mademoiselle Lichtenbach, monsieur, and I place myself entirely at
+your disposal.”
+
+As she spoke she removed her veil. Uncle Graff, stupefied, recognized the
+daughter of his enemy. She was pale and trembling, but resolute.
+
+“Who has sent you?” he asked.
+
+“My father! He thought that if he came himself, perhaps you would not
+receive him. At this very moment, perhaps, your nephew is running the
+most serious danger. My father, who has just received news of it, begged
+me to come and tell you.”
+
+“But how did he receive his information?” asked Graff, suspiciously.
+
+“Ah, monsieur! begin by taking the necessary measures to help M. Marcel,”
+said Marianne, eagerly. “Afterwards you may ask what questions you
+please.”
+
+“At whose hands lies the peril?”
+
+“At the hands of the same band which killed General de Trémont. My father
+has been informed of these intrigues. Act without losing a moment.”
+
+“But what can we do?” exclaimed Uncle Graff, carried away by the young
+lady’s eagerness.
+
+“I will explain to you. Wait a moment.”
+
+Passing her hand over her forehead, she said in piteous accents—
+
+“Yes, that was it. A woman he knew at Ars.”
+
+“The Italian?”
+
+“Yes, doubtless. He loved her, and they knew he would be pleased to see
+her again.”
+
+She paused. The pallor of her face increased. What she was relating
+seemed to torture her.
+
+“So they wrote to him to fix a rendezvous. And they are expecting him
+this very evening, in a solitary out-of-the-way house. But he will not
+find the one he expects to meet, but, instead, a band of villains,
+determined to employ the most violent measures to force him to reveal a
+secret that they cannot fathom. Now do you understand?”
+
+“Yes. ‘Where is this house?”
+
+“See, here is the address written on this piece of paper.”
+
+Graff read—
+
+“Boulevard Maillot, 16 bis. And you say that he was expected there about
+ten o’clock?”
+
+As though in obedience to his words, the timepiece struck the hour at the
+very instant.
+
+Graff rang the bell. Baudoin appeared.
+
+“Quick, Baudoin, a carriage! You will accompany me. Have you a good
+revolver?”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“Then bring it with you. Do not say a word to any one. I will rejoin you
+in the yard. Ten o’clock! We will be there, all the same, and if they
+have harmed the child, let them beware!”
+
+Baudoin had already left the room. Marianne, motionless, watched Uncle
+Graff make his preparations. He took up a bundle of bank-notes, a
+revolver, and a heavy steel-headed stick. Then he appeared to remember
+that Mademoiselle Lichtenbach was in the room. Coming up to her, he said
+kindly—
+
+“My child, I thank you for the service.”
+
+“Oh, monsieur!” exclaimed Marianne, her eyes gleaming with suppressed
+tears; “save him, that is the main thing!”
+
+“He shall be informed, mademoiselle, of what you have risked for his
+sake. I know what this errand must have cost you.”
+
+Marianne smiled sadly.
+
+“I am returning to-morrow to the convent, doubtless for ever. Life is
+full of sadness and pain.”
+
+Graff waited no longer, but rushed out into the street, as the brougham
+of Mademoiselle Lichtenbach vanished in the distance. Baudoin was
+standing near the cab. Graff leapt into the carriage and said—
+
+“To the Porte Maillot! You, Baudoin, mount with me. I want to speak to
+you.”
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+Marcel had never felt so calm as on the evening he made his way towards
+the Place de l’Etoile.
+
+When he entered the carriage it immediately started off along the Avenue
+de la Grande-Armée, wheeled round at the Porte Maillot, and, after a two
+minutes’ further run, came to a halt in a dark-looking avenue, near a
+garden gate. Marcel stepped out, and the carriage disappeared. A small
+door, hidden in the ivy, was now opened, and a valet in livery appeared.
+Marcel followed him in the direction of a house which raised its sombre
+mass in front. A single light shone from a window on the first floor.
+Mounting a flight of steps, he entered an ante-chamber. Suddenly an
+exclamation was heard in the next apartment, a rapid step was heard, a
+door overhung with tapestry was flung open, and Sophia, her face
+convulsed by the violence of her emotion, appeared. Her looks expressed
+the terror she felt, but not a word did she utter. Taking Marcel by the
+wrist, she drew him into the room she had just left—a bedroom—quickly
+turned the key in the lock, bolted another door, and, seizing the young
+man in her arms, whispered in his ear—
+
+“Wretched man that you are! How did you come here?”
+
+At the same time, and without appearing to be able to help herself, her
+lips sought Marcel’s neck, and she kissed him with a delirious rapture.
+
+“Then it was not you who summoned me?”
+
+“I! _Grand Dieu_! I would give ten years of my life if you were anywhere
+but in this house at this moment. Ah! the wretches! They have deceived
+me!”
+
+“Who are the wretches you speak of?” asked Marcel, firmly.
+
+“Ah! Do not question me! I cannot, must not, speak!”
+
+“Are you jesting?” said Marcel, ironically.
+
+“Poor child! You do not know them!”
+
+“Madame, is your brother among them?”
+
+She laid her hands on his mouth, those beautiful white hands, and he
+remained silent. Then, clasping him to her breast with passionate ardour,
+her eyes filled with tears—she stammered out—
+
+“Oh! Marcel, Marcel!”
+
+A sudden pallor came over her; she clung to him to prevent herself from
+falling, and her shapely head, with its wealth of raven hair, lay on the
+shoulder of the one she loved with hopeless passion.
+
+A sharp knock on the door brought them back to the reality of life.
+
+“Listen!” said Sophia.
+
+She drew near the door, asked a short question in a foreign language, and
+received an immediate reply. Apparently reassured, she opened the door,
+saying to Marcel—
+
+“It is Milo.”
+
+Milona entered, and the door was carefully closed again.
+
+“Have they sent you?” asked Sophia.
+
+“Yes, mistress.”
+
+“What do they want?”
+
+“To come to an understanding with you.”
+
+“I shall not go.”
+
+“They have provided for that contingency.”
+
+“Well?”
+
+“They have told me to repeat to you their demands from the young master.”
+
+“Silence! I do not wish him to know them!”
+
+“Would you rather they mount the stairs and kill him?”
+
+A deep silence followed. Sophia twisted about her arms, and groaned in
+despair. Her beautiful features were convulsed by powerless rage and
+exasperated dismay. Grinding her teeth, she flew to the mantel-piece,
+seized a short, sharp dagger, which she brandished aloft with a terrible
+skill.
+
+“Milo, you will not abandon me?”
+
+“Never! I will die for you, that you know well!”
+
+“Marcel is armed; so we are three! Oh! I will defend him with my last
+breath!”
+
+“Against them?” said Milona. “Can you hope to do such a thing? It would
+be impossible to resist them. They are all waiting below, in the
+dining-room, ready for anything!”
+
+“Oh! _Mon Dieu_! How mad I am! Do I not know them? Oh! Marcel, why did
+you place yourself at their mercy?”
+
+Flinging her poniard on to the ground, she sat down, overcome with
+emotion, buried her head in her hands, and burst into tears. Marcel,
+turning to the Dalmatian, asked, in calm accents—
+
+“Tell me, in a word, what it is they want from me?”
+
+Milona cast a questioning glance at her mistress. As Sophia made no sign,
+the servant explained—
+
+“They want the famous secret, which will give value to the powder they
+stole from you!”
+
+Marcel smiled, and then frowned in disdain.
+
+“Ah! that is what is puzzling them. I am glad to know that they have not
+succeeded in discovering what they were so interested in knowing. Milona,
+you may tell them that they will never learn it from me!”
+
+“We shall see about that before long!” exclaimed Agostini, passionately,
+from behind the door.
+
+“Ah! you are listening, you villain?” said Marcel, in vibrating tones. “I
+am very pleased to know it, for such a procedure simplifies things
+considerably! Tell your acolytes that I am not afraid of them; I have in
+my hand a revolver which will answer for the lives of six men. If they
+like, I will open the door, and the dance shall begin.”
+
+“Take time for reflection!” replied a deep, guttural voice—that of Hans.
+“Do not do anything stupid!”
+
+“Who is that?” asked Marcel. “He does not appear so stupid as the
+others.”
+
+“One would think you know us!” railed the bandit. “Patience! We will give
+you half an hour in which to decide. If, within thirty minutes, you have
+not given us satisfaction, I will undertake to make you speak. The night
+is damp—there is a good fire below!”
+
+Steps were now heard descending the staircase. Milona silently left the
+room, and Marcel and Sophia remained alone. The time-piece pointed to ten
+minutes past ten.
+
+“You heard them,” said Sophia. “Now you know what they propose to do.
+They want your secret.”
+
+“Very well! I have told them they shall not have it!”
+
+Looking at the young woman, he saw that a shudder came over her. Laying
+his hand on her shoulder, he added—
+
+“But I wish to know yours.”
+
+“Mine?” exclaimed the young woman, with a terrified gesture.
+
+“Yes! Who and what are you?”
+
+She smiled sadly.
+
+“A broken-hearted woman who loves you!”
+
+“Empty words! You say you love me. The only proof of this confession I
+ask for is that you be sincere with me.”
+
+Hiding her face in her hands, she exclaimed—
+
+“Never! You would hate me if I told you!”
+
+“Then it is true that you are the most abominable creature on earth?”
+
+“Oh! my darling, do not insult me!”
+
+“You will not speak? Then I will ask your accomplices downstairs. I
+imagine it will be a pleasure to them to give me information about you.”
+
+He started towards the door. She leapt forward. “Madman! You do not know
+the danger you are running! Stay here by my side.”
+
+He looked steadily into her eyes, and asked again—“Who are you?”
+
+She groaned.
+
+“Why are you so pitiless?”
+
+“If you do not speak, it is because you are well aware that my scorn for
+you would be so great, that nothing but disgust would remain in my memory
+from this past happiness!”
+
+She stood up, and proudly answered—
+
+“Poor Marcel, you are mistaken—you would still love me. If I pleased,
+nothing could withdraw you from me!”
+
+She looked at him as she spoke, and under the influence of her glance
+Marcel felt all his resolutions melt away, a feeling of languor came over
+him, and he lost the faculty of will-power.
+
+“Death is all around us,” she whispered. “Let us forget everything. Do
+not think any more, my love—leave your poor tortured heart in peace.”
+
+Suddenly a sound of footsteps was heard throughout the house, and cries
+coming from outside. Then came a sound as though a door had been torn
+from its hinges, followed by a revolver-shot. At the same time was heard
+a voice, which Marcel knew well.
+
+“Help! Baudoin, help!”
+
+Then another shot, followed by a volley of oaths. Marcel, on his feet,
+exclaimed—
+
+“It is my uncle Graff! _Mon Dieu_! They are killing him!”
+
+“Stay here, do not stir!” said Sophia, in beseeching tones.
+
+He made no reply, but rushed forward into the corridor, found the
+staircase, and, in the semi-darkness, saw in the hall, on the ground
+floor, a group of three men, in a hand-to-hand conflict with Graff, who,
+half-stifled, and encircled by their arms, was trying in vain to make use
+of his revolver. In front of the entrance-door Hans and Baudoin were
+engaged in a fierce struggle. The brave servant had his forehead gashed
+open, and the blood was flowing freely, but he had obtained a firm hold
+on his terrible opponent, and succeeded in holding him harmless for the
+moment.
+
+Standing above the balustrade, Marcel took aim at one of the three men
+who were strangling his uncle. A flash followed, and the man fell. At the
+same moment a shot was heard behind Marcel, and a ball whizzed past his
+ear. Turning round, he found himself face to face with Agostini, who was
+preparing to repeat the shot. With a sudden blow he dashed aside the
+weapon, seized the Italian by the waist, and, his strength doubled by the
+fury and rage which now possessed him, raised him in the air, and flung
+him over the rails of the staircase.
+
+At this exploit, Hans, powerless to strike Marcel, who was descending the
+steps four at a time, gave a howl of fury. He shook Baudoin with such
+energy that he forced him to abandon his hold. Then he placed him under
+his knee, and his iron arm was already raised to deal the deathblow, when
+Marcel rushed to the rescue with a terrible blow in the body, which
+hurled the colossus to the ground. He immediately rose to his feet,
+however, and, taking up a position in a corner, shouted out aloud—
+
+“Help! Here, you others! Help!”
+
+But the others had by this time too much to do. The police, attracted by
+the firing, invaded the house. Uncle Graff, at liberty, now came up with
+his revolver. But Baudoin, in hoarse tones, exclaimed—
+
+“Monsieur Graff, leave him to me—he is mine! It is he who killed my
+General!”
+
+He then took from the old man’s hand his steel-headed stick, disdaining a
+firearm, which would have made the combat unequal, and fell upon Hans.
+The bandit swore frightfully on seeing that all was lost; he struck a
+blow with his iron fist, but Baudoin lightly stepped aside. Then the
+stick whizzed through the air, and the steel head descended. Hans, struck
+on the temple, rolled over the flag-stones, and fell like an ox to the
+ground. This was a signal for a general rout. The three men who still
+resisted now leapt through the open windows, and vanished like shadows
+into the garden.
+
+“All escape is cut off; do not trouble about them,” exclaimed the head
+detective. “Let us see after the wounded and the dead.”
+
+Uncle Graff wished to take Marcel into his arms, question him, and assure
+himself that he was safe and sound; but, on turning round, he found
+Baudoin wiping away with his handkerchief the blood and perspiration
+flowing from his forehead. Marcel, as soon as the issue of the struggle
+left no room for doubt, had immediately thought of Sophia. Now that
+danger for him had disappeared, it loomed forth with a terrible aspect
+for her. The police, who had restored the situation by intervening to
+save him, would now appear on the scene for her ruin. He mounted the
+stairs more quickly than he had descended, for he felt that the time in
+which anything could be done was short indeed.
+
+Rushing into the room, the door of which was still open, he drew the
+bolts on Sophia with as much fear and solicitude as she had drawn them on
+himself. She had remained standing, leaning pensively against the
+mantelpiece, as though devoid of interest in what was taking place on the
+floor beneath. Milona stood by her side; she had doubtless told her of
+the defeat of her companions. Marcel, in terrified ardour, rushed up to
+her.
+
+“The house is in the hands of the police, do you not know? Why are you
+still here?”
+
+“I was waiting for you,” replied Sophia, calmly. “But it means ruin to
+you!”
+
+“How does that affect you?”
+
+“I will not consent to it! I cannot endure the idea that you should
+suffer threatenings and torture for having defended me.”
+
+A light came into Sophia’s face.
+
+“Then will you still allow me to see you?”
+
+He replied, firmly—
+
+“Impossible! After what has taken place between us, I must never see you
+again! I cannot, I must not! For your own sake!”
+
+Her tranquil, careless look returned.
+
+“Then leave me to my fate!”
+
+“No! I will not do that! You, ruined on my account, when— Will you
+torture my thoughts by the frightful memory of the past?”
+
+“Oh, Marcel, if I could only please you! If you would only love me! How
+dearly I would pay you for such happiness!”
+
+She smiled. Tears filled her eyes, and she looked so beautiful that a
+shudder ran through his whole body. Turning aside, he said—
+
+“Wretched woman! what will become of you?”
+
+She showed him a ring, the bezel of which was made of a bead of chased
+gold.
+
+“Look at this bead of gold; it contains liberty and death at the same
+time. Pour its contents into a glass of water, and all is over, without
+suffering.”
+
+She stretched out her hand towards a tray containing a bowl of water and
+a glass.
+
+“I forbid you!” cried Marcel, dismayed.
+
+She looked at him with a terrible intensity, whilst her face shone with
+superhuman ardour.
+
+“Nothing without you!” she said. “Everything with you! Decide!”
+
+“Impossible!”
+
+With a sorrowful smile, she continued—
+
+“Reflect! You know what I am. If you wish, I will live, but only to be
+yours. I will come whenever you want me, and will not trouble you in any
+way. Oh! every expiation and sacrifice, every grief and pain imaginable,
+to be yours once more!”
+
+Steps were heard mounting the staircase. Marcel, terror-struck, said—
+
+“They are coming! They will take you! If you wish to save your life,
+leave the room at once!”
+
+“Let them come! They will only take me if I am willing. I have nothing to
+fear from any other than yourself. Do you wish me to live? Swear that you
+will see me again!”
+
+At that supreme moment the pale faces of General de Trémont and poor
+Laforêt, of Agostini, dead, and Hans, lying on the blood-stained stone,
+rose before Marcel’s imagination, and an insurmountable horror came over
+him. He bent his head without a word. A slight noise of something
+touching glass caused him to look up. He saw Sophia drinking the poison.
+Rushing up, he dashed from her hands the empty glass. Smiling, she said—
+
+“Too late!”
+
+“Open! Open!” exclaimed several voices behind the door.
+
+Sophia found sufficient strength to say—
+
+“Open now, Milona!”
+
+The Dalmatian obeyed. A veil came over Sophia’s eyes, her cheeks turned
+deadly pale. Milona, terrified, fell to the ground, her dark, dishevelled
+hair falling round her face like a funeral veil.
+
+“Where is the woman?” shouted M. Mayeur from the staircase, as he came on
+the scene, panting and triumphant. “She has not been allowed to escape, I
+hope!”
+
+He appeared, accompanied by Graff, and stood, as though petrified, on the
+threshold.
+
+Marcel, pointing to Sophia, who had just breathed her last, said—
+
+“Here she is!”
+
+The Ténébreuse, ever elusive, had this time taken refuge in the darkness
+of eternal night.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+THE affray of the Boulevard Maillot was prudently passed over as a drama
+founded on jealousy. Two men quarrelling over a woman, and the rivals
+killing one another over the corpse of the fair one—such was the account
+furnished to the reporters. Imagination did the rest. Paris dwelt with
+passionate interest for twelve hours on this magnificent butchery, the
+horrors of which were described all the better from the fact that no one
+had been admitted to see them. M. Mayeur alone made a complete search all
+over the house, but discovered nothing calculated to throw any light on
+the identity of Hans. Neither the anthropometric service nor the most
+experienced detectives could find out the slightest indication as to the
+mysterious personality of the dreaded bandit. Certainly he was the same
+man whose arm had been carried off at Vanves, when he had appeared there
+with Sophia, on the evening the General’s house had been destroyed. But
+what was he besides? The international police, on being questioned, said
+nothing. Either they knew nothing, or were unwilling to give information.
+
+Sophia and Agostini were identified. The Princes of Briviesca undertook
+to inform the magistrate concerning the one member of their family they
+were well pleased to see themselves rid of. Count Grodsko could relate
+nothing more than he had already told to the agent who had questioned him
+at Monte Carlo. The examining magistrate enraged at finding nothing,
+thought for a moment of bringing a charge against Lichtenbach. He
+summoned him to his study, questioned him, and tried to obtain from
+Baradier and Graff revelations concerning him. But the former would not
+impeach, as was expected, their old enemy. Rivalry in business affairs,
+quibbles in banking relations, but nothing legally guilty. If a charge
+could be brought on these heads, then they would be obliged to surround
+the Place de la Bourse, from twelve to three every day, and arrest all
+who were raising those frightful cries beneath its columns. Besides, the
+highest circles had immediately interceded in favour of Lichtenbach, and
+the examining magistrate saw at once that he was on a wrong track.
+Accordingly, this time the Vanves affair was definitely shelved, and
+classed amongst the legal mysteries of the year.
+
+But though these tragic events were not destined to have any material
+consequences for Lichtenbach, serious moral results rapidly followed.
+Within a week following the death of Agostini and Sophia, Mademoiselle
+Lichtenbach entered the Convent des Augustines of the Rue Saint Jacques.
+She had had a two-hours’ conversation with her father. Pale, but
+determined, she was seen to leave her father’s study. Elias followed her,
+trembling, and with bowed head, tears streaming down his cheeks. On the
+landing he tried to stop his daughter, and stretched out his hands
+beseechingly as he stammered—
+
+“My child, do not be inexorable; have pity on me!”
+
+Marianne bowed her head as she replied—
+
+“I wish I could, father; but how will you redeem the past?”
+
+Without turning round, she descended the stone staircase, at the foot of
+which the carriage was waiting to conduct her to the Rue Saint Jacques. A
+moan of pain escaped the old man’s lips as he leaned over the iron
+balustrade. For a moment he seemed as though he would fling himself over.
+Then he cried out in heart-piercing accents—
+
+“Marianne! Marianne!”
+
+She raised her head. Stretching out his hands, he groaned—
+
+“You are the only one I have left in the world! Will you forget your
+father?”
+
+The young girl shook her head sadly, but did not give in. What terrible
+explanation could have taken place between father and daughter? What had
+Lichtenbach been forced to confess, for Marianne to show herself so
+inexorable? She made the sign of the cross, as though to strengthen her
+fainting heart. The pallor of her face increased, though she replied in
+firm accents—
+
+“I shall not forget you, father. I will pray for you.”
+
+She mounted the carriage, a rolling of wheels was heard, then followed a
+long silence. Lichtenbach returned slowly to his room, and sank down in a
+reverie.
+
+All the same, he did not give up business. On the contrary, he seemed to
+show a greater ardour than before for finance. His position on the
+Explosives settled, he regained the ground he had lost by a formidable
+campaign on gold mines. Never had his speculations been more brilliant or
+lucky than they were during the six months following his daughter’s
+departure. One would have thought that his grief had brought him good
+fortune, for everything succeeded which he undertook. All the same,
+nothing seemed to give him pleasure, and he changed greatly in physique.
+No longer could he mount the steps of the Bourse without halting for
+breath. Society had no further attractions for him.
+
+One winter evening, the _valet de chambre_, as he entered his master’s
+room, found Elias leaning over his desk, apparently asleep. Calling him
+by name, he received no reply. Terrified, he drew nearer, and touched his
+master. The banker remained motionless, whilst his hand clasped a short
+letter from his daughter. The few words he had been reading were still
+moist with the tears he had shed. He was dead, a victim to the only
+sentiment by which he had ever been vulnerable; the love of a father.
+
+Six months later, at twilight, in the study of the Rue de Provènce, Uncle
+Graff and Marcel were seated together. After signing all the letters for
+the evening’s post, Baradier had retired to his own room.
+
+The darkness gradually deepened, and uncle and nephew, seated in their
+armchairs, without a word, looked like vague, uncertain silhouettes. The
+clerks had all left, and silence reigned around.
+
+“Are you asleep, Uncle Graff?” asked Marcel.
+
+“No; I was just thinking.”
+
+“What about?”
+
+“About all that has happened the past twelve months. It is no mere
+trifle!”
+
+“No, indeed. And what is the result of your reflections?”
+
+“That we have had the most extraordinary luck; we had to deal with
+enemies who seemed destined to triumph over us time after time; and that
+we have manifestly been protected by a divine providence.”
+
+“Uncle Graff, you are rather illogical; extraordinary luck on the one
+hand, and divine providence on the other. They do not go very well
+together.”
+
+“Oh, you are too sceptical. It is your generation which makes you so. You
+no longer believe in anything.”
+
+“I do not believe in chance, no!” said Marcel, ironically. Then he added,
+in tones of sudden gravity, “But I believe in the firm, steadfast will of
+human beings. If we have been protected, as you say truly enough, it is
+because it was so willed. But for that—”
+
+Silence followed. The darkness had now become complete.
+
+“It was so willed,” repeated Uncle Graff. “You are alluding to that
+woman?”
+
+“I am alluding to ‘that woman.’ It was she who defeated the plans of her
+acolytes, and saved me.”
+
+“Because she loved you?”
+
+“Because she loved me.”
+
+“Well, then, tell me what passed between you for a woman of this stamp to
+sacrifice herself for a man she first intended to dupe, and afterwards to
+rob. For you cannot doubt the fact that she had plans concerning you?”
+
+“I am quite aware of the fact.”
+
+“She had had considerable experience in life, and yet—”
+
+“And yet she fell in love with a young man like myself. Well, probably
+because I was a change from all her other acquaintances. A cup of milk to
+a drunken man, for instance.”
+
+“And she killed herself for your sake, under your very eyes?”
+
+“Yes, Uncle Graff, because I would not promise to see her again.”
+
+“And yet you loved her?”
+
+“I both loved and hated her. Had I seen her again she would have obtained
+renewed dominion over me and ruined me. I determined it should not be
+so.”
+
+Uncle Graff sighed—
+
+“And do you sometimes think of this woman?”
+
+“Always.”
+
+“Do you know what you ought to do now, if you wish to turn over a new
+leaf?”
+
+“I know very well, my father spoke to me yesterday. And it is doubtless
+because I received his overtures coolly, that you are now returning to
+the same subject.”
+
+“You are right, my child. If you would only marry, now that you are
+reasonable and settled in life.”
+
+“Marry Geneviève de Trémont?”
+
+“Yes. She is the wife your father and mother have always intended for
+you. It would give them great pleasure, if you would marry her.”
+
+After a moment’s silence, Marcel said—
+
+“When Mademoiselle Lichtenbach came to warn you that a snare had been set
+for me, was she excited?”
+
+“Greatly excited.”
+
+“And you thought, when you saw her, that this extraordinary emotion was
+caused by some special interest she took in myself. At any rate, you said
+so to me.”
+
+“Certainly. I promised I would tell you. Besides, the child pleased me.
+She was anything but commonplace. And her determination the following
+morning confirmed the good opinion I had formed of her.”
+
+“Her resolve to enter the convent?”
+
+“You are right.”
+
+“In a word, then, Mademoiselle Lichtenbach has abjured the world for my
+sake. This child will have been recompensed for her devoted tenderness by
+the loss of everything happy and pleasant life had in store for her; and
+she is now destined to die poor; wearing a nun’s robe, with shorn hair,
+attending to the wants of the destitute?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Uncle Graff, in your opinion, are children responsible for the misdeeds
+of their parents?”
+
+The old man did not reply.
+
+“You do not reply,” urged Marcel. “My question troubles you?”
+
+“It troubles me greatly. One day, in this very room, I told an envoy of
+Lichtenbach’s, who made us an offer of the hand of his daughter for you,
+that all the Graffs would rise in their graves if a Baradier were to
+marry a Lichtenbach.”
+
+“What!” exclaimed Marcel, greatly agitated. “Such an offer has been made,
+and you never informed me of it?”
+
+“What would have been the use? You know how we felt just then for me to
+have given such an emphatic and stupid reply. Your father—Oh! I believe
+he would have preferred to see you in your grave rather than married to a
+Lichtenbach. Just think of it! The General had just been killed—the works
+were still in flames! No, no! It was impossible.”
+
+“But now, Uncle Graff?”
+
+“What! Can you think of such a thing?” asked the sentimental old fellow,
+in trembling accents.
+
+“I think of it so much,” said Marcel, firmly, “that if Mademoiselle
+Lichtenbach does not consent to become my wife I will never marry
+another.”
+
+At that moment a slight sound was heard, and the door closed.
+
+“Who is there?” asked Graff, eagerly.
+
+“Do not excite yourself,” said the voice of Baradier.
+
+“Were you listening?”
+
+“No; I have just come. But I heard your last words. How long are you
+going to remain in this darkness?”
+
+At the same moment he turned on the electric light. The three men looked
+at one another for a moment; they were very grave and serious, but a look
+of contentment was visible on their countenances. Baradier did not bow
+his head with that obstinate mien his son and brother-in-law knew so
+well. He was perfectly self-possessed. Sitting down at his desk, he said—
+
+“What difference would there be between us and mere nobodies or
+good-for-nothings if we were incapable of showing gratitude? It is not
+sufficient to appear honest and delicate in the eyes of the world—one
+must be without the slightest reproach before one’s own conscience.”
+
+He fixed on his son a look of perfect satisfaction, though his face paled
+with the emotion which had taken possession of him.
+
+“Marcel has spoken like a real Baradier or Graff. We must do as he has
+said.”
+
+At these simple words the three men quivered, consecrating as they did
+their successor with the worthy renown of his predecessors. Tears of joy
+and pride shone in his uncle’s eyes. Marcel, without a word, flung
+himself into his father’s arms.
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+                                 THE END
+
+     PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BECCLES.
+
+
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The woman of mystery, by Georges Ohnet,
+Translated by Fred Rothwell
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you
+will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
+using this eBook.
+
+
+
+Title: The woman of mystery
+
+
+Author: Georges Ohnet
+
+
+
+Release Date: October 13, 2022  [eBook #69149]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOMAN OF MYSTERY***
+</pre>
+<p>This etext was transcribed by Les Bowler</p>
+<h1><span class="GutSmall">THE</span><br />
+WOMAN OF MYSTERY</h1>
+
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<p style="text-align: center"><span
+class="GutSmall">BY</span></p>
+<p style="text-align: center">GEORGES OHNET</p>
+<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">AUTHOR OF
+&ldquo;THE IRONMASTER,&rdquo; &ldquo;DOCTOR RAMEAU,&rdquo;
+ETC.</span></p>
+
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<p style="text-align: center">TRANSLATED BY FRED. ROTHWELL,
+B.A.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/tp.jpg">
+<img alt=
+"Publisher&rsquo;s logo"
+title=
+"Publisher&rsquo;s logo"
+ src="images/tp.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">A NEW
+EDITION</span></p>
+
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<p style="text-align: center">LONDON <br />
+CHATTO &amp; WINDUS</p>
+<p style="text-align: center"><span
+class="GutSmall">1904</span></p>
+
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<p style="text-align: center"><a name="pageii"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. ii</span><span class="GutSmall">PRINTED
+BY</span><br />
+<span class="GutSmall">WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS,
+LIMITED,</span><br />
+<span class="GutSmall">LONDON AND BECCLES.</span></p>
+<h2><a name="pageiii"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+iii</span>CONTENTS</h2>
+<table>
+<tr>
+<td></td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span
+class="GutSmall">PAGE</span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>PART I</p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page1">1</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>PART II</p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page135">135</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p>PART III</p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page260">260</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<h2><a name="page1"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 1</span>PART
+I</h2>
+<h3>CHAPTER I</h3>
+<p><span class="smcap">In</span> his study, situated in the Rue
+Saint-Dominique, the Minister of War was walking to and fro. In
+furious fashion he twisted his moustache, which seemed even
+redder than usual, as he nervously fingered his eyeglass, in a
+manner which promised anything but a cordial welcome to any who
+entered his presence. Doubtless, his officers were well
+acquainted with the reasons of his ill-humour, for a profound
+silence reigned all around, and the great man&rsquo;s solitude
+was undisturbed save by the querulous twitterings of the birds in
+the garden. A minute later, he seemed to lose all patience, and,
+marching to the mantelpiece, he pressed an electric bell. An
+usher, with anxious mien, at once approached.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Has Colonel Vallenot returned?&rdquo; exclaimed the
+Minister, in fierce tones.</p>
+<p>The servant shrunk away, as though he would have liked the
+earth to open and swallow him; then he stammered,
+faintly&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I do not think so, sir&mdash;I will
+ask&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The General became purple with rage. An oath burst<a
+name="page2"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 2</span>forth from his
+lips like a bombshell, then a second, the third was useless. The
+door was again closed, the servant had vanished.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What can Vallenot be doing all the time he has been
+gone?&rdquo; muttered the Minister, as he resumed his pacing
+about the room. &ldquo;Ah! This is the way I am
+served!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Before he could finish, the usher had opened the door, and
+announced&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Colonel Vallenot.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A man of fifty years of age, tall and thin, with blue eyes and
+light moustache, marched briskly into the room, and, after
+saluting his superior in friendly wise, said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You seem to have lost all patience, General. I found an
+officer waiting for me at the very door of the War Office. The
+fact is, this has been anything but a small matter. After all, I
+have done everything possible&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed!&rdquo; interrupted the Minister, impatiently.
+&ldquo;You have just come from Vanves?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, General.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Alone?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; I took with me one of our cleverest detectives. You
+had not given me this authorization, but I took upon myself the
+responsibility.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have done quite right. But are you sure he is
+trustworthy?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Absolutely. He is a former sub-officer. Besides, I did
+not reveal to him the real object of my researches; he knows
+nothing important, and imagines he has simply been my auxiliary
+in an inquiry into the causes of a catastrophe hitherto
+ill-explained. We have nothing to fear in this
+direction.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, what has been the result of your
+researches?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If you will allow me, General, we will divide the
+inquiry into two parts, one consisting of moral circumstances,
+the <a name="page3"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 3</span>other of
+material facts. The affair is more complicated than you at first
+thought, and when I have finished, your embarrassment, instead of
+having lessened, will probably have increased.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Impossible!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He sat down before the desk, leaned over on his elbows, and,
+motioning to the Colonel to take a seat in an armchair by his
+side, said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now, tell me everything.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The house tenanted by General de Tr&eacute;mont is
+situated above the village of Vanves, near the fort. It was the
+night-watch which gave the alarm, and the garrison which
+organized first aid when the fire broke out. Nothing worth
+mentioning remains of the building. The explosion of the
+combustible matter contained in the laboratory has disorganized
+the very foundations, and the effect has been formidable. Stones
+hurled into the air have been found more than a mile distant, and
+the surrounding gardens belonging to the peasants are covered
+with <i>d&eacute;bris</i>. Had there been houses in the
+neighbourhood, the loss to property would have been
+enormous&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Minister interrupted.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The effects of melinite, probably?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, General, something quite different! Increase a
+hundred-fold the effects of the powder actually employed in
+charging our bombshells, and then perhaps you will have the
+equivalent of the destructive power revealed by the explosion of
+General de Tr&eacute;mont&rsquo;s laboratory.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Minister shook his head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; that is what he told me the last time I saw him at
+the Artillery meeting. He was on the trace of a discovery
+destined to give to our cannons so crushing a superiority that we
+were to become for long the arbiters of victory. The struggle
+against us would have been marked by such <a
+name="page4"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 4</span>massacres,
+accomplished with such absolute precision, that our military
+supremacy would have been certain once more. Has this had
+anything to do with the discovery?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then you admit, General, that malevolence may not have
+been entirely foreign to this mishap!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I admit nothing, Vallenot. I suspect everything. When
+you have told me all you know, we will talk it over.
+Continue.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;On reaching the spot, we found a body of troops, who
+had been ordered by the Ministry to proceed there, guarding the
+approaches of the property. There was already collected a crowd
+of three or four hundred people, discussing the matter, without
+counting a score of journalists, who made more noise than all the
+others together. They were complaining that they were not allowed
+to visit the spot <i>where</i> the explosion had taken place
+among the still smoking ruins of the villa. But there was in
+command a stern little lieutenant, who, in quite military
+fashion, had maintained order. Probably the press will be against
+us, but in the mean time we shall not have been interrupted; and
+that is something to be thankful for. Inside, there was only the
+secretary of the Prefecture of Police and the head of the
+detective force. My agent and I had come at the right moment. The
+researches were just beginning&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Where</i>? In the house?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;On the site of what had been the house, and which now
+offered to the gaze nothing but a gaping hole, at the bottom of
+which appeared a cellar, the vaults of which had been burst open.
+A staved-in barrel of wine formed a red pool on the floor. Not a
+trace of the staircase remained. The very steps had disappeared,
+and the stones were broken up into fragments as large as
+pigeons&rsquo; eggs. Never should I have thought such a crumbling
+possible. Wonderful to relate, one side of a wall which must have
+belonged to a <a name="page5"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+5</span>wash-house remained standing, along with a narrow window,
+in the iron bars of which a cloth-rag was waving. We were all
+staring at this solitary vestige of the disaster, when the chief
+of the detective force cautiously approached the spot. Raising
+his stick, he touched the shapeless rag hanging there, picked it
+up from the ground with an exclamation of surprise, and exposed
+it to our gaze. It was a human arm, still covered with both coat
+and shirt sleeves, cut off at the elbow, and covered with blood,
+the hand quite black.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Most extraordinary!&rdquo; exclaimed the Minister.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Rather sinister, General,&rdquo; continued Colonel
+Vallenot. &ldquo;I have seen hundreds of men killed on the field
+of battle, and thousands of wounded carried off in ambulances. At
+Gravelotte, I saw the head of the captain of my squadron roll at
+my feet, and the eyes wink repeatedly in the dust. It had been
+carried off by the bursting of a shell. In Tonkin I have found
+soldiers cut in four, their faces still grinning in spite of
+their torture. But never have I been so impressed as I was by
+this human arm, the sole remaining vestige of the drama we were
+trying to understand. The Government agent was the first to
+regain his <i>sang froid</i>, and he said, &lsquo;Gentlemen, this
+is an important piece of evidence. This arm has evidently been
+hurled across these bars by the explosion. But to whom did it
+belong? Is it one of the ill-fated General de
+Tr&eacute;mont&rsquo;s arms?&rsquo; &lsquo;The General did not
+live alone in the villa,&rsquo; observed the detective.
+&lsquo;There was a cook and a man-servant. Let us at once
+eliminate the supposition of the cook. This is a man&rsquo;s arm;
+accordingly, it belonged either to the General or to his valet.
+Unless&mdash;&rsquo; There was a silence. The Government agent
+turned towards him and said, &lsquo;Well, finish. Unless it
+belongs to the author of the catastrophe
+himself.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said the Minister; &ldquo;then he, too,
+thought the affair might be the result of a crime.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page6"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+6</span>&ldquo;Yes, General; and, as he spoke, he examined with
+the most minute attention the smutty, blackened hand. Carefully
+separating the fingers, he drew from the fourth finger a ring,
+which none of us had noticed; and, holding it aloft in triumph,
+said, &lsquo;The question is decided, if this ring belongs to the
+General. If not, we still doubtless possess a valuable piece of
+circumstantial evidence, which will permit us to unravel the
+mystery.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A ring! The deuce! I never remember seeing
+Tr&eacute;mont wearing a ring! No! I would take my oath on it. He
+never wore an ornament of any kind in his life, much less a ring.
+It would have been absurd in a man who was in the habit of
+handling acids from morning to night! No metal would have
+resisted the oxidising action of the substances he used in his
+experiments. But what kind of a ring was it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;An engagement ring, General. When rubbed with a
+glove-skin, the gold circle shone out, freed from the soot which
+tarnished it. Our agent fingered it a moment, then pressed it
+with his nail, and the ring separated in two. &lsquo;Look here,
+gentlemen!&rsquo; he exclaimed. &lsquo;There are letters engraved
+in the interior. Whatever happens, we now hold a
+clue.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This fellow has, indeed, proved himself very clever,
+Vallenot,&rdquo; said the Minister. &ldquo;Up to the present, I
+find that he is the only one who has shown any initiative. I must
+remember it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Wait a little, General. I have not yet reached the end.
+The Government agent had taken up the engagement ring, and was
+examining it. He finally placed it coolly in his pocket, with the
+words, &lsquo;We will look into this later on.&rsquo; And there
+we all stood, rather discountenanced by the strange intervention
+of the magistrate in leaving our curiosity thus disappointed. On
+due reflection, perhaps he <a name="page7"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 7</span>was right in postponing for a more
+thorough examination the information destined to result from this
+discovery, in not publishing proofs which might be of supreme
+importance. Still, if he wished to keep the secret of his
+investigations, he was disappointed, for at that very moment our
+agent, pursuing his inquiries, had removed the double sleeve, and
+laid bare the naked arm. This time it was no longer possible to
+conceal what he had found. On the forearm, between the wrist and
+the bleeding end, a blue tattooing appeared, representing a heart
+surrounded with flames, around which could be read the words
+&lsquo;Hans and Minna,&rsquo; and beneath the German word
+&lsquo;Immer,&rsquo; signifying &lsquo;Always.&rsquo;
+&lsquo;Gentlemen,&rsquo; said the Government agent, fixing his
+eyeglass, &lsquo;I demand of you the utmost discretion. A single
+word on what we have just discovered might have the most serious
+consequences. We may be in presence of an anarchist plot, or be
+obliged to suspect foreign interference. The affair is assuming
+quite unexpected proportions. In all probability a crime has been
+committed.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The deuce!&rdquo; exclaimed the Minister. &ldquo;I say,
+Vallenot, this is becoming serious! Perhaps we ought at once to
+inform the President of the Board of&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The secretary of the Prefect of Police must have done
+so already. As soon as he saw how matters were turning, he did
+not wait for the end of the inquiry, but immediately rode off to
+the Place Beauvau.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The first thing to do is to prevent the press from
+saying anything silly. If we have a crow to pick with foreign
+agents, for Tr&eacute;mont&rsquo;s investigations were suspected
+in Europe, it is of the highest importance that no suspicions be
+aroused, so that we may try to seize the authors of this guilty
+attempt.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is what we thought, General, and, consequently,
+all arrangements have at once been taken. It was absolutely <a
+name="page8"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 8</span>necessary to
+throw public opinion on a false scent. Accordingly, the theory of
+a chance accident was inevitable. It was at once decided that all
+communications made to the press should have this object in view.
+General de Tr&eacute;mont was rather eccentric, we must say,
+engaged in commercial chemical investigations, and it was his
+imprudence which had brought about the accident which has now
+cost him his life.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Poor Tr&eacute;mont! So fine a savant as he was! Well!
+well! State reasons must predominate. But it is hard to
+contribute in heaping calumnies on an old comrade!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do not have such thoughts, General,&rdquo; interrupted
+Colonel Vallenot, with a smile. &ldquo;There are surprises in
+store for us which will, doubtless, lessen your
+regret.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; said the rough soldier,
+frowning. &ldquo;You do not intend to utter calumnies against my
+friend from childhood, my comrade in war?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;God forbid, General! I shall simply give you the facts
+on which you desired information. If I have the misfortune to
+displease you, you will not be angry with me; you are too just
+for that.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is the meaning of this silence? Continue right to
+the end, Colonel; speak freely.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So I intend to do, General. Well, then, the secretary
+of the Prefect of Police had just undertaken to supply the
+version arranged by us to the numerous reporters waiting there,
+held in check by the line of troops, and to inform the Minister
+of the Interior, in case the police might have to be called in,
+when a great uproar arose from the direction of the village. A
+tumult of cries and shouts was heard. The lieutenant was
+preparing to go and see what was happening, when a man, breaking
+through the sentinels, ran up to us, bare-headed, with troubled
+countenance, and exclaiming, in tones of despair, &lsquo;My
+master! O God! <a name="page9"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+9</span>What has happened to the house? Not one stone left on
+another!&rsquo; Thereupon he halted, sank down on the ruins, and
+began to weep bitterly. We looked at him in silence, moved by his
+grief, and foreseeing some speedy enlightenment on the dark
+situation we were in. &lsquo;Who are you, my friend?&rsquo; asked
+the Government agent. The man raised his head, passed his hand
+over his eyes to brush away his tears, and, raising up to us a
+countenance at once intelligent and determined, said, &lsquo;The
+General&rsquo;s head servant, sir, for the last twenty years. Ah!
+If I had been there, this disaster might perhaps have been
+avoided! At any rate, I would have died with
+him!&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It was Baudoin!&rdquo; exclaimed the General.
+&ldquo;The brave fellow had escaped! Ah! That is fortunate. We
+shall learn something from him!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, General, but not the enlightenment we expected.
+Rather the contrary.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In what way the contrary?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will explain. The night before, about six
+o&rsquo;clock, the General was in his garden, strolling about,
+after working all day in the laboratory, when a telegram reached
+him from Vanves. He read it, continued his walk for a few
+minutes, with bowed head, as though in profound meditation, then
+he called Baudoin. &lsquo;You must set out for Paris,&rsquo; he
+said to him. &lsquo;I have an important order to give to my
+chemist, who lives in the Place de la Sorbonne. Give him this
+letter, then go to M. Baradier and pay him my respects. Then
+dine, and, if you like to spend the evening at the theatre, you
+may do so; here is a five franc piece. Return to-morrow morning
+with the chemicals.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Baudoin, who knew what it all meant, understood that
+the General wished him to leave the house for the whole night. He
+was anything but pleased at this, because, he said, it was not
+the first time that it had happened, and <a
+name="page10"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 10</span>always under
+the same circumstances: the arrival of a telegram, and the
+dismissal immediately following.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Still, the General did not give a holiday to the cook,
+with whom he was less cautious, as she was in the habit of going
+bed very early, which fact rendered any surveillance she might
+have exercised almost null. So the General needed to be alone
+from time to time. And he took care to send away the faithful
+servant, on whom he might have relied for the most complete
+discretion. What reason had he? This was what troubled Baudoin,
+and displeased him. So little was he accustomed to conceal his
+thoughts from his master that the latter noticed his sulky mood,
+and said to him: &lsquo;What is the matter? Don&rsquo;t you want
+me to send you to Paris? Are you to be pitied for the opportunity
+of going and enjoying yourself?&rsquo; &lsquo;I don&rsquo;t care
+about going to the theatre,&rsquo; Baudoin had said, &lsquo;but I
+do about performing my duty.&rsquo; &lsquo;Very well, you are
+doing your duty; you are obeying the order I have given you, to
+fetch for me some chemical products, dangerous to handle, but
+which I must have; besides, you are to call on my friend
+Baradier. Now go. I do not want you before to-morrow
+morning.&rsquo; &lsquo;Very well, sir.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But Baudoin was anything but pleased, a secret anxiety
+troubled him. Proceeding to the kitchen, he said to the cook,
+&lsquo;Last time the General sent me to Paris, what happened
+during the night? Did the General dine as usual? Did he shut
+himself up in his study, or did he go into the garden? At what
+time did he retire for the night? Did nothing happen out of the
+ordinary?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The woman said she knew nothing, she had noticed
+nothing unusual, and was very much astonished at his questions.
+He saw she was a thousand leagues from suspecting anything, so he
+did not press his questions. Still, although deeply respecting
+his master&rsquo;s wishes, his interest in his <a
+name="page11"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 11</span>welfare made
+him less strictly obedient, and he resolved to feign a departure,
+then take up a post outside, so that he might see what took place
+once the General was sure there was no inconvenient observer to
+be dreaded. The weather was exceedingly mild. Not a breath of
+air, and the gardens, filled with roses, shed forth exquisite
+odours as night approached.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Baudoin, after dressing himself, went to take leave of
+his master, received from him a list of the chemical products to
+be purchased, a few lines for his friend Baradier, and then took
+his departure. He went straight to the station, dined in a small
+restaurant close by, and, after nightfall, returned towards the
+house of his master. He dared not enter the garden, as he was
+afraid he would be noticed by the General, so he slipped into a
+cottage garden, the owner of which was his friend, and concealed
+himself in a small hut used for storing tools.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;From this spot he could keep an eye on the approaches
+of the villa, and, along a thick hedge, come right up to the wall
+adjoining the General&rsquo;s property. He sat down, lit his
+pipe, and waited. A few minutes before eight, the roll of a
+carriage was heard on the road. Baudoin, in ambush behind the
+hedge, was keeping a sharp look-out. By the light of the lantern
+he saw a brougham, drawn by two horses, pass by. Something told
+him that this carriage contained the persons the General was
+expecting. He ran along, right to the wall of the villa, and
+reached it the very moment the brougham came to a stop before the
+door. But he was not the only one on the look-out, for scarcely
+had the horses, still panting from the steep ascent, come to a
+halt, than the lofty form of the General showed itself through
+the darkness. At the same time, an impatient hand opened the
+door, and a man&rsquo;s voice said, in foreign accents,
+&lsquo;Ah! General, so you have come to meet us?&rsquo; M. de
+Tr&eacute;mont simply replied, <a name="page12"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 12</span>&lsquo;Is the Baroness there?&rsquo;
+&lsquo;Certainly,&rsquo; replied the voice of a woman.
+&lsquo;Could you imagine otherwise?&rsquo; The man was the first
+to descend. But the General gave him no time to help his
+companion to descend; he sprang forward with the eagerness of a
+lover, and, almost carrying off the lady in his arms, exclaimed,
+with extraordinary ardour, &lsquo;Come, madame, you have nothing
+to fear&mdash;no one can see you.&rsquo; The man uttered a brutal
+laugh, and said, in guttural tones, &lsquo;Do not trouble about
+me, I will follow you,&rsquo; and all three disappeared into the
+garden. Baudoin, astonished, had only time to place on the wall a
+ladder which happened to be there. As soon as he could look into
+his master&rsquo;s garden, the alleys were empty, but the large
+window of the laboratory was shining through the darkness. The
+faithful fellow said to himself, &lsquo;What is to be done? Enter
+the house? Play the spy on the General? Disobey his orders? For
+what reason? Has he not the right to receive any one he pleases?
+What am I thinking about? Is it likely that the people he
+receives are objects of suspicion? Their carriage is waiting at
+the door, a sign that they will not remain long, but will return
+to Paris immediately. Here I am, troubling my head for nothing in
+all probability! All I can do now is to obey my master.&rsquo; He
+descended the ladder, proceeded along the hedge, left the garden,
+and reached the railway. His master&rsquo;s orders were now
+literally followed, except that the drug store was closed when he
+arrived there, and he was obliged to return the following
+morning. When he reached Vanves, he found the approaches to the
+General&rsquo;s property occupied by a guard, the villa in ruins,
+and his master vanished from the scene of the
+catastrophe.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Colonel Vallenot had finished. Profound silence, interrupted
+only by the twittering of the birds in the neighbouring trees,
+reigned in the Minister&rsquo;s study. The old soldier, leaning
+forward on his desk, his head resting on his hand, was <a
+name="page13"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 13</span>buried in
+reflection. After a short pause, he said, with a sigh&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How surprising all this is! Doubtless here is the key
+of the whole matter. These two unknown characters, one with a
+foreign accent, coming mysteriously by night to see
+Tr&eacute;mont, and their visit followed by such a frightful
+cataclysm; what does it all mean? Is it an accident or a crime?
+And, if a crime, what motive inspired it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Rising, he crossed to the window, with anxious mien, then
+returned mechanically to his desk, resumed his seat, and, again
+fixing his eyes on the Colonel, said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well! Vallenot, what happened after this honest fellow
+had finished his tale? What measures were taken?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A squad of soldiers from the fort had been sent for,
+and the ruins were carefully searched, under the supervision of
+the police. Nothing, however, was found. The destruction was too
+complete. With the exception of the side of the wall still
+standing, not a single piece of anything was left whole. Still,
+after a couple of hours&rsquo; examination of the
+<i>d&eacute;bris</i>, from which arose a very strong odour of
+fulminate of mercury, the diggers brought to light an iron chest,
+with broken hinges, the bottom of which was curiously pierced
+with thousands of holes as though with an auger.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is one result of the explosion,&rdquo; interrupted
+the Minister. &ldquo;You are aware that we have in our shrapnels
+similar cases of rupture. It is quite possible the initial
+explosion took place in this chest. Has it been kept?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It was handed over to the Government agent.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We may need it again when we undertake an analysis of
+the substances which occasioned the deflagration. Finish your
+explanations. What became of the carriage stationed in front of
+the door?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The carriage must have left before the accident. <a
+name="page14"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 14</span>There was not
+a trace of it on the road near the villa. The customs officers,
+on being interrogated, declared that a brougham, driven by two
+horses, returned to Paris about eleven o&rsquo;clock. To the
+question, &lsquo;Have you anything to declare?&rsquo; a female
+voice had replied, &lsquo;Nothing.&rsquo; As for the explosion,
+the guard at the fort reports that it took place about three
+o&rsquo;clock in the morning.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then the man with the foreign accent had remained,
+after the departure of the carriage?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Most probably.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are not certain?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I did not wait for the end of the investigations; I
+came away to inform you of what I had learnt, leaving behind me
+our agent, with orders to return here at once, after the final
+statement had been made.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps he is here now?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Colonel Vallenot pressed the electric knob, and the usher
+appeared.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Has Lafor&ecirc;t returned?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Colonel, a minute ago.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Send him here.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Closing the door with considerable precaution, the agent, with
+firm step, a sonorous cough, and head raised in military fashion,
+as he stood at attention, appeared before his principals.</p>
+<p>The Minister examined for a moment the man&rsquo;s frank,
+martial face; then he asked briefly&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Colonel Vallenot has reported all that had taken place
+up to the time of his departure from Vanves. Complete his version
+by telling us what you have learnt since. Take a seat,
+Vallenot.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Monsieur le Ministre,&rdquo; said the agent, &ldquo;I
+will come at once to the most important point: the body of
+General de Tr&eacute;mont has been found.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page15"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+15</span>&ldquo;In the ruins?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In the garden. At first no one thought of searching
+beyond the house and the <i>d&eacute;bris</i>. It was whilst
+exploring the bushes that the body of the General was discovered,
+close to the entrance gate.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What! Had the explosion projected him so
+far?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The agent replied&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The body had not been projected by the explosion. It
+had remained on the very spot where it had been struck by a knife
+under the left shoulder-blade. The General was dead when the
+explosion took place, and certainly the explosion was caused by
+the assassin.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The man with the foreign accent? The companion of the
+lady the General called &lsquo;Baroness&rsquo;?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The agent kept his countenance before these bold questions.
+For a moment he appeared to be reflecting; then he
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, the one who has left his arm in the ruins of the
+villa, and who in forcing open the chest escaped death only by a
+miracle. The man named Hans, in short.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But what makes you say that he escaped death?&rdquo;
+asked the Minister.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Because I found tracks in the garden continued outside
+on the road he followed, leaving his blood behind at every step.
+The man must be endowed with indomitable energy to have had the
+strength to escape, mutilated as he was, to reach the fields, and
+there, doubtless, find some market cart or other to pick him up
+and carry him to Paris; but this is an additional inquiry to be
+made, and a track to be followed up.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In your opinion, then, it is the man who came with the
+woman who killed the General?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Monsieur le Ministre; most likely when the General
+was conducting them back to the carriage. The <a
+name="page16"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 16</span>murder took
+place close to the gate. The sand is trodden down as though a
+struggle had taken place, and the body had been carried off
+behind the bushes. The traces of the trailing legs are quite
+visible. The woman probably helped. At any rate, once the murder
+accomplished, she must have left, whilst the man stayed behind.
+He robbed the General of his keys, which never left him, and
+which have not been found; in addition, he took his watch and
+portfolio, so that it might be believed that a murder, the motive
+of which was robbery, had been committed; then he entered the
+villa, and worked in the laboratory. It was with the laboratory
+that he had to do.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How do you know this?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;From what Baudoin, his valet, said. It appears that,
+one day, whilst placing things in order, in the cabinet of the
+General, the latter entered on his way from the laboratory. He
+took a few paces in the room, rubbing his hands together; then he
+said almost to himself, &lsquo;This time our fortune is made!
+What will Hans say?&rsquo; For a week the General had been
+working hard at an experiment, which had hitherto failed, and
+from which he expected great results. On different occasions,
+formerly, he had temporarily dismissed his valet, certainly with
+the object of receiving his mysterious guests at
+night.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good; we will admit what you say regarding the
+man,&rdquo; said the Minister, captivated by the explanations of
+his agent. &ldquo;But, in your opinion, what shall we think of
+the <i>r&ocirc;le</i> played by the woman?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is much more evident, Monsieur le Ministre; both
+indications and proofs abound. The General de Tr&eacute;mont has
+been the victim of a too tender disposition. I know nothing of
+the General&rsquo;s secrets or researches, though the journals
+have on different occasions spoken of his investigations. He was
+a member of the Academy of Science, and <a
+name="page17"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 17</span>his
+reputation as a savant was fully established. Suppose for a
+moment that M. de Tr&eacute;mont had made a discovery of interest
+to the future of European armies, and that some one Power wished
+to obtain information as to the value of his
+invention&mdash;obtain possession of it, perhaps. Do we not know
+that women have been, only too often, the best political agents
+employed in our country? In spite of his age, the General
+remained very susceptible. A young woman, beautiful and
+intelligent, is placed in his path. He meets her by chance, falls
+in love with her. But the fair one is guarded; she is obliged to
+take great precautions. A complaisant friend, relation, perhaps,
+under the cover of science, facilitates the interviews by
+accompanying the lady, so as to throw some imaginary rival off
+the track. Whilst the old lover is paying his court, the
+benevolent companion, observes, takes his measures, skilfully
+questions, and obtains the confidence of the one to whom he is
+rendering a service. Passion lulls all fear, and a sweet smile
+and caressing eyes drive one to acts of folly. Then, one fine
+night, the General de Tr&eacute;mont, who has, doubtless,
+finished his discovery, is visited by the unknown couple. The
+woman tries to obtain the secret. She does not succeed. Then the
+man, as a last extremity, decides to strike. The General falls
+under the dagger; his accomplice takes to flight. The assassin
+returns with the keys, searches the laboratory, and tries to open
+the chest containing the precious products. But the dreaded
+powder, unskilfully handled, avenges its maker, and, in a
+terrible explosion, annihilates at the same time both formula and
+the one trying to steal it. This is how it is possible, Monsieur
+le Ministre, to make a guess at the events now occupying our
+attention. But&mdash;I do not wish to deceive myself&mdash;this
+is only conjecture. There may be other versions, more certain, if
+not more likely. What is an absolute fact is that General de
+Tr&eacute;mont has been <a name="page18"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 18</span>assassinated, that the murderer was
+one of the two persons received that night at the villa, and that
+the explosion following on the crime has been caused by the
+imprudence of the man we may name Hans, who has been grievously
+wounded.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Minister and Colonel Vallenot looked at one another for a
+moment in silence. Then the Minister said to the agent&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I thank you for your report, but do not trouble any
+further in the matter, which is in the hands of the police. If we
+have any additional investigations to make, I will send for you.
+Now go, and do not say a word to any one on the
+matter.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lafor&ecirc;t bowed, gave a military salute, and, with the
+same tranquil precision, left the room. The two principals sat
+there absorbed by what they had heard, going over once more all
+the details of this drama, which was becoming materially so
+clear, but remained morally so obscure. The precautions taken by
+the two accomplices appeared so perfect, that it was doubtful
+whether the truth could be learned concerning them. One hope
+remained&mdash;the wounded man, with his arm cut off, might be
+found, half-dead with exhaustion on the road. By questioning the
+inhabitants of the neighbourhood, the man might be discovered;
+doubtless the police were already on the track, and the most
+adroit detectives as well.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You know, Vallenot, Tr&eacute;mont was my senior. He
+retired before the age limit, the more easily to devote his time
+to scientific research; as he had serious money
+difficulties.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And now,&rdquo; said Colonel Vallenot, &ldquo;we have
+reached the point I wished to come to, when I said, at the
+beginning of my report, that, after examining the material facts,
+we should deal with the moral considerations of this affair. <a
+name="page19"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 19</span>The
+examination of facts is over. There has been the death of a man,
+probably an attempt at robbery, and finally, the complete
+destruction of an inhabited house. But under what conditions have
+all these criminal acts been accomplished?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I understand what you mean. You see in this affair
+something other than a criminal attempt. You suspect a plot of a
+special order, something very delicate, fastidious, dangerous
+even.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, General, because in this case, we have not our
+hands quite free in the search of the causes, hindered as we are
+by diplomacy, by politics, and often even by such unexpected
+complicities that we are first obliged to beat about the bush,
+then to withdraw, and finally, give up all idea of proceeding
+with rigour. Shall I enumerate the affairs in which we have come
+to no certain issue for several years?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is unnecessary, I am sufficiently well informed on
+the situation, and have a tolerably good idea of what you possess
+in the archives. How long have you been in the Ministry,
+Vallenot?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ten years, occupying different positions, with
+intervals of service in the regiments. We have never ceased being
+exploited by other nations, with a skill, an audacity, and a
+perseverance, against which all our efforts have been in vain.
+The most important captures have always been effected by women.
+Accordingly, when the servant of General de Tr&eacute;mont spoke
+of this nocturnal lady-visitor, my suspicions were immediately
+aroused.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Explain yourself.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is not the first time, General, that we have had to
+deal with this mysterious woman, who comes and passes away,
+leaving ruin and bloodshed in her train. Her manner of procedure
+is always the same: she fixes her mind on <a
+name="page20"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 20</span>some one whom
+she knows to be in a position to give up to her some important
+secret or other, then she seduces him, until, in the end, he
+betrays it. Then, she casts him off, like useless
+<i>d&eacute;bris</i>. A creature to be dreaded, if I may judge by
+the results she has already obtained, and a powerful corruptress.
+No heart is proof against her alluring temptations. She artfully
+graduates the doses of her love-philtre; and the noblest minds,
+the most upright consciences, and the staunchest courage bend and
+capitulate at a sign from her. Do you remember the ill-fated
+Commandant Cominges, who blew out his brains, without anything
+being publicly known as to the reason? The woman had come along.
+Cominges had become her slave. A part of our mobilization had
+become known. Before killing himself, Cominges swore that the
+documents had been stolen from his dwelling, whilst he was absent
+with this woman. He had made the grave mistake of taking them
+from the office to work on them, and the still graver one of
+saying that they were in his possession. But the poor fellow had
+confidence in her. He was a man of honour, a gallant soldier. A
+pistol-shot settled the whole matter.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What was the woman&rsquo;s name?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Madame Ferranti. She took most careful precautions in
+seeing Cominges, presumably on account of her family. One of our
+agents, however, was acquainted with her. Within six months he
+died by an accident. He was, one evening, travelling by rail from
+Auteuil. They found him dead under a tunnel. Doubtless he had
+leaned out too far from the carriage.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The deuce!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The following year the young Captain Fontenailles, a
+fine young fellow we were all fond of, was induced by a woman,
+whom his comrades called the
+&lsquo;T&eacute;n&eacute;breuse,&rsquo; because no one of them
+ever saw her, to disclose certain confidences. <a
+name="page21"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 21</span>Understanding
+the gravity of his conduct, he went to his superior and confessed
+everything. The latter succeeded in repairing the damage done by
+changing the key to the secret writings. Captain Fontenailles
+left for Tonkin, where he fell, fighting bravely, at the attack
+of Bae-Ninh. His fault was atoned for.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And the woman is always the same?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;According to all these gentlemen. The Ferranti of
+Cominges was the T&eacute;n&eacute;breuse of Fontenailles. Then
+there was the Madame Gibson of the Aerostat affair, without
+speaking of several other cases only partially revealed. Always
+the same T&eacute;n&eacute;breuse, with the same method of
+procedure, corruption. In her train, ruin, tears, and
+blood.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How long has she been engaged in this work of
+intrigue?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ten years, certainly, General; and under all these
+impersonations we have not been able to lay our hands on her. She
+is only known by her professional names.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What a deep-dyed scoundrel! We must try to cut short
+her career.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing more difficult. Once the <i>coup</i>
+accomplished, she disappears, as does an eel, gliding about in
+the mud, in which it remains hidden until the water again becomes
+clear. She arranges in such a way as to cut off all
+communications behind her; that is her method. For instance, in
+this new affair, we shall have to struggle in the dark. Search
+will be made for some time, but no clue will be found. The
+accomplices, as well as the principal instigator of the crime,
+will now have got to earth. By degrees the search will calm down,
+and something else will be on the tapis. At any rate, it is in
+this way that the majority of these cases end,
+unless&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page22"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+22</span>&ldquo;Unless? Ah! You still hope something may
+happen?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Unless this time the wounded accomplice affords us a
+trace. Let us merely hold one end of the conducting wire, and I
+promise you, General, we will arrive at some result or other, if
+only to avenge our poor comrades.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And to prevent the repetition of similar accidents.
+For, after all, Vallenot, you will agree with me that it is
+rather too much for foreign Powers to become acquainted with our
+most secret affairs, as though they were matter of discussion on
+the public thoroughfares.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We are as well acquainted with foreign affairs,
+General, as they are with ours,&rdquo; said the Colonel with less
+sullen mien. &ldquo;To sum up, there are always two at the game;
+it has ever been so. Ay, the very time, in 1812, when Russia was
+procuring information as to the efficiency of the Emperor&rsquo;s
+troops, Caulaincourt sent to Napoleon the engraved copper plates
+of the map of Russia. I quote this fact of days gone by without
+alluding to contemporary events. But, taking everything into
+consideration, General, our secrets are scarcely secrets at all.
+If, in war, reliance were placed on nothing beyond mysterious
+preparations&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then we should have to start by abolishing the
+press,&rdquo; muttered the Minister.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And that is impossible!&rdquo; said Vallenot.
+&ldquo;Still, in this special case before us, we must undertake
+the task of clearing the moral atmosphere, and employ every means
+possible, if we would succeed.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That concerns the legal authorities now.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Officially, General; but we also, on our side, may
+investigate, in a quiet way, and I have no
+doubt&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The lesson to be learned is that our officers are
+becoming too gallant!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If you know any means, General,&rdquo; said Vallenot,
+with a laugh, &ldquo;of suppressing that, please tell
+me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page23"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+23</span>&ldquo;To think of this old General! Sixty years old,
+too! True, he did not appear more than fifty! In what position
+does he leave his daughter?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;General de Tr&eacute;mont was a widower?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, that is his excuse! But he has a daughter, still
+at school. She is eighteen years old, and without dowry. Luckily,
+Baradier is there.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You mean Baradier and Graff, the bankers?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly. Baradier fought in the war of 1870; he is a
+true patriot, and his son, Marcel, a fine young fellow, just out
+of the Central School, has been working with General de
+Tr&eacute;mont. Marcel Baradier was principally occupied in
+investigating vegetable dyes, connected with the woollen weaving
+manufactures his father owns in the Aube. But the General opened
+his laboratory to him, and probably informed him of his own
+investigations. We may learn a great deal from this young man, I
+think.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is the Baradier family in good
+circumstances?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very wealthy; their fortune daily increases from
+industrial and from banking operations. It is Graff,
+Baradier&rsquo;s step-brother, who deals more specially with
+finance, whilst Baradier manages the works. Both, however, are
+busily employed all day long, and the millions roll in,
+notwithstanding the rivalry of the firm of Lichtenbach, who is a
+mortal enemy of Baradier and Graff.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Business rivalry?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;More than that. Personal hatred, dating from long back,
+and madly fomented. They say that Lichtenbach formerly wished to
+marry Mademoiselle Graff, and that he has never been able to
+swallow the insult Graff inflicted on him by refusing the
+proposal and bestowing his sister&rsquo;s hand on his friend
+Baradier. Between these two families there is a whole series of
+differences and grievances, which makes them implacable
+enemies.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page24"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+24</span>&ldquo;Still, General, you see no relation between this
+hostility and the death of General de Tr&eacute;mont?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not at all. Lichtenbach is a fervent Catholic, in close
+touch with the Orleanist party, and, in my opinion, incapable of
+a dishonourable action. Besides, what could it matter to him
+whether Tr&eacute;mont lived or died?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Might not the General&rsquo;s investigations have a
+serious interest for the Lichtenbach firm?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Doubtless! But we are well aware that Tr&eacute;mont
+has been specially occupied within the last few weeks with the
+manufacture of a war powder, the formidable effects of which we
+have seen in the Vanves explosion. True, the powder in question
+might become a source of great profit by its possible application
+to industry in modified proportions. In mines, for instance, or
+the blasting of quarries, it would certainly have replaced
+dynamite. There would have been a fortune in such an application
+of the powder, and this Tr&eacute;mont was well aware of. Now it
+is all vanished in smoke, and the General has taken his secret
+with him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Unless he had communicated it to the son of M.
+Baradier.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! that would indeed be strange!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Three o&rsquo;clock struck; the Minister arose, and took up
+his hat, gloves, and stick.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are going, General?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I am going to speak to Baradier on the whole
+matter. Madame Baradier was particularly interested in
+Mademoiselle de Tr&eacute;mont. I intend to pay a visit of
+condolence, in person, to this young lady. Her father and myself
+were great friends, we made campaigns in Mexico and on the Loire
+together, whilst, on the retreat from Mans, Tr&eacute;mont saved
+all our lives, by an admirable battery arrangement in the rear of
+the army, which cut short the pursuit of the Prussians. A fine
+soldier! One <a name="page25"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+25</span>who deserved to fall on the field of battle! But Fate
+decides such things. Everybody does not die the death he wishes!
+Well, I will see you to-morrow, Vallenot. And if you hear of
+anything fresh, ring me up on the telephone.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Colonel accompanied his principal right to the large
+staircase, saluted, and returned to the office.</p>
+<h3><a name="page26"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+26</span>CHAPTER II</h3>
+<p><span class="smcap">In</span> an old hotel situated at the end
+of a large courtyard, in the Rue de Prov&egrave;nce, has been
+established, for more than fifty years, the banking firm of
+Baradier and Graff. Following on the war of 1870, it was usual in
+business to designate this establishment under the company name
+of Alsace-Lorraine. They are ardent patriots, and never since the
+annexation have they returned to Metz. Still, they have never
+been willing to sell any of their land property in the lost
+provinces. They have kept a foot on the soil torn from France, as
+though they had no doubt they would return to it some day, like
+masters after a long and sorrowful absence. Baradier is a man of
+fifty-five years of age, stout and short, with ruddy, pleasant
+face lit up by light blue eyes. Graff is tall and thin,
+dark-complexioned, and of stern forbidding mien and glabrous
+countenance, the complete opposite of his ally, both physically
+and morally. For Baradier, with his engaging exterior, is an
+influential and practical man; whilst Graff, with his cold and
+reserved aspect, possesses the fancy and sensitiveness of a
+poet.</p>
+<p>In other respects, admirably equipped, the imagination of the
+one moderated by the prudence of the other, and all rough points
+in the determination of the former being mitigated by the
+benevolent gentleness of the latter. In financial circles this
+fortunate want of similarity of disposition was well known. Never
+did a customer, after failing with <a name="page27"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 27</span>Baradier, leave the house without
+calling at Graff&rsquo;s office to appeal for his intervention,
+and obtaining a &ldquo;just leave the matter to me, I will
+arrange it all&rdquo; preliminary balm on the sore of
+displeasure, followed, in the majority of instances, by an
+arrangement profitable to both parties. For, in the long run, the
+two partners had reached such a point that they profited by the
+differences in their dispositions, and Baradier pretended to be
+altogether irreconcilable, well knowing that Graff would come in
+afterwards, and have the pleasure of arranging everything to suit
+all concerned.</p>
+<p>Baradier, hearty and happy-looking, had two children, a son
+aged twenty-six and a daughter of eighteen, both admirably
+brought up by their mother. Graff, solemn and sentimental, had
+remained a bachelor. As Marcel Baradier said jokingly, he would
+be the best uncle in France in point of inheritance. In fact,
+Madame Baradier&rsquo;s brother loves the two children as though
+they were his own, and every time Marcel commits some grave act
+of folly he always appeals to Uncle Graff to settle things, as
+his father is rather strict with him. Father and son,
+unfortunately, have often been on anything but good terms, for
+Marcel, reared in the lap of luxury, and early discovering the
+mercantile value of his name, has not always given his family all
+the satisfaction that might have been desired. &ldquo;Nothing
+important,&rdquo; said Uncle Graff; &ldquo;merely money
+difficulties!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It was so that the taciturn and modest banker, who would not
+have spent a farthing outside of his daily expenses on anything
+else than charity, called the debts which young Marcel
+periodically gave him the opportunity of paying. When his nephew
+comes for him at night, after dinner, before leaving for the
+club, where he goes to indulge in a game of cards, Uncle Graff
+knows at once his errand. He assumes his most gloomy aspect,
+sinks into his armchair, <a name="page28"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 28</span>casts a veiled glance at his rather
+embarrassed heir, and, in sepulchral tones, demands&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, what is it this time?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then, as Marcel develops his usual request&mdash;terribly bad
+luck at the races, or at baccarat, or some love
+difficulty&mdash;Graff looks at his sister&rsquo;s son, and,
+without listening to a word, says to himself, What a handsome
+fellow! How could one with such a figure help getting into a
+scrape? He is popular everywhere by reason of his graciousness
+and amiability. He is only twenty-six, and is it not quite
+natural that he should enjoy himself while he is young? Why do
+Baradier and Graff engage in banking operations all day long,
+anxious as to what is happening at the London and Berlin
+Exchanges, as well as keeping an eye on the Bourse of Paris, if
+not for this charming and agreeable young fellow to enjoy himself
+whilst they are working? Well! Marcel, take your pleasure, and
+take my share as well, for am I not your steward? Off to the
+races in a fine turn-out, drawn by prancing horses, and take your
+place in the most exclusive society; your means, those of the
+firm of Baradier, will permit of all this. All the same, do not
+squander too much in gambling; do not wager in too extravagant a
+fashion, for this is an evil passion, and very harmful to those
+who recklessly give themselves up to it. In all things else do as
+you wish, and then come back and give your old uncle the pleasure
+of asking a service of him.</p>
+<p>All these reflections, however, crowding into his mind, and
+giving him the most perfect satisfaction, Uncle Graff kept wisely
+to himself. Aloud, he said, in that Lorraine accent he had never
+succeeded in abandoning&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How stupid you are, Marcel, to be swindled by a crowd
+of adventurers! A member of the firm of Baradier and Graff ought
+not to behave in this way. If your father knew he would be
+furious. What reply can I give him <a name="page29"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 29</span>when he accuses me of encouraging
+your bad conduct? He is quite right, and I am wrong to give you
+money when you make such bad use of it. I shall finish by cutting
+off your allowance. Do you know how much you have received from
+me since the beginning of the year?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And as the old bachelor pretended to turn the leaves of his
+cash-book, Marcel, terrified, exclaimed&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Uncle Graff, it shall be the last time!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is always the last time!&rdquo; replied the old
+uncle. &ldquo;Well, tell me all about it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And Marcel would enflame the old bachelor&rsquo;s tender soul
+with his enthusiasm, and end by obtaining all he wanted.</p>
+<p>Still, Uncle Graff had some excuse. Marcel did not neglect his
+work. Admirably endowed by nature, the young man, as though they
+were a mere pastime, had advanced considerably in his studies. He
+had opposed the General de Tr&eacute;mont, who wished him to
+enter the Polytechnic School, and afterwards the Artillery. He
+had preferred the Central and the General&rsquo;s chemical
+laboratory. Under the supervision of his father&rsquo;s friend,
+he had made interesting researches into mineral colouring
+matters, and given Baradier the pleasure of saying: &ldquo;We
+employ in our works dyeing processes, invented by my son, and
+which are absolutely unique.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It was one of Uncle Graff&rsquo;s grand arguments when
+defending Marcel&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You know very well that your son is a remarkable man,
+and that our manufactures owe much to him!&rdquo; Whereupon
+Baradier would reply, furiously&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! If only he would be serious! He has every quality
+necessary, but he will not make use of his gifts. Our fine young
+fellow will work a month a year, and spend the other eleven in
+reckless folly!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>For all that, for some time past, Marcel seemed to have <a
+name="page30"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 30</span>sobered down,
+or, rather, his mind was occupied in investigations of more than
+usual interest. He no longer appeared at the club, scarcely ever
+went out at nights, and, but for the fact that he still went to
+the races on Sundays, one might have imagined he had entirely
+changed his life. Both Baradier and Graff were equally surprised
+at this transformation; the father was pleased, the uncle uneasy
+at it. They had spoken on the matter to the General, who had said
+to them&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He is an extraordinary young man; you will continually
+have surprises with him, but do not be anxious, he will turn out
+a fine man in the end. He has great gifts. Just now he is trying
+to discover some process of colour photography. Surprising
+results have already been obtained. Let him alone, do not hinder
+him, and you will see!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Graff&rsquo;s triumph was a brilliant, Baradier&rsquo;s a
+quiet one. Marcel had not even noticed the effect caused on his
+family. He had almost completely quitted Paris. For three weeks
+he had been living at Troyes, at the Ars manufactory, shut up in
+his laboratory, only returning to embrace his mother, and give
+the General an account of the progress of his work. The old
+chemist and the young inventor then spent delightful days in
+verifying prescriptions and practising experiments. The one
+communicated his calculations in the dosings of powders, the
+other explained his superpositions of plates to obtain the
+perfect stereotypes he sought. Then they would lunch together,
+and the General, as warmhearted as the young man, would relate
+his former escapades, and envy the youth, whilst admiring the
+strength and intelligence of this fine young fellow before him,
+who combined so perfectly the capacity for study and pleasure at
+the same time.</p>
+<p>In spite of the storms caused by Marcel&rsquo;s caprices, life
+for Baradier and Graff would have flown along pleasantly <a
+name="page31"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 31</span>enough had
+not destiny brought them in touch with Lichtenbach. Moses, the
+chief of the firm, son of a Jew marine-store dealer of
+Passy-sur-Moselle, had in past times been at school with Graff at
+Metz. Old Graff, who was a brewer, had dealings with Lichtenbach,
+&ldquo;the rabbit-skin dealer,&rdquo; as he called him jokingly,
+and sold him all his broken glasses and used-up barrels. He
+imagined him to be poor, and liked to give him the chance of
+earning a little money. Moses Lichtenbach might have been seen in
+the streets of Metz driving an old grey horse, harnessed to a
+waggon, in which the marine-store dealer piled up all kinds of
+goods and rubbish. He was a kind of wholesale rag-picker, who
+helped house-wives to get rid of utensils which were no longer of
+any use, and were becoming an encumbrance. He bought them cheap,
+but not for nothing. Sometimes, almost ashamed of loading him
+with corroded stove-pipes, broken shovels, worn-out carpets, and
+even old straw, or shavings, they would say to him, &ldquo;Take
+it, Moses, for the trouble of carting it away.&rdquo; He would
+reply, &ldquo;No! no! Everything has some value or other; I pay
+little, but I<sub> </sub>pay.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It was a point of honour with him to pay. Several people
+shrugged their shoulders, with a smile, as they said to
+themselves, &ldquo;The old madman that he is! What use will he
+make of all that rubbish?&rdquo; They were in the wrong.
+Everything had a value, as Moses affirmed, and this was proved
+when, after the war, the old man left Metz, and settled in Paris,
+in the rue de la Chaussee d&rsquo;Antin, in a small shop, above
+the door of which he had painted the sign: &ldquo;Lichtenbach,
+money-changer.&rdquo; It was in this modest counter that the
+Passy dealer, leaving Lorraine, which had become part of the
+Empire, had commenced his new business, ceasing to buy and sell
+old iron in order to buy and sell money. But one grave event had
+happened, which had in <a name="page32"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 32</span>no slight degree contributed to the
+exodus of the Lichtenbach family from Passy to Paris, and to the
+change of business.</p>
+<p>The first cannon-shots of the war, fired at Forbach, had been,
+for the majority of the inhabitants of Metz and its environs, the
+signal for departure. The farmers and peasants strictly bound
+down to the land were the only ones to remain in the villages.
+All who were free of action had loaded the waggons with their
+trunks, and reached the towns, to shelter themselves from the
+enemy, whose approach was announced by defeats and disasters. The
+highways in the direction of Thionville, Metz, and Verdun were
+covered with carts and flocks. The majority of the fugitives made
+their way towards the interior, making forced marches, to escape
+the invasion, which, according to them, must, of necessity, halt,
+crushed before the strongholds of the East. Contrary to the
+general impulse, Moses, decided on leaving Passy, had not bent
+his steps towards the centre of France. Instead of moving away
+from the invader he had marched towards him, and leaving behind
+in the shop everything cumbersome and worthless, had reached Metz
+with six baggage waggons, carefully covered, and had settled in a
+small street near the cathedral, with his wife and son,
+Elias.</p>
+<p>Moses had been well received. Through seeing him, along with
+his waggon and old horse, all over the town, everybody knew him.
+Some, more cunning than others, said, &ldquo;Old Moses is a sly
+fellow. If Metz is besieged he will buy the broken fragments of
+German shells as old iron, and continue his business.&rdquo; But
+they were wrong. Old iron was not now the end of
+Lichtenbach&rsquo;s ambition. He had guessed that a stout siege
+and an energetic defence would take place, that victuals would
+soon become scarce for the town population, and that whoever had
+the disposal, at a given time, of special food products, might,
+by selling them at a high price, make a considerable profit.</p>
+<p><a name="page33"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+33</span>Accordingly he had entered the town with his six
+waggons, whilst in his cellar were carefully stored quantities of
+brandy, coffee, sugar, ham, and a dozen barrels of salt. He had
+spent a portion of the ready money he possessed in procuring
+these stores, and had awaited results. Meanwhile, all the
+Lorraine youth left. The male population which had not become
+enrolled in the army, as being under age, undertook to resist the
+invaders. The old martial blood boiled in French hearts, and the
+young Graff, returned from the town hall, a cockade in his hat,
+when he met on the square Elias Lichtenbach, walking about
+smoking a pipe.</p>
+<p>Scores of times, extending over long years, whilst old Moses
+was stationed at Graff&rsquo;s door loading old iron, or buying
+the skins of goats or hares killed by the brewer the previous
+Sunday, had the two boys played together. Antoine carried off
+young Elias into the garden, and, between them, to the great
+wrath of Madame Graff, they would climb the wall and steal the
+fruit, still unripe. They often played at marbles, but in spite
+of Elias&rsquo;s utmost efforts, he could never succeed in
+transferring his glass ones for Antoine&rsquo;s agate ones. He
+was the only boy in the town he had not succeeded in exploiting.
+One day even Antoine proved himself the more cunning, and
+succeeded in getting Elias to take an old broken sword in
+exchange for six enormous marbles quite new. Moses was obliged to
+confess, with a feeling of humiliation, that the young Graff had
+proved himself more shrewd than the young Lichtenbach.</p>
+<p>It must be stated that, on that occasion, Catherine Graff was
+present, and, with the object of dazzling his friend&rsquo;s
+sister, Elias had shown unwonted generosity. This young girl had
+even then the power of troubling the young boy.</p>
+<p>As he saw his former companion pass by, proud of his patriotic
+determination, Elias had taken the pipe from his mouth, and
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p><a name="page34"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+34</span>&ldquo;Where are you going, Antoine?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To join the 27th line regiment at Chalons.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What! Have you enlisted?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, like every one else of my age. Are not you going
+to do the same?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know; my father has said nothing to me
+about it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are you to wait for your father&rsquo;s orders before
+doing your duty?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Elias scratched his head, whilst his whole face expressed
+uncertainty and embarrassment.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But he needs me for the business.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;France also needs you, and more urgently than your
+father.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am only nineteen years old.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And I, not yet twenty.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, you are right, I will go and speak to my father
+about it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If I do not see you again, good-bye.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good-bye, and good luck.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Elias, in greater trouble than he had ever been before, made
+his way to his father&rsquo;s shop, and found old Moses in the
+cellar in the act of bottling brandy. The son was warmly received
+by his father, and Lichtenbach, filling a goblet, held it out to
+his son and heir.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Taste this cognac, it is very palatable! In a short
+time it will fetch twenty francs a litre; there will be only
+ourselves who will drink it for nothing, my son!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You will drink of it, perhaps, father,&rdquo; said
+Elias, troubled. &ldquo;But I&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What! You? What is the meaning of this?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Shall I be by your side when the cost of this good
+liquor has mounted to that price?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well! Where will you be?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page35"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+35</span>&ldquo;Where all the youths of the village are&mdash;in
+the army.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You in the army, Elias; what will you do
+there?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Fight, like the others.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Old Moses, by the light of the candle, which lit the cellar,
+looked at his son in utter bewilderment. He could not believe his
+own ears. Still he said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Fight? Why fight?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To defend the country.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What country?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;France, where I have lived and been brought up, whose
+language I speak, and where all our clients and friends
+are.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Old Lichtenbach shook his head, and remained a moment without
+speaking. Then, in trenchant tones, he said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My son, we do business in this country, but we have not
+been born here. I was in Switzerland, with your mother, in
+Geneva, when you came into the world. My birthplace is Hanover,
+your mother&rsquo;s Baden. Your name appears on no official
+register, and you are free to do what you like. We are German by
+birth, French by habit and everyday relations; we belong no more
+to one side than to the other. The best thing we can do is to
+keep out of the quarrel. What could we gain by fighting? Blows
+for you, pain and suffering for both of us. And how would it
+benefit any one, if Elias Lichtenbach were killed in battle, and
+old Moses were left to finish his life all alone? Does any one
+even know why all these people are fighting? Do they even know
+themselves? They have quarrelled, like tipplers on leaving the
+grog-shop after having absorbed more than is good for them. And
+now they fly at one another&rsquo;s throats. What have the
+Germans done to you to make you want to fight them? What
+advantage will you gain from having defended the
+French?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page36"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+36</span>&ldquo;But all the young men are off, father. Antoine
+Graff, whom I have just met, has received his papers.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He is a fool!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But the son of Rabbi Zacharias is also
+going.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Great good may he get from it!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To-morrow there will only be left in the town the aged
+and infirm. I shall be the only one remaining, and everybody will
+laugh me to scorn.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Old Moses sighed as he said, &ldquo;Yes, you have your full
+share of self-respect; you have been brought up in the schools of
+France, in which a great deal is related on the subject of
+honour. Listen, Elias, and remember all your life long, all this
+teaching is sheer nonsense. Honour consists in paying what one
+owes, and in meeting one&rsquo;s bills when they fall due.
+Outside of that, believe me, everything is false. Patriotic
+legends have been invented to lead men to butchery and slaughter
+to the strains of the &lsquo;Marseillaise.&rsquo; They consist
+merely of sounding words, with which mankind is deceived in the
+interests of rulers and states. One ought not to let one&rsquo;s
+self be the dupe of such tricks and artifices. When it is all
+over, none of the sly rascals who have persuaded the rest to
+fight, and carefully kept out of the way themselves, will give
+you even a single word of pity for your misfortunes. I have seen
+the world, and I know life. Beware of enthusiasm, it is the most
+false and dangerous thing on earth.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>There was a moment&rsquo;s silence in the dark cellar, where
+the countenances of the two men showed red in the flickering
+flames of the candle. The dripping of the brandy, as it fell into
+the tub beneath the barrel tap, was the only sound audible. The
+dark, cold air which enveloped Elias began to calm the ardour,
+with which he was burning a few minutes before. The old man
+continued after a moment&rsquo;s silence&mdash;</p>
+<p><a name="page37"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+37</span>&ldquo;Besides, I well understand that you do not care
+to remain alone here when all your acquaintances are leaving the
+town. You shall leave, too. But there are other things for you to
+do than risk your skin, or try to endanger the lives of others.
+Great profits may now be made in food supplies. In a short time
+the whole of Alsace and Lorraine will be invaded. The armies will
+have to live&mdash;the French armies, I mean, for the Germans,
+who are the conquerors, will lack nothing. We must make it our
+duty to collect provisions on the side of Chalons, towards Paris.
+You are not yet of age, you owe nothing to any one; besides, the
+services you may render are a thousand times more important than
+those of these simpletons, who are intending to shoulder muskets.
+I will prove my confidence in you by giving you the means to show
+what you are worth. Come here; bring me the light.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Moses went to one corner of the cellar. Removing a couple of
+barrels, he took up a spade, and, digging a hole in the ground,
+laid bare an iron-bound box. Raising it with considerable
+difficulty, he took from his pocket a bunch of keys, opened the
+lock, and showed his son the interior full of carefully arranged
+rolls. Tearing away the paper envelope of one of these rolls, he
+poured the contents into his son&rsquo;s hands. They were
+twenty-franc gold pieces.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Here,&rdquo; said Moses, &ldquo;are forty thousand
+francs in gold. You are strong enough to carry off the box. Early
+to-morrow morning you will take the train for Troyes. Deposit
+this money with Baradier, the banker, but do not accept either
+bank-notes or drafts. Before long gold will be at a premium, and
+you will benefit by the exchange. With the capital I now place at
+your disposal buy sheep and cattle, and offer to supply the
+management with beef and mutton. Owing to the disorder in which
+the invasion will throw agriculture, cattle will be sold at a
+loss of seventy-five per <a name="page38"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 38</span>cent. In the embarrassment in which
+the army will find itself for victuals, the contractors will sell
+again at a profit of cent. per cent. Do you understand the
+affair? Then act according to these data. If you do, by
+contributing to feed the troops you will be of far more service
+than marching in red trousers, under the orders of a stupid
+corporal. You, too, will be defending your country. And do not
+forget to betake yourself to the drug-store to-night to proclaim
+it aloud.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But suppose some one asks me in what corps I am to
+serve, what reply shall I give?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You will say, &lsquo;I am going to Rhetel. It will be
+settled there.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very well, father.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Take hold of one of the handles of the box, and help me
+to mount it to the shop.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Leave it to me, father.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Whereupon, seizing in both his arms the heavy box, filled with
+gold, he raised it on his stout shoulder, and, preceded by Moses,
+who held aloft his candle to light the staircase, he bore away
+without flinching all his father&rsquo;s fortune.</p>
+<p>The double combination conceived by Lichtenbach succeeded, as
+all simple ideas do. Within Metz, besieged and filled with
+troops, stored provisions were not long in coming to a premium.
+The salt Moses thought of selling at a moderate price gave him a
+great surprise. It proved more valuable than sugar. The want of
+salt caused keen suffering to the soldiers, who had become
+disgusted with horseflesh. The brandy, largely adulterated, also
+sold well. Still the old man&rsquo;s profits did not recompense
+him for lack of news of his heir. Elias&rsquo;s last letter,
+delivered on the evening of the Battle of Borny, announced the
+young man&rsquo;s arrival in Paris. He had left thirty thousand
+francs in gold <a name="page39"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+39</span>with the firm of Baradier, at Troyes, and was preparing
+to make for Orleans, as he did not consider himself in safety in
+Paris, which would infallibly soon be blockaded.</p>
+<p>He had introduced five thousand sheep into the town. But he
+did not consider it necessary to continue business with the
+Government, which was too economical and avaricious. After the
+14th of August not a word did the old man receive. During those
+long, sleepless nights, whilst listening to the cannon of Saint
+Julien or of Plappeville thundering away at long intervals, the
+old man reflected bitterly that his son was very young and
+inexperienced, that he might be robbed, and that the sum he had
+entrusted to him represented twenty years&rsquo; wanderings along
+the roads of Lorraine, buying up all the old iron in the
+province. Still, he had the consolation of thinking that Elias
+was not taking part in the terrible and bloody battles, doleful
+and desperate tidings of which came across the outposts right to
+the besieged town. He saw his neighbours and clients pass along
+with bowed heads, wondering uneasily, and asking one
+another&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What news? Have you heard anything of your son? Where
+is he? If only all our boys are not dead!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He at least could reply, &ldquo;I do not know,&rdquo; with
+comparative assurance. But the others? Old Graff especially was
+an object of pity. He seemed as though he would go mad. One
+evening he had gone out bareheaded into the streets, when the
+weather was icy cold, saying to all he met, &ldquo;If Antoine
+does not come back, I shall have been his murderer. Why did I
+send him to the war; he was not even of age? He ought to be here
+by my side. All this time they have been fighting around Paris. A
+presentiment comes to me that my son is dead!&rdquo; and he wept
+bitterly. They were obliged to take him back home <a
+name="page40"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 40</span>by force,
+whilst little Catherine hid herself behind her mother&rsquo;s
+skirts. Moses congratulated himself for the prudent resolution he
+had imposed on Elias, though he did his best to lament with the
+rest on the dangers run by this brave and valiant band of youth
+gone out in defence of their country.</p>
+<p>One evening, on returning home<sub>y</sub> the inhabitants of
+the district around the cathedral found ambulance carriages in
+the streets and assistants carrying wounded men into private
+houses. No more beds were to be had at the hospitals. All the
+untenanted houses had been requisitioned, and now the military
+authorities appealed to the patriotism of the inhabitants of Metz
+for lodging the victims of the last sortie. A captain of light
+infantry belonging to the Guards had just been carried to the
+house of Moses, and Graff had taken in a captain of artillery,
+named M. de Tr&eacute;mont. As he was bringing back his battery
+from the hills of Servigny, the young officer had received a ball
+in the thigh.</p>
+<p>Anxiety for the health of his patient, the remedies he needed,
+and other little attentions, caused a happy diversion to the
+ever-present anxiety of Antoine&rsquo;s father. As he saw this
+handsome young officer, who had fought so heroically, and who
+under such solicitous care, was about to recover his health under
+his roof, Graff began to hope once more. He said to himself,
+&ldquo;If my own son is wounded, why should not he also be so
+fortunate as Captain de Tr&eacute;mont? He has been brought a
+long distance, with his wounded thigh, but he will be quite well
+again in less than a couple of months. They do not all die who
+are wounded in war. I feel sure Antoine will come back
+now.&rdquo; And his spirits returned with renewed hope. The
+captain, well cared for by Graff and his wife, was soon able to
+leave his bed, and after dinner, at night, he would relate to
+them his campaigns <a name="page41"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+41</span>in Algeria and Mexico. He explained to his hosts the
+reasons why France was coming off the worst in this disastrous
+campaign, attributing all the advantages of the Germans to their
+remarkable organizing capacity, and the perfection of their
+artillery.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You see, the whole future of war consists in war
+material. We have to give way before breech-loading cannons,
+which have, from the very first, given proof of a marked
+superiority over our grooved arms. The moral effect on our troops
+has been decisive. The first thing to be done after the war, will
+be to investigate a new kind of cannon and explosives of a
+terribly destructive power. The question of explosives will be of
+capital importance. This ought to be the main end of our efforts
+in the artillery.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>With remarkable clearness he explained all that modern
+chemistry offered in cunning combinations, such as would
+guarantee victory to that adversary which could most
+scientifically assure massacre and death. So, in the evening
+silence in that large town, besieged by the conquering enemy, the
+conquered were already engaged in thinking of preparations for
+revenge.</p>
+<p>The siege came to an end, and all the brave soldiers who would
+have defended Metz to the death were surrendered alive to the
+enemy. The flags, a prey to famine, were carried off to form
+trophies of victory in Germany. Paris fell in her turn, then the
+final armies of France, driven back across the snow, stained with
+blood, not so tired of death as exhausted with the fight, stopped
+at the country&rsquo;s call. And on that immense battlefield, two
+hundred leagues square, the victors&rsquo; shout of triumph
+mingled with the despairing cry of the vanquished. By degrees
+news arrived, bringing sorrow to some and joy to others. Among
+the brave young fellows who had gone forth to fight, so ardent
+and proud, many never returned, <a name="page42"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 42</span>whilst the numbers of prisoners and
+wounded will never be known.</p>
+<p>One morning, Graff, in the dining-room, was taking breakfast
+with his family and Captain de Tr&eacute;mont, who was still a
+convalescent in Metz, when the outside door was opened, a rapid
+step was heard on the staircase, and father, mother, and little
+Catherine, looked at one another with pale faces. Not a word was
+uttered as they listened tremblingly to this quick, seemingly
+joyful ascent. They had all been struck by the same thought; he
+who comes hastening to us in this way, without asking any
+questions, who enters as though he were master of the house, and
+mounts the well-known steps four at a time, must be Antoine!
+Before they had time to give expression to their thoughts the
+door opened, and a tall, bearded young man, so thin and terrible
+that they did not recognize him, but whose eyes were instantly
+flooded with tears, appeared before them.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Father! Catherine! Mother!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They all rose to their feet, mad with joy, for they could not
+mistake the voice, and the long-expected child for whom so many
+tears had been shed, was taken in their arms and covered with
+kisses, amid the cries and sobs, questions and exclamations, of
+parents and servants, whilst the Captain looked on with a smile
+at this family scene. Finally, Antoine escaped from their arms,
+and his first words were the following&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good heavens! How hungry I am!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As he spoke he cast hungry looks on the coffee and cake with
+which the table was spread. In a trice he was seated there, and
+served and fed so well, that he was obliged to beg them to
+desist. Then explanations began, and long accounts of events,
+interspersed with questions as to the fate of such and such a
+one. He himself, after fighting at <a name="page43"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 43</span>Sedan, had escaped by
+M&eacute;zi&egrave;res, reached the North, where, with Faidherbe,
+he had passed the whole campaign. He had not slept in a bed for
+three months. But he had fought at Pont-Noyelles, Bapaume, and
+Saint Quentin, and had been lucky enough to come out without a
+scratch, with the grade of sergeant-major; disgusted all the
+same, with the soldier&rsquo;s profession for the rest of his
+life. His father said to him&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, it is all over now! You shall never begin again.
+Our unhappy country is crushed. It will take a score of years to
+bring things to their former condition. Ah, my poor Antoine, how
+ill I have slept the last six months! I may say, with truth, I
+have not had a single hour&rsquo;s peace of mind since you left.
+But here you are back again once more, and all is
+forgotten.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then the incidents of the campaign would begin again. Captain
+de Tr&eacute;mont questioned the young soldier on the details of
+the campaign in the North, and Antoine could not dwell too long
+on the valour of the calm and indefatigable Faidherbe, the
+bravery of his companions, and the services rendered by
+Fran&ccedil;ois Baradier, a volunteer like himself, the son of a
+banker of Troyes, who had saved his life, snatching him away from
+the hands of the Prussians of Manteufel on the evening of the
+battle of Bapaume, within a farm which the shells had set on
+fire, and where he was surrounded by a dozen of the enemy.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He will come and see you&mdash;he promised me
+so&mdash;and you will appreciate such a fine brave fellow as he
+is.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Your rescuer? Certainly, he shall be welcome. But let
+me look at you, my poor child. Who would have recognized you? You
+look like a brigand! Had I met you in the street, I should have
+been afraid!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>All day long the Graffs were visited by whole lines of
+relations and friends, who had called to congratulate them, <a
+name="page44"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 44</span>to admire the
+returned soldier, and to listen to the hundredth account of the
+episode of the Battle of Bapaume, whilst tumblers of beer and
+glasses of kirsch-wasser were served, bringing to their height
+the overwrought feelings of Graff, who was usually sober enough,
+though, on this occasion, he had completely lost his
+bearings.</p>
+<p>The following morning fresh stirrings in the quarter. Elias
+Lichtenbach made his appearance in a cab. He looked well and
+hearty, and, after greeting his family, immediately entered into
+conference with the German authorities. The rumour soon spread
+that young Lichtenbach had been sent by the authorities of
+Bordeaux, and had become a person of importance during the war.
+In reality, his mission concerned the re-victualling of the army
+on the frontiers of the East. The delegate to the war, who
+appreciated the services rendered by Elias, his skill as an
+intermediary, and his facility in avoiding difficulties, had sent
+his agent to the enemy&rsquo;s headquarters. He was now full of
+self-importance, and proudly looked down upon his compatriots,
+worn out by privation and hunger, though furious at defeat.</p>
+<p>After the first few hours of astonishment full fling was given
+to curiosity. Where had Elias come from, looking so strong and
+well? Of all who had left at the same time as himself, he was the
+only one who had returned looking better than when he left. All
+the rest were pale and savage-looking. Inquiries were set afoot.
+At the very first question the representatives of the authorities
+replied, with circumspection, that M. Lichtenbach had rendered
+eminent service to the country, and that the delegate for the war
+considered him with the most benevolent esteem. What kind of
+service? It was young Baradier who, on reaching Metz, on a visit
+to Antoine and his family, began to throw light on the obscure
+conduct of the boasting Elias.</p>
+<p><a name="page45"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+45</span>Sergeant Baradier, ruddy of complexion, full of life and
+vigour, was as firm in disposition as Antoine was gentle. His
+open frankness pleased everybody, and amongst all these good
+people he was immediately at his ease. Twenty-four hours had not
+passed before he was on very good terms with Captain de
+Tr&eacute;mont, and had grouped together all the volunteers of
+Metz to a banquet to celebrate their return. Elias had had the
+calm audacity to give in his name, like the rest, and had put in
+an appearance at the Hotel de l&rsquo;Ours, to take part in the
+banquet. But his reception had been a cold one. All who were
+present, though in civil dress, as the German authorities had
+forbidden the uniform, knew in what regiments they had served, in
+what battles they had been wounded. Elias alone lost himself in
+vague explanations. He pretended to have been
+everywhere&mdash;with the armies at Chanzy and Bourbaki, at the
+camp of Conlie, and near Garibaldi. This gift of ubiquity
+astonished everybody. Sergeant Baradier undertook to give an
+explanation clearer than all those behind which Elias had
+sheltered himself.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are you not the Lichtenbach who did business with the
+firm of Baradier at Troyes?&rdquo; he asked old Moses&rsquo; son,
+point-blank. &ldquo;Is it not you who bought sheep in the
+Ardennes, and drove them through Belgium into France?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, it is myself,&rdquo; replied Elias,
+cautiously.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well! No wonder you have been everywhere during the
+war, since you were buying meat from every available spot, on
+behalf of the management.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As Elias became agitated and turned pale, Baradier
+continued&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, I am not reproaching you, I am simply stating a
+fact. These gentlemen just now did not appear to understand the
+part you played. I am explaining it to them. M. Lichtenbach is a
+patriot in a fashion. Instead of fighting <a
+name="page46"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 46</span>he undertook
+to feed the fighters. If not a glorious employment, it is, at
+least a useful one.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But I risked my life like the rest,&rdquo; exclaimed
+Elias, red with anger. &ldquo;Had the Germans caught me they
+would have shot me!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is most extraordinary that they allowed you to move
+in and out so freely through their lines, for they did not
+generally show themselves over confident. The good reception,
+too, they gave you must have appeared very strange.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do you mean!&rdquo; exclaimed Elias.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Simply what I say; nothing more,&rdquo; replied
+Baradier, coldly. &ldquo;But if you wish me to explain, I merely
+remark that remaining out of the reach of sabre cuts and musket
+shots, whilst others are fighting, being warm and comfortable,
+and deprived of nothing, whilst your companions are dying of cold
+and hunger, seeing in the misfortunes of one&rsquo;s country only
+an opportunity of making a fortune, is not what one would call
+the height of heroism.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You insult me!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am ready to give you satisfaction.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good! you shall hear from me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do not cry out so loud; I can easily be found. I am
+staying with M. Graff, and am the son of M. Baradier, your banker
+at Troyes. Now we will change the subject.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Immediately Elias found himself alone. Everybody turned their
+backs on him. Flinging on his adversary a look of hatred he left
+the room. As he closed the door he heard Graff exclaim&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now that there are none but good patriots left let us
+drink to the health of France!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The following morning Baradier, accompanied by Captain de
+Tr&eacute;mont and his friend Graff, waited for Lichtenbach to <a
+name="page47"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 47</span>put in an
+appearance. They waited in vain. The prudent Elias, having
+avoided wounds during the war, seemed quite determined not to run
+the risk of receiving any in times of peace. Still, as though by
+chance, M. Baradier at Troyes, received in his house a supplement
+of twenty Hessian hussars, to board and lodge, and old Graff was
+summoned thrice in a single week to reply to denunciations
+representing him as having spoken in insulting terms concerning
+the German army. Finally, Baradier received notice to leave Metz
+within twelve hours.</p>
+<p>It was quite possible that chance alone might have caused the
+increase of the burden laid on the banker of Troyes, and the
+expulsion of Baradier might have been the consequence of the
+banquet, at which more was said than the circumstances warranted.
+But old Graff was convinced that his neighbour
+Lichtenbach&rsquo;s son was an agent of the enemy, and that the
+rogue had simply turned informer against him. All the same, Elias
+bowed to him in the street with the greatest deference, and he
+always showed himself very polite to Antoine.</p>
+<p>The quiet and taciturn heir to the firm of Graff avoided, as
+far as possible, his former companion. He did not openly break
+with him, his nature being opposed to violence of every kind. But
+very few words were spoken on either side, and he avoided
+transacting business with him. The firm Graff stored up large
+quantities of wool, which were sold to the manufacturers of
+Champagne and the Ardennes. The Baradiers, who had just bought a
+large factory at Ars, were great customers of theirs. Elias, who
+continued his father&rsquo;s wholesale business, bought and sold
+everything in the nature of a business transaction, and had often
+made offers to the Graff for the wool of Germany. The latter had
+always declined his offers. Still, in spite of such evident
+ill-will, Elias was not discouraged, and, with that tenacity
+which is one of the <a name="page48"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+48</span>virtues of his race, he periodically visited Graff and
+his son, in the hope of bringing off a bargain.</p>
+<p>Thus, after two years spent by Mademoiselle Graff in one of
+the best boarding schools in Nancy, Elias, one fine morning,
+found himself in front of her in the garden, whilst waiting for
+Antoine. He was stupefied and completely dazzled. The child had
+become a young lady, tall and graceful, with dark eyes, light
+hair, and brilliant complexion. He dared not speak to her, and
+could only bow as she passed. On returning home he mentioned the
+incident to his father, and, with a wealth of biblical
+comparison, he depicted the maiden, like Rebecca appearing to
+Jacob. He left his father in no doubt that he was passionately in
+love, and that if, as the shepherd had served Laban, he should
+have to serve Graff, he would submit to it for love of the fair
+Elise.</p>
+<p>Old Moses remarked that, being a Jew, and the Graffs being
+Christians, there was no chance of being accepted by them,
+without prejudice to the grievances they had manifested against
+him ever since the war. Elias replied that he could abjure his
+religion, and by his conversion give great prestige to the
+Catholic faith, that he had earned sufficient money, and that a
+young fellow of twenty-two years of age, who would place four
+hundred thousand francs on the table when the contract was signed
+was not a suitor to be thrown over so easily.</p>
+<p>Moses warned his son that he was entering upon a perilous
+negotiation. He did not dissuade him from changing his religion,
+if he found any advantage in such a course, but he warned him
+that, whether as Christian or Jew, he would not obtain the hand
+of Mademoiselle Graff, and that he would gain nothing but the
+shame of his apostacy. Elias, however, had a will of iron; he
+astonished the archbishop by his determination, conciliated him
+by his piety and <a name="page49"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+49</span>generosity, and, with remarkable skill, brought over to
+his interests all the high Catholic powers. At a time when German
+pietism was struggling in the conquered provinces, with a clergy
+of purely Protestant tendencies, the conversion of Elias was a
+political event.</p>
+<p>Had Elias not been so well known he might have become popular.
+All the same, he met a thorough refusal at the hands of the Graff
+family, and, as though to intensify the insult offered to him,
+before six months the beautiful Elise married the former
+sergeant, Baradier. At the same time, a rumour spread abroad that
+the Graffs were leaving the town. Antoine followed his
+step-brother to Paris, and entered with him into the banking
+establishment of Baradier senior.</p>
+<p>It was too much for Elias. He lost his sleep, and one day,
+after meeting the Graffs, who were being escorted to the station
+by all their friends, he returned home, and was taken suddenly
+ill. Old Moses, terrified, put his son to bed, summoned the
+doctor, and learnt that the new convert was at the point of
+death. A furious delirium had taken possession of him; during its
+course he negotiated fabulous bargains with imaginary buyers and
+sellers. A semblance of reason returned only when he poured forth
+floods of insults and threats against the Baradiers and the
+Graffs, whilst his father calmed him by saying&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Elias, you shall have your revenge on these
+rascals! You shall ruin them! You shall crush them under your
+heel!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then a happy smile came over the patient&rsquo;s lips; he
+slept a few hours, and awoke feeling much better. One may affirm
+that it was the intensity of his hatred that kept him from dying.
+Plans of revenge haunted his fevered brain, and when the doctor,
+in astonishment, declared that the young man was convalescent,
+the first words Elias uttered <a name="page50"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 50</span>were, &ldquo;All the better! Had I
+died, the Baradiers and Graff&rsquo;s would have been too
+glad!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>To tell the truth, the latter paid not the slightest heed to
+the feelings of rancour they had so violently aroused. They had
+assumed the direction of the firm, had extended the business, and
+founded additional woollen factories. Marcel Baradier and his
+sister Am&eacute;lie were born. Complete harmony seemed to exist
+in this happy family, when Elias Lichtenbach, his father having
+died, came to establish himself in Paris.</p>
+<p>A singular metamorphosis had been wrought in him. The first
+time Baradier and his rival met at the Bourse the banker did not
+recognize Lichtenbach. He saw before him a thin, stooping man,
+almost bald, with cold, passionless eyes, hidden behind gold
+spectacles. His very voice had changed. M. Lichtenbach spoke
+little, said only what was absolutely essential, and remained
+impassive before the most important news. A contraction of the
+jaws alone betrayed his emotion, giving to his countenance a
+character of singular ferocity.</p>
+<p>Lichtenbach&rsquo;s connection with the firm of Baradier and
+Graff was full of meaning. He caused them to lose three hundred
+thousand francs in a single morning on a contract for wool,
+concluded at the Bourse of Troyes. Elias sold wool from Hungary
+at so low a rate that Baradier and Graff, who had speculated on a
+rise, were obliged to sell out rapidly to limit their risks. It
+was the first clear flash from the cloud. Henceforward an enemy,
+always on the watch, was ever ready to strike the Baradier firm
+in its most vulnerable part. Lichtenbach&rsquo;s evil intentions,
+though concealed, were none the less certain.</p>
+<p>When attacked they ingeniously defended themselves, took
+needful precautions, and trusted nothing to hazard. Lichtenbach
+was very powerful and dangerous. Left a widower, with one
+daughter, whom he had sent to the <a name="page51"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 51</span>Sacre-Coeur, there to be brought up
+according to the principles of the most rigid devotion, Elias was
+a type of the renegade who had become more Christian than the
+Pope himself.</p>
+<p>Still, if Lichtenbach was dreaded, he was received everywhere,
+and his influence in society was as secret as it was sure. He
+rendered priceless help to ruined families. Instead of aiming his
+financial batteries against the established Government, he
+divided his attempts, placed his hands on all the syndicates of
+Europe, and by means of the capital he collected caused diverse
+speculations not only to benefit himself, but all his friends in
+addition.</p>
+<p>The simplicity of his life was extreme. He lived in a gloomy
+mansion in the Rue Barbet-de-Jouy, attended by servants from
+Lorraine, who spoke German better than French. He never received
+visitors, whilst a game of whist seemed to form his only
+distraction. It was at his office, right in front of the Bourse,
+that he received his clients. Although only forty-five years of
+age, he seemed to have lost all interest in the fair sex, as
+though all women were an object of terror for him. The little
+Duchess de Bernay, who, thanks to speculations conducted by
+Elias, had been able to pay her debts, one day said to her
+friend, the Marchioness de Premeur&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I must find out what Lichtenbach really thinks. After
+all, the manner in which he treats us is almost
+humiliating.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>For some evenings, in the presence of all her friends, she
+flirted with Elias, without succeeding in thawing him. Then
+suddenly she ceased paying attention to him. To her
+companions&rsquo; ironical questions she replied,
+evasively&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have lost my time. It is no use.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But it was noticed that her style of living changed; that she
+spent large sums of money, and that, according as she ceased
+joking with the financier, she became more and <a
+name="page52"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 52</span>more settled
+in money matters. Elias, distant and silent as ever, continued to
+speculate in the four corners of the globe, to advise the Prince,
+manage his journal, and prove to the-firm of Baradier and Graff,
+as well as to those in any way connected with him, that the
+enmity he was nourishing would be with him as long as he
+lived.</p>
+<h3><a name="page53"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+53</span>CHAPTER III</h3>
+<p><span class="smcap">On</span> reaching the Rue de
+Prov&egrave;nce, the Minister of War descended from his brougham
+with the eagerness of a young man, crossed the court-yard,
+entered the offices, and, in loud tones, asked the office
+boy&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is M. Baradier in?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The office-boy instinctively stood at attention, and
+replied&mdash;&ldquo;Yes, General; I will announce you at
+once.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Minister, with nervous steps, strode to and fro in the
+ante-chamber, behind whose windows the Havas despatches gave the
+current rates of all the Exchanges of Europe. Suddenly a door
+opened, and a stout man with ruddy complexion entered the room
+with outstretched arms.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, it is you, General! What trouble you have taken!
+Just step into this room.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Minister entered, and as soon as the door was closed he
+exclaimed&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, my poor friends! How sad it all is!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We cannot get over the shock, Baradier and I,&rdquo;
+said Graff, rolling forward an armchair. &ldquo;Take a seat,
+General.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who has told you the news?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Baudoin, who was sleeping here last night, and came in
+terrified this afternoon with the dismal tidings. What has
+happened down there? The whole circumstances are even more
+serious than the disaster itself. Graff and I have been <a
+name="page54"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 54</span>questioning
+and discussing with one another, without succeeding in settling
+the frightful problem.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If only Marcel were here!&rdquo; moaned Uncle Graff.
+&ldquo;He would enlighten us. He is so well acquainted with
+Tr&eacute;mont&rsquo;s life and habits, his
+weaknesses.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;His weaknesses?&rdquo; asked the Minister. &ldquo;A
+woman? Is that what you mean?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, General.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are taking the paltry side of the matter,&rdquo;
+said the old soldier, firmly. &ldquo;It is no question of a mere
+<i>passade</i>. The affair before us is far more than a paltry
+intrigue. The woman&mdash;yes, indeed, she has had a
+<i>r&ocirc;le</i> to play. But she has only been the agent,
+perhaps unwittingly, of an attempt, carefully thought out and
+boldly executed.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;With what object?&rdquo; asked Baradier. &ldquo;Tell me
+everything, General. Let us communicate our suspicions to one
+another, in an attempt to throw light on the affair.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! It is evident that the object of the attack was the
+discoveries made by Tr&eacute;mont. In this abominable plot,
+which has ended in the murder of a man we loved, a remarkable
+<i>savant</i>, I see&mdash;but do not let this go beyond the
+three of us here present&mdash;the hand of the
+foreigner.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>There was a moment&rsquo;s silence. Baradier and Graff looked
+at one another, uneasily, and as though undecided. But the
+impetuous Baradier could not long keep to himself the idea
+working in his brain.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We, too, General, seem to recognize in the blow which
+has fallen on our friend some hateful intention against him and
+against ourselves at once.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Baradier,&rdquo; intervened Graff, &ldquo;you are going
+too fast and too far! How can you risk such a charge, on
+suppositions alone?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! You still hesitate!&rdquo; exclaimed Baradier.
+&ldquo;You are still bound down by scruples! The deuce! I feel
+there <a name="page55"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 55</span>is
+treason and infamy in all this! I&mdash;Let me continue! I would
+swear that Lichtenbach is at the bottom of it all!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have no right to speak in that way!&rdquo;
+exclaimed Graff, rising to his feet and quivering with emotion.
+&ldquo;How can you insinuate that a man against whom nothing can
+be said from either a professional or a moral point of view, is a
+party to a crime, simply because he is our enemy? It is
+abominable! We must give some place to justice!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Baradier, boiling over with excitement, rose in his turn, and
+began to walk to and fro, speaking in snatches.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For the last two hours, General, we have been disputing
+in this way, Graff and myself, and the only reply he can give me
+is that I am not just! As though that were a matter of concern
+when an imperious instinct cries out to you: &lsquo;There is the
+culprit. He is not seen; he is well masked, cunningly concealed,
+and appears in nothing.&rsquo; Probably he will not be found out,
+but it is he all the same who has done the deed, because it was
+to his interest and hatred combined to do it! No! With his
+justice, humanity, and philanthropy, you can have no idea how
+stupid Graff is, at times!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>In spite of the gravity of the situation, the three friends
+burst into a loud laugh, and Graff, bending forward his great
+body, exclaimed&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thanks!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Minister then intervened to give a little order to the
+debate.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come, Baradier, explain yourself. As your
+brother-in-law says, vague presentiments are not sufficient to
+establish an accusation. Presumptions lead to investigations, and
+if guilt results from information obtained, then one may proceed.
+Besides, I will observe to you that the authorities have been
+notified, an examination has been commenced, and if you have
+proofs to furnish&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page56"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+56</span>&ldquo;Impossible!&rdquo; interrupted Baradier.
+&ldquo;To you I have been telling my inmost thoughts; to an
+examining magistrate I would not repeat what I have just
+said.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; triumphed Graff; &ldquo;what did I tell
+you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For me to quit my reserve, such discoveries ought to be
+brought to light, that the proofs&mdash;moral as they
+are&mdash;upon which I lean, should have material coincidences.
+But do not think I am retreating. I will make inquiries, and if I
+find&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You will not find anything. If your suspicions are
+true, we have to deal with those who are stronger than
+ourselves.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We shall see about that!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The General intervened again.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is this Lichtenbach, of whom you speak, the great
+merchant-prince who is allied with the clerico-royalist
+party?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, the same man.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And you imagine him capable of a crime?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I believe he is capable of anything.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Doubtless you know that he is very influential with the
+Ministry, and obtains whatever he wishes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He is very powerful everywhere; his arms stretch in all
+directions.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But what interest would he have in trying to circumvent
+Tr&eacute;mont, in the first place, and, afterwards, in bringing
+about his disappearance?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, General, what do you think of the investigations
+into explosives? Lichtenbach is at the head of the French
+syndicate of mining exploitations. In Russia, Austria, and Spain,
+he has considerable interests. Now, in the composition of a
+powder, easy to control in results, capable of being handled
+without harm, and of very moderate cost&mdash;and all these
+advantages were claimed by the Tr&eacute;mont powder, as was seen
+from the report read by the General, at the <a
+name="page57"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 57</span>Academy of
+Science, six months ago&mdash;was there not something to tempt
+the covetousness of business men, ever on the look-out for
+progressive and remunerative processes? Tr&eacute;mont had
+received splendid offers, but had always refused even the initial
+overtures. Then he explained to Graff and myself his intention of
+promoting a company, the working of which should be exclusively
+French. It was a point of honour with him that his own country
+should profit from his discovery.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The fine fellow! Just like him!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He was well aware that he had found an opportunity of
+making a fortune, but he did not wish foreign money to have a
+hand in it. Besides, at the same time, he had almost completed
+his investigations into a new war-powder. He would not throw the
+commercial affair on the market until he had given his new
+explosive to the Government. He said to us: &lsquo;Both powders
+at once. The one that will make me rich, and the one that will
+make us conquerors. In this way I shall be pardoned for the
+benefits I shall reap from the first, in favour of the prestige
+the second will give our Army.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; secret experiments had already taken place with
+his war-powder. Never had my colleagues or myself seen such
+destructive effects. Nothing could have resisted an artillery
+firing projectiles charged with this powder! And the secret has
+vanished in smoke! It is a great misfortune for
+France!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A strange smile passed over Graff&rsquo;s mouth, and, with a
+gesture of dissent, he said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! Who knows?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, it is not absolutely certain that the secret is
+lost! Perhaps some one possesses the General&rsquo;s
+formul&aelig; in duplicate.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page58"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+58</span>&ldquo;Who?&rdquo; exclaimed the Minister.</p>
+<p>Graff rubbed his hands together and replied&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My nephew!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Marcel? Has he said anything to you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. A week ago.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>At these words Baradier turned pale. Turning to his
+brother-in-law, with a look of anguish, he exclaimed&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Never let the slightest suspicion of this be known!
+Repeat to no one what you have just said! They have killed
+Tr&eacute;mont! Do you want them to kill my son?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! Baradier, have you no courage left?&rdquo; asked
+the General. &ldquo;You are afraid of your shadow now. Do you
+imagine that, if your hypothesis be true, and I am much inclined
+to share it, those who have dealt the blow will be disposed to
+recommence without delay? We have time to act, and we are warned.
+Why the deuce should we be afraid? Just now, the authors of the
+crime have carefully gone to earth, for they can have no doubt
+that the police are on the look-out for them. Do not be alarmed,
+and let us speak frankly.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My dear General, if the possession of the secret of the
+powders has been fatal to Tr&eacute;mont, whom they thought
+simply of robbing, what is not to be feared for Marcel Baradier,
+if this terrible intrigue is conducted by the implacable enemy of
+all his family? They would have spared Tr&eacute;mont&rsquo;s
+life, could they have obtained possession of his formul&aelig;.
+Marcel can expect no pity, for it is Graff and myself&mdash;it is
+his own mother whom they will reach in striking him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We shall be there to defend him,&rdquo; said Graff, in
+trembling tones. &ldquo;I am not an evil-disposed person, but
+still I feel myself capable of the utmost ferocity in preventing
+any harm befalling my nephew!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You understand,&rdquo; said the General, &ldquo;that if
+the police <a name="page59"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+59</span>have no clue to your suspicions, I will take it upon
+myself to inform them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It would be wiser not to do anything of the
+sort,&rdquo; interrupted Baradier. &ldquo;If, as we imagine, it
+is<sub> </sub>Lichtenbach who has directed the frightful plot,
+you may be certain beforehand that it will not be brought to
+light. Both he and his accomplices are free from all
+responsibility. The woman who appears to have acted as a decoy
+will have disappeared. The man whose arm has been torn off will
+be carefully attended to in some dark spot, perhaps abroad, and
+the coachman who accompanied the accomplices to Vanves is a
+trusted member of the band. Nothing will be discovered, you may
+be sure. The examining magistrate may prepare at once to shelve
+the whole affair.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think as you do. But that is no reason for not making
+investigations. In the first place, if Lichtenbach is watched,
+perhaps some proof will be discovered. But all that concerns the
+police. We will change the subject. General de Tr&eacute;mont has
+left an only daughter, without support.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I beg your pardon, General. We will console her and pay
+her all possible attention.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, my dear friend, I know the poor child may rely
+upon you. But she is without fortune. Tr&eacute;mont left very
+little property; his pension was almost all that he
+had.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Reassure yourself. She shall never lack anything. This
+very morning my wife went to her to the Sacre-Coeur, and brought
+her here. She shall stay with my daughter and be treated as
+though she bore my own name.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All the same, I will obtain for her a pension from the
+Ministry.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly, if you wish; but it will simply be to ease
+your conscience. She will have every want fulfilled. I take
+charge of her as though she were my child.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page60"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+60</span>&ldquo;Can I not speak to her? Is she in a fit state to
+receive me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She is in great grief, but very calm. Graff will tell
+her that you are here.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The uncle left the room. Baradier drew his chair nearer the
+General&rsquo;s, as though afraid the walls would hear what he
+was about to say.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Between you and myself&mdash;for Graff is too
+sentimental&mdash;is this a matter that concerns other
+countries?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How can we tell, so long as we have not laid our hands
+on the culprits? Even if they are found, how can we throw light
+on that question? We can never hope for absolute certainty in
+this respect, as foreign agents always keep themselves aloof from
+direct responsibility, and disclaim all connection with abroad,
+if they are caught. We shall never get beyond probabilities. Our
+artillery material and explosives are at present, and will long
+remain, a matter of anxiety to rival Powers. Our armaments are
+well known, though our projectiles are continually being
+perfected. It is certain that the artillery which made use of the
+Tr&eacute;mont powder would have had an overwhelming advantage.
+Hence the attempt against the inventor, evidently.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So you attach a great value to the formul&aelig;
+discovered by the General?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A very great value. Its possession would render our
+country an immense service.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Baradier became serious. Bowing his head, he continued
+resolutely&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am a good patriot, General. I fought for France to
+the very last hour of the war. All the Baradier family, Lorraines
+from Metz, went into voluntary exile so as not to live in the
+midst of our conquerors. If my country needed my life, I would
+not hesitate to give it up. I <a name="page61"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 61</span>will do more, I will risk my
+son&rsquo;s life. If Marcel knows Tr&eacute;mont&rsquo;s secret,
+I give you my oath you shall have the powder.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A flash of joy shone in the old soldier&rsquo;s eyes.
+Stretching out his hand to Baradier, he exclaimed, in trembling
+tones&mdash;&ldquo;Thank you. You are a brave soldier.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>At this moment the door opened, and the General gave a
+sonorous hum, and regained his composure. Madame Baradier and
+Mademoiselle de Tr&eacute;mont entered the room, followed by
+Graff. Still slender and graceful, Madame Baradier now showed a
+few silver threads among the beautiful blonde tresses of her
+youth. But her frank look and smiling lips revealed the young
+girl beloved of Elias Lichtenbach. Mademoiselle de
+Tr&eacute;mont, wearing a blue convent dress, slender and
+dark-complexioned, showed in her countenance, overwhelmed with
+grief, the charming grace of her sixteen years. Without the
+slightest awkwardness or hesitation, she walked straight to her
+father&rsquo;s friend. At the first words the old soldier
+addressed her, however, her eyes filled with tears, which
+silently flowed unheeded down her cheeks. She listened with eager
+satisfaction to the consoling words of praise, consecrated to him
+who had just disappeared, and the silent nod she gave from time
+to time seemed an acquiescence of resignation and grief, in the
+bitterness of life now beginning for her.</p>
+<p>Alas! she had scarcely known her father. A widower very soon
+after the birth of his daughter, he had been obliged to entrust
+her to the care of pious and devout women. She had scarcely ever
+tasted of the delights of home. Genevi&egrave;ve often tried, in
+vain, to recall the sound of her mother&rsquo;s voice. How sad it
+was! She had never felt on her heart the caressing warmth of an
+ever-present affection. Isolation, in the midst of strangers,
+kind and benevolent though they were, had been her lot, right to
+the day <a name="page62"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 62</span>on
+which death had broken the slender bond which still attached her
+to her father. And now what a sorrowful end, in this catastrophe,
+at once stupefying and terrible, which left her an orphan, and
+filled her mind with thoughts of violence and massacre!</p>
+<p>She had not even the supreme consolation of thinking that the
+one she mourned had had a calm and peaceful death. As a soldier,
+he had not fallen on the field of battle; as a <i>savant</i>, he
+had not succumbed, a victim to his investigations. In a base and
+cowardly fashion, he had been assassinated by bandits. She heard
+the Minister telling her that she might rely on his protection.
+Stammering out her thanks, and blinded by tears, she left the
+room with Madame Baradier, almost heart-broken at being made to
+understand more vividly, from the expressions of condolence
+addressed to her, the extent of her loss.</p>
+<p>The Minister, on leaving the room in his turn, found General
+de Tr&eacute;mont&rsquo;s servant awaiting him in the
+antechamber. He looked with interest at the latter&rsquo;s
+intelligent and energetic countenance.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, my poor Baudoin, this is a great loss for
+us.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is a great crime, General.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They had sent you away, my good fellow; but for that,
+all this would not have happened.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, General, it is always the fair sex who ruin
+everything!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come, come! Don&rsquo;t say anything more on the
+subject.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Pardon me, General. I do not mention it from lack of
+deference for my poor master, but if attempts are not made to
+find the scoundrel, the woman who controlled the whole affair,
+nothing will be discovered, and my master will remain
+unavenged.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you know the woman?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page63"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+63</span>&ldquo;Ah! If I had known her, I, too, should have been
+dead!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Baradier, Graff, and the Minister looked at one another. What
+Baudoin had just said was so clear a confirmation of
+Baradier&rsquo;s fears, concerning his son, that the threatening
+power of the mysterious woman instantly forced itself on the
+Minister&rsquo;s thoughts. He was already so well acquainted
+personally, and through his predecessors, with these
+fortune-hunters, always in quest of a speculation or intrigue to
+work out, or a secret to be stolen, from the sellers of crosses
+of honour, to searchers of official desks. He could have named
+several of them. And the experience of the past: all these acts
+of imprudence and folly, were there to prove the truth of what
+the simple and devoted Baudoin now said. The Minister
+continued&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I heard her voice, General, last night, and I will
+warrant that if she uttered a word in my hearing, I should
+recognize it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, a voice, my poor fellow, a voice heard for a single
+moment, uttering a few sentences only. How could one dare to
+accuse another on such feeble evidence? Do you know, there are
+voices so similar that one may be mistaken, even when one is
+familiar with their owners. If you have no other proof to give,
+my poor Baudoin, you had better say nothing at all.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We shall see, General.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, you are obstinate!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A little, General.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, well! What can I do for you? You have been a good
+soldier, and a devoted servant. I imagine your master would have
+recommended me not to abandon you. Would you like to enter the
+office of the Ministry?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you, General. M. Baradier has offered to take <a
+name="page64"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 64</span>me into his
+office, and I have accepted. But if you would be good enough
+to&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, speak!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Could you please tell me the name of the Ministerial
+agent who has been conducting the investigations? He seemed to me
+a very intelligent man, and I should like to speak to
+him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;His name is Lafor&ecirc;t. But keep the name to
+yourself. I have sufficient confidence to mention it to you;
+still, it must not be generally known.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You may rely on my discretion, General. I will say
+nothing.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, good day!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Minister shook hands with Baradier and Graff, and rode
+away in his brougham. When the two partners returned into the
+hall, Baudoin, to whom they wished to speak, had disappeared.</p>
+<p>As soon as he learnt the agent&rsquo;s name, Baudoin had taken
+his hat, and, leaving the hotel by the servants&rsquo; exit, had
+made his way to the Ministry. On reaching the entrance he made
+inquiries. Being an old soldier, he knew how to speak to
+soldiers. The orderly he met in the hall pointed out to him the
+building he wished to enter, right at the end of the court,
+staircase C. There the porter had stopped him; no one could enter
+without authorization. He had none; he must accordingly ask for
+one.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I simply wanted to speak to M.
+Lafor&ecirc;t.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The porter looked at him with suspicion. Then he
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;M. Lafor&ecirc;t? You will not find him at the
+Ministry, call at his private residence.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where is that?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You must inquire.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It was quite evident there was nothing to be gained here. <a
+name="page65"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 65</span>Bowing, he
+thanked the porter and took his departure. In the Rue
+Saint-Dominique, at the corner of the Rue Martignac, he noticed a
+small caf&eacute;. He entered with the object of making
+inquiries, as the porter had recommended. Four customers, under
+the complaisant eye of the proprietor, were playing at cards. At
+the far end was a room, containing a billiard-table. The players
+could be seen, though indistinctly, each time they passed before
+the door. There appeared to be spectators present. Probably a
+pool was being contested.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A bock. Is there a billiard academy here?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, sir, we have some very fine players. Some of these
+gentlemen from the Ministry come every evening. M. Trousset, the
+head clerk, though an amateur, would be a match for the best
+players in Paris, and even from abroad!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed! And may one watch the game?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If you wish, sir, I will carry the beer into the next
+room.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Baudoin had already entered the billiard-room, which contained
+two tables. Taking a seat, he looked on. One of the players was a
+stout, jovial fellow, who accompanied his cannons with stale
+jokes. The other, a tall, thin dark-complexioned man, was
+Lafor&ecirc;t himself. Baudoin gave himself a slap on the thigh,
+took out a cigarette, and exclaimed to the astonishment of his
+neighbour&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am lucky this time!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As he was looked at inquisitively, he said no more, but lit a
+cigarette, and began to sip his beer. The stout player said to
+his opponent, with a wink&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The balls are in the corner; now for the
+final!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Whereupon he made a series of seventeen cannons, and missed
+the eighteenth. Lafor&ecirc;t, without being disconcerted, took
+up the cue, but only scored five points. His adversary
+exclaimed&mdash;</p>
+<p><a name="page66"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+66</span>&ldquo;If I score fifteen now, I win the set.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He won without the slightest effort, turned down his
+shirt-sleeves, put on his coat, and, holding out his hand to his
+opponent, said:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No ill feeling?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;None at all. You have played very well, M.
+Moussin,&rdquo; said Lafor&ecirc;t. &ldquo;My revenge next
+time.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Whenever you like.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lafor&ecirc;t, with perfect indifference, approached Baudoin,
+exclaiming in loud tones&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Waiter, a bitter.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then, turning towards the General&rsquo;s servant, he
+asked&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are you waiting for me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; so you recognized me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is my business. Anything fresh?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; all the same, I wish to speak to you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The few loiterers gradually filed out into the other room,
+which was lighter and more pleasant in appearance. A few players
+alone remained, and Baudoin and Lafor&ecirc;t found themselves
+isolated.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You may speak here, no one will pay any attention to
+us.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well! This morning, when I saw you, in the presence of
+all the others, I had an impression that you were a man to be
+relied upon, and that, in case it were necessary to appeal to any
+one concerning something difficult or dangerous, one would run no
+risk with you of being left in the lurch. Am I
+mistaken?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If I think rightly, you do not work under the same
+conditions as the agents in the service of the Prefecture, who
+are entirely allied to the Administration. You are, I suppose, a
+kind of volunteer of the police, at liberty to give <a
+name="page67"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 67</span>information
+as you please, consequently free as regards
+initiative.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lafor&ecirc;t interrupted him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If you wish to speak to me on the Vanves affair, I must
+stop you at once. My principal ordered me not to take any further
+steps in the matter for the moment. The Public Prosecutor is in
+possession of the information. Every one to his own department.
+We shall not take up the matter again, provisionally.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But if I simply asked you to enlighten me on certain
+points?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;One can always give advice.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good! The police are about to make a search for the
+authors of the crime of which my master has been the victim. But
+I, also, should like to investigate.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is no one to prevent you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! One must know how to go about it. One does not
+become a detective by instinct. Which end shall I begin with, to
+unravel the skein?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come! Had your master any family?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A daughter.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She had no interest in wishing to be rid of
+him?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not the slightest.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Had he any visitors?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very few; he was so distrustful! The woman who called
+on him only came mysteriously by night, on which occasions he
+always sent me away.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is the same woman who came last night?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you know if M. de Tr&eacute;mont had any
+enemies?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Was there any one who had reasons for injuring
+him?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In a certain sense, yes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page68"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+68</span>&ldquo;Why do you suspect this?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I judge from personal observation, confirmed by the
+conviction of one of my master&rsquo;s friends.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A man who can offer good guarantees?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Perfect.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very good! Search must be made in that
+direction.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If only you knew what difficulties I am likely to meet
+with.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is the most interesting part about it. It is not
+very clever to arrest a coal-dealer who has been thrashing his
+wife in his shop, or a hair-dresser who has cut his lady&rsquo;s
+throat with one of his razors! What excites one is the struggle
+and pursuit, the necessity of employing trickery and invention.
+We are men of imagination, and novelists often make us laugh by
+the poverty of their combinations.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is because you like your profession. It is not so
+with me; I am not inquisitive. Were I not mad with grief at
+seeing my master, whom I was so fond of basely murdered, I should
+take good care not to meddle with other people&rsquo;s affairs.
+But vengeance seems a kind of duty my master would impose on me,
+could he do so. Had he had time to think, the moment he was
+struck, he must have said to himself: &lsquo;Ah! If only Baudoin
+were here he would defend me with his last breath.&rsquo; You
+see, I must find his murderers. I shall have no rest till I have
+succeeded in this pursuit.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lafor&ecirc;t had become thoughtful. After a moment&rsquo;s
+hesitation, he said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are a brave fellow. But you do not possess the
+qualities necessary for the unravelling of an affair like this
+one. You will spoil everything by putting on their guard the very
+people you suspect. Do not stir; just wait. Patience is the first
+duty of a detective. Time is a precious auxiliary. At first, a
+criminal is very cautious; he takes every precaution. By degrees,
+as his feeling of security <a name="page69"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 69</span>increases, his prudence lessens, he
+trusts himself out of his lair once more, and it is then that
+there is a good chance of catching him. Instead of undertaking a
+campaign, remain inactive. If you have to deal with powerful and
+determined men, be sure they will keep a watch on you, in
+proportion to their unwillingness to be caught. You will do more
+for the success of your side by giving them to believe that you
+do not suspect them, than by plotting against them, without
+knowing how to out-trick them. Go back home, warn those who, like
+you, wish to avenge the General, and wait and see the trend of
+events. Be sure something will happen which will put you on their
+track. Then go ahead boldly. If ever you need me, come here about
+five o&rsquo;clock. You will find me regularly at this hour. My
+principal may be disposed to allow me to co-operate with
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Baudoin rose from his seat.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very good. I will follow your advice. If you have
+anything to tell me, send to Messieurs Baradier and
+Graff.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The bankers of the Rue de Prov&egrave;nce?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Strange! My principal has just gone to see them, on
+leaving the Ministry. I heard it from the coachman. Good!
+Everything will turn out for the best, when the right moment
+comes. <i>Au revoir</i>!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The two men shook hands, and Baudoin returned home.</p>
+<p>Marcel, summoned by wire, had just returned from Ars. He was
+closeted with his father and uncle. Walking to and fro about the
+room, he gave brief replies to the questions asked him. Tall and
+slender, of fair complexion, with long moustache, and blue eyes,
+he offered a perfect pattern of the Lorraine type, in its full
+purity and strength. He was a very fine-looking young fellow, and
+his Uncle Graff watched him with a glow of pride and
+satisfaction.</p>
+<p><a name="page70"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+70</span>&ldquo;Well, then, what did Tr&eacute;mont tell you, the
+last time you saw him?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;From a scientific point of view, we spoke of nothing
+but my investigations on the subject of aniline.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing concerning his powders?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He had already told me the results he had reached. I
+shared his opinion that the main difficulty was solved. In the
+composition of explosives there was nothing more to do besides
+introducing a few details of manipulation.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And you knew his formul&aelig;?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know every one of them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You could prepare them?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Without the slightest difficulty.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is what I was afraid of,&rdquo; exclaimed
+Baradier, sorrowfully.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What! Afraid of? But it is very lucky for us all. For
+Genevi&egrave;ve, for whom a fortune is assured; for the Army,
+which will possess the Tr&eacute;mont powder; and for the
+General&rsquo;s memory, by reason of the glory attaching to so
+important a discovery.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Marcel, I beg of you,&rdquo; said Baradier, in
+trembling tones, &ldquo;for the sake of us all, for the time
+being, not to breathe a word to any one concerning what you have
+just revealed to us. It is a matter of life or death. So long as
+those who have killed Tr&eacute;mont remain at large, and
+unpunished, there will be no safety for those who might be
+suspected of being in possession of his scientific secret. It was
+to rob him of this that the blow fell. In Heaven&rsquo;s name, be
+very careful not to let it be known that you have been taken into
+the confidence of our friend.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do not be uneasy,&rdquo; said the young man, with a
+smile. &ldquo;No one in the world knows, except my uncle and
+yourself. I feel no inclination to proclaim it on the housetops.
+But I cannot refuse to refrain from profiting by it, when <a
+name="page71"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 71</span>the right
+time comes, even though there may be risks to run.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nor do we. But let us continue our investigations.
+Tr&eacute;mont was very free with you. He spoke to you of his
+private life. He told you of his adventures in the early days of
+his military career.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Poor man! That was his only weakness. His heart
+remained as young as ever. His imagination was very inflammable,
+and he gave way to it with unparalleled facility. I was often
+obliged to stop him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Did he mention nothing that had happened
+recently?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; he appeared preoccupied and less expansive than
+usual. Probably he had been recommended to be very discreet, and
+his promise had been given. I must say that his passion for the
+fair sex rather disgusted me, and I gave no encouragement to
+tales which appeared to me unworthy of our friend&rsquo;s noble
+mind. Latterly, therefore, finding him reserved and quiet, I did
+not encourage him to speak. I preferred him to say nothing on the
+subject.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What a pity! Just the time when his explanations would
+have been so useful.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is always so!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Had he made no fresh male acquaintances? Was there no
+name you could catch?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He spoke to me of no one except a foreign savant, with
+whom he had struck up a friendship, and who seems to have been an
+extraordinary man. He suspected him of being a nihilist, and that
+worried him. But he spoke of him with the utmost
+admiration.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Was he a Russian?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I do not know. His name was Hans.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hans!&rdquo; exclaimed Baradier. &ldquo;That was the
+name of the man whose arm was torn off! It is the name on the <a
+name="page72"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 72</span>ring worn by
+the man who caused the explosion of the house at Vanves. This is
+the first flash of light.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So the General was acquainted with this Hans? Still,
+Hans is a German name!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Only a German Christian name. As you are aware, there
+are several Russians of German origin. If the Hans in question is
+the author of that catastrophe, the end he aimed at by obtaining
+access to the General might well be the possession of the
+formul&aelig; of the explosive found by him. But then, how had he
+become acquainted with the discoveries the General kept strictly
+secret?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Graff, who had not yet spoken, but had been listening in a
+reverie to the observations exchanged between his brother-in-law
+and his nephew, raised his hand, and slowly began, as though
+following the slender thread of a still fugitive idea&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are getting lost. The motives of the instigators of
+this crime&mdash;for, certainly, there are several of
+them&mdash;are of a much higher order than you imagine. You are
+looking for robbers trying to obtain possession of some
+exceedingly fruitful discovery, or of anarchists on the scent of
+some powerful means of extermination. All this is very vulgar and
+commonplace. You have to deal with criminals of a higher stamp.
+The care they took to rob Tr&eacute;mont after killing him prove
+that his murderers wished to throw one off the scent. When one
+has a house to pillage, he does not linger behind to steal a
+watch or a pocket-book. The mysterious proceedings of those who
+effected the <i>coup</i> are those of political conspirators, and
+the thing that gives the whole plot its special character is the
+presence of a woman. Every undertaking of interest to foreign
+politics, for the past century, has been carried on by women.
+From my point of view, this is in a large measure what must have
+taken place. One or several European States have been acquainted
+with <a name="page73"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 73</span>the
+investigations carried on by Tr&eacute;mont. His communications
+to the Institute may have sufficed to give the alarm.
+Immediately, means have been sought for becoming intimate with
+him, or obtaining his confidence. Our friend&rsquo;s nature has
+been studied, and a young woman, clever and beautiful, has been
+fastened on him, soon to serve as intermediary between the
+General and Hans. The latter is no Russian, but probably some
+native of Baden. The woman is a spy in the service of our
+enemies. The man, introduced into the premises by the woman,
+failed in his attempts to obtain, by trickery,
+Tr&eacute;mont&rsquo;s secrets; accordingly he had recourse to
+violence. Be certain the whole <i>coup</i> was entered upon for
+interests far higher than you imagine. You see a Lichtenbach in
+the affair, and imagine that it is in his interests that Hans and
+the mysterious woman have been playing each a perilous game. You
+attach to him more importance than he deserves. You must seek
+higher, or rather not seek at all, for nothing will be found
+now.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot deny,&rdquo; replied Baradier, &ldquo;that
+Graff&rsquo;s explanation possesses some semblance of likelihood.
+Graff is a man of imagination, who often sees things that do not
+exist. Still, in the present circumstances, he would be a bold
+man who would say that he was mistaken. Perhaps his supposition
+and mine both contain part of the truth. What cannot be doubted
+is that the authors of this audacious plot are persons who will
+shrink before nothing. Accordingly we must be prudent, and not
+appear to suspect them, living in just our usual manner.
+Apparently we must abstain from all participation in the work of
+justice. If the police succeed we shall be satisfied, without
+having been involved in the affair. If they find nothing, as is
+very likely, then our turn will come. In my opinion clever and
+cool-headed criminals it is almost impossible to run to ground.
+It is only by their <a name="page74"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+74</span>imprudence that they betray themselves. It is when they
+begin to be no longer on their guard that there is a chance of
+finding some clue to their guilt. So, after all, the most prudent
+and skilful plan will be to wait. Marcel will return to
+Ars&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not until I have seen Genevi&egrave;ve.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Of course, you will dine and sleep here, and take the
+train to-morrow morning. Your mother and uncle will not be sorry
+to see a little of you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And my father?&rdquo; asked the young man, smiling.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And your father. Now come along with me to see your
+mother. Graff, you are staying in the office?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For a few minutes. Then I return home, but will be back
+in time for dinner.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Proceeding along an inner staircase, father and son reached
+the private rooms, and were astonished to find in the hall a tall
+footman waiting there.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Your mother has visitors,&rdquo; said Baradier.
+&ldquo;How has that come about; to-day is not her reception
+day?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They entered Madame Baradier&rsquo;s small salon. There she
+sat, pensive, near the window, her needlework lying idly in her
+lap.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What! You here?&rdquo; said Baradier. &ldquo;I thought
+you were receiving.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The visit is not for me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is the meaning of this? No one can have called for
+Am&eacute;lie. Then it must be for Mademoiselle de
+Tr&eacute;mont?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are right,&rdquo; said Madame Baradier.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is the matter with you?&rdquo; asked the banker.
+&ldquo;There is something extraordinary going on.
+Explain.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is, indeed, very extraordinary. It is a schoolmate
+of Genevi&egrave;ve, who has come especially from the convent to
+assure her of her sympathy and affection; a trusted <a
+name="page75"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 75</span>servant came
+with her, since her father could not come in person.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Baradier&rsquo;s face turned crimson, as he asked with a
+frown&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then it is&mdash;?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>His wife did not give him time to continue. They understood
+one another at a glance.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, my dear, it is Mademoiselle
+Lichtenbach.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A silence fell throughout the room. Marcel had gone straight
+to his mother, to embrace her. He now stood looking at his
+father, who, standing before the mantelpiece, was endeavouring to
+fathom the meaning of this unexpected visit.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is she like?&rdquo; asked Marcel.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I scarcely looked at her, I must confess, my child.
+When her name was announced I was very much astonished.
+Am&eacute;lie and Genevi&egrave;ve were with me at the time. I
+left them in the salon as soon as Mademoiselle Lichtenbach
+entered. She appeared to me to be tall, and rather good looking.
+It was, however, her voice, a sweet, charming voice, which
+impressed me most favourably.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is different from her father&rsquo;s, then,&rdquo;
+growled Baradier.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And how long has she been here?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Half an hour, at least.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And my sister is with them?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She could not help staying with them, otherwise it
+would have been a show of hostility quite out of place.
+Parents&rsquo; enmities, I hope, form no necessary part of
+children&rsquo;s inheritances.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mother, what you are now saying is contrary to all
+poetical tradition. Look at Romeo and Juliet. What would become
+of literature were there no hereditary enmities? They form part
+and parcel of romantic stock-in-trade. <a name="page76"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 76</span>The deuce! We must not diminish it,
+as it is becoming less and less quite fast enough!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Baradier was not listening to his son; he remained still
+plunged in his own reflections. At last he murmured&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What has she come for? Why has Lichtenbach permitted
+her to come?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Shall I go and ask her?&rdquo; asked Marcel.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Try to be serious, Marcel,&rdquo; exclaimed the banker.
+&ldquo;This is no matter for jest.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, I know that well enough. I wonder what it is that
+upsets you so much? Here is my mother as pale as death, and
+yourself in a fever-heat, and all because a young girl has come
+to sympathize with her school-mate! There is something
+extraordinary going on.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Baradier glanced sideways at his son, and replied in a tone of
+irritation&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t be such a fool, Marcel. You are incapable
+of understanding!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marcel bowed, in mock humility.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thanks! What do I owe you for that?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But Baradier had no time to give way to his increasing
+irritation. The door of the salon opened, and Am&eacute;lie
+appeared on the threshold.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mamma, Mademoiselle Lichtenbach would like to say
+good-bye to you before leaving.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She seems to be very well bred,&rdquo; said Marcel, in
+low tones. &ldquo;Are you going, mother? I will accompany you. I
+should like to see what she looks like.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It was in vain that Baradier shouted to his son&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Marcel, stay here; I forbid you!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Already the young man, with a laugh, had slipped behind his
+mother into the salon.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The young rascal will never have any common
+sense,&rdquo; moaned Baradier. And he sat down in the seat his
+wife had <a name="page77"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+77</span>just left, vaguely listening to the sound of voices,
+which now reached him.</p>
+<p>At the very first glance Marcel Baradier noticed that
+Mademoiselle Lichtenbach was of a very elegant figure, with a
+countenance of great gentleness. On further examination he did
+not find her pretty. Her features were irregular, but her face
+was lit up by eyes of limpid blue, radiant with frankness and
+amiability. She was standing there, an upright and slender form,
+in her sombre school-dress, with the blue ribbon on her breast.
+On Madame Baradier introducing Marcel to her she made a
+respectful bow, and said in delightful accents&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I could not take my leave, madame, without thanking you
+for your kind welcome. Mademoiselle de Tr&eacute;mont and myself
+are very fond of one another. For a year we have been close
+companions, and I sympathize with her present suffering, as
+though her loss were also mine. It is a great relief to me, now
+that we are obliged to separate, to know that she will be with
+one who loves her. I hope you will permit her to speak to you of
+me, so that she may not forget me too soon, and, perhaps, instil
+into your mind a little of the sympathy her heart feels for
+me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marcel was still under the charm of the voice that uttered
+these gentle words, when those clear, luminous eyes fell on him.
+He returned the look with an inquisitive and, perhaps, rather
+bold glance, for she immediately turned aside. At the same time a
+slight blush, as though accompanied with a shudder, passed over
+her smiling face, which suddenly became serious.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I must thank you, mademoiselle, for the sentiments you
+express regarding our dear Genevi&egrave;ve. For
+ourselves,&rdquo; continued Madame Baradier, &ldquo;rest assured
+we shall not endeavour to influence her in her
+affections.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page78"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+78</span>Mademoiselle Lichtenbach bowed, gave a graceful nod to
+Am&eacute;lie, and, on passing in front of Marcel, heard the
+latter say to her, in troubled tones&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Permit me, mademoiselle, to show you the
+way.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Opening the door of the salon, and, taking the mantle the
+young girl had left in the hall, he placed it over her shoulders.
+Then, walking by her side, his mother and sister looking on in
+stupefaction, he descended the steps, followed by the footman. On
+reaching the bottom he said, with a charm full of
+grace&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mademoiselle de Tr&eacute;mont&rsquo;s departure will
+doubtless make your stay at the convent seem rather sad to you
+now, mademoiselle?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. I hope Genevi&egrave;ve will not forget me, but
+come and see me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;After all, probably you will not stay long yourself at
+the Sacre-Coeur.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I was like Mademoiselle de Tr&eacute;mont, alone with
+my father. Genevi&egrave;ve will find a mother in Madame
+Baradier, whilst I&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She left the sentence unfinished. Marcel, however, well
+understood the sadness of her meaning&mdash;&ldquo;I shall remain
+abandoned, as I have been all my life. My youthful years will
+pass away behind the sad walls of a convent, under the cold,
+methodical surveillance of nuns, most excellent persons, but
+incapable of giving me that warmth of affection I need to be
+happy. My friend is leaving me, and all the sweetness of my life
+is past.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She looked so melancholy and resigned that Marcel was moved
+with pity at her grief. They had now reached the brougham, the
+door of which was held open by the footman.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, mademoiselle,&rdquo; said Marcel. &ldquo;Rest
+assured Genevi&egrave;ve de Tr&eacute;mont will not forget
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page79"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 79</span>He
+fastened his eyes on Mademoiselle Lichtenbach&rsquo;s face, which
+now, in feature, seemed delicate and charming in its modest
+grace; then, bowing, he added, in lower tones&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I do not think you are one of those whose fate it is to
+be forgotten.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mademoiselle Lichtenbach smiled and bowed. Then, entering the
+carriage, she said to the servant&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Drive back home.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Not another word was exchanged, whilst the footman climbed to
+his seat, and the coachman put the reins in order. Marcel, with
+head uncovered, stood there on the footpath in the Rue de
+Prov&egrave;nce, looking through the window of the brougham at
+this young girl, who appeared so simple and attractive to him,
+though he had never seen her until an hour before. Mademoiselle
+Lichtenbach sat there with bowed head, while a smile played on
+her lips. The carriage started, and the charm was broken.</p>
+<p>On returning to the house Marcel reflected: If the father is a
+rogue, the daughter, at any rate, is a very charming person.
+After all, she is not responsible for her father&rsquo;s
+misdeeds. But all this has nothing to do with me. In all
+probability we shall never meet again, so she may be what she
+likes. All the same, he could not get over the idea that
+Mademoiselle Lichtenbach, daughter of the declared enemy of
+Baradier and Graff, was a very striking character.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said his father, who was awaiting his
+return, &ldquo;you show yourself very polite. You could not be
+more gallant to a princess.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Probably not,&rdquo; said the young man, calmly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Will you have the goodness to explain why you show
+yourself so obliging towards the daughter of our
+enemy?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page80"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+80</span>&ldquo;For the sole reason that she is the daughter of
+our enemy.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It may be very chivalrous on your part, but to me it
+appears stupid.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you intend to introduce the fair sex into your
+quarrels?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I should like to see how Lichtenbach would treat your
+mother and sister if ever they fell into his power!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Let us hope we may never experience it. Still, Baradier
+and Graff are not obliged to act like Lichtenbach. Ask my uncle
+what he thinks about it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, your uncle is too sentimental. For the last hour I
+have been trying to find motives for this intervention. Evidently
+Lichtenbach wishes to throw us off the scent by this
+demonstration of affection for Mademoiselle de Tr&eacute;mont,
+but it is this very thing which awakens my suspicions. Do you
+know what Barentin, of the Supreme Court, told me lately? Not
+twenty-five per cent. of the criminals are ever discovered, and
+then only by their own folly. The rich calculate, and are almost
+sure of impunity.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My dear father, if the whole might of the law cannot
+seize a murderer, how can you expect Baradier and Graff to
+succeed? We must be sensible, and not attempt impossibilities. We
+will do the best we can&mdash;you by protecting Mademoiselle de
+Tr&eacute;mont, and I by assuring her the fortune her father
+promised her. For the rest let us trust in Providence.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In Providence!&rdquo; growled Baradier. &ldquo;Trust
+rather in the devil! Attend to what I tell you, Marcel. Your
+mother, yourself, and myself are all involved in the quarrel
+between Lichtenbach and your uncle. Lichtenbach is one of those
+revengeful <i>men</i> who strike both their enemies and their
+enemies&rsquo; offspring. Tr&eacute;mont has met his fate; it
+will be our turn next.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page81"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+81</span>&ldquo;No, father, our turn will never come,&rdquo; said
+Marcel, energetically. &ldquo;At the very first threat, the
+faintest attempt, I will go to Lichtenbach myself, and settle all
+our accounts with him at a single time. That I swear!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Graff, clean shaven and elegantly attired, now entered the
+office. Baradier signed to his son to say no more, and all three
+mounted to the salon to join the ladies.</p>
+<h3><a name="page82"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+82</span>CHAPTER IV</h3>
+<p><span class="smcap">In</span> his study, soberly furnished,
+Elias Lichtenbach, seated in front of a large Louis Fourteenth
+bureau, was speaking in low tones, as though afraid of being
+heard, to a priest, lolling at ease in an enormous armchair. By
+the light of the setting sun, the sharp, bony face of the banker,
+with his <i>keen</i> eyes and thin, well-shaven lips, could be
+faintly distinguished. He was no longer the stout healthy-looking
+Elias of former days. The cares of life had withered the flower
+of youth on his cheeks, and wrinkled the once careless brow. The
+jaws were still pronounced, but hard and thin, like those of a
+powerful and ferocious man-eater. The hairy hands, long and
+grasping as they lay there on the desk, revealed unusual love of
+wealth. A black skull-cap covered Lichtenbach&rsquo;s bald
+forehead. His visitor was a young and elegant ecclesiastic of
+graceful and intelligent mien. He spoke with a southern accent,
+which gave his voice a kind of hilarity in sound.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It will be a very profitable undertaking. The property
+we have in view has no value whatever at present, nothing but
+waste land and marshes. The purchase will be effected in your
+name, and when we have signed an emphyteutic lease with you, we
+shall at once commence building. We want an advance of three
+hundred thousand francs.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There will be no difficulty there,&rdquo; said
+Lichtenbach. &ldquo;I have clients disposed to
+lend&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page83"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+83</span>&ldquo;You need not go very far, eh?&rdquo; said the
+young priest, with an ironical glance at the drawer of the desk,
+over which the banker spread his formidable hands.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, Monsieur l&rsquo;Abb&eacute;, not very far, indeed;
+but, all the same, not here. It is a principle of mine never to
+advance money on securities which cannot immediately be realized.
+Now, the matter you have just been laying before me offers no
+actual guarantee. But that does not matter. You wish me to find
+the capital.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;After all, this is the main point. Still, we have to
+rely on others than yourself. These gentlemen will not place
+their confidence lightly. They trust you, as they are certain of
+you, but they would not listen to strangers.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;These gentlemen, as usual, will only have to deal with
+me,&rdquo; said Lichtenbach, with deference. &ldquo;I know what I
+owe them, and they will always find me at their
+service.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then, as soon as the land is bought, and placed at our
+disposal, we immediately commence excavations, which will reveal
+the presence in the subsoil of the layers of ore I have been
+speaking to you about. At a bound the value of the land will be
+increased tenfold. You will sell back a small part of the ground,
+and with the profits, without further expenditure, we shall have
+paid for the establishment of our community.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If the tenor of the ore is such as you state, the
+exploitation, once granted to a company, will bring you in large
+revenues for several years.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is what Monseigneur said on receiving the report
+of the engineer who undertook the soundings. Oh! we need a great
+deal of money to make the work a success,&rdquo; sighed the young
+priest. &ldquo;Our religion is attacked with such violence that
+if we do nothing but defend it we are lost. We must carry the war
+into the enemy&rsquo;s territory.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page84"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+84</span>&ldquo;That is my own opinion, Monsieur
+l&rsquo;Abb&eacute;. As you see, my journal has zealously
+undertaken the campaign.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, it is doing good; but your <i>panache blanc</i> is
+not sufficiently dogmatic as regards pure doctrine. Too much
+space is given to speculation and business enterprise. Your
+columns smack too much of the Bourse.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Monsieur l&rsquo;Abb&eacute;,&rdquo; replied Elias,
+roughly, &ldquo;I do not possess, as these gentlemen do, the art
+of conducting business in a double-faced manner. But I will learn
+from them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come, do not play the jesuit, my dear
+Lichtenbach,&rdquo; said the young priest, airily. &ldquo;We
+appreciate your services; that you have had proof of, and shall
+have again. By-the-by, who is this wounded man we picked up
+yesterday at Issy? The poor fellow was in a bad way. He came
+under your recommendation.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Elias turned pale. In tones of alarm he
+exclaimed&mdash;&ldquo;Not so loud! Monsieur
+l&rsquo;Abb&eacute;&mdash;not so loud! No one must suspect
+that&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! what a state you are in! Rest assured. The Superior
+and myself alone were taken into the poor wretch&rsquo;s
+confidence. After all, he said very little. He was completely
+exhausted by the efforts he had made in dragging himself to our
+door. It was four o&rsquo;clock in the morning, and the whole
+brotherhood was at matins. It was, accordingly, possible to
+introduce the wounded man without any one seeing him. It was
+quite time, for, as soon as he was put to bed, he fainted
+away.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who is attending to him?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Our Superior himself; he has a thorough knowledge of
+medicine. Besides, the arm was cut off as though by a
+thermo-cautery, and all that had to be done was to dress the
+wound. The man has given evidence of the most heroic courage. But
+now he is ravaged by fever, and he speaks.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What does he say?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page85"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+85</span>&ldquo;A most extraordinary mixture of things. He
+mentions, in almost the same breath, a fortified camp in the
+Vosges, and a war powder possessed of extraordinary virtues. His
+object is to carry off the plans of the former, and obtain
+possession of the formula of the latter.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Does he mention no names?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, the name of a woman, whom he calls Sophia, and
+sometimes the baroness. He consults and threatens her in turn.
+She appears to be his accomplice in some underhand work or
+other.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Has he expressed himself more clearly?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, he beats about the bush, and it is impossible to
+understand his meaning. After all, you have nothing to
+fear.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Elias gave a sigh of relief.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Monsieur l&rsquo;Abb&eacute;, I am not afraid for
+myself, but for others. I am engaged in great international
+relations, as you are aware. The interests entrusted to my care
+represent not merely immense capital, but a great number of human
+lives. It is accordingly my duty to be very prudent.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The young priest gave a gesture of protest. His countenance
+assumed a serious expression.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I do not want to hear anything about it, M.
+Lichtenbach. These gentlemen, as you are aware, are thorough
+Frenchmen. Everything that happens beyond the frontiers is
+foreign to them&mdash;I might almost say hostile. Outside of
+France, which we love with deep and enlightened tenderness, and
+wish to save from the corruption of revolution, we recognize only
+the Pope, Sovereign of all Catholics, and our chief, whom we
+blindly obey. Keep your secrets; we will respect them, as you are
+serving us. But do not expect from us any help in the success of
+enterprises which would not concur towards the triumph of the
+cause to which we are devoted&mdash;monarchy and religion. In all
+<a name="page86"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 86</span>else you
+will find us neutral. That is all you may expect of
+us.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Have you been commissioned to tell me this?&rdquo;
+asked Elias, in tones of anguish.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, my dear Lichtenbach; I was only to speak to you of
+the ground purchase.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thanks, Monsieur l&rsquo;Abb&eacute;. Tell them I will
+send my agent to-morrow to Grasse, to bring the matter to a
+conclusion, and that before the month is over we shall be in
+possession.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very well!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The young Abb&eacute; rose from his seat. He stopped, and, in
+negligent tones, said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! I was forgetting. Have you heard of that frightful
+catastrophe which took place at Vanves? The explosion even shook
+the buildings here at Issy. Were you not acquainted with this
+General de Tr&eacute;mont?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lichtenbach looked paler and more sombre than ever, as he
+replied stammeringly&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Monsieur l&rsquo;Abb&eacute;, I knew him a long
+time ago.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It appears he was a dangerous maniac, dabbling with
+chemical experiments which were destined to kill him in time. A
+person of doubtful morality as well, according to public rumour,
+and who, even at his advanced age, gave himself up to the most
+degrading debauchery. He will not be missed. They say he was
+assassinated and robbed, before his house blew up. That is what
+comes of investigating in explosives! Well, <i>au revoir</i>, my
+dear Lichtenbach. When you come to see the patient give me due
+notice, and I will introduce you to him privately.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lichtenbach made no reply. He showed out his visitor with a
+semblance of respectful humility. Then he bowed, as to a
+superior, and said&mdash;</p>
+<p><a name="page87"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+87</span>&ldquo;Assure your friends, Monsieur
+l&rsquo;Abb&eacute;, of my devotion to their
+interests.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good! Though it is scarcely necessary,&rdquo; replied
+the young priest, carelessly; and, slowly descending the
+staircase, he disappeared.</p>
+<p>Lichtenbach, in thoughtful mood, returned to his study. It was
+now almost dark. Where the Abb&eacute; had just been sitting, a
+female form now sat stretched out in the armchair. A fresh, clear
+voice said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is as dark as in an oven here, Lichtenbach; let us
+have a little light.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What! You are here, Baroness!&rdquo; exclaimed the
+banker, eagerly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I have just arrived. Was that the little
+Abb&eacute; d&rsquo;Escayrac you were just taking leave
+of?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lichtenbach had turned on the electric light, bringing into
+view the unceremonious visitor Elias had just called Baroness.
+She was a light-complexioned young woman, of exceeding beauty,
+with proud profile, blue eyes, intelligent forehead, though there
+was an expression of harshness in her small mouth, with its
+charming red lips, as well as in her strong chin. She was very
+elegantly clothed in black, and wore a hooded lace cloak. Patent
+leather shoes covered her charming feet.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Have you been here long?&rdquo; asked Elias
+abstractedly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, I have only just come, I say. Your servant showed
+me into the salon, and I came in here when I heard your visitor
+leave. Do not be uneasy, I was not listening to what he
+said.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! I have no need to be on my guard against
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, you mistrust me, as you do every one else. I do
+not blame you for it. It is a sign of prudence. Though, all the
+same, you have nothing to fear from me, and neither have I from
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page88"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+88</span>&ldquo;Oh! Baroness, you know that I belong to you, body
+and soul,&rdquo; exclaimed Lichtenbach.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, yes, and you would not be sorry if the converse
+were true, would you?&rdquo; interrupted the young woman, with a
+mocking smile.</p>
+<p>The banker&rsquo;s pale face lit up with passion; he drew near
+the Baroness, and, taking her hand within his own,
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And yet, Sophia, if you would only&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Withdrawing her hand, she tossed her head with an air of
+disdain, and replied&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, but I will not, there!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Never?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who can tell? If ever I am in great pecuniary
+difficulties, perhaps I may apply to you. Would you advance me
+money, Lichtenbach, if I needed any?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As she spoke she looked at the banker with a bewitching glance
+and a smile full of promise. The latter, as soon as mention was
+made of money, regained possession of himself. Placing his hand
+on her lap, he said, in a tone of assurance&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will give you as much as you need.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You undertake a great deal. Take care! After all, there
+is no hurry; the time has not come yet.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As she spoke, she drew back slightly from Lichtenbach&rsquo;s
+presence. The latter sighed&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, Sophia, you are a terrible flirt&mdash;your only
+pleasure consists in making men mad.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I? You are dreaming, Lichtenbach. Have you ever seen me
+trouble about any man unless it were to my interest to do so? And
+yet you say such silly things. One would think you did not know
+me!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;On the contrary, I know you well. Even better than you
+imagine, for there are portions of your short <a
+name="page89"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 89</span>life-which,
+all the same, has gone through so many sensations&mdash;which you
+leave in a favourable light, so that I have understood them. You
+are very clever and bold. I, too, am very tenacious and patient,
+and have an instinctive knowledge of what it is useful for me to
+know, as well as the means of obtaining information. Accordingly,
+I am well aware what you are to-day, Baroness Grodsko. But I also
+know what you were before.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sophia&rsquo;s eyes flashed, and her lips contracted, giving
+her face an aspect of terrible import. Looking boldly at Elias,
+she said, dryly&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, ah! Tell me all about it. I should be very pleased
+to know what you have learned about me. If it is true I will not
+deny it, upon my honour I will not. If false you may stop the
+wages of your informers. When one has spies in one&rsquo;s pay
+one should always try to have reliable and intelligent
+ones.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mine never deceive me; it is not to their interest to
+lie.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We shall see about that. Well&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, before becoming the wife of Baron Elmer Grodsko,
+a Hungarian nobleman, who quarrelled with his family in order to
+marry you, you were dancing and singing at the theatre of
+Belgrade, in a touring troupe, directed by an adventurer, half
+villain, half rogue, named Valaque. It was there that Baron
+Elmer, on his way from Varna, saw you, fell in love, and carried
+you off, after shooting down Escovisco, who pursued him with a
+poniard.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The young woman&rsquo;s lips quivered, as she said with a look
+of disdain&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then that is all you know? You cannot go back any
+further than the theatre of Belgrade, and the Escovisco affair?
+You are making much ado about very little!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! I was proceeding in order. I could go back <a
+name="page90"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 90</span>further, and
+tell you of the mysterious strange death of Madame Ferranti, a
+charitable lady of Trieste, who had taken you, almost dead with
+hunger, from the streets into her service. You were sixteen years
+of age. Your benefactresses had a son. On the day his mother
+died&mdash;she was said to have been poisoned, though there was
+no definite proof of this&mdash;young Ferranti left home with
+you, carrying off all the ready money, negotiable deeds, and
+jewels of his dead mother. Was it you or he who gave Madame
+Ferranti the cup of tea she drank before she fell asleep never to
+wake again?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed it was neither he nor I. It was an old servant,
+who had been twenty years in their service. Besides, she
+confessed it, and as there was no proof against her, nor against
+any one else, she was released.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Whilst you set out for Venice, and had a pleasant time
+with your companion. Ah! He had a fine way of mourning for his
+mother, the young Ferranti! It was at the Caf&eacute; Florian, on
+the Place Saint-Marc, that, one evening when he was drunk, the
+young ninny picked a quarrel with an Austrian major, who, the
+following morning, on the Lido, ran six inches of steel into his
+body, killing him on the spot.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Quite true! Poor Ferranti! He was a handsome fellow,
+who waltzed divinely, but was too fond of absinthe. It <i>was</i>
+that which killed him, or rather the stoccata of Major
+Bruzelow&mdash;a fine man, whose moustaches went almost round his
+head, but as stupid as his sabre, and as dangerous. It was he who
+forced me to leave Venice, where I was enjoying myself so well! I
+could not even speak to a man without the Major challenging him.
+He would have called out the whole town; I was obliged to
+go.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The Austrian police had something to do with it, had
+they not?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page91"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+91</span>&ldquo;I have always hated the Tedeschi, and they have
+always paid me back in the same coin!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So that you cannot return to Austria, even
+now?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, all by reason of that fool of a Grodsko.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And what has become of this excellent Grodsko, who
+broke his mother&rsquo;s heart all for your sake?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The excellent Grodsko spends the summer in Vienna, and
+the winter at Monte Carlo. Both winter and summer he gambles to
+pass the time, and when he has lost he drowns his disappointment
+in drink.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Does he always lose?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, so he is always drinking.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Here are a few corpses already, if I know how to count,
+to your credit, without mentioning the grief, despair, and shame
+of others. You have lived a very exciting life, though you have
+scarcely yet reached the age of thirty.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I was twenty-eight last week,&rdquo; rectified the
+Baroness, coldly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have trampled on humanity as on a carpet to gain
+your objects: luxury, pleasure, domination. And here you are
+to-day more brilliant, better loved, and more powerful than ever,
+with a strength of will which shrinks before nothing, and a
+conscience ready for anything. Am I right?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She looked boldly at Lichtenbach, then, drawing from her
+pocket a cigarette-case of chased silver, she took out an
+Oriental cigarette, which she lit with perfect coolness; then she
+replied in gentle tones&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Quite right, though incomplete. I am far more to be
+dreaded than you imagine. You are well aware of it, but are
+afraid of displeasing me by depicting me as I really am. You are
+in the wrong. I have such a scorn for mankind that you cannot vex
+me by declaring me to be ready to profit by it, as though it were
+a piece of merchandise. In my opinion, men are no more
+interesting <a name="page92"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+92</span>than cattle destined for slaughter. They serve to feed
+and enrich me; it is for that they toil and die. Apparently, it
+is their function, since they cannot escape this fate, and as
+soon as one disappears another offers to replace him. Are you
+going to say that I am a destroying flail? Possibly. All over the
+world there are beings born for work, sacrifice, and suffering;
+as there are others born irremediably for idleness, egoism, and
+enjoyment. It is nature which has made it so. To some instinct
+manifests itself, leading to servitude, to others leading to
+tyranny. Beings exploited and exploiting, beasts of burden and
+beasts of prey. Is not that the sole social classification
+founded on common sense? Look all around you, Lichtenbach, it is
+an invariable rule: a flock of simpletons led away, fleeced, and
+strangled by a few audacious individuals. Will you reproach me
+for being of the number of those who strangle, rather than of
+those who fleece? We are both at the same game, Lichtenbach; the
+only difference is, I am bold enough to confess it, whilst you
+are hypocritical enough to say nothing. Our object is the
+same&mdash;the exploitation of the human race for our greatest
+mutual profit and pleasure. There you are! If I am wrong, prove
+it to me now.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She had spoken without raising her voice, and the calm tone in
+which these terrible theories had been expounded as they came
+from that charming mouth formed so strange a contrast with the
+ferocious cynicism of the confession that Lichtenbach, who,
+although he appeared to have no illusions left concerning his
+beautiful and dangerous partner, was placed for a moment out of
+countenance. He had very few scruples, this trafficker in all
+kinds of goods, who had commenced by despoiling his country in
+its hour of trial, and who continued speculating on social
+poverty and infamy. But now he found himself confronted by a
+creature more audacious and violent, if not more redoubtable,
+than himself, And he <a name="page93"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 93</span>weighed in imagination the perils she
+might make him incur and the advantages she could bring him. This
+beautiful, intelligent, and unscrupulous woman was an admirable
+instrument. He knew what she was capable of, but he had no wish
+to run so great a risk as she ran without any need. The
+adventures which offered the Baroness Sophia her most certain
+means of existence were not open to him; other matters, those of
+a man on the eve of becoming a Deputy, perhaps a Minister, and
+those of this industrial cosmopolity, coining money with filth
+and blood. His coolness returned. He had said too much that was
+foolish at the beginning of the conversation. The time had come
+to mitigate the confidence of the beautiful Sophia, and to give
+her to understand that, between herself and himself, their
+existed a stout barrier of respectability and of millions of
+francs.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;On the whole, my dear Baroness,&rdquo; he said,
+&ldquo;there is some truth in what you have just said, though
+your manner of explaining yourself is rather exotic. Your pompous
+and declamatory cynicism is of the Orient. All you have declared
+a few moments ago may be summed up in a very few words; human
+inequality is unchangeable. There are fools and rogues. The first
+are exploited by the second, under the surveillance of the police
+and the control of the law. In your theory, you have not granted
+sufficient importance to police and law. I could not recommend
+you too strongly to pay more attention to them. They are one of
+the most important factors in the problem you are spending your
+life in solving. If you consider them as a neglectable quantity,
+one of these mornings you will receive a rude
+awakening.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She smiled disdainfully&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The small fish are caught in the meshes of the net, the
+large ones break through and escape. I am afraid of no thing or
+person except myself. I alone am capable of <a
+name="page94"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 94</span>doing myself
+any harm. That, of course, I never think of doing.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not just now. But you have gone through moments of
+anxiety. I heard that in London two years ago.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A dark cloud came over Sophia&rsquo;s brow. She suddenly flung
+her cigarette into the fire, and in changed accents,
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I have committed acts of folly, for I was in love.
+And a woman in love becomes as stupid as a man.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The object of your affections was an actor, I believe,
+the handsome Stevenson?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Richard Stevenson, the rival of Irving.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You were madly in love with him, but he played you
+false. Accordingly, one evening you found means to entice your
+rival on board a yacht you had hired, lying at anchor on the
+Thames. Since that time she was never heard of.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! You are acquainted with that anecdote? Indeed you
+have been well informed. Do you also know that Stevenson, to whom
+in a fit of madness I had said that he would never see her again,
+beat me with his cane, and left me almost dead on the
+spot?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The stick presented to him by the Prince of Wales,
+doubtless. You must have felt highly flattered. It did not
+prevent you two days later from going to the Empire, and cheering
+your brutal persecutor.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I loved the wretch; but now, luckily, all that is
+over.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lichtenbach burst into a laugh.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What have you done with the handsome Cesare
+Agostini?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! He forms a mere pastime for me. I must interest
+myself in some one or other. That is no passion at
+all.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All the same, he costs you a great deal, I
+suppose?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page95"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+95</span>&ldquo;Enormous sums! These Italians are terrible
+spendthrifts. This one knows one good way of making money, and
+ten better ways of spending it. In the first place, he is a
+gambler, and then, he cannot see a fine ring without buying it.
+But then, he has a few good qualities. He is no novice at either
+pistol or sword.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He is simply a bravo.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;At your service, if there is any one you wish to be rid
+of.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is he bold and intrepid?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; but, above all, to be relied on. Try him, you will
+be well satisfied.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lichtenbach&rsquo;s countenance grew dark, as it always did
+every time a subject was mentioned which did not please him, and
+he said in arrogant tones&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Much obliged, but I do not deal in drama; comedy is
+sufficient for me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! You&rsquo;re fond of a joke. You are still one of
+those good apostles who insinuate a crime, have it executed, and
+then exclaim in candid tones, &lsquo;I have had nothing to do
+with it!&rsquo; Have you had nothing to do with this affair at
+Vanves, I should like to know?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This time Elias became quite angry.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Silence! What are you thinking of to cry out in such a
+loud voice? Are we the only ones in the house?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She burst into a laugh.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, well! You amuse me! For an hour you have been
+telling me my own history, without the slightest precaution, and
+when I make the slightest allusion to your&rsquo;s you tremble
+with fear. You do not mind compromising me, but not yourself.
+Very kind of you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My daughter is here, and I have no
+wish&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For her to know you under your real aspect. For you are
+a regular scoundrel, Lichtenbach, and of the very worst <a
+name="page96"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 96</span>kind, one who
+wishes to keep up appearances, even with one&rsquo;s accomplices.
+Do you think you can deceive me, eh? Your jesuitism has no affect
+on me; I am well acquainted with your lubricity. In the whole
+world there is no more villainous character than yourself, and
+yet you wish to be taken for a man of honour and
+virtue!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lichtenbach, pale with fear and anger, exclaimed&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Baroness! Really, you wish to throw me into a
+passion.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh no, no! Now I will be very nice with you. Listen, my
+voice is a mere whisper. Lean over and listen. I need a hundred
+thousand francs to-night, to have Hans carried off to Geneva. He
+can bear the journey now. Cesare has gone to see him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you think he will survive?&rdquo; asked
+Lichtenbach.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. That vexes you? You would rather be well rid of
+him? Calm yourself, he would bite off his tongue rather than
+betray a companion. Besides, what does he know? That your
+interests were the same as ours, and that, had he found the
+formula for the explosive for commerce, you would have paid as
+much for them as those for whom we are working would have paid
+for the war explosive. The <i>coup</i> missed. Hans is maimed.
+But, thanks to me, you are free from all suspicion.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Looking calmly at Elias, she said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A hundred thousand francs, on account.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;On account?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, on account. And do not waste any time. General de
+Tr&eacute;mont, whom you hated so strongly, has been killed for
+you. How much would you give for Baradier and Graff.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing, nothing!&rdquo; groaned Lichtenbach.
+&ldquo;What crimes are these you are laying to my account? That I
+desired the death of General de Tr&eacute;mont and am anxious <a
+name="page97"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 97</span>to harm
+Baradier and Graff? You are wandering! It is sheer madness!
+Certainly they are my enemies, and have done me a great deal of
+harm. But, commit a crime on that account! Never, never! If they
+were to die, ah! I should consider it as a divine providence, but
+hasten their last moments by a single hour or minute, I, great
+God!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Of Abraham, of Jacob, and of Moses! Yes, my fine
+renegade! My good Lichtenbach!&rdquo; said the Baroness, with a
+look of scorn. &ldquo;Yes, you are quite ready to accept the
+favours of providence, incarnated under the features of the
+Baroness Grodsko, but you will not take the initiative yourself.
+Hypocrisy again! You ask for nothing, but you accept all! Well,
+your unuttered prayer shall be granted!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Baroness! In the name of God, do not compromise me. Do
+not proceed without instructions.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, ah! How terrified you are. You remind me of old
+Tr&eacute;mont when I handled his chemical products after
+dessert. &lsquo;Don&rsquo;t touch that, it is deadly!&rsquo; he
+would say. Meanwhile, I tried to take in wax the impress of the
+lock of the iron casket, which Hans succeeded in opening, but
+which cost him his arm. And all for nothing. The box exploded,
+and destroyed the secret in the midst of the flames. But some one
+has this secret, and I must find it out. Whatever it cost I will
+obtain possession of it!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What have you been promised for it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She looked at him, with a laugh.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are very inquisitive! Don&rsquo;t think I shall
+tell you, however. Professional pride apart&mdash;for, after all,
+one does not care to fail in a mission of this
+importance&mdash;the affair is worth all the trouble I am taking.
+Meanwhile, my hundred thousand francs!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lichtenbach opened a drawer, took out ten bundles of
+bank-notes, and held them out to the Baroness.</p>
+<p><a name="page98"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+98</span>&ldquo;Here they are.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thanks. Now, Lichtenbach, what would you say if it were
+young Marcel Baradier who was the depository of old
+Tr&eacute;mont&rsquo;s formul&aelig;?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Elias sat up with renewed interest.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What! What makes you think&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, ah! Cannibal, you have just smelt human flesh, and
+have become quite young again in consequence.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Baroness, you will kill me with anguish.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! Yes, you look as though you would die, indeed!
+Hate, Lichtenbach, hate is a far stronger sentiment than love, is
+it not?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He made no reply. The only thing that was now of importance to
+him was the supposition Sophia had just given utterance to. He
+saw nothing, except that the son of his deadly enemy might
+possibly be in possession of this secret they were so anxious to
+fathom. If only it were possible! Suppose chance were to give him
+the opportunity of crushing the very people he hated with all his
+soul, and, at the same time, depriving them of a fortune. He
+asked the Baroness in eager tones&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What makes you think the General took Marcel Baradier
+into his confidence?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In the first place, they saw one another constantly;
+the young man was admitted into his laboratory, a most
+exceptional favour. I know well he worked there with
+Tr&eacute;mont, who had entire confidence in him. However
+mysterious a man may be, however close and sullen, a fatal hour
+is sure to come, when he is forced to unburden himself. The
+General would never have imparted his plans to a man, even to his
+best friend, for he was as cunning as a fox. But, after dinner,
+with a good cigar between his lips, he felt strongly impelled to
+dazzle me, and as he could not do this either by his youth or his
+beauty, he attempted to <a name="page99"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 99</span>win me over by his genius. In this
+way, on different occasions, he let slip several small incidents,
+which, collected and coordinated by a good memory, form a
+certainty.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then all is not lost?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing is ever lost.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then what are you going to do, Baroness?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You shall know when it is to my interest to tell
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have no confidence in me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Under what pretext should I have confidence in you? I
+know you only too well. You will serve me until the time comes
+when you find it more to your advantage to throw me
+over.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You, Elias Lichtenbach; but that is all the same to
+me&mdash;I hold you now.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you hope to succeed?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I always hope to succeed. Look at me now,
+please.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She threw back her head with a movement of voluptuous grace,
+which seemed to intensify her beauty a hundred-fold. She smiled,
+and her eyes and lips assumed an expression of passionate ardour,
+which sent a thrill through the veins of Lichtenbach. Who could
+resist this creature&rsquo;s imperious power? She well knew the
+extent of her charm. At a sign from her men became changed into
+slaves. She was the magician who loosened human passions and
+appetites, and led lost creatures to folly, shame, and crime.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; you will succeed in whatever you undertake,&rdquo;
+murmured Lichtenbach, fascinated by her charm.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No exaggeration! I am not infallible, as you know,
+since Tr&eacute;mont escaped me. Still, I will do everything a
+human being can do to succeed. Have confidence, and keep calm,
+that is all I ask.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A rolling of wheels was heard under the carriage gate, <a
+name="page100"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 100</span>and a
+trampling of horses&rsquo; hoofs announced the return of
+Mademoiselle Lichtenbach.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is my daughter returning,&rdquo; said the
+banker.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then she is at home for the present?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She wished to assist at the funeral of the General de
+Tr&eacute;mont, whose daughter is a friend of hers.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A smile flitted across the lips of the Baroness.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Chance or precaution?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Chance,&rdquo; said Lichtenbach, coldly. &ldquo;They
+are both at the Sacre-Coeur. They found themselves thrown
+together, and a mutual attachment sprang up.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And now that you know of it, you encourage this
+intimacy?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I never oppose my daughter.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is true; I forgot. You are a good father,
+Lichtenbach. It is the last concession you have made to humanity.
+And it is there that you are still vulnerable. Take
+care!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My daughter is an angel, who prays for me. I dread
+nothing. She has her mother&rsquo;s goodness and
+grace.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And she imagines you to be a good and honourable
+father. Suppose the day were to come when her eyes were opened
+about yourself?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Elias stood upright in threatening attitude.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who could do that?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;One of your enemies; you do not lack them now. Perhaps
+a friend; the world is so wicked.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;His boldness would cost him dear!&rdquo; growled
+Lichtenbach.</p>
+<p>The Baroness arose. She walked about the room for a few
+seconds, as though undecided to leave. Then she asked&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Before I go, could I see your daughter?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lichtenbach looked steadily at her, then he replied
+rudely&mdash;</p>
+<p><a name="page101"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+101</span>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Because it is useless.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are you afraid that I shall corrupt her by speaking a
+few words to her?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Bravo! Well, you are frank now, at any rate.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lichtenbach raised himself to his full height, and, repaying
+Sophia in a single moment for all the insolent expressions she
+had been so prodigal with the last hour, said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mademoiselle Lichtenbach can have nothing in common
+with the Baroness Grodsko.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sophia gave a gesture of indifference.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very well. As you please. <i>Au revoir</i>,
+Lichtenbach.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She was going in the direction of the hall when he stopped
+her.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not that way.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Opening a door, concealed behind some folds of tapestry, he
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Go down this staircase, you will meet no
+one.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is no trap-dungeon at the bottom?&rdquo; she
+asked, laughingly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; there is only the concierge&rsquo;s
+room.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Adieu. No ill will?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I should think not; you ought to be well satisfied. You
+carry away with you indulgences to the extent of a hundred
+thousand francs. <i>Au revoir</i>.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She disappeared. He returned to his desk in dreamy mood. This
+woman, so dangerous and depraved, always disturbed him, though he
+knew her well.</p>
+<p>A knock at the door threw him from his reverie. Rising to open
+it, an expression of pleasure came into his face. It was his
+daughter, who had come to see him.</p>
+<p><a name="page102"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+102</span>&ldquo;Am I not disturbing you?&rdquo; she asked, with
+a shade of uneasiness in her voice.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, my darling, you never disturb me. Have you had a
+pleasant visit?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very pleasant. They were all very kind to
+me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lichtenbach said nothing; his eyes fell on the ground. He did
+not wish his daughter to catch their expression.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Madeline is very fortunate to find such devoted friends
+in her trouble. Madame Baradier is an excellent lady. She is
+going to keep the poor girl with them. Although I am very sorry
+she is leaving the convent, since we shall be separated in
+future, I am very glad to know that she has found such good
+friends. It will be like a renewal of life for her.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are so sympathetic, my little Marianne.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The blow which has struck Madeline is so terrible. Can
+anything more terrible happen to a child than to lose its
+parents? And when one has no longer one&rsquo;s mother, as was
+the case with both of us.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The young girl&rsquo;s voice shook, tears stood in her eyes.
+Lichtenbach turned pale, but kept his eyes still fixed on the
+ground.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It was this similarity of situation which, from the
+very first day, drew us together. Our common sorrow has been the
+source of our affection. It seemed to us that, as we were less
+loved than the rest we ought to be all the dearer to one another.
+She had for her father the same affection I have for you. It
+seems he was a great <i>savant</i>. Did you know him?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He was obliged to reply. In tremulous tones he
+said&mdash;&ldquo;No; I have only heard mention of
+him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He was a very close friend of M. Baradier, and the
+godfather of his son Marcel. They all bewail his loss.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lichtenbach raised his eyes from the ground; he looked at his
+daughter with keen look&mdash;</p>
+<p><a name="page103"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+103</span>&ldquo;Who has told you all this?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Madame Baradier and Madeline.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have spoken to Mademoiselle Baradier?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; and to her mother as well.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And the son also, perhaps?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The sudden harshness of tone in Lichtenbach&rsquo;s questions
+troubled Marianne. She stopped astonished&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But, papa, I assure you, everybody was exceedingly kind
+to me. M. Marcel Baradier accompanied me right to the carriage.
+Was it not quite natural?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, yes, perfectly natural. Repeat to me all they said
+to you. Did they make no mention of me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not once. Your name was not even pronounced. I was
+surprised at that, for the Baradier family must know you. You
+formerly lived in the same town.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, we lived in the same town, and left it together.
+But we did not travel the same road. For, I ought to tell you,
+there was no friendship between us. My father and the Graffs had
+been hostile to one another. Graff is Baradier&rsquo;s
+brother-in-law.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But all this happened so long ago that it is doubtless
+forgotten.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, my dear girl,&rdquo; said Elias, solemnly.
+&ldquo;Nothing is forgotten.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So you are not well disposed towards Madeline&rsquo;s
+friends?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Had I been ill disposed, should I have permitted you to
+call on them?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then it is they who wish you ill? That must be unjust
+on their part, for you are so good and kind. There must be some
+misunderstanding, and you do not know one another
+sufficiently.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is not so, my child. We have long known one another
+very well, and have always been opposed to one <a
+name="page104"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 104</span>another.
+You are grown up now, and in a position to learn what life has in
+store for you. Very well! From the Baradiers and Graffs you have
+nothing favourable to expect. Every time you have dealings with
+them be on your guard. I had made up my mind to enlighten you
+some day on the situation this inveterate hostility has created
+between us. To-day is as good a time as any. I permitted you to
+enter the house which has received Mademoiselle de Tr&eacute;mont
+that you might not be in a position to accuse me of having
+concealed from you the least fraction of truth. Now you have seen
+the Baradiers, and you are convinced that I can treat with them
+on equal terms. Your grandfather Lichtenbach suffered a great
+deal at their hands in days gone by. He was an honest man, who
+commenced life in a very humble way. They humiliated and tortured
+him. When I was a poor little trader they spread abroad all kinds
+of calumny and slander about me. But I repaid them for all their
+insolence to old Lichtenbach. All this happened before we had
+left Lorraine&mdash;long before you were born. Still, this kind
+of hatred leaves an almost indestructible ferment in the heart.
+Whatever goes back to days of childhood and youth remains graven
+more firmly in the memory than things that happen in mature life.
+The Baradiers and Graffs came to Paris, so did I at a later date.
+We have been separated by life more completely than by immense
+distances, for in this great city, from street to street, quarter
+to quarter, one is more separated than from province to province.
+And yet, we have never forgotten the past. The Baradiers and
+Graffs are the inveterate enemies of the Lichtenbachs. Keep that
+well in your mind, my child, and let it be the rule of your
+conduct under every circumstance in life.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marianne looked at her father uneasily.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then you wish me to espouse your quarrel?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;God forbid! I love you too well to endanger your <a
+name="page105"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 105</span>peace of
+mind, and I will do all I can to protect you from anything which
+might cause you pain and suffering. I have opened your eyes, for
+you must know how to discern, at a given moment, the causes of
+certain events, and the bearing of certain expressions. Leave to
+me the responsibility of assuring your security and
+happiness.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Can I go and see Madeline again?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why should you? If you do not call on her what will
+prevent her coming to see you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I shall be at the convent.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not for ever.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The young girl gave her father a beseeching look as she
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! If you would only let me stay with you, how pleased
+I should be.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lichtenbach&rsquo;s face lit up with an expression of joy and
+gladness.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What would you do here?&rdquo; he asked good
+humouredly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I would keep the house for you. There is great need of
+it, though I do not wish to criticize. A woman would not leave
+this fine mansion in so gloomy and so dismal-looking a condition.
+So little would be needed to arrange the rooms so as to make them
+comfortable and agreeable. Besides, you could devote yourself
+entirely to your own work, and you would see how much better
+everything would go. It is not a man&rsquo;s <i>r&ocirc;le</i> to
+give orders to servants. Would you not like to have some one
+about you who would ever be affectionately on the watch to attend
+to your every need and comfort? I am eighteen years old now; they
+no longer know what to teach me at the convent. Very soon it will
+be I who will be giving lessons to the pupils. Have I been born
+into the world to be a teacher at the Sacre-C&oelig;ur? You have
+a daughter; she does not belong to others, she is your own. Why
+don&rsquo;t you keep her to yourself?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page106"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 106</span>As
+she spoke she flung her arms round him and pressed him to her
+breast, so that the paternal instinct of Elias warmed gently
+under the influence of her fond caresses. This man, harsh-natured
+and ferocious as he was, became filled with generous and tender
+sentiments as his child looked down upon him. A sigh escaped his
+lips.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If I were to listen to you, should I not be doing
+something very imprudent? One should be alone and untrammelled if
+he wishes to remain strong and safe.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But what are you afraid of? To listen to you one would
+imagine you were in a state of war with enemies lying in ambush
+for you. Is life so full of dangers? Is there no protection in
+this world from one&rsquo;s foes?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Elias smiled.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Simple upright minds never see anything threatening to
+be afraid of. They are blind. But sagacious observers look at
+everything with anxious, uneasy eyes, and see danger all around.
+Look at the sea; at the first glance all you can distinguish will
+be an immense sheet of water, azure-blue, the mirror of the sky,
+furrowed all over by vessels, and troubled by the winds. Then
+lean over, and try to pierce the ocean&rsquo;s deep bed, and you
+will see frightful reefs, whose existence you never suspected,
+and terrible monsters ever on the watch. <i>D&eacute;bris</i> and
+wrecks, the lamentable remains of ships and seamen, will prove to
+you that danger is ever present, that catastrophes are everyday
+events, and to avoid them, unceasing attention and prudence are
+needed. It is the same with society, which you believe
+trustworthy, and with life, which you judge so easy. The surface
+is smooth and attractive, but beneath everything is monstrous and
+terrifying. Still, I am here to watch over you, do not be uneasy.
+By my side you will be sheltered from danger, and as you wish to
+stay at home, my dear child, you shall do so. Your presence will
+be a consolation and a joy to me in the decline of
+life.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page107"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+107</span>Holding out his arms, she threw herself on his breast
+with a cry of gratitude. Lichtenbach, rather ashamed at having
+given way to such tender emotions, said briefly&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, that is settled. I will send to the convent for
+your wardrobe and all your belongings, and you shall settle down
+here at once.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, my dear father, it would scarcely be worth while to
+take back the few garments I have; they may be disposed of in
+charity. There are only a few personal souvenirs I should like to
+keep. You will give me some money, will you not, as a present for
+these excellent nuns who have taken such good care of
+me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But you are rich, my darling,&rdquo; said Elias, with a
+smile. &ldquo;You have your mother&rsquo;s fortune, which has
+been accumulating interest. Besides, I must give up my accounts
+to you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marianne went up to her father, and, kissing him tenderly,
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This will serve as a receipt for everything!&rdquo;</p>
+<h3><a name="page108"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+108</span>CHAPTER V</h3>
+<p>M. <span class="smcap">Mayeur</span>, examining magistrate,
+was seated in his study, near the fireplace, whilst his clerk, in
+listless mood, was engaged in questioning one of the agents,
+charged with investigating the Vanves affair. M. Mayeur was
+terribly bored; he was accustomed to carry through sensational
+affairs, without giving himself much trouble. The results were
+obtained with regularity, and as though by enchantment. Chance
+seemed to favour him, and he was reputed to be the luckiest judge
+on the bench. He had become accustomed to his good fortune, so,
+when the Vanves affair had been placed in his hands, he gave a
+smile of satisfaction and confidence, whilst his clerk, rubbing
+together his hands, with a look of pity for the culprits,
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We shall not need to spend much time over this
+matter!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And yet matters were dragging along slowly. For a whole week,
+M. Mayeur had multiplied his investigations, sent out detective
+after detective, summoned witnesses, and fulfilled judicial
+commissions. Nothing came of it all. As he expressed it, he was
+moving about in a thick fog, from which he could not escape.
+Every evening the Government agent sent for him, and asked in
+satirical accents&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Mayeur, where are we now?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And the magistrate, accustomed as he was to success, found
+himself obliged to reply&mdash;</p>
+<p><a name="page109"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+109</span>&ldquo;Ah, sir, we are still on the look-out, but we
+have found nothing yet.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, ah! The deuce! A week already flown since the crime
+was committed. Your chances are diminishing. In proportion as
+time passes, false tracks appear, and the scent becomes fainter.
+I expected a better result from you! As a rule, your inspiration
+is clearer.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But there is nothing whatever to take hold of&mdash;not
+the slightest clue in the cursed affair!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What! Nothing? You have the corpse of the victim, the
+house in ruins, and the arm of the assassin! What are you doing
+with this latter? It ought to reveal something.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For the present it is in the frigorific
+apparatus,&rdquo; growled M. Mayeur. &ldquo;But neither corpse,
+nor house, nor arm gives me the slightest results. An evil genius
+seems to have passed over everything, carrying with it death and
+mutilation, and leaving nothing behind. It is enough to drive one
+mad!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Gently, Mayeur, keep a cool head, whatever happens.
+Persevere. You have been spoiled by success, but do not be
+discouraged; at any moment light may flash on the whole affair,
+and clear up everything.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>What caused M. Mayeur the greatest chagrin was that he was
+perfectly aware of the secret pleasure his want of success gave
+all his colleagues. A magistrate who had failed in so important
+an investigation; how could he expect to be nominated to the
+Assize Court, contrary to all normal promotion, if he had no
+longer his invariable good luck as his supreme justification?
+And, seated in his study, with his back to the light, looking
+vacantly into the fire, whilst his clerk ran the risk of
+dislocating his jaw with too much gaping, M. Mayeur, to satisfy
+his conscience, in mournful accents, questioned one of his
+agents, who had returned after a fruitless search.</p>
+<p><a name="page110"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+110</span>&ldquo;So there was no trace of the wounded man having
+passed through the cottage gardens, nor on the road to
+Paris?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, sir. I have visited all the inns frequented by the
+quarrymen and gardeners of the district. No one could give me any
+definite information. One would imagine the murderer had been
+annihilated by the explosion itself.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing of the kind! He was tracked to within three
+hundred paces from the Tr&eacute;mont property, and there a trail
+of blood, quite visible, which he had left all the way, suddenly
+disappeared. Did he, at that spot, find his accomplices waiting
+for him? Was he carried off? How and where? Nothing but darkness
+and obscurity!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Those who committed the crime are not professional
+thieves, although the General has been robbed of objects of value
+he carried on his person. Accordingly, they will not be found so
+easily. That is where the whole difficulty comes in.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The magistrate gave a gesture of discontent, as though to
+signify that he knew all that. Stroking his beard, he said, with
+a sigh&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You may go now. Send me Baudoin, the General&rsquo;s
+servant, whom I have sent for afresh.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The agent bowed, and left the room. A moment after the door
+opened again, and the valet&rsquo;s resolute, intelligent face
+appeared. He already sympathized with the clerk, who gave him a
+friendly nod. The magistrate said, in sulky tones&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Take a seat, M. Baudoin. I have disturbed you once
+more, with the object of explaining certain details which I find
+incomprehensible.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do not apologize, sir; it is no disturbance if it is
+for anything concerning the General. Ah! I should only be too
+happy if I could give you any efficient help in your
+task!&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page111"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 111</span>How
+could this servant throw light on a mystery which he, Mayeur,
+could not succeed in unravelling? Well, it could not be helped.
+The clerk seemed overjoyed at his master&rsquo;s humiliation. He
+had been worrying him long enough with his lack of capacity. A
+striking failure would make him less self-confident, and he would
+be a little more indulgent towards his subordinate, whom he
+always appeared to look upon as an imbecile. Fume away, my good
+master! That will not help you much. And the clerk gave another
+mighty yawn.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This woman you saw leave the carriage at the door of
+the house&mdash;was she tall or short?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Rather tall. But as she was wrapped in a large mantle I
+could not say precisely. By the way in which she descended from
+the carriage, I should imagine she was rather slender in
+build.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And her companion?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! her companion; I saw him distinctly. He was a
+strong man, with a thick beard, light-complexioned, and brutal in
+appearance. He wore a grey felt hat and a dark suit. His accent
+was foreign, and&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you think it is the man your master called
+Hans?&rdquo; asked the magistrate.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It could be no one else. The General received no one,
+except his friends, Messieurs Baradier and Graff. The people who
+came on different occasions at night to the villa must have been
+regular villains for him not to permit me to stay with
+him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do you consider the reason of this precaution on
+the part of M. de Tr&eacute;mont?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The fact that he would see me trying to fathom the
+plots of this lady and her acolyte.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then, in your opinion, it is a feminine intrigue which
+is at the root of the matter?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page112"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+112</span>&ldquo;Apparently, yes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And in reality?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It was their object to steal from the General his
+formul&aelig; for the manufacture of his new powders.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then the woman was only an intermediary?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;An intermediary, no. They well knew the General would
+never consent to a bargain. A bait, yes. I did not see the woman,
+but every time she came she left the General&rsquo;s study
+impregnated with a peculiar perfume of a very captivating odour.
+Oh! I should recognize it amongst a hundred! The woman&rsquo;s
+voice, too, was caressing and seductive. Ah! my poor master! She
+knew what power she had over him. That woman was capable of
+anything&mdash;of driving mad a brave warm-hearted man like my
+master, of pouring over him the poison of her looks and smiles,
+and having him cruelly killed for some cause I know nothing of.
+As for the man Hans, he was only an agent&mdash;a well-informed
+man, for the General respected his opinions, and could speak with
+him of his discoveries, but not of the same social position as
+his accomplice. He was an ordinary, even a rough individual. The
+woman&rsquo;s prestige must have been demanded to have had him
+received by M. de Tr&eacute;mont, who was so
+aristocratic.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And you could never find out, by means of the cook, who
+remained in the house, what took place when you had left the
+house?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, she was of a very dull intellect. Outside of her
+work, there was very little to be obtained from her. That is the
+reason M. de Tr&eacute;mont had no cause to mistrust her. All the
+same, she saw the woman on several occasions, and told me that
+she was a miracle of beauty&mdash;young, light-complexioned, with
+eyes that would have damned a saint. She spoke with the General
+in a foreign language. Now the General could only speak English
+and Italian.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page113"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+113</span>&ldquo;Was your master rich?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, sir, he had a very modest fortune&mdash;about
+twenty thousand francs income. But his discoveries were very
+valuable. And it was these the woman was aiming at. In all
+probability, whilst she was with the General, her accomplice was
+examining the papers and searching among the products.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You never found any paper dealing with the relations of
+the General with this woman?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Never.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What became of the telegrams the General received
+telling him of the arrival of his visitors?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The General burnt them himself. I saw him do it. Ah!
+Every precaution was taken by my brave master not to compromise
+the fair Baroness. God knows how he loved her! He trembled like a
+student at the idea of seeing her!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And yet he never gave up to her the secret of his
+discoveries?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Baudoin&rsquo;s face became serious.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! He was reserving his secret for France. I heard him
+say so more than once, after an experiment which satisfied him:
+&lsquo;Baudoin, my good fellow, when our artillery has this
+powder, we shall no longer be afraid of any one.&rsquo; Certainly
+the General was passionately fond of this woman. But he loved his
+country far more, and between the two, he did not hesitate.
+Besides, that was certainly the cause of his death. They could
+not succeed in taking his secret by fair means, so they attempted
+to obtain possession of it by force.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The clerk had ceased yawning; he was listening to Baudoin with
+sympathetic interest all the while he was writing his deposition.
+He wrote down the main outlines only, for it was the third time
+M. Mayeur was having the <a name="page114"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 114</span>same thing repeated to him, as
+though he hoped to discover among expressions already heard, some
+special signification which would permit him to unravel the
+truth. And it was always this love intrigue, cloaking the
+criminal attempt, the bearing of which he could not succeed in
+gauging. Was it a matter that concerned international politics or
+was it mere spying? Or simply a bold attempt to seize a
+commercial product of considerable value? Still, before whatever
+hypothesis he stopped, there was obscurity with regard to cause,
+ignorance concerning details, an impenetrable mystery which
+maddened him, and which seemed as though it would compromise his
+career. Flinging himself back in his chair, he said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, the criminals have taken great precautions. The
+General is dead, the servant, too, is dead, and you had been sent
+away. The wounded man has disappeared, as though buried in the
+bowels of the earth. And the unknown woman is mocking at our
+researches.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Baudoin shook his head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So long as attempts are made to find her, she will
+hide, and nothing will be discovered. If the matter concerned me,
+I know what I should do.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>M. Mayeur, in his distress, flashed at the valet a look of
+curiosity. When he, the examining magistrate, so famous for a
+resourceful imagination, no longer knew what expedient to try, a
+simple witness pretended to understand the position, and point
+out the means to be followed. He was on the point of crushing him
+with official disdain, by telling him to trouble with what
+concerned him, when he thought that, after all, advice was not to
+be neglected, and he might despise it afterwards, if necessary.
+He accordingly asked, in mocking tones, to safeguard his
+dignity&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then, what would you do, M. Baudoin?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Please pardon me, sir, if what I say is foolish, but if
+<a name="page115"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 115</span>the
+affair were in my hand, instead of sending out in every
+direction, seeking information everywhere, I would not stir a
+step. I should let it be known that I had given up the pursuit,
+and was engaged in something else. You must know what takes place
+in a barn, where there are mice. There is a general rush to the
+holes as soon as the sound of entering feet are heard. If you
+remain quiet, after a few moments the mice are seen to be risking
+out again, and playing about the floor as before. Well, I believe
+it would be the same in the present case. I beg pardon, if I
+interfere in the matter, but I, too, am bent on finding the
+rascals who killed my master, and if I can contribute towards
+their capture it will be the brightest day of my life.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>M. Mayeur no longer cast a disdainful glance at the
+General&rsquo;s valet. He smiled at him in most amiable mood.
+For, in a flash he had furnished him with the means of taking
+advantage of the difficulty in this cursed affair. When the
+Government agent should say to him, that very
+evening&mdash;&ldquo;Well, my dear Mayeur, where have you got to
+now? Nothing yet?&rdquo; instead of replying in a tone of
+vexation, &ldquo;Nothing at all,&rdquo; thus confessing his
+inability to discover, and even the absence of grounds on which
+to found his researches, he would be able to reply: &ldquo;This
+matter has been badly begun, I undertake to recommence everything
+<i>ab ovo</i>. We have to deal with rogues who are exceedingly
+cunning. I intend to change my plans entirely.&rdquo; This time
+he would no longer appear incapable, as though he were entrusted
+with a task too difficult for his capacity. He would secure an
+honourable retreat, and gain time as well.</p>
+<p>Resuming his stiff and formal gravity, he said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There will be plenty of time to act as you suggest. But
+I have still at my disposal many other means of throwing light on
+the subject.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page116"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 116</span>His
+clerk, pen in mouth, could not help laughing outright. When
+Mayeur was at bay, without a single idea in his head, befooled by
+the culprits when he had not the slightest idea where to look for
+them, he still pretended to &ldquo;throw light on the
+subject.&rdquo; Light on the subject! It was enough to make any
+one laugh! He gave Baudoin a wink, and noisily rattled his
+desk.</p>
+<p>M. Mayeur, as though he guessed the secret hostility of his
+subordinate, said to him&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Just go and see if Colonel Vallenot has come from the
+Ministry.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The clerk stretched himself; showed Baudoin his
+cigarette-case, with a grimace which signified, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m
+just going to smoke one,&rdquo; and left the room. M. Mayeur
+followed him, bolted the door, and returning to Baudoin,
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I would rather we were alone in discussing the subject
+I am engaged on. The slightest indiscretion in so delicate a
+matter might ruin everything. Just now you gave me a piece of
+advice which I might follow to advantage. Still, you did not tell
+me everything. You are better informed than you have yet shown.
+Perhaps they are only suspicions, still, I am sure you are quite
+determined to help justice in an energetic pursuit of your
+master&rsquo;s murderers. Why have you not perfect confidence in
+me? We have the same object in view. Come, M. Baudoin, be frank
+and open. You imagine you have discovered some means of laying
+hands on the culprits?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Baudoin raised his head, and looking fixedly at the
+magistrate, saw that he was in passionate earnest. He thought
+that he had really an ally in him, and that professional secrecy
+guaranteed his discretion, and accordingly made up his mind to
+speak.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well! yes, I have a means by which we shall lay our
+hands on the culprits.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page117"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+117</span>&ldquo;What is it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;First of all, swear that what I am about to say shall
+not be repeated.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But&mdash;,&rdquo; protested the judge.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Take it or leave it,&rdquo; declared Baudoin, bluntly.
+&ldquo;I am risking my life and that of others as well. I shall
+say nothing, unless you give me your word of honour not to repeat
+to a living soul what I am going to entrust to you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not even to my chief?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not a word to any one! Do you give me your
+promise?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very well! I promise.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, then! as I told you before, in matters concerning
+scientific research, the General had confidence in no one except
+a young man whom he loved as though he were his own child, M.
+Baradier&rsquo;s son. I have reason to believe that M. Marcel
+knows M. de Tr&eacute;mont&rsquo;s formul&aelig;. If, therefore,
+the villains we are on the look-out for have the slightest
+suspicion that they might in this direction try the <i>coup</i>
+which failed with the General, as soon as they are reassured as
+to the result of the present search, they will set to work
+afresh. It is there my task will begin. I am entering the service
+of M. Marcel, and I shall not leave him a single moment. Besides,
+I have a friend, who is accustomed to such work. I am taking him
+with me. The two of us are organizing a continual surveillance.
+If the plot recommences, we let it develop, and intervene at the
+critical moment. That is my plan. That is why I made bold, a few
+minutes ago, to advise you to give up the game, to all
+appearance. With villains like those with whom we have to deal,
+there may be a great deal of trouble. Now, you may do all that is
+necessary to give me a hand, and as soon as developments have
+come to a head, I will immediately lay the matter in your
+hands.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page118"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 118</span>The
+examining magistrate reflected for a moment, then said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All this is outside of legal precedent, but the
+situation is an exceptional one. Above everything, we must
+succeed! If we have to deal with determined criminals, as I
+imagine is the case, this is not their first attempt, and perhaps
+we shall capture a whole gang. Put into performance, therefore,
+the plan you have indicated, and, at the slightest difficulty,
+come to me, and I will summon all the forces of the law to your
+aid. You need simply show me the beginning of the thread, and I
+will go right to the end.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good; you shall hear from me at the right time. Not
+another word, for here is your clerk returning.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The clerk knocked at the closed door, and the magistrate
+opened it. Colonel Vallenot stood in the passage, and M. Mayeur
+addressed him&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come in, Colonel, take a seat.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Turning towards Baudoin, he said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You may now retire, M. Baudoin; I don&rsquo;t think I
+shall need you for some time to come. All the same, if you leave
+Paris, give M. Baradier your address, so that the summons I shall
+address to you may reach you in good time.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Baudoin bowed to the magistrate, saluted the Colonel in
+military fashion, and left the room. When he was gone M. Mayeur
+returned to Vallenot, with a smile on his face; he could not
+allow his discouragement to appear in public.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The Minister of War delivered a very solid speech last
+night in the House.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; they try to mystify him, but he is able to defend
+himself. He knows what he is talking about, and a direct attack
+always succeeds with Parliamentarians.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Imperatoria brevitas</i>,&rdquo; sneered the
+magistrate.</p>
+<p>After a short pause he asked in honeyed tones&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Have your researches come to a point yet?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page119"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 119</span>The
+Colonel replied bluntly&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not at all; they are no further advanced than
+yours.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>M. Mayeur smiled faintly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, ah! Then we make no progress?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If I were not afraid of offending you I should say that
+we were going backwards.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That appears to be exactly as the matter stands,&rdquo;
+said Mayeur, with a look of intelligence.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! Have you obtained some clue at last?&rdquo; asked
+Vallenot, perplexed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am not in a position to explain, but have patience; a
+surprise is in store for you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How delighted the chief will be! The whole affair has
+put him in such a nervous condition that the whole staff suffers
+in consequence. He is never out of a temper; one does not know
+how to manage him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To return to our investigations abroad, what result
+have they given?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We have obtained the certainty that, if an attempt has
+been made to obtain possession of the formul&aelig; of General de
+Tr&eacute;mont, the Triple Alliance has had nothing to do with
+it. Ever since the last espionage affair, the different
+Governments have given orders to their agents to observe the
+strictest reserve. If there really has been a plot it can only
+have been made by the English. You are well aware that their
+artillery is quite out of date, and they are trying to recover
+ground.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So there are nothing but suppositions; no
+proofs?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;None whatever. In Paris, or, at any rate, in France,
+there are half a dozen women well known for their international
+intrigues, and who might have been suspected of having acted the
+<i>r&ocirc;le</i> of the Baroness with the poor General de
+Tr&eacute;mont. Those known to have been in France have been
+strictly watched. Besides, the majority form part of <a
+name="page120"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 120</span>our
+counter-espionage, and could have informed us, whilst still in
+the pay of another nation. So far as Hans is concerned, a police
+report from Lausanne announces the arrival in Geneva of a wounded
+man, whose arm has been amputated. He is from Baden, and is named
+Fichter. The accident took place in a wire mill in the
+neighbourhood of Besan&ccedil;on. Accordingly, he could not be at
+the same time in the Jura and at Vanves. All the same, the
+description of him corresponds exactly with that given by
+Baudoin. If this Fichter is the man we are seeking, the
+proprietor of the wire mill must have given accommodation
+certificates, or a substitution must have taken place on the way
+between the two men. All this is very improbable. So, you see,
+the matter is involved in greater obscurity than ever.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, yes,&rdquo; hummed the magistrate, who appeared so
+absent-minded that the Colonel looked at him in amazement.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You take all this very calmly!&rdquo; said
+Vallenot.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is the use of getting excited? It never serves any
+useful purpose.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then you have not lost all hope?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why should I?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The deuce!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! my friend, success often comes at the very time you
+think everything is lost.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You magistrates are very lucky; it is not so in the
+Army. When you expect Grouchy it is always Blucher who
+comes!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, we shall see.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do you intend to do?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Let the whole affair slide for some time. It is too
+premature to do anything yet.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In other words, you are shelving it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I am shelving it provisionally.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then you abandon the whole affair?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page121"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 121</span>The
+magistrate looked gravely at Vallenot and, to the profound
+amazement of his clerk, said humbly&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I do, if no fresh incident happens.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Have I to inform the Minister of this?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Please do so. Tell him I am sorry, and wish I could
+have done better. That has been impossible. Still all is not
+lost, in my opinion. We shall see at a later date.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Colonel stood there rather disconcerted by this unexpected
+solution, and as he took his leave he shook his head,
+saying&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A pleasant message you send me with. I shall be
+received like a dog in a game of skittles.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nonsense! You are the favourite. I am off to the
+Government agent. He will not grumble; on the contrary, he will
+poke fun at me. Still no matter. He laughs best who laughs
+last!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Shaking the Colonel by the hand, he conducted him to the
+passage, and returned to his office. He signed several sheets of
+paper handed to him by his clerk. The latter, devoured by
+curiosity, said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then the matter is really finished, sir! Are you giving
+it up?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;One cannot do what is impossible,&rdquo; said Mayeur,
+negligently. &ldquo;A house cannot be built without scaffolding.
+Here we have no grounds to work upon. I am not strong enough to
+invent what I am ignorant of. It is already difficult enough to
+obtain benefit from certain proof.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A look of pity came over the clerk&rsquo;s countenance. So
+long as the magistrate had manifested a tranquil assurance of
+success he had, in his conscience, violently criticized him. Now
+that his master showed himself modest and simple he disdained
+him. Nothing but a poor fellow, after all, who was very lucky
+when things went well, but gave up the struggle at the very first
+difficulties.</p>
+<p><a name="page122"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+122</span>&ldquo;Just put away that brief into my case. I am
+going to the Public Prosecutor&rsquo;s office,&rdquo; said the
+magistrate. &ldquo;Afterwards you may go; it is five
+o&rsquo;clock. I will see you to-morrow morning.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Colonel Vallenot, meanwhile, was rolling away in a cab in the
+direction of the Ministry. On entering his chief&rsquo;s
+ante-chamber he came across Baudoin, who was leaving the
+Minister&rsquo;s cabinet. Stopping him, he said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have just seen the General?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Colonel.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is he in a good temper?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Colonel. You had better hurry, sir, if you wish to
+find him in.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What! He is going out?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I heard him say that he was going to the
+Chamber.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You had something to ask him, Baudoin?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, Colonel. I wished simply to speak to him of the
+affair of General Tr&eacute;mont.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In what respect?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The magistrate makes no progress, and seems to me as
+though about to abandon the matter altogether.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You told this to the Minister?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, not five minutes ago.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And how did he receive the communication?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He whistled softly; then said aloud, &lsquo;After all,
+perhaps it is better so.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Colonel Vallenot looked at Baudoin, as though to make sure he
+was not making fun of him. Then he shrugged his shoulders, as
+though he did not understand, and declared, in vexed
+tones&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good! Good! Well, we will say no more about
+it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>With a friendly gesture to the former soldier, he
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p><a name="page123"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+123</span>&ldquo;Good night, Baudoin. If you need anything send
+for me. We were all very fond of M. de Tr&eacute;mont.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And he passed along, muttering to himself&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Everybody I meet seems to have lost his
+head.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Baudoin descended the large staircase. He went out into the
+street, after shaking hands with the concierge, and made his way
+towards the small caf&eacute;, where, in condescending fashion,
+Lafor&ecirc;t watched the billiard players, during the absinthe
+hour, eagerly playing pools. He was seated in his usual place,
+smoking his pipe, and speaking to a neighbour, a retired business
+man, who was telling him his domestic worries.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, sir; a woman who is always out of the house, and
+has never enough money. The vaults of the Bank would not suffice
+for her. And whenever I remonstrate with her she rouses the whole
+house with her cries. We cannot keep servants, for she will not
+pay them, and when she is not pleased, then there are blows! I
+have already been several times before the Justice of the Peace
+on her account. The life she leads me is a regular
+inferno!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Divorce her,&rdquo; said Lafor&ecirc;t, curtly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But the greater part of our common stock is
+hers!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then put up with her!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I can do it no longer.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, treat her as she treats her servants.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! No! The deuce! She would pay me back in the same
+coin!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Baudoin&rsquo;s arrival interrupted the consultation. The
+unhappy tradesman arose, and said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The only place where I have a little quiet is
+here.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, that is something. Good-bye, sir. Consider me at
+your service if I can be of any use to you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Baudoin had taken a seat. Lafor&ecirc;t leaned over in his
+direction.</p>
+<p><a name="page124"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+124</span>&ldquo;Well, anything fresh?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. I want you. But we had better leave
+here.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The agent arose, took his stick, and left the caf&eacute;,
+accompanied by Baudoin.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where shall we go?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where we shall be neither disturbed nor
+overheard.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then come along with me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They proceeded along the banks of the Seine, and, on reaching
+a quay, Lafor&ecirc;t led the way down a flight of stone stairs
+leading to the embankment. Under the shade of the elms, which
+twisted their knotty boughs above the slimy, swift-flowing river,
+they sat down. On the opposite bank the gardens of the Tuileries
+exposed to view their lovely verdure. Lighters were unloading
+sand fifty yards on the left. Ferry-boats sped swiftly along,
+crowded with passengers, and the distant rolling of carriages
+formed a rumbling accompaniment to their words.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Here we are certain that whatever we say will be heard
+by none other than the birds or the fishes,&rdquo; said
+Lafor&ecirc;t. &ldquo;This is the spot I recommend to you
+whenever you have any secrets to communicate to any one. There is
+not even a single fisherman about. Now then, what have you to
+tell?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, after three weeks&rsquo; researches, the
+examining magistrate is obliged to confess that he has not made
+the slightest progress. Clearly, if left to himself, he will
+never effect anything. Besides, the cleverest of them would have
+been no more fortunate. There is nothing to seize hold of. The
+culprits have plunged, and everything is quiet again. The upshot
+of the matter is that our magistrate is about to stop all
+investigations, and now I am free to go where I like, as I shall
+no longer have to spend all the day walking about the corridors
+of the Law Courts. Accordingly, I am leaving Paris.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page125"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+125</span>&ldquo;Ah! Where are you going?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To stay with the son of my master, M. Baradier, who is
+at the works near Troyes, in Champagne. The district is called
+Ars, noted for alkaline springs and thermal waters, visited every
+summer by invalids.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are you going to your master with the object of
+forgetting your troubles?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No! Rather to keep watch over him. Since I have been in
+the house I have spoken with his father, and learnt several
+things. M. Baradier is informed that his son has received
+communications from the General de Tr&eacute;mont, and now the
+famous formul&aelig; can only be obtained from Marcel. M.
+Baradier, I believe, would give a large sum if his son had never
+entered the General&rsquo;s laboratory. But that is a fact which
+cannot be undone. The only important thing now is to defend the
+young man. This trust has been confided to me. M. Baradier said
+to me: &lsquo;Baudoin, Marcel is my only son, and although he is
+not so steady as he might be, I am all the same very fond of him.
+I do not want him to come to any harm. As soon as you are free go
+down to Ars, and do not leave him.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But why does this young man, who is so rich, and of
+whom his family is so fond, shut himself up in a quiet provincial
+town? Why does he not stay in Paris?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For several reasons. The best one is that his father
+considers it more prudent for him to be at Ars than in Paris.
+Surveillance is more easy in the country. Besides, M. Marcel,
+from what I have learned, has been living rather too fast, and
+his father has cut off his supplies; but for his uncle Graff, the
+young heir would have nothing whatever. Just now he is
+desperately bent on finding a chemical process of wool-dyeing,
+and, though he is rather a hare-brained fellow, as the General
+called him, he has an extraordinary aptitude for scientific
+research, so that his work <a name="page126"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 126</span>will be sufficient to keep him away
+from all kinds of distractions.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He is rather a strange character.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The finest young man you would meet anywhere. Generous
+and lively in disposition, not proud in the least. Ah! he will
+please you, I know, when you meet him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then I am to make his acquaintance?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In what way?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Listen. As soon as I learned that I could leave Paris I
+rushed off to the Minister to explain what I wanted to do, and
+asked him, if he wished the affair to succeed, to give me
+permission that you should come down to Ars whenever I need
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I must have permission first.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have only to see Colonel Vallenot, who has received
+instructions, and he will give you your papers.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good. And what shall I have to do
+afterwards?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;According to circumstances. It is my firm conviction
+that the catastrophe of which my poor master has been the victim,
+is nothing but the beginning of a drama. Many important events
+will take place, and we must arrange so as to prevent them from
+being harmful to the intended victims. Serious interests are at
+stake. We shall probably have to deal with matters that are
+anything but attractive. But then, afterwards, everything will be
+cleared up. We must succeed. By the way, you must know how to
+disguise yourself.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lafor&ecirc;t smiled.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do not be uneasy on that score. I will be there at the
+rendezvous you appoint; but I will not vouch for your recognizing
+me when you see me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is all right, then. Unfortunately, I am not to be
+relied upon for playing a double <i>r&ocirc;le</i>. But I can
+well maintain my own, which will be that of a
+watch-dog.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page127"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+127</span>&ldquo;Then everything is settled?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So it seems. When I have a communication to make I will
+send my letter to the Ministry.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very good. Now let us get back.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mounting the stone staircase, they reached the quay, and took
+leave of one another.</p>
+<p>Lafor&ecirc;t made his way towards the Rue Saint Dominique;
+Baudoin crossed the Pont de la Concorde, and returned to the Rue
+de Prov&egrave;nce by the Rue de Richelieu and the boulevards.
+Messieurs Baradier and Graff were in their office, along with the
+cashier of the firm, who was making inquiries concerning the
+collection of debts. The cashier was saying&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you know, gentlemen, that the &lsquo;Commercial
+Explosives&rsquo; Company,&rsquo; of which M. Lichtenbach is
+chairman, is on its last legs? The shares have gone down
+considerably. It seems that there is an American company
+competing with them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, so I have heard,&rdquo; said Graff. &ldquo;The
+Americans have found a product of very simple composition,
+costing fifty per cent. less than dynamite. They have already
+taken very large orders for Australia and South Africa. That is
+the reason of the fall of the Lichtenbach Company.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do not be uneasy, Bernard,&rdquo; said Baradier to his
+cashier. &ldquo;It will not affect Lichtenbach, but his
+shareholders. You have no more letters to be signed?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, sir.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, then, you may go now. Good night.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good night, gentlemen.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Baradier rose from his seat, and stood with his back to the
+fire.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You see,&rdquo; he said to his brother-in-law,
+&ldquo;here we have a clear proof that Tr&eacute;mont has been
+killed as much to rob him of his commercial as of his military
+secret. Do you now understand how Lichtenbach would be interested
+in <a name="page128"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 128</span>being
+in possession of the formul&aelig; of an explosive which would be
+less costly than the American product, the discovery of which is
+ruining the French company, and would be as effective though a
+hundred times less in volume? For this is the real value of the
+discovery made by Tr&eacute;mont, and which Marcel has explained
+to me. Accordingly, if Lichtenbach, by some means or other, came
+into possession of the unknown formul&aelig;, he would only have
+to take out a patent, and secretly buy back all the shares of the
+company which have now fallen so low. The day after he had swept
+everything before him he would sell to the company all property
+in the new explosive, and make millions at a single stroke,
+without speaking of the future success of the product.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, it would be a fine <i>coup</i> worthy of him. He
+might give up to his confederates the profits from the war
+powder, for they would be little compared with those of the
+commercial product. Governments are not in the habit of
+remunerating philanthropists who afford them the means of
+marching triumphantly forward to a universal massacre.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, don&rsquo;t make any mistake. Marcel affirms that
+this discovery made by Tr&eacute;mont is followed by the most
+frightful results. It is a kind of paste, which, according to the
+way in which it is prepared, causes a formidable detonation or
+else burns, without the slightest noise, even when in
+water.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Greek fire?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Something like it. Or, rather, like an up-to-date
+cannon compared with one of the fourteenth century. Torpedoes
+loaded with this paste, and lit by means of a well-graduated
+mechanism, might at will envelop a ship in flames at a single
+moment.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That would mean the suppression of all naval
+supremacy!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! You understand. Now, do you think there <a
+name="page129"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 129</span>exists any
+real security for the possessor of such a secret? A State would
+have to be governed by angels if it did not use its utmost
+endeavours to procure this monstrous power of annihilating all
+its enemies and subduing all its rivals. This is why
+Tr&eacute;mont was put to death, and why I have lost my sleep at
+the thought that my son has openly worked with him and may be
+suspected of having possession of this mysterious agent of
+destruction and greatness.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Send him away from France, on a cruise.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He would be in much greater danger away from France.
+The place where he runs least risk is here among his friends. Ah!
+How glad I should be were he rid of this heavy burden! I have
+begged him to hand over the General&rsquo;s formul&aelig; to the
+Minister. It would have been announced in all the journals that
+Marcel Baradier had handed over to the Technical Committee of
+Explosives all notes relating to the experiments of General de
+Tr&eacute;mont. After that he would have been free, and no
+further risk would have been run. Do you know what reply he gave
+me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; tell me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He said to me, with a smile, and in tones of calm
+assurance: &lsquo;My dear father, the General&rsquo;s powder is
+still lacking in one slight detail. I know what he intended to
+do, for he explained everything to me. Well, then, I will
+continue his experiments, and when everything is complete I will
+hand over the formul&aelig; to the State, according to his
+clearly-expressed will, and form a company with the commerce
+explosive to enrich the General&rsquo;s
+daughter.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Does Marcel know what a risk he is running?&rdquo;
+asked Graff.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I became hoarse in telling him. But he is a Lorraine;
+he&rsquo;s as obstinate as a mule. To all my arguments he offered
+an imperturbable resistance. &lsquo;I alone,&rsquo; he said,
+&lsquo;can manage the affair successfully. If I give the
+General&rsquo;s notes to the <a name="page130"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 130</span>Technical Committee, one of those
+sharp fellows on the Board will boast that he has made the
+discovery himself, and obtain all the credit for it. Unless he
+spoil the invention by absurd additions, which is at bottom a
+very likely thing. As for the commercial product, if I open my
+mouth before taking all necessary precautions, it will be stolen
+in an instant, and the General&rsquo;s daughter will lose her
+fortune. For these reasons, and others, I do not intend to
+abandon the work I have begun.&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;But you are risking your life?&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Is it so very precious? You spend your time in
+telling me I am a rascal, that I am ruining you, and shall bring
+your name into dishonour. Very good! You will be well rid of a
+guilty and unworthy son!&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Graff struck his hands against one another.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You see! That is the result of your harshness towards
+the poor child. How can you expect him to listen to
+you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! Leave me alone!&rdquo; exclaimed Baradier, pale
+with anguish, &ldquo;I am sufficiently worried with all this! You
+do not intend to make me responsible for it, into the bargain! I
+love Marcel as well as you do! The only difference is that I am
+not always fawning on him and giving him money! We should have
+been in a fine state had you been the only one to set him an
+example! All you did was to encourage his evil inclinations! If
+he has done wrong, it is all your fault!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes! I, who have set an example to him, and practised
+what I preached!&rdquo; exclaimed Graff. &ldquo;I being his evil
+genius, as everybody knows. Really, Baradier, I wonder if you
+have gone mad!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Baradier walked excitedly about the room, then, returning to
+his brother-in-law, placed his hand on his shoulder, and said in
+trembling tones&mdash;</p>
+<p><a name="page131"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+131</span>&ldquo;You are right! I believe I am losing my senses.
+Pardon me, this anxiety has completely overwhelmed me. We have
+only Marcel, Graff. Think of what would become of us, if destiny
+willed it that&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Graff rose quickly from his seat.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not another word! It is unlucky to predict disaster. We
+must not even admit that there is a disaster at all. Still, I
+cannot blame Marcel for doing what he considers his duty. Did he
+act otherwise, he would be neither a Baradier nor a Graff. He is
+acting very courageously. All the same we must keep watch over
+him, and defend him against his own folly.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>At that moment, a knock was heard at the study door. Baradier
+went to open it, and seeing Baudoin on the threshold,
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! You have come at the right moment. First of all,
+tell us how things are going at the courts.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Everything is at a standstill, sir. The examining
+magistrate can find nothing. The culprits have left a vacuum
+behind them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, M. Mayeur, in despair, unable to arrest the
+criminals, is simply stopping all investigations, and shelving
+the affair.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s a fine idea! Is it his own?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, sir.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What fool could have suggested such a
+course?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I did.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I congratulate you. Now, the rascals who have killed
+your master, believing themselves sure of impunity, will
+recommence&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am relying on their doing so!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But! Marcel? My son! What is to become of him? Have you
+even thought of such a thing?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page132"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+132</span>&ldquo;I have thought of nothing else. Here I am free.
+If you will allow me, I will leave Paris this very night, and be
+at Ars about midnight. The news of the affair being abandoned
+will not appear in the journals for a couple of days. I shall
+have organized my surveillance by that time. I promise you
+nothing shall happen to M. Marcel, or, at any rate, they will
+have to begin with me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very reassuring!&rdquo; growled Baradier. &ldquo;But
+what can one do with such a madman as my son? He is in danger
+everywhere. Ah, the cursed powder! What need had Tr&eacute;mont
+to tell him of his inventions? If this explosive is as dangerous
+to those against whom it is used as it is to its inventors, there
+will be fine butcheries the next war.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Baudoin philosophically paid no heed to these paternal
+recriminations.</p>
+<p>He understood how correct they were, but could he do more than
+devote himself to the defence of him who might at any time, be so
+gravely threatened? When M. Baradier finally sat down, in
+consternation, Graff decided to speak in his turn.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;After all,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;as the wine is drawn,
+we must drink it. The thing to guard against is not to poison
+one&rsquo;s self with it. Forewarned is forearmed. The situation
+is not the same as it was for the General. With a little prudence
+it will be easy to make everything turn out right. Patience
+brings all things about.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Have you finished with your proverbs, which have no
+meaning whatever?&rdquo; exclaimed Baradier, exasperated by his
+brother-in-law&rsquo;s optimism. &ldquo;Without so much palaver,
+all that is needed is to give Baudoin permission to summon the
+police in case he sees anything suspicious in Marcel&rsquo;s
+surroundings. For my part, I have more confidence in armed might
+than in providence.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page133"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+133</span>&ldquo;If you are interrupting me to say such
+nonsense,&rdquo; replied Graff, &ldquo;you might have held your
+peace. Let Marcel work on. The sooner he has finished the sooner
+he will be out of danger. Until that time, Baudoin, I entrust him
+to your care.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do not be uneasy, Monsieur Graff. I will answer for him
+with my life. Besides, I am not trusting in myself alone. I am
+going to send for a companion, who in himself is worth a score of
+men. I need say no more. Trust to me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, my brave fellow, I will trust to you,&rdquo; said
+Baradier.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very good,&rdquo; said Baudoin, rubbing his hands.
+&ldquo;Have you any message to send to M. Marcel?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Tell him to be very careful; give him our best love,
+and ask him to think of us at times.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;By-the-bye, have you any money for the
+journey?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have all I need, sir, thank you. Your servant, sir.
+<i>Au revoir</i>!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Bowing, he left the room. Father and uncle remained behind,
+silent and grave, plunged in reverie. After a time Graff stood up
+and said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing ill will happen. Of that I am sure. I feel it.
+You know I am never mistaken. In business, every time we have had
+a loss I have always had a very clear intuition of it beforehand.
+Be assured, Baradier, we shall come out of it without loss or
+damage.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The anxious father replied&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Heaven grant you may be right! But so long as there is
+a woman in it I cannot be at rest concerning Marcel. Ah! if it
+were only you or I, there would be no danger. But this young
+madman!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The oldest are not always the wisest. Look at
+Tr&eacute;mont.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page134"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+134</span>&ldquo;Well, well. It is all in God&rsquo;s
+hands!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Holding out his hand to his brother-in-law&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We will have no more quarrels; they serve no useful
+purpose, and only cause us pain!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! Speak to me as harshly as you like!&rdquo;
+exclaimed Graff, greatly moved. &ldquo;It does not hurt me, and
+it relieves you! But be careful to say nothing to your wife.
+There is no occasion that she should worry herself about the
+matter.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They left the office, and, as they crossed the court they saw
+Baudoin, portmanteau in hand, starting off, with alert and happy
+step, for the station.</p>
+<h2><a name="page135"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 135</span>PART
+II</h2>
+<h3>CHAPTER I</h3>
+<p><span class="smcap">Ars</span> is a small town of six thousand
+inhabitants, a distance of four leagues from Troyes. On the manly
+declivities to the South stretch miles upon miles of vineyards.
+The mineral springs of Ars are distant half a mile from the town,
+on the road to Lusigny, as is also the thermal establishment.</p>
+<p>It was whilst engaged in sounding for ore, in land which did
+not contain the slightest trace of it, that M. Reverend, chief
+engineer, unexpectedly discovered the alkaline and chalybeate
+waters, rivalling those of Plombieres and of Aix. But, after all,
+Ars is too near Paris for patients to have confidence in the
+healing virtues of its springs. It is frequented only by people
+of limited income, and hotel-keepers who are not in the habit of
+fleecing travellers. Near the forest of Bossicant, close by, a
+few villas, almost lost amid the trees, are every year placed at
+the disposal of wealthy invalids. These are modest-looking, quiet
+houses, offering their peace-loving guests nothing but the
+smiling solitudes of the forest. The weaving and spinning mills
+belonging to Messrs. Baradier and Graff are situated on the
+Barse, the rapid current of which turns the dynamos, which supply
+both light and motive-power. The private residence is separated
+from the works by a large court-yard and a beautiful garden. The
+road to Vandoeuvre passes in front of the house, whilst, on the
+other side of the road, through <a name="page136"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 136</span>meadows in which large numbers of
+cattle are grazing all the year round, runs the railroad, past
+Chaumont, right to the German frontier. Ars is an important
+working centre. The quarries and mines give work to a large
+proportion of the male population.</p>
+<p>Two hundred men, a hundred women, and a large number of
+children are employed at the works of Baradier and Graff. The
+manager of the establishment, M. Cardez, is a native of Lorraine,
+who came from Metz with his masters. He had married at Ars, and
+was now a widower with two grown-up sons, devoted to duty, and
+kind towards his workmen, but of a taciturn disposition, and
+ruling with almost military discipline. One of his sons is in the
+Army, the other assistant-manager in the works at La Barre.</p>
+<p>A very good fellow, on the whole, whom Marcel Baradier, from
+his childhood, had been in the disrespectful habit of calling
+&ldquo;the bear.&rdquo; The &ldquo;bear&rdquo; and Marcel could
+never understand one another. There was the same distance between
+them as between Pascal, the inventor of the wheel-barrow, and the
+workman whose duty it was to roll it along the highway. Marcel
+likes Cardez well enough, though he is fond of poking fun at him.
+Cardez is very respectful towards the son of his master, though
+he deplores his light-heartedness and frivolity. The two might
+live together for years without the slightest affinity being
+manifested between them. As Marcel says, with a smile, the one is
+negative, the other positive. Cardez is none too glad at Marcel
+settling down at the works, for his presence is a cause of
+trouble for the workmen. The master&rsquo;s son is too ready to
+listen to their complaints, and discipline suffers in
+consequence. The military order no longer reigns, and Cardez,
+more bearish than ever, never ceases railing at what he calls
+&ldquo;the encouragement given to the rebellious instincts of the
+workmen.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page137"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+137</span>Marcel&rsquo;s researches in the colouring of cloth
+leave the director sceptical. He considers there is no necessity
+to change a system which has succeeded so well for so many years.
+A dye-shed always seemed useless to him. The raw thread, which
+brought so ready a sale, was quite sufficient for their
+requirements. All these new inventions, costing so dear, only
+served, in his mind, to introduce an element of trouble into the
+working of a business already prosperous. The laboratory at the
+end of the garden, in an isolated pavilion, was the object of
+raillery on the part of the director, who called it &ldquo;the
+Capernaum.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Since Marcel had come to settle at Ars, contrary to his usual
+habit, he scarcely ever appeared at the works. He shut himself up
+in the &ldquo;Capernaum,&rdquo; or went off in search of
+recreation, with a gun and his dog, into the forest of Bossicant.
+Baradier and Graff owned two hundred acres of waste land, very
+picturesque, and abounding in game. Certain of the uplands of
+Bossicant remind one of Scotland, in point of wild, picturesque
+view, dry, arid heather, and the clear freshness of the
+invigorating air.</p>
+<p>Half-way down the hollow rose a villa, in the form of a
+chalet, buried in the trees&mdash;a red spot in the midst of so
+much surrounding verdure. It was gloomy and silent, and almost
+always uninhabited, by reason of its distance from the town, and
+proximity to the wood. One morning, as he passed by this villa,
+Marcel was surprised to see that the shutters were down, and that
+a servant was busily sweeping in front of the door. She was
+rather elegantly dressed, and appeared to be a stranger in the
+district, doubtless attending to some invalid who had come to
+effect a cure. Marcel was not inquisitive, and went his way.</p>
+<p>It was three o&rsquo;clock when he reached the plain, which he
+began to cross with careless steps. The movements of his dog,
+however, drew his attention. He slipped a couple <a
+name="page138"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 138</span>of
+cartridges into his gun, and mounted to the side of the slope.
+After a moment&rsquo;s interval, on climbing the opposite bank,
+Marcel saw a rabbit bent on reaching the open. He took aim,
+pulled the trigger, and the rabbit rolled over to the foot of the
+descent. The dog was not far away; he seized the dead animal by
+the back, and brought him to his master.</p>
+<p>Marcel relieved the dog, placed the game in a light bag he
+carried over his shoulder, uncocked his gun, and, considering
+that he had done enough damage for the time being, sat down on
+the sand, at the foot of a fir tree, and looked dreamily away at
+the distant forests in the east. A delightful torpor, induced by
+the dull silence of the woods, took possession of his body,
+whilst his more active thoughts, as though freed from all
+material bond, began to dwell on his past life. He saw again the
+house in the Rue de Prov&egrave;nce, in which his father and his
+uncle Graff had quarrelled so often about him; and his
+mother&rsquo;s salon, where Am&eacute;lie, seated near
+Mademoiselle de Tr&eacute;mont, dressed in deep black, was
+quietly working.</p>
+<p>Suddenly his reveries were interrupted by a bark of his dog.
+The pattering step of some animal or other made him turn his
+head, and there, close by, he saw a small terrier, no larger than
+his two fists, a silk ribbon tied in a knot round his neck,
+advancing in his direction. A little farther away, a woman,
+dressed in black, slowly followed. He had no time to examine the
+newcomer, for the little dog, with a furious yelp, leaped towards
+the other, with the unthinking audacity of a rat attacking a
+tiger. A gentle voice exclaimed, &ldquo;Bob!&rdquo; It was of no
+use. Marcel&rsquo;s dog stood up against his tiny adversary, and
+rolled him over into the dust.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Bob! Oh, <i>Mon Dieu</i>!&rdquo; exclaimed his
+mistress, anxiously, as she rushed to the spot.</p>
+<p>Marcel heard the cry, saw a pair of beautiful eyes, and, <a
+name="page139"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 139</span>without
+waiting longer, bounded forth, and seized his dog by the skin of
+his neck, flinging him over on to the ground. Then, picking up
+the terrier, still panting with the shock, but quite uninjured,
+he exhibited him to the lady, with a smile&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do not be anxious, madame; your savage little animal is
+safe and sound. Still, we were only just in time. Please excuse
+us, and take into account that we were not the
+aggressors.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The lady put the dog under her arm, gave him a gentle tap,
+saying, in scolding tones&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! <i>Che bestia</i>! A fly trying to devour a
+wolf!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marcel could now see her at leisure, as she was tenderly
+scolding her terrier, and he stood there, filled with admiration
+at the gentle beauty of the unknown lady. Her face was of a
+perfect oval, surrounded by golden hair; her dark eyes were
+languishing and gentle, whilst she had the chaste and timid mien
+of a young girl. All the same, she was dressed in mourning, like
+a widow. Fixing her eyes on Marcel, she said, in quiet, gracious
+accents&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A thousand thanks, sir, for your timely intervention. I
+am sorry for your poor dog, which did quite right in defending
+itself.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There can be no comparison, madame,&rdquo; said Marcel,
+&ldquo;between this charming little animal of yours and this
+large-pawed dog of mine, accustomed to brambles and thorns. I am
+sorry I have stopped your walk, but now you may continue in
+perfect safety; I will chain up my dog.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The young woman bowed her head in token of thanks.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If I am trespassing on your property, I beg you to
+excuse me. I am a stranger, and have only been in these parts the
+last two days. I am acquainted with no one to inform me as to
+what I have a right to do.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page140"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+140</span>&ldquo;Here, madame, you may do as you please.
+Doubtless you are living at the Villa de la
+Cav&eacute;e?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then these woods are easily within your reach. There
+are very few passers-by, and you may come whenever you
+wish.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She murmured, in constrained accents, &ldquo;A thousand
+thanks.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Thereupon she moved away at a slow pace. Marcel stood there
+motionless, unable to remove his eyes from the ravishing figure,
+now slowly disappearing from view. Then he whistled for his dog,
+stroked him gently, as though to atone for his rough treatment a
+few moments previously, and returned, in pensive mood, to the
+works. After dinner he strolled about the garden, smoking, till
+nine o&rsquo;clock; then, completely tired out, retired to rest
+for the night.</p>
+<p>The following morning he spent all his time in the laboratory.
+Suddenly the door opened, and Baudoin appeared.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Holla! You here?&rdquo; said the young man. &ldquo;Has
+my father sent you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, sir. I am requested by all the family to convey to
+you their best love. Besides, I have come to stay by your
+side.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For what purpose?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To be your servant.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very good, Baudoin; make yourself at home. Your
+presence will be very useful here, in making things go all right.
+The inhabitants of this district are fine people on the whole,
+but not over-intelligent.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We will put all that in order for you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He walked round the laboratory, looking attentively at the
+objects on the table, and the alembics, with their copper
+spirals, on the stove.</p>
+<p><a name="page141"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+141</span>&ldquo;So it is here that you are working! Who arranges
+things in this laboratory?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No one enters the place but myself.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So I see. However, I will clean your utensils; I know
+how to go about it. Are you working at the General&rsquo;s
+formul&aelig;?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not yet; I have had other things to attend to. Still, I
+intend to commence shortly. I am very glad you have come, for you
+will be at hand, in case I want any help. See here, Baudoin,
+these are blue, pink, and green dyes which I have fixed lately.
+They are capable of giving wool an unchangeable
+colour.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As he spoke, he handled hanks of a strong and harmonious
+shade, stretching them out before the light of day, and showing
+all their reflections.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Our poor General put this idea into my head. Ah! if he
+had only contented himself with undertaking industrial
+researches, we should still have had him alive and well among us,
+and in possession of a large fortune. But he disdained such
+productive discoveries; he thought only of the State. He would
+work for nothing else.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;After serving it so long, M. Marcel, it was second
+nature with him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, well, Baudoin! Settle down here, and commence
+your duties this very night.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marcel stayed behind in the laboratory, inactive, as though
+some dull preoccupation would give him no peace. <i>He</i> sat
+down in a large leather armchair he had gaily baptized the
+&ldquo;alchemist&rsquo;s armchair,&rdquo; and, with open window
+to allow the sun to enter, he sat there in a reverie, until five
+o&rsquo;clock struck.</p>
+<p>He went down into the garden, walked past beds of rose-trees,
+and halted by the banks of the river, watching in the crystal
+waters a jack chasing a shoal of roaches, which, <a
+name="page142"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 142</span>to escape
+the dreaded pursuit, leapt out of the water, like silver arrows.
+The clock at the entrance, as it struck, disturbed his thoughts,
+and he saw approaching him, and preceded by the porter, a tall,
+elegantly dressed young man, of very handsome features and blue
+eyes. As he drew near he took off his hat, bowed with
+considerable deference, and said, in a sing-song Italian
+accent&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Have I the pleasure of addressing M. Marcel
+Baradier?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is my name, sir,&rdquo; said Marcel, examining the
+stranger with a sudden interest. &ldquo;To what do I owe the
+honour of this visit!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The young man gave a sidelong glance to assure himself that
+the porter had left the room, then, in haughty tones,
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;As I have no one to present me, allow me to introduce
+myself. I am Count Cesare Agostini, of the Princes of Briviesca.
+I live at the Villa de la Cav&eacute;e with my sister, and I have
+called to thank you for the kindness with which, yesterday,
+you&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What I did, sir, was merely natural; it was quite by
+chance that I met your sister. She is a stranger in these parts,
+and appeared to be sad, and in search of rest and quiet. All I
+did was to simply comply with her wishes so far as I
+could.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Count Cesare bowed gracefully; a cloud came over his handsome
+face, and in accents of sadness he continued&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My sister is, indeed, very sad; she has had a great
+deal of trouble. She has spent her strength in attending to the
+needs of a husband far older than herself, and whom she had the
+misfortune to lose some time ago. With the object of regaining
+her health, she has come into this valley, to seek calm and
+quiet. The waters of Ars, too, have been well recommended to us.
+But it is chiefly fresh air my <a name="page143"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 143</span>sister needs, after being confined
+for long months by the bedside of a dying man.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The handsome Italian several times shook his head, and
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, it is very sad, very sad indeed!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And you have come from Italy with your sister?&rdquo;
+asked Marcel.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Cesare. &ldquo;Madame Vignola was
+living in Paris, where I have recently been to see her. We intend
+to return to Naples, and settle down. Not before autumn, however.
+Yes, it is very sad indeed!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marcel saw that the Count Cesare did not appear to wish to
+take his leave, and, as he was interested in what he related, he
+led the way to a green arbour, with rustic seats, sheltered from
+the rays of the setting sun.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Will you take a seat, sir?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Italian chose an armchair, and drew from his pocket a gold
+cigarette-case, which he held out to Marcel. &ldquo;A
+cigarette?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Willingly.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They began to smoke, and the tobacco seemed to render Cesare
+even more loquacious.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This villa where my sister now lives is far from the
+village. Is the country round here quite safe?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Perfectly safe. Your sister will have nothing to fear
+from any one.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All the better! I myself am not staying here long. My
+business takes me back to Paris, and the idea of leaving her
+alone with a chamber-maid and a servant-girl whom I do not know
+makes me very anxious, that I will not deny. Is Ars always so
+quiet as at present?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Always, at this time of the year. The season begins in
+June, and it is now only April. In a few months the hotels will
+be filled, and the roads overrun by all the stage <a
+name="page144"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 144</span>waggons in
+the district. That is the time I shall choose for going
+away.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You do not stay here the whole year round?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; I only call here at rare intervals. My home is at
+Paris; I am at Ars on business.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Your works are very large?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;One of the largest in the department. My grandfather
+founded the industry. It is the cradle of our family and the
+source of our fortune. Accordingly, my father, who is a banker,
+could never make up his mind to give it up, although he has far
+greater interests in other enterprises.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I see he has trusted to you the responsibility of
+managing the works.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh no. My father is represented by a director. I am
+simply the master&rsquo;s son, and interfere in no way with the
+weaving. Here I have a laboratory, in which I undertake chemical
+experiments. But all the people in this district will tell you
+that I am an amateur, anything but serious, and that I spend more
+money on experiments than my pretended discoveries will ever
+bring me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As he spoke he laughed gaily. The handsome Italian joined, and
+said, in his sing-song voice&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Rich men&rsquo;s eldest sons are always ill-judged.
+When one is wealthy it is extremely difficult to get one&rsquo;s
+self considered as a serious worker. Because one has no need of
+money, people are only too ready to conclude that one is
+incapable of earning any. And yet, why should not a rich man be a
+genius?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, sir, then what would become of other poor
+wretches?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So you pretend, yourself,&rdquo; said the Count, with a
+graceful wave of the hand, &ldquo;to despise these
+investigations, though they probably interest you
+greatly?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Almost as much as the experiments of a dyer. I have <a
+name="page145"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 145</span>woollen
+stuffs steeped in coloured vats, and I try to fix the tints
+indelibly, so that the stuff sold in future will not become
+discoloured under the influence of either light, rain, or wind.
+The tapestries placed on furniture or walls, nowadays, are
+scarcely in their places than they have to be taken
+down&mdash;they are already quite faded. All the same, the stuffs
+of former times lasted, and exist even now. Our ancestors were in
+possession of dyeing processes superior to ours, and yet modern
+chemistry offers us mighty resources. That is what I am working
+at, sir. It is very commonplace, as you see.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Evidently, it is not the philosopher&rsquo;s stone!
+Still, all researches have their value. Have you obtained
+satisfactory results?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marcel bowed in mock humility.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are very polite, sir, but you wish to take
+advantage of my vanity. Inventors always like to speak of their
+investigations, you are thinking; and I wish to repay this
+gentleman for the kindness he has shown my sister. But it would
+doubtless serve you right if I bored you with my discoveries,
+took your curiosity seriously, and showed you my
+samples.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Italian bent down his head, and, in contrite tones,
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am indeed sorry you imagined I was not sincere. All
+you have told me interests me greatly. Doubtless I am not so
+frivolous as your compatriots, and since you appear to defy me
+examining your results, with satisfaction to myself, I now ask
+you to have the kindness to show me them, unless you were joking,
+in which case I should not have understood you, as I do not
+always seize all the finesse of your language. In which case I
+must ask you to pardon me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed, I was not jesting; I was perfectly
+serious,&rdquo; <a name="page146"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+146</span>said Marcel, gaily. &ldquo;I still believe you will be
+punished for your curiosity. But since you insist, follow me; I
+will show you my laboratory.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Many thanks!&rdquo; exclaimed Cesare. &ldquo;I was
+afraid I should vex you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In what way? You would believe in the most marvellous
+things, did I not show you my poor results. Take care not to soil
+yourself; everything here is not perfectly clean.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Opening the door of the summer-house, he introduced the Count
+into the panelled room, leading to the laboratory, and which he
+used as a workroom. A blush mounted to Cesare&rsquo;s temples. He
+looked eagerly around. On a Louis XVI. bureau, leaning against
+the wall, were scattered some papers covered with figures. A
+half-opened drawer exhibited boxes of different sizes and
+colours, carefully labelled. A massive table supported
+wide-mouthed jars, on the rough glass of which could be read the
+indications: sulphuric acid, nitro-benzine, picric acid, and a
+whole series of chlorates. The Italian, pointing to the table,
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! Here are some chemicals you do not make use of for
+your dyes!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Marcel, evasively; &ldquo;those are for
+something else.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And, as his visitor drew near, stretching out his hand towards
+one of the wide-mouthed jars&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do not touch these jars&mdash;they are dangerous. If,
+by any chance, you were to upset the contents, both yourself and
+myself might find ourselves in a very disagreeable position. Come
+this way!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Opening the door of the laboratory, he bade him take a seat in
+the alchemist&rsquo;s armchair, by the window, as he
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Here you may smoke, if you like, without danger; there
+is nothing explosive here.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page147"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+147</span>&ldquo;Whilst in the next room?&rdquo; asked the
+Italian, carelessly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In the next room, if you threw down a match in the
+wrong place, you might explode the whole works!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Diavolo! Then I will stop smoking even here, my dear
+sir, for I have no wish to leave the place by way of the
+roof.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He patiently examined Marcel&rsquo;s fine samples of dyed
+wool. Apparently he was listening attentively, but his awakened
+intelligence, his piercing eyes under his half-closed eyelids
+were busied with that &ldquo;something else,&rdquo; of which
+Marcel had spoken so briefly. But nothing in the laboratory
+appeared to have any reference to that mysterious task, which
+demanded the manipulation of such dangerous products.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I should like you,&rdquo; said the Italian, &ldquo;to
+give me some of these beautiful cloths, of such a rich and
+harmonious colouring. I will take them to my sister, who can
+embroider like a fairy. She will start some magnificent piece of
+work, which will sooth her solitude, and thus you will see the
+effect of your colours, artistically employed.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If you will permit me, I will bring them myself,&rdquo;
+said Marcel.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;As you please. We are always at home about five
+o&rsquo;clock. But do not delay, for I shall soon be leaving the
+neighbourhood.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very well! To-morrow, if that will not inconvenience
+you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not at all. To-morrow, then.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Italian rose from his seat. He walked round the
+laboratory, and drew near the window overlooking the river.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! You are close to the water here. You might even
+fish from the window, without descending into the <a
+name="page148"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 148</span>garden. Are
+you not afraid of some one entering the laboratory? A few
+marauders in a boat could enter the summer-house.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who would ever think of such a thing!&rdquo; exclaimed
+Marcel. &ldquo;Besides, as is well known, there is nothing to
+take. And, then, the inhabitants of this district are very honest
+people.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But have you no foreign employees at the
+works?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very seldom. A few from Belgium or from Luxembourg. As
+few as possible, for they are difficult to deal with.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You do not live in this summer-house? You never sleep
+here?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; there is no convenience&mdash;simply a barn above
+the ground floor, that is all. I live in the house opposite the
+manager&rsquo;s. It is small, but very comfortable. My uncle
+Graff lived there several months.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are very fortunate to have family relations,&rdquo;
+said Cesare, in sorrowful tones. &ldquo;My sister and I are
+alone&mdash;private dissensions have alienated us from the
+Briviescas. M. Vignola had no relations. We are obliged to be all
+in all to one another.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Your sister is a young and charming lady. She may marry
+again.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She never thinks of it. After all the sorrow caused by
+her union with M. Vignola, she aspires after nothing but peace
+and rest. Oh, she has suffered so much! The diseased and unhappy
+Vignola was madly jealous. He. could not endure his wife to be
+absent from him a single hour. He must have her constantly before
+his eyes. He left her a great fortune at his death. Poor
+compensation for all the tortures he inflicted on her! But now he
+is dead. Peace to his memory!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Your sister has no children?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page149"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+149</span>&ldquo;No, sir; that is her greatest sorrow.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The image of the young woman, in deep mourning, walking
+sorrowfully about the woods, was evoked in Marcel&rsquo;s
+imagination. Very pretty to be inconsolate at the loss of an old
+husband! How old could she be? Twenty-five years, perhaps, at the
+most, and no knowledge of life except grief and sadness. Cesare
+arose, and took his leave. Marcel accompanied him across the
+garden to the gate, and there said, with a cordial
+smile&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Till to-morrow, then, sir, my respectful homage to your
+sister.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>When he had gone, Marcel made his way towards the works, when
+he saw M. Cardez coming in his direction, even redder than usual,
+and with a dark frown on his brow.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, M. Marcel, I was calling to see you! I have a great
+deal of worry, and am indeed very pleased that you are here, so
+that you may understand yourself, and inform Messieurs Baradier
+and Graff.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is the matter?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The fact is, the dyers are not pleased with their
+working hours, and threaten to come out on strike.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! That is something fresh.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Fresh? No, it has been coming on for more than three
+weeks; the plot has only been developing. I was in hopes that,
+summer coming on, and the hours of daylight being more numerous,
+some arrangement might be reached. Now there is another cause of
+grievance. Instead of working more, they want to work less and
+earn more!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! Are their claims justified?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The manager, standing upright, cast a look of indignation on
+the son of his master.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are workmen&rsquo;s claims ever justified? This class
+of people have only one programme: the minimum of work and the
+maximum of wages.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page150"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+150</span>&ldquo;After all,&rdquo; said Marcel, calmly,
+&ldquo;they are only like other men.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, sir, let their ringleaders talk in that way; do not
+speak so yourself.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Because, with philanthropic theories, and
+<i>laisser-aller</i> tendencies, we should soon be no longer
+masters of our own works; they would put us out of
+doors.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marcel looked gravely at the manager, and replied&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My opinion is entirely opposed to yours. I think that
+if workmen were treated as partners they would work better and
+keep better discipline. There is a huge misunderstanding between
+Capital and Labour. They treat one another as enemies, when they
+ought to proceed in concerted action, like allies.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Eh? That is downright Socialism.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No! It is simply co-operation.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And do you know,&rdquo; said Cardez, looking slily at
+Marcel, &ldquo;what is the principal reason of the discontent of
+the dyers?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The principal reason? Then the grievances they have
+manifested are only a pretext?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing more. These workmen, in whose lot you are so
+interested, are full of deceit and treachery; they never show
+their real motives. Well, the dyers, in their secret meetings,
+rail at your inventions&mdash;they are displeased with your new
+dyeing processes!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! The fools!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>An expression of triumph appeared on Cardez&rsquo;s
+ill-tempered face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What did I tell you! Here are processes they are not
+yet acquainted with; and they maintain that your object is to
+simplify the workmanship, and, consequently, to do without
+workmen. Now they want to <a name="page151"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 151</span>strike, to obtain concessions
+regarding both work and wages.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They have been ill-advised. When the real state of
+things is explained they will easily understand. Then they will
+see that, far from injuring them, the improvements I shall
+introduce into the manufacture are entirely to their
+advantage.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They will never admit that.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Suppose I prove it to them?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Their ringleaders will prove the contrary.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who are these ringleaders?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A few Belgians.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Send them away.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, that would be very imprudent! Better have patience,
+and try to come to an understanding. These men are from the
+Wallon district, and when they have drunk one glass of brandy too
+many you may fear anything at their hands. It was one of these
+Belgians who struck the overseer with a knife last year. They are
+good workmen, but terribly exacting and disagreeable. There is
+nothing to fear for the present. They want an eye keeping on
+them. Now, if you would like to call them together and speak to
+them, you will see what you can make of the matter.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He spoke in sneering tones. Marcel well understood that the
+manager, speaking from experience, was thinking: Have a little
+experience of these brutes, my young novice, and you will learn
+to know them. Speak to them nicely, explaining that it is to
+their advantage to work without grumbling, so that you may have a
+fine profit at the year&rsquo;s end, whilst they have had the
+greatest difficulty to make ends meet. Try to obtain their
+approval. Afterwards, come and tell me what result you have
+obtained. Unless you give them the works, and capital to keep it
+going, <a name="page152"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+152</span>perhaps even guaranteeing them dividends, you will
+never make them satisfied!</p>
+<p>Marcel would not discuss any longer with Cardez. He did not
+consider it necessary to weaken the authority of the manager at
+such a critical moment. He determined to give him all possible
+help to avoid the difficulties he foresaw.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You may be sure, M. Cardez, that if I can do anything
+to help you, you have only to mention it. It is possible we may
+not have the same ideas on the way of settling Labour
+difficulties. Still, it is of no use waiting till the house is on
+fire before discussing the fire-brigade system by which the
+conflagration may most surely be extinguished. The best thing to
+do is to use the means nearest at hand. Consequently, do as you
+think best. Have you informed my father of the matter?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; indeed, I am not in the habit of tormenting
+<i>my</i> masters with an account of the difficulties of the
+works here. There will be plenty of time, in case things become
+more serious.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very good; we will wait.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>At that hour the Count Cesare Agostini reached the Villa de la
+Cav&eacute;e, and after traversing the garden he entered a small
+salon on the ground floor, where the young lady, in mourning,
+lolling on an easy-chair, was lazily reading a novel. The setting
+sun, entering through the window, shed his golden rays on the
+reader&rsquo;s face. She was no longer the melancholy and timid
+widow Marcel had met in the woods. Her hair, thrown back on to
+her forehead, gave her delicate profile a look of audacious
+pride. On hearing Cesare enter the room, she flung down her book,
+rose eagerly to her feet, and, in joyous tones, said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, <i>caro mio</i>, you are back at last! Are you
+satisfied with your mission?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page153"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+153</span>&ldquo;As far as one can be. I have seen your pigeon.
+He actually holds out the wing, without being asked. You will
+obtain no merit in plucking such a confiding youth,
+Sophia.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She laughed outright.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Never mind merit! I can do without glory. Success will
+suffice for me. So you found the ground well prepared?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am afraid distractions are sadly lacking in this
+district, and that our appearance in the woods has already
+produced its effect on Marcel.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then he will come?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; and not later than to-morrow. I told him I was
+going away. Consequently you will have the field free to do as
+you please. Do not let this affair lag; you have your revenge to
+take.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, <i>mio caro</i>, the <i>coup</i> missed the first
+time, all through Hans&rsquo; stupid obstinacy. Had he left me to
+act as I pleased, the General would finally have offered me his
+formul&aelig; on a silver plate, and kneeling into the bargain.
+Hans wished to rush everything through, and old Tr&eacute;mont,
+infatuated as he was, became distrustful. Sorry adventure, in
+which our friend lost his arm, and almost all of us just missed
+being compromised. The most stupid part of it was that the
+General had said to Hans, as he pointed out to him the steel
+box&mdash;a fine box of Fichet&rsquo;s, supplied with one of
+those admirable locks, so very complicated, but which are of no
+use whatever: &lsquo;Look here, my friend, it is impossible to
+open this without my permission. All my secrets are inside. On
+raising this lid all my formula would be found. But then one must
+know how to do it; otherwise one may die in the attempt.&rsquo;
+Ah, ah! Old Tr&eacute;mont spoke the truth! He had made his box
+into a kind of reversing bomb. One must know how to handle it.
+Hans perceived <a name="page154"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+154</span>the necessity of this. All the same, he distrusted
+himself. He had taken the precaution to go out on to the perron
+of the house, and there he tried to open the box. Ah, <i>caro
+mio</i>, when the explosion took place the very earth trembled! I
+had already returned to Paris in the carriage. The vibration was
+so great that the very windows of the brougham shook. I thought
+to myself: There, Hans has smashed up everything! I had no idea I
+was so near the truth, for the house was entirely destroyed. I
+cannot possibly understand how Hans, who had succeeded in opening
+the lock of the box, and who, lying on the ground a score of
+yards away, behind a tree, drew off the lid with a cord, justly
+dreading some devilish trick or other, was not completely blown
+to pieces.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But since the lock was opened, how was the explosion
+produced?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It was when the lid was raised that the explosion
+happened. Did the box overturn? It was a very heavy one. Was
+there some special manner of placing it, when removing the lid,
+to prevent a prime of fulminate going off? Was it clock-work,
+arranged in a certain manner? All is mere conjecture. What is
+certain enough is that, in a second, box, formul&aelig;, powders,
+house, Hans&rsquo; arm, and all our hopes disappeared at the same
+time. Our friend must have shown extraordinary energy not to have
+been surprised by all the people who came running up from all
+directions. You may believe me when I say that, so long as I was
+not assured that he was out of danger, I felt very
+anxious.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, you are an intelligent woman, Sophia&mdash;really
+clever and brave! Now we must make amends for a preliminary
+defeat, and nonplus this young booby of a Marcel.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Just leave the matter to me. He seemed a very nice
+young fellow.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page155"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+155</span>&ldquo;You are right; but don&rsquo;t go and fall in
+love with him, whatever you do.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She burst into a laugh.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have other things to attend to. Besides, Cesare, is
+it so easy to find a rival to yourself?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The handsome Italian shook his head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are so strange, Sophia, whatever is difficult is
+the very thing to tempt you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A scene of jealousy between you and me, Cesare!&rdquo;
+said Sophia, ironically. &ldquo;Do we not know one another well
+enough to be <i>blas&eacute;s</i> as regards our mutual qualities
+and failings? Shall I be jealous, the day I have married you to
+Lichtenbach&rsquo;s wealthy daughter? Just close your eyes, and
+leave me free to act. Besides, if you acted otherwise, that would
+be all of no use. You are well aware that I have never done
+anything that did not please me, even with personages far more
+redoubtable than yourself.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come, come, Sophia, do not get excited! If I do not
+stop you, you will be threatening me in a minute. Ah, you have a
+will of iron!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; and just now it is my will to completely subjugate
+this young Baradier.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Poor fellow, you will succeed only too
+easily!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! Now you are going to pity him, are you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They both laughed outright. Then the young woman
+asked&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Have you visited the dwelling?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. I have also obtained an entrance into the
+laboratory without the slightest effort.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Did you see anything special?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A number of spiders&rsquo; webs, several broken phials,
+and tubs of various colours, in which pieces of cloth were
+soaking.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing resembling the powders we are in search
+of?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page156"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+156</span>&ldquo;Nothing whatever. I must say that, in one of the
+rooms of the summer-house, the young man charitably warned me
+that if I touched a single one of the flagons lying on the table
+some catastrophe might result. Accordingly, it is there he
+manipulates his products, or, at any rate, conceals them. In the
+next room there is nothing suspicious. He said to me: &lsquo;Here
+you may smoke, if you like, and that without the slightest
+danger.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is worth knowing.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you think of going to see him?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think of nothing and of everything. Does one ever
+know what means will have to be employed in the performance of
+anything? Wisdom consists in preparing several, so as not to be
+caught unexpectedly. I have undertaken to obtain possession of
+and hand over the formul&aelig; of the General de Tr&eacute;mont.
+For me, it is a matter of self-respect, as well as a question of
+interest. I will not admit that I cannot succeed in anything I
+undertake. Our friends abroad would consider me as having
+depreciated in ability if I failed, and you know what their
+support is worth to me. So long as my influence lasts, the Baron
+Grodsko will remain aloof, and not trouble about me. If my
+protection were to cease to-morrow, Heaven knows what sort of
+account I should have to give him!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Cesare looked at the young woman in surprise.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! You are almost overcome with emotion. Are you
+afraid of him?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sophia became serious.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am afraid of no one in the world, as you know. Still,
+Grodsko is a terrible man, especially when he is not
+drunk.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But then he is always drinking. Is it because he likes
+drink?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No! It is to forget,&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page157"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+157</span>&ldquo;Forget what? You?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He was passionately fond of you, I suppose?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So were all the other men.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is it long since you saw him?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Some years.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And he is still at Monte Carlo?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In the winter. During the summer he lives at
+Vienna.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And he drinks both at Monte Carlo and in
+Vienna?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, and gambles as well. He has a way of drinking
+which leaves his brain perfectly clear, so that he is able to
+play.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Does he win?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Often. But then, what does that matter to
+him?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then he is so rich that he is indifferent to his
+winnings? Lucky man!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Grodsko is proprietor of a whole district in Moravia.
+He owns forests, mountains, and villages. His forests furnish the
+finest pines in Europe. The mountains are bored through and
+through with mines from which copper and tin are extracted. As
+for villages, Grodsko, with the peasants on his domains, could,
+in case of war, furnish a couple of regiments.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And you left this nabob?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, for a young man, who had nothing but his beauty to
+recommend him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What did Grodsko say to that?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He said nothing, he set out in our pursuit, overtook
+us, and killed my companion.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Whilst you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I had reached the frontier when Grodsko came up to
+me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page158"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+158</span>&ldquo;And there followed&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;An explanation, in the course of which, as he dared to
+raise his hand against me, I planted in his arm one of the knives
+lying on the table, on which I had just finished
+lunch.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What exquisite relations you had with one another! And
+did that satisfy him?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No. He bound me with cords and took me back to Vienna
+in his carriage. There I succeeded in escaping from him, thanks
+to certain irresistible influences. It cost me very dear to
+regain my liberty. Still, from that day I had no longer anything
+to fear, and could travel all over the world as I
+pleased.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What was the name of the great personage who rendered
+you this service?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sophia looked at the handsome Italian mockingly; she clacked
+her fingers as though they were castanets, and replied&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If any one asks you, you will say you know nothing
+about it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then you have no confidence in me, Sophia?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have confidence in no one, scarcely in myself.
+Acknowledge that I am frank with you. I might tell you all kinds
+of tales&mdash;that it was the minister of police, or an
+archduke, or a foreign ambassador, or all three combined, who set
+me free. Be assured, all the same, that I have contracted
+obligations towards those who served me, and whom I am serving in
+my turn.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Whatever obligations you are under to them, they have
+done a very good stroke of business in obtaining such an ally as
+yourself. Is there another so good in the whole world? You have
+the genius of corruption, and I do not think there is a
+conscience anywhere strong enough to resist you. If seductive
+charm is needed, you will succeed <a name="page159"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 159</span>in everything you undertake. Ah,
+your power is indeed very great and terrible!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sophia smiled bitterly, she raised her head, and her
+countenance assumed a threatening expression.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All my power consists in my scorn of humanity. I
+believe men are capable of everything. The sole question is to
+find the way to make them act. I have seen men, though heroes in
+the face of death, turn pale and trembling at the idea of being
+deprived of their pleasures. The most rigid from the point of
+view of honour, brought into contact with poverty, become
+accessible to the basest compromises. To turn an honest man into
+a thief, all that is needed is a woman&rsquo;s smile. To make the
+mildest of men shed the blood of another, you need simply arouse
+his jealousy. These poor wretches who people the earth act, and
+are unconscious of the influence inspiring them. Men are like
+puppets, the strings of which are held by firm, audacious hands,
+whilst they accomplish the most sublime or the most infamous
+actions at will. And all this, merely through some favourable or
+perverse influence, a string pulled on one side or the other. And
+man, irresponsible agent of a destiny he is unable to modify, is
+treated as a hero or a brigand, carried aloft in triumph or flung
+into the gutter.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But virtue, Sophia, the love of right?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mere accidents, my friend. Do not make them into
+general rules. The majority of people are virtuous because they
+have never had the opportunity of being rascals. But have no
+doubt that they would have been, and very successful ones, with
+the greatest ease. The human soul, Cesare, is a ground ready
+prepared for vice and crime. It is simply a question of what seed
+you intend to sow there. Very well! I am a sower, as you have
+said. I excel in growing the fruit of corruption. Young Marcel
+Baradier is now going to be my experiment field.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page160"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+160</span>&ldquo;Great good may it do him!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Had he been content with the profession of a banker, or
+the business of a cotton manufacturer, nothing of what is now
+being prepared would have happened; he would have lived a happy,
+quiet life. But he has dabbled in chemistry, and that has spoiled
+everything.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The sun had sunk behind the hill, and the small room was quite
+dark. Sophia and Cesare could no longer distinguish one another.
+At last the young woman arose from her seat, and said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come, we have had sufficient philosophy. What does all
+that prove? They are nothing but mere words. Fortune does not
+come to those who speak, but to those who act.&rdquo;</p>
+<h3><a name="page161"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+161</span>CHAPTER II</h3>
+<p><span class="smcap">After</span> Baudoin had been a fortnight
+at the works, he was astonished to find that Marcel had passed
+from a state of perfect calm to one of extreme agitation. The
+young man, who spent the greater part of his time in the
+summer-house, either working or indulging in day-dreams, had
+suddenly begun to leave the laboratory after lunch, and did not
+return before night set in. A more significant fact was that
+Marcel&rsquo;s appearance had changed as well as his habits.
+Instead of a country costume&mdash;soft felt hat and heavy
+shoes&mdash;a quiet, refined elegance now characterized him. The
+expression of his countenance, too, was far different from the
+one he had assumed previously; his eyes shone more brightly, even
+his voice sounded more vibrating. Baudoin thought, &ldquo;There
+is a woman at the bottom of all this.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He had had experience when with the General de Tr&eacute;mont,
+and was well acquainted with that tension of the nerves which
+enters into the slightest movements. He knew the meaning of that
+satisfied little humming and that firm step on the floor, of
+conquering though feverish sound. There was a woman at the bottom
+of it, without the slightest doubt. Baudoin felt anxious. In that
+quiet country district, how had his master found the opportunity
+of falling into a passion? He instituted a discreet inquiry.</p>
+<p>He had made the acquaintance of the landlord of the Golden
+Lion, the principal hotel of Ars, a former cook, <a
+name="page162"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 162</span>who had
+served in the Army, and proudly wore at his buttonhole, on
+Sundays, a blue and yellow ribbon, brought from Tonkin. Whilst
+drinking a bitter, Baudoin chatted with him, and listened to all
+the local gossip he retailed. He questioned him: Were there any
+strangers in the district? Did his hotel contain any fresh
+arrivals? Had any fair ladies been seen lately in the town?</p>
+<p>All these questions received categoric replies. No one staying
+with him or anywhere in Ars could be suspected by any stretch of
+imagination of having disturbed Marcel&rsquo;s peace of mind. The
+only thing to do was to make inquiries in the outskirts.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A young gentleman and a young lady,&rdquo; said the
+landlord, &ldquo;are staying at the Villa de la Cav&eacute;e. But
+they are in mourning, and never visit the town, but live in very
+retired fashion. They have hired carriages on three occasions,
+for driving in the environs. The young lady has never shown
+herself at Ars, and I could not say whether she is pretty or
+ugly. My coachman, who drove them, said that they look very sad,
+and speak very politely to one another. He thinks they are
+brother and sister. At any rate, they are not French.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Baudoin could obtain nothing more. This, however, was quite
+sufficient, and he determined to secretly watch his master, to
+try to find out the object of his walks. The fact that the young
+Jady was very sorrowful and in mourning seemed no reason to him
+why his master should not fall in love with her. On the contrary;
+besides, he had an instinctive distrust of foreigners who passed
+as brother and sister.</p>
+<p>The following day, his friend of the Golden Lion said to
+him&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have some news for you regarding the people at the
+villa. The young man left this morning. He was driven to the
+railway, and is going to Paris; his luggage was <a
+name="page163"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 163</span>registered
+by the coachman. The young lady is now alone.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>That evening Baudoin noticed that his master returned home
+later than usual, and on the coat he flung off he discovered
+small pieces of moss, as though Marcel had been seated in the
+woods. The following day, about two o&rsquo;clock, the young man
+went out as usual. Baudoin, who had made arrangements to keep a
+watch on him, starting out before him, waited for him at the
+bottom of the Cav&eacute;e, to make certain that he had proceeded
+in that direction. Seated under the arbour of an inn, close to
+the town, he did not lose sight of the Ars road, which mounts
+towards the woods of Bossicant. After waiting half an hour, he
+saw Marcel, wearing a grey suit, and with a new straw hat on his
+head, come along, at a brisk pace, his stick under his arm, and
+his face lit up with pleasure.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, my friend,&rdquo; said Baudoin to himself,
+&ldquo;you are on the way to meet your lady-love! You would not
+be stepping out at such a brisk pace were your mission merely to
+gather herbs on the hills.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He allowed the young man to go on ahead, then he followed him
+with infinite precautions. Marcel was, indeed, going in the
+direction of the villa. Since he had been introduced to Madame
+Vignola, the whole tenor of his life had changed. He no longer
+thought either of chemistry, of the works, or even of his family.
+There was nothing in the world for him except the ravishing
+Italian. Could his uncle Graff have seen him, he would have said,
+&ldquo;Ah, caught again! He has lost his head and his heart once
+more!&rdquo; The fact was, he well knew that feverish state,
+which rendered Marcel incapable of thinking of anything else than
+his inamorata, and capable of the greatest acts of madness in the
+pursuit.</p>
+<p>But the special sign of love with this inflammable young <a
+name="page164"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 164</span>fellow was
+the reasoning rigour with which he pursued the conquest of the
+loved one. He was an engineer and a mathematician even in his
+passion, neglecting nothing, and profiting by everything to
+advance his cause, and the court he paid was a veritable
+siege.</p>
+<p>Madame Vignola had only needed half a day, spent with Marcel,
+in her brother&rsquo;s presence, to obtain sole possession of the
+young man&rsquo;s mind. She had shown herself so charming and
+modest, and so cajoling, and chaste, that Cesare, who was, all
+the same, well aware what this remarkable actress was capable of,
+was quite stupefied at the result. The art of deception reaching
+such a stage of perfection became real genius. In dilettante
+fashion the handsome Italian had followed the progressive phases
+of his pretended sister&rsquo;s manoeuvring. The two hours Marcel
+had passed at the villa had sped away like a flash of lightning.
+And the young swain, already love-smitten, had been obliged to
+retire, when he thought he had only been there a few moments.</p>
+<p>True, Madame Vignola, at her brother&rsquo;s request, had
+seated herself at the piano, and, with penetrating and expressive
+tones, had sung a few Dalmatian airs in true artistic style.
+Marcel, an excellent musician himself, had accompanied the young
+woman, and afterwards offered some musical scores he kept at Ars
+as a distraction for the solitary evenings he often spent there.
+At his earnest request, Cesare had postponed his departure, and
+the following afternoon had been spent in the woods of Bossicant
+wandering along the narrow alleys, breathing the keen fresh air
+of the plain, and chatting in friendly fashion. That evening
+Cesare had pointed with a smile to his sister&rsquo;s animated
+and healthy looking countenance, saying to Marcel&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You see what good it does her to have change and
+distraction. You would scarcely take her to be the same person.
+Ah! If only she could forget her grief every day <a
+name="page165"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 165</span>in the same
+way, her usual health and good spirits would quickly come
+back.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then stay on; why should you go away?&rdquo; asked
+Marcel.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! It is not I who can give her the distraction she
+needs,&rdquo; said the handsome Italian, heedlessly.</p>
+<p>A moment later he appeared to regret having spoken so
+frankly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is much easier for strangers, you see, than for
+intimates to obtain a fortunate change in the dispositions of
+people who suffer.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But your sister is not suffering! Look with what an
+alert and supple step she is walking there, in front of
+us.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; but just now her nerves sustain her. This very
+night she will relapse into a feeling of melancholy, and be
+completely prostrated. I shall not be able to draw a single word
+from her.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If you would authorize me to call and see her, and she
+also would permit me, I should find great pleasure in her
+company.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Italian grasped Marcel effusively by the hand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I do not know how to thank you for your kindness. But
+it would be expecting too much from you. Poor Anetta would
+quickly tire out your patience. She is a capricious child. You do
+not know her yet.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They had no opportunity to continue, for Madame Vignola turned
+towards them a questioning look, which asked&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What are you two plotting there?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Count Cesare, madame, is handing over to me his
+authority over you during his absence,&rdquo; said Marcel, gaily.
+&ldquo;He is making me responsible for your state of mind.
+Accordingly, from to-morrow, I am in charge of your good <a
+name="page166"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 166</span>or bad
+temper. But you must be willing to put up with my
+tyranny.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Her countenance became grave; in low but fascinating tones she
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, he is right. You must not leave me. When I am
+alone all kinds of gloomy thoughts come into my head. Be a friend
+to me. Cesare will not be long away, and then we will resume our
+walks in the woods. Until then, call for me at the villa; you
+will always be welcome.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Count Agostini had left, and Marcel, by invitation, was now
+calling at the Cav&eacute;e. The nearer he drew the faster became
+his pace, and his temples were quite flushed. On reaching the
+villa he suddenly slackened his steps, for he had heard Madame
+Vignola&rsquo;s voice. She was alone in the salon, the windows
+were open, and the passionate melody, in which both art and
+sentiment were wonderfully blended, had filled Marcel&rsquo;s
+soul with a keen jealousy. It was the &ldquo;Gipsies&rsquo;
+Cantilena,&rdquo; by Marackzy, the great Hungarian artist, who
+died of grief when in full possession of his genius and
+glory&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;Viens sur ma levre parfum&eacute;e,<br />
+Rose fremissante et pam&eacute;e,<br />
+Tremp&eacute;e encore des pleurs d&rsquo;amour,<br />
+Cueillir le baiser, dont la flamme <br />
+Fera de mon c&oelig;ur a ton &acirc;me<br />
+Jaillir. . . . &rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>The song stopped suddenly, as though the voice were broken by
+sobs. It seemed to Marcel that the singer&rsquo;s very heart had
+broken under the influence of some mysterious grief. Unable to
+contain himself, he rushed through the garden, and reached the
+salon. Madame Vignola was still seated at the piano. She was
+weeping bitterly, her beautiful pale face leaning on her hand. At
+the sight Marcel gave a cry of pain, which made the young woman
+suddenly look <a name="page167"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+167</span>up. Holding out her hand to Marcel, apparently ashamed
+at being thus surprised, she said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Pardon me. I ought never to sing when I am alone. These
+harmonious strains agitate me, and recall to my mind souvenirs
+that are too painful.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Mon Dieu</i>! What is the matter? Have confidence in
+me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, no! Do not ask me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Closing the piano, and summoning a smile to her face, she
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Let us talk about you, not about me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She looked at Marcel, and said, in tones of affectionate
+reproof&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How warm you are! You have been walking too fast, and
+the hill is so steep! It will be my turn to scold if you do not
+act sensibly. Now come out into the garden.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He quietly followed her. They walked along the small alleys of
+the tiny garden, then seated themselves under the shade of the
+blossoming lilacs, where they entered into a chat, talking of
+everything except of what they really thought.</p>
+<p>On the road, Baudoin had not lost sight of his master. When
+Marcel had entered the villa the servant had approached with
+considerable precaution. Madame Vignola&rsquo;s singing had
+stopped as soon as Marcel appeared, so that Baudoin had heard
+nothing. He took good care not to pass in front of the door, but
+followed a footpath along the wall which continued in the
+direction of the wood, along a high copse crowned with large
+trees. On reaching the thicket he climbed the slope, and,
+concealed behind a bush, was able to catch a glimpse of the
+garden. The lilacs, under which Anetta and Marcel were chatting,
+grew at the foot of the mound which Baudoin had chosen as his
+observatory. There <a name="page168"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+168</span>they were, seated with their backs towards him, about
+thirty yards away.</p>
+<p>Baudoin reflected. Who can this woman dressed in black be? She
+looks young, and of very good figure. Marcel loses no time once
+he sets out on a campaign. But perhaps all preliminaries have
+been facilitated for him? What is this young stranger doing here,
+and what interest is it of hers to place herself in immediate
+communication with M. Marcel? What are they speaking of, there,
+under my very eyes? Certainly it cannot be business. Then love
+must be the bait at the end of the line. The hook is well
+concealed, and will appear at the right moment.</p>
+<p>During this monologue the two friends continued their
+conversation. They sat there, near one another, but the sound of
+their words did not reach Baudoin. At the end of an hour they
+stood upright, and the young woman turned round so as to face
+Baudoin. <i>He</i> examined her with astonishment and admiration,
+for seldom had he seen a more beautiful face. He was obliged to
+acknowledge that he had never seen her hitherto. After all, what
+resemblance had he expected? The &ldquo;other&rdquo; woman, the
+one of Vanves, he had seen only in the shadow of night, and so as
+to render it impossible to recognize her again. The only clues he
+possessed were that characteristic favourite perfume of hers, and
+the sound of her voice, which still vibrated in his ears.</p>
+<p>He thought, &ldquo;If I could only hear her speak! A single
+sentence would be sufficient to enable me to recognize
+her.&rdquo; His heart leaped with joy, for the couple were now
+slowly walking along the circular alley which passed close to the
+foot of the mound not a dozen steps from where Baudoin was
+concealed. They were speaking to one another without the
+slightest suspicion that any one was listening. The former
+soldier, like a hunter on the watch, who sees his <a
+name="page169"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+169</span>long-expected quarry approach, with beating heart and
+slightly dimmed eyes, listened with all the attention he was
+capable of. He heard Marcel say&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now that you are free, do you intend to take up these
+former plans of yours?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And the woman, in caressing tones, but with an Italian accent,
+replied&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is the use? I am now quite old. I am twenty-seven
+years of age. Artistic triumphs would have no value for me now.
+Sing in a theatre, in public;&mdash;be the object of
+everybody&rsquo;s gaze? Oh no. I no longer think of such a
+thing.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And yet you would obtain a great success!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For whom?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They passed by, and Baudoin was obliged to confess to himself
+that this woman in mourning had not the same voice as the
+&ldquo;other,&rdquo; the one who had brought death with her. He
+saw the two promenaders disappear into the house, then he heard
+the clear tones of the piano, and the pure vibrating voice of the
+young woman arose, filling the silence of the woods with its
+melodious accents. Thereupon Baudoin descended the mound, and
+returned to Ars preoccupied and reflective. As he passed in front
+of the post-office he entered and wrote the following
+despatch:&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Lafor&ecirc;t, War Office, rue Saint Dominique, Paris.
+Come to Ars, near Troyes. Ask for me at works.
+Baudoin.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>After paying he watched the transmission of his telegram, and,
+slightly relieved, returned home. At seven o&rsquo;clock Marcel
+arrived. He dined without uttering a single word, and immediately
+afterwards retired into the laboratory, where Baudoin heard him
+pacing to and fro, far into the night.</p>
+<p>Meanwhile Madame Vignola, seated in her small salon, <a
+name="page170"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 170</span>an Oriental
+cigarette between her lips, was cutting a pack of cards under the
+complaisant looks of her chambermaid. The latter, a confidential
+companion rather than a servant, was a small, dark-complexioned
+woman, whom Sophia had had with her for the last ten years. Her
+name was Milona, but she was always called Milo. She had been
+born in the Carpathians, in the midst of a gipsy encampment. Her
+mother had died by the side of a ditch, leaving her, at the age
+of twelve, quite alone, and exposed to the attentions of a
+villain of the band, who had been smitten with the precocious
+grace of the child.</p>
+<p>Sophia, as she passed through Trieste, in the course of her
+adventurous life, had been present, in the court of the inn where
+she had put up, at a quarrel between Milona and her ferocious
+suitor. The little one boldly opposed the zingaro, who wished to
+compel her to follow him, and to his loud-voiced threats uttered
+in the Romany tongue, she replied by a determined denial and a
+flashing look of defiance. The whole band, the only relations
+Milona knew, supported the young bandit&rsquo;s pretensions. But
+Milona continued her refusal, when the chief of the band, an old
+man with grey beard and white curly hair, a regular patriarch,
+whose chief business was to steal poultry from the villages they
+traversed, tried to reason with the young girl.</p>
+<p>Sophia, with her elbows resting on the window-sill, was
+enjoying the sight, and a feeling of sympathy came over her for
+this proud child who would not submit to the man&rsquo;s tyranny.
+She appeared to understand the language these gipsies spoke, and
+smiled at the highly-coloured expressions of their speech.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Milona,&rdquo; said the venerable poultry-thief,
+&ldquo;you are not acting aright. You refuse Zambo, who belongs
+to the tribe, and loves you well, because you have been listening
+to this little Hungarian hussar who has lately been making <a
+name="page171"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 171</span>love to
+you. And yet you are well aware that he is a dog, an enemy of our
+race, who will soon tire of you, and leave you all alone. It was
+to me your mother left you when she died. I have paid for your
+training and food, taught you to tell fortunes, and all about
+chieromancy and the composition of love philtres. Will you be
+ungrateful and refuse to be the wife of my little nephew
+Zambo?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I do not love him,&rdquo; said the girl, dryly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But he loves you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That does not matter to me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But if you resist him, he will kill you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is my business!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you intend to leave us, then?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. I am tired of living on robbery, and being clothed
+in rags!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then pay for your freedom.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have no money. Wait, and some day the hussar will
+give me my hands full of money.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>At these words, Zambo gave a terrible imprecation, and leapt
+towards the child with the words&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is the last word you shall ever speak!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And, brandishing a long dagger, he threw himself on Milona. At
+that critical moment the Baroness Sophia gave a shrill, whistling
+sound, which drew the attention of the whole band, and speaking
+in their own tongue, she said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is quite enough. I intend to send for the police.
+You, old man, would you like to sell the girl?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, your ladyship.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How much?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Twenty golden ducats.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You thief!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot take less, your Excellency!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A purse fell into the courtyard at the patriarch&rsquo;s feet.
+<a name="page172"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 172</span>He
+picked it up with the rapidity of a juggler, counted the money,
+and, after bowing to the Baroness, said to Milona&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thank your noble benefactress. She has paid; you are
+free!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come up here, little one,&rdquo; said Sophia.</p>
+<p>Immediately Milona, followed by the imprecations of her
+disconcerted lover, flew into the inn. The window of the Baroness
+was closed, and the gipsies, with vehement words and exaggerated
+gestures, tried to give Zambo to understand that girls were far
+less rare than ducats, and that, though his love remained to him
+on account, the till of the troupe would be filled for a whole
+year. Ever since this strange introduction, Milona had become
+attached, with a wild and savage affection, to her deliverer. She
+had served her indefatigably, and, with the exception of those
+terrible secrets which Sophia entrusted to no one, she knew the
+life-story of her mistress.</p>
+<p>Sophia exhaled a puff of blue smoke, and hesitated before the
+combination of her cards&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;King of hearts, nine of spades, and knave of
+clubs,&rdquo; said Milona, calmly, her finger pointing to the
+spotted cards. &ldquo;And then, queen of clubs, knave of hearts,
+and seven of spades. Still the same reply. You will not
+succeed!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sophia raised her bold though beautiful eyes up to her
+companion, and, in her ordinary accents, which were different
+from those in which she spoke Italian, said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I must succeed, I tell you, I must, Milona: do you
+hear?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Shall we try the water test?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, we have not tried it for some considerable
+time.&rdquo; Milona took a crystal cup filled with flowers. She
+threw the bouquet on to the floor, and after extinguishing the <a
+name="page173"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 173</span>wax candles
+in the chandelier, with one single exception, placed the cup on
+the table in such a way that the light might fall upon it from
+behind. Then, drawing out one of the long gold pins which
+fastened her hair, she crouched down on a stool, dipped the metal
+stem into the vase, and commenced a strange chant. In the water,
+through which the light penetrated, irisated eddies formed, and
+the two women attentively watched the broken fugitive lines, the
+tiny drops sparkling like diamonds, and the brilliant spirals of
+the water stirred to motion by the gold needle. Milona
+sang&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Water is nought but trouble and mystery, light is
+certainty and truth. Let the light penetrate the water, and cause
+its secrets to be revealed. Turn, needle; shine, ray; water,
+divide.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Look, Milo, look!&rdquo; exclaimed Sophia, excitedly.
+&ldquo;The water is turning red, it seems to be turning into
+blood!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Milona continued her chant&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Blood is strength and life. The blood of the brain is
+victory. The blood of the heart is love. Turn, needle; redden,
+blood. Grant us victory and love!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sophia, on her knees by the side of the table, was anxiously
+watching with ardent eyes the crystal vase in which the water was
+whirling round under the impulse given to it by the gold
+needle.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Look! Look again!&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;The
+water is turning green! It is shining like an emerald!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The emerald is the colour of hope, and hope is the joy
+of life. Turn, needle; water, become glaucous, like the eyes of
+the sirens, whom a man follows to his death!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Milona withdrew the gold needle. The water, again restored to
+a state of calm, after having ceased turning around the sides of
+the crystal vase, first assumed a greyish tint, then turned to a
+dark colour.</p>
+<p><a name="page174"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+174</span>&ldquo;Milo,&rdquo; exclaimed Sophia, in dismay,
+&ldquo;the water is black! It is a sign of mourning! Who is to
+die?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The servant, without replying, relit the candles, took the
+crystal vase and threw out of the window the water which had just
+been used for the experiment; then, in anger, she spat out into
+the night&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;May he die who opposes you!&rdquo; she said fiercely.
+&ldquo;Fate announces love, happiness, and death. You have the
+privilege of not continuing the enterprise you have begun. The
+spotted cards say you will not succeed. The water predicts death!
+For whom? That we cannot learn. Stop, there is still
+time.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sophia walked silently to and fro in the salon, then halted in
+front of Milona, who sat there, in pensive calm.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you believe in these predictions of
+yours?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I do.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sophia lit a cigarette.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is the use of being superior in thought and
+courage, of a bold audacity that recognizes no obstacle, if one
+acts with the weak cowardice of an ordinary mortal? It is only in
+whatever is difficult, if not impossible, Milo, that there is any
+interest. How can one live like a common citizen when one
+possesses the soul of a sovereign of mankind? No! Cost what it
+may, one must follow one&rsquo;s instinct, give evidence of
+one&rsquo;s will. You know me, Milo; you know that I give way
+before no obstacle, once my resolution is taken. Why did you say
+to me just now, &lsquo;Renounce what you are undertaking; there
+is still time?&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And you,&rdquo; said Milona, gravely, &ldquo;since you
+are so firm in your plans, why do you consult cards, and ask the
+water to lay bare to you its secret?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sophia smiled.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What you say is just. But, after all, little one,
+mortals are only human; that is to say, beings accessible to fear
+<a name="page175"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 175</span>and
+superstition. Don&rsquo;t you know that doctors&mdash;who, after
+all, are well aware how precarious and powerless is their
+art&mdash;call other doctors to their bedsides when they are ill?
+A concession to human frailty, Milo. Still, people do not think
+any the worse of them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And is all this in honour of the young man who has been
+coming here every day since the Agostini first brought
+him?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The Agostini, as you disrespectfully call him, brought
+me this young man because I ordered him to do so. Do you not know
+that he obeys me without discussion?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, he will never discuss. But, some day or other, he
+may no longer obey.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Poor Cesare is no favourite of yours,&rdquo; said
+Sophia, gaily.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He is false, and a coward as well. If ever he tries to
+strike you, it will be in the back.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But he loves me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And do you return his affection?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps; though I am not very sure of it. Why do you
+call him a coward? You are well aware that he fought a duel at
+Palermo with the Marquis Belverani.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Because he knew he was the stronger or the more
+skilful, and the other had struck him in the presence of fifty
+people at the club, after accusing him of having cheated at
+cards. And it was quite true; he did cheat!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No one will ever say so again, now that he has killed a
+man for that very reason! Besides, the proof that he does not
+cheat is that he always loses.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You know something about it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, what should I do with my money if I did not give it
+to him?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are right. Money is vile; it should serve no other
+purpose than to satisfy one&rsquo;s caprices. Its only value <a
+name="page176"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 176</span>is in the
+pleasures it procures; in itself it is worth no more than the
+pebbles lying at one&rsquo;s feet. Will the young man who comes
+now give it you or receive it from you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I do not think he would accept it, Milo,&rdquo; said
+Sophia, laughing. &ldquo;You are a regular barbarian, and
+incapable of understanding anything beyond bribery. There are
+honest people on earth, little one, and they cannot be paid for
+obtaining from them what one wishes. Other seductive means must
+be employed.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, that is why you sing when he is here! You will make
+him mad, like all the others. And yet he looks so gentle and
+charming!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is true, but he is our enemy, Milo; and if he were
+to discover who I am, and what I wish to obtain from him, I
+should run the most terrible danger.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So the Agostini has brought him here to ruin
+him?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In a way.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And he already loves you? Ah, your power over men is
+irresistible. Take care, however, or some fine day you will be
+caught in your turn. Then it will be terrible for you!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have loved, as you well know. Love has nothing new to
+teach me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Your heart has never been touched, for all those you
+have loved have been your victims. Sincere and pure love is no
+assassin. It is a protection and self-sacrifice. Up to the
+present, however, you have had to deal with none but
+fortune-hunters, and it was pure justice to treat them as they
+had been in the habit of treating their own victims. The day you
+show the Agostini to the door, you may summon me to open it for
+him. I will do it most gladly!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That day has not come yet.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What a pity!&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page177"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+177</span>Sophia gave a weary toss of the head, and Milona
+understood that she must cease this light jesting tone. She
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am going to close all the shutters, mistress, do you
+need me any longer?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, I am going to write. You will hear me when I retire
+to rest.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Seating herself in front of the table, she took an elegant
+blotting-pad and began to trace, on perfumed paper, in a large
+masculine hand, the following lines:&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;<span class="smcap">My dear
+Cesare</span>,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Since you left me, I have not been wasting my time, nor
+have you, I imagine, been inactive. Let me know how your
+Lichtenbach affair is progressing. Here everything is going along
+smoothly. Our young Marcel came to-day, overflowing with
+enthusiasm, and surprised me singing the most plaintive songs
+imaginable. Milona, who was on the look-out for him, had
+signalled to me his approach, and I played the <i>r&ocirc;le</i>
+of despair with extraordinary success. He seemed frantic with
+grief at seeing my tears flow. You know that I can weep at will,
+and that in the most seductive fashion. I led him away into the
+garden, and there, made him talk about himself. He is a regular
+child, of most disconcerting simplicity, and so frank and open
+that you would smile. To tell the truth, there will be no merit
+in triumphing over such innocence. This lamb will hold out his
+neck to the sacrificial knife. And we shall have our formula
+willingly handed over, or I am greatly mistaken. Besides, I am
+enjoying a delightful rest in this abandoned spot, and never
+suffer from <i>ennui</i>, even for a single moment. In the midst
+of such an adventurous life, it is long since I had time for
+reflection, and now I am astonished at the result. The joys and
+<a name="page178"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+178</span>pleasures for which I have sacrificed everything
+hitherto, form, I am afraid, only one of the phases of life.
+There is another I did not suspect, far more seductive and
+beautiful. This afternoon, as I was listening to young Marcel
+speaking to me of his father, his mother, and sister, with such
+tender and delicate affection, a feeling of sadness came over me.
+These are all good, honest people. They are happy in a mutual
+love, and would be ready to undergo the greatest sacrifices for
+one another. And, although nothing could be simpler, more upright
+and monotonous than their existence, it cannot be disputed that
+they find happiness in it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is this lamb of a Marcel, who is the scapegrace of
+the family. From time to time his father threatens him with his
+malediction, and the poor fellow is very repentant for a whole
+week. He comes and buries himself at Ars, like an anchorite in
+the desert. During his penance he works in the laboratory, eats
+the most ill-cooked food imaginable, and has quarrels with the
+manager of the works, who seems to be a disagreeable fellow to
+deal with. It is during these periods of repentance that the
+interesting discoveries on the dyeing of wools and other
+industrial stuffs&mdash;which, it appears, have a certain value,
+as he explains to me in rather too much detail for my
+liking&mdash;have been due.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But, after all, he is a very fine fellow. He actually
+asked me how old I was! He does not imagine that I am older than
+himself, and I should not be astonished in the slightest, if he
+were to cherish the idea of marrying me. I lead him by a
+thread&mdash;he neither feels nor sees&mdash;on towards absolute
+slavery. Then, after he has delivered up to me his secret, as all
+the rest have done, I shall disappear. Once the mourning weeds of
+Mme. Vignola flung aside, I shall again become the Baroness
+Sophia, in which character I challenge my lover to recognize the
+plaintive sorrowful <a name="page179"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 179</span>widow he is paying court to just
+now. So, you see, I am not neglecting business matters. I hope
+you are doing the same on your side. The little Lichtenbach
+heiress will be a multi-millionaire; that is well worth the
+trouble of whispering words of love into her ear.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A thousand kisses, Cesare. <i>Sempre
+t&rsquo;amero</i>.</p>
+<p style="text-align: right">&ldquo;<span
+class="smcap">Sophia</span>.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>She sealed the letter, took up a cigarette, and was preparing
+to retire to rest, when three slight taps on the shutters sent a
+shudder through her veins. She listened, an anxious frown on her
+face, and, after a moment&rsquo;s interval, the taps were
+repeated. Opening a drawer, she seized a revolver, and, walking
+deliberately to the window, half opened it, and, speaking through
+the closed shutter, said in Italian accents&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who is there?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A voice replied in muffled tones, &ldquo;It is I&mdash;Hans;
+there is nothing to fear, Sophia.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A slight pallor came over her face, but she placed back the
+revolver in the drawer, and, without replying, left the salon. On
+reaching the outside door she drew the bolts, and noiselessly
+opened the door. A tall man entered. Without the exchange of a
+single word, she led the way to the salon, then carefully closed
+the door. The man removed the felt hat which covered his head,
+displaying a bold, rough countenance. He was a man of athletic
+build, and very broad-shouldered, whilst a reddish beard covered
+the lower portion of his face.</p>
+<p>Taking a seat, he cast a keen look at Sophia, and
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who is with you, here?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Milona.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where is Agostini?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page180"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+180</span>&ldquo;In Paris. And where have you come
+from?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;From Geneva. Lichtenbach sent me your
+address.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How did you enter?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Over the wall.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;With your wounded arm?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My arm is healed.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As he spoke he extended it with a threatening smile. The arm
+was indeed whole. A glove covered the hand. He
+continued&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The Swiss are very fine mechanics. They have made for
+me a jointed fore-arm which works like a natural one. The hand is
+of steel. It is the best fisticuff imaginable. A blow from that
+hand, Sophia, would kill a man.&rdquo; With a sigh he continued.
+&ldquo;But, after all, this arm is not worth the one I have lost.
+Still, those who have mutilated me shall pay for my flesh and
+blood.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As he spoke his face assumed a ferocious expression, and
+<i>he</i> ground his teeth savagely. Sophia, in grave accents,
+replied&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Have you not already been paid? At the time you were
+struck, the General de Tr&eacute;mont was dead. Perhaps it was he
+who was taking his vengeance on you!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The old fool! He had only to accede to your request
+when you were inducing him to tell you the secret of his safe.
+Then nothing would have happened!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hans, it all happened because you were in too great a
+hurry. You destroyed all my combinations through your brutality.
+Had you merely given me another week the poor fool would have
+given up to me his secret, his honour, and everything else. Your
+intervention put him on his guard; he recovered from his torpor,
+and all was lost!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No reproaches, please. This mistake has cost me dearly
+enough. Now, how do matters stand here?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page181"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+181</span>&ldquo;If you will leave me to act in my own way, I
+shall succeed.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good! Good! I, too, am preparing a slight diversion,
+which will be of use. Besides, it will please
+Lichtenbach.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do you intend to do?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Stir up the workmen at the manufactory.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then you intend to make a tool of socialism?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly. In it lies the future of society. The
+thoughtless, brutal mob,<sup> </sup>under the sway of a few bold
+leaders, will obtain for themselves universal dominion and
+rule.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How long will this be your rule of conduct?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Until everything in this execrably rotten society is
+destroyed.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What will you put in its place?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is the secret of time. The revolution will tell it
+to us.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I hate your opinions as well as those who maintain
+them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know, I know,&rdquo; interrupted Hans, with a loud
+laugh. &ldquo;You are an aristocrat, Sophia, and equality is not
+to your liking. You must have luxury and superiority always
+around you. But how do you know that we shall not give them to
+you? We aim at levelling, but it is the levelling of those who
+rise above us. Have you ever seen a flock of sheep without a
+shepherd and his dog to guide them? Then how could nations live
+without a head? The great thing is to command. For this power
+must be snatched from the hands of those who now have it, by
+means of certain privileges we pretend to suppress because we do
+not enjoy them. Once power is in our hands, torrents of blood
+will have to be shed before it can be taken from us. Who would
+try to do so? Only revolutionists have any energy left, for they
+alone are governed by passion. Revolution is the only means of
+succeeding rapidly. To-day <a name="page182"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 182</span>I am nothing; in the near future I
+intend to be everything. To attain to my object I suppress
+everything in my way. This is the meaning, expressed briefly, of
+all the burlesque rigmarole uttered by these apostles of
+humanity. Their love and thoughts are entirely for themselves.
+And that suffices.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sophia laughed aloud.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They are mere brigands. You are another, but you must
+take care, Hans, for those you dream of spoiling will not let
+themselves be robbed so easily as you think. They have invented
+the police, a tolerably effective safeguard. But what are you
+preparing for these poor Baradiers and Graffs?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For the past fortnight I have been exciting the workmen
+by means of my agents. I am going to turn their works upside
+down. That will divert their attention, for they are far too wide
+awake concerning what we are doing. I do not know who is
+informing the sly rogues, but they seem to understand
+Lichtenbach&rsquo;s game with the greatest ease.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Lichtenbach is such a coward! He has done something
+stupid again. I have sent Cesare to him, quite as much to keep a
+watch over him as to pay court to his daughter. But you cannot
+put courage into the heart of a coward.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It seems the shares of the Explosives Company had
+fallen so favourably, thanks to the bear system undertaken by
+Lichtenbach, that the re-purchase was on the point of being
+effected under the most favourable conditions. Suddenly, without
+apparent reason, the brokers began to buy in enormous quantities
+on the Stock Exchange, and the shares rose by leaps and bounds.
+Lichtenbach held firm, but he had to deal with some one superior
+to himself. The threatening ruin was checked. He, personally, has
+lost a <a name="page183"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+183</span>pile of money at the liquidation. And, from information
+received, it is the Baradiers and Graffs who have formed a
+syndicate, along with a large number of shareholders belonging to
+the threatened Company, with the object of checking the too
+complete depreciation of the shares. There is a rumour in
+business circles that, thanks to a new patent, you understand,
+Sophia, the prosperity of the affair is assured for the future.
+That is why I am here; direct competition against Lichtenbach
+means a challenge to us. The war has begun; it must be
+maintained, and the victory won. You all appear to me to be doing
+nothing but play here.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now, Hans, nothing rash this time,&rdquo; said Sophia,
+firmly. &ldquo;We are going along very well; take care not to
+spoil everything again. You have only one arm left to lose, my
+dear friend. Do not attempt too much.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Hans&rsquo; features contracted.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are in a very gay humour, Sophia. I have only one
+arm, true; but it is the better one of the two, make no mistake.
+Little chance for him who comes within its reach!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So you have come to settle down here?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;With your permission.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You will be greatly in my way.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do not be anxious. I shall only be out-of-doors at
+night time. It is not to my interest to be seen in the open
+daylight. Darkness suits me better. You attend to your business,
+and I will attend to mine. All I ask of you is a room up in the
+garret, where I may write and sleep during the daytime. Milona
+alone will know that I am here. We can have entire confidence in
+her.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Entire, unless there is harm threatening to
+myself.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who would think of doing you any harm? Not I, at any
+rate, so long as we have the same end in view.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They exchanged looks, and in their eyes could be read <a
+name="page184"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 184</span>the memory
+of long-standing complicity and collusion. Sophia was the first
+to avert her glance, which she did with a sign of
+acquiescence.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then follow me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She opened the door, and showed the way to the man who
+appeared to her an object of mingled dread and hate.</p>
+<h3><a name="page185"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+185</span>CHAPTER III</h3>
+<p><span class="smcap">Baudoin</span> had just finished arranging
+everything in the summer-house where Marcel lived, when he heard
+his name called by the concierge of the works. On showing himself
+at the window, the concierge bowed with deference, and
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;M. Baudoin, some one wishes to speak to you at the
+gate.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good; I will be down in a moment.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It was three o&rsquo;clock in the afternoon, and, as Marcel
+had just set out in the direction of the woods, Baudoin was alone
+in the house. He had just placed the furniture in order, and now,
+after closing the window, he took off his apron, and went out
+into the courtyard. On reaching the entrance to the works, he saw
+standing in the street a ruddy-faced man, with untrimmed beard,
+dressed like a workman, and wearing a pair of large rough shoes.
+The concierge disdainfully pointed out the man, and
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There he is!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>At the same moment the man turned round, and, seeing Baudoin,
+came up with smiling face and extended hands. Baudoin,
+astonished, watched him draw near, ransacking his memory, but
+unable to call to mind if he had ever seen him before. He said to
+himself, &ldquo;Who the deuce can it be? Some one who has made a
+mistake!&rdquo; On coming close up to him, the man
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p><a name="page186"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+186</span>&ldquo;Good day, M. Baudoin.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then Baudoin recognized Lafor&ecirc;t. Taking him by the arm,
+he conducted him along the garden wall in the direction of the
+main road; then, sure that he would be out of the hearing of any
+one, he said&mdash;.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So you are here at last! What a perfect disguise! I had
+no idea who you were till you spoke.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We must not remain in the open air, for no one must see
+us together. Is there no small inn where we can talk?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly; come with me to the Soleil d&rsquo;Or. I
+know the landlord; he will let us have a small room to ourselves,
+where we shall not be disturbed. He is an old soldier, and to be
+relied upon.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very good!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Seated before a bottle of beer, the two men began their
+confidential talk&mdash;</p>
+<p><sup>&ldquo;</sup>It was quite time you came,&rdquo; said
+Baudoin. &ldquo;There is something new at last. M. Marcel&rsquo;s
+solitude has been broken in upon by two strangers, who pass as
+brother and sister, jabber away in Italian, and who, from the
+very first week of their stay here, have found means of entering
+into friendly relations with my master.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><sup>&ldquo;</sup>What kind of a woman is she?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, unless I am mistaken, she is a very cunning woman,
+like the one who called to see my poor General, and tricked him
+so cleverly.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And the man?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A foreigner. His first appearance. He calls himself a
+count, but he is probably a mere fortune-hunter. A
+handsome-looking fellow, though I have only seen him at a
+distance.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And the sister?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A splendid woman! Light-complexioned, with hair <a
+name="page187"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 187</span>arranged in
+Madonna fashion. The most innocent, harmless-looking creature
+imaginable! In deep mourning, reminding one of
+&lsquo;Mignon&rsquo; bewailing her country. What is her object in
+coming here just at this time?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We will do our best to throw some light on the matter
+if possible.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I can do nothing, you understand, for I am too well
+known here. At the very first sign of activity I gave, it would
+be equivalent to saying to these people, &lsquo;Look out, I am
+watching you.&rsquo; They would be at once on their guard, and
+the game would be over! I have already hazarded a rather risky
+examination of the house in which they live, and the
+surroundings. But I cannot recommence without running the risk of
+being caught by M. Marcel; and, if he questioned me, what reply
+could I give him? To warn him of the toils being skilfully drawn
+around him would be to cut short the intrigue now in preparation,
+and which, in all probability, will give us an opportunity of
+laying hands on the villains we are on the look-out for. And not
+to warn him is to leave him exposed to the greatest dangers! I
+have been thinking of all this for some days, and the more I
+reflect, the more I hesitate. Accordingly I was very anxious to
+see you, as you can give me your advice in the first place, and
+afterwards we can deliberate as to the best means of defending M.
+Marcel in case he comes to be threatened.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We must proceed methodically. Where is this house
+situated?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, it is very easy to recognize! It is half-way
+between Ars and the woods of Bossicant, and is named the Villa de
+la Cav&eacute;e. Impossible to make a mistake, for it stands all
+alone.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To-morrow morning I will take up my post at the
+door.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page188"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+188</span>&ldquo;How?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is my business. You will see how it is possible to
+keep a watch over people without appearing to do so.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But there is no house for more than half a mile
+around.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That will make no difference. How does the lady
+live?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very quietly. She never leaves the house, except to
+take a walk in the wood. Until lately, alone, or with her
+brother, but now with my master.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then he is bitten?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very badly.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And what, in your opinion, must we do as regards M.
+Marcel?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not even warn him of his danger?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Under no pretext. What danger does he run? I will keep
+watch over him outside, and you will look after him inside. No
+one has any interest in threatening him. If, as is very probable,
+according to usual tactics, a pretty woman has been told off to
+try to catch him, all he risks is falling in love with a
+worthless creature. Will it be the first time this will happen to
+him? You do not think so, nor do I. Meanwhile, we will set a few
+caltrops to try and catch our freebooters. Are you sure it is not
+the same woman who came to Vanves?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She has neither the same voice nor the same accent. But
+then, can one be certain of anything when one has to deal with
+people of such cunning? As for the man, I can answer that it is
+not he, for I saw the man at Vanves. He was a head taller than
+this tom-tit of an Italian. His speech, too, was very peculiar.
+Oh! I should at once recognize <a name="page189"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 189</span>the man who killed my General! And
+if ever he comes within my reach&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As he spoke his fists were tightly clenched, and a fierce
+glare shone in his eyes. Lafor&ecirc;t calmed him by
+saying&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do not get angry! Especially in the matter now engaging
+our attention; we must keep cool heads. Suppose you suddenly
+found yourself in front of this man, what would you
+do?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I would seize him by the throat, and he should not
+escape, that I would swear to before God!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What folly! Your duty would be to pretend not to
+recognize him. You could follow him, find out where he lives, and
+keep a watch over him, so that we might capture both himself and
+his accomplices. My dear Baudoin, let us agree at once to some
+such course beforehand. For if we act in too sentimental a
+fashion, we shall fail utterly.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Baudoin sighed&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are right; still, it would be very hard for me to
+keep my fingers away from the rascal&rsquo;s skin! But then, you
+have had experience; I will obey you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, then, let us find some means of correspondence.
+For the future we must not be seen to have any communications
+with one another. See here; when I have anything to say to you I
+will go to the entrance door of the works, and write on the top
+of the gate on the left side the day and hour of the rendezvous
+in red pencil. For instance: &lsquo;Tuesday, 4
+o&rsquo;clock.&rsquo; Then you will arrange to come round to this
+inn, where you will find me. If you wish to speak to me you will
+do the same on the other pillar on the right of the gate. I shall
+pass by every morning and evening to see if the rendezvous has to
+take place that evening or not.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very good.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then good-bye for the moment. When we leave <a
+name="page190"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 190</span>here we no
+longer know one another. I will go now, and leave you to pay.
+Good luck, and keep cool!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will, if possible.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>At that very hour Marcel was walking to and fro in the woods
+with Madame Vignola. The small terrier was running about along
+the path, which was so narrow that the young man and his fair
+companion were brought into close proximity to avoid the shooting
+branches which invaded the way. A feeling of languor seemed to
+emanate from the earth, gently warmed by the early spring sun. On
+reaching the edge of the plateau they halted by a rocky ledge
+overshadowed by large ash-trees.</p>
+<p>The whole valley of Ars lay before them. The tile roofs of the
+works, the large chimney-steeple with its plume of black smoke,
+and the church and houses capriciously grouped, formed a smiling
+and delightful picture. The young woman pointed out with the end
+of her parasol the different parts of the panorama, and Marcel
+named all the points of interest visible. It was a kind of taking
+possession of the country under the auspices of Marcel. He said
+to her, with a smile&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are asking questions, as though you intended to
+settle down in these parts.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is a custom of mine,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I like
+to know where I am, and to make inquiries about the district.
+Things have no meaning or interest for me unless I know their
+names and purposes. For instance, you point out to me down there
+a railway line which passes into the plain. To the fact that it
+is a railway I am absolutely indifferent; you add, it is the line
+running from Troyes to the frontier, <i>vi&acirc;</i> Belfort.
+Immediately my mind begins to work, and the precise
+representation given by the thing attaches my mind to the thing
+itself. As you see, I am of anything but a poetic
+nature.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page191"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+191</span>&ldquo;You appear to me to have an extraordinary
+intelligence.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And one which is not of a very feminine nature, now
+confess.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;True, I find you anything but silly or fickle in
+disposition. But I give you credit for a good quality.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In any case, confess that it is not a graceful
+one.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! You have so many others!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I did not ask you for a compliment.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You must accept it now, all the same.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She looked at him with an air of simple content, then shook
+her head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is not right of you; you have broken our
+agreement. It was understood between us that you should treat me
+as a companion, in return for which I would allow you to
+accompany me in my walks, and call on me unceremoniously. But you
+are a Frenchman, and it is impossible for you to give up all
+pretensions to gallantry.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Would an Italian have stayed so long in your company
+without telling you how charming you are?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, if I had forbidden him to speak of such things.
+But he would have thought the more!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How can you tell?&rdquo; said Marcel, eagerly.
+&ldquo;Do you think I am indifferent because, obeying you too
+well, I have addressed to you nothing but simple expressions of
+cold courtesy? Do not judge my feelings by my words; they are
+very different from one another.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have only known me for a week.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is a longer time needed to love for ever?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For ever! What an engagement to make! And so quickly
+decided on!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And so easy to keep when one first sees and afterwards
+comes to know you!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And which can have no result, as I must soon leave, and
+go away far from&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page192"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+192</span>&ldquo;What need is there for you to follow out plans
+formed during the early days of sadness and solitude? Is it wise
+to decide for a whole lifetime in a single moment at your age,
+and with such a store of future compensations to draw upon? At
+the age of twenty-four to think that everything is lost, because
+destiny has separated you from a husband old enough to have been
+your father? Your life has only just begun, at the very time you
+think it is all over.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, my brother has often said the same thing to me.
+That is the usual way of looking at things. New tenderness to
+replace a dying affection. But then, how wretched to lend
+one&rsquo;s self to such social arrangements, and undergo such an
+unexpected fate! And yet a heart cannot be swept out like a room
+for new tenants. The memories of the one who occupied it cannot
+be so speedily effaced; they remain. And is it not a kind of
+profanation for a delicate soul to allow itself to cherish a new
+affection, when it imagined the light had vanished for
+ever?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will reply in your own words: &lsquo;For ever! What
+an engagement to make! And so lightly decided on!&rsquo; Can you
+be sure of keeping it? Let the world wag along. Your decision
+will not alter anything. There is nothing definite in this world,
+not even the sincerest grief.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She stood there silent for some time with downcast eyes. Her
+companion admired the graceful curves of her supple form, and the
+youthful grace that appeared on the beautiful countenance. She
+seemed scarcely twenty years of age. Her cheeks had all the
+appearance of a tempting and savoury fruit, Finally she
+continued, with a sigh&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If I listened to your protestations, what trouble
+should I be preparing for myself in the future? You are not
+dependent on yourself, as I am, for I have only a brother,
+though, after all, he is very indulgent towards me. You <a
+name="page193"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 193</span>have a
+family which will claim you. When you leave this district where
+will you go?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I shall return to Paris, where I generally live. What
+prevents you taking up your abode there also? Your interests are
+in Italy? What then? Your brother will look after them, and you
+will have nothing to do but consider your own
+happiness.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Paris frightens me. That immense stir and commotion
+troubles me, and I imagine it would be impossible to live there
+in calm and quiet.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What a mistake you make! The excitement of Paris life
+is very deceptive; it is only the surface that is troubled. Its
+depths, as in those of the sea, are quiet and peaceful, and the
+storms on the surface never disturb them. In Paris itself are
+peaceful corners, filled with verdure, light, and flowers, where
+a happy and gentle life may be passed. We would find such a spot
+for you, chosen with tenderest care, and there you would learn to
+spend your time free from melancholy and feverish anxiety. Far
+from noise and distraction of every kind, within easy reach of
+the utmost refinements of taste and intellectual pleasures, you
+will find out the most precious thing in the world: a quiet home,
+embellished by a love at once sincere and tender.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is a very seductive picture you have drawn, and
+you know how to present it in the best light. Is there a touch of
+the fairy about you? Are you in possession of an
+enchanter&rsquo;s wand, to be able thus to dispose of the destiny
+of others? You summon up characters and scenes to suit your
+fancy. Were I to listen to you, would you be free to realize your
+programme? To me you appear to be building castles in the air.
+What would your parents and friends say of this
+arrangement?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! they would accept it, there is not the slightest
+doubt of that. If you only knew how fond they are of me, <a
+name="page194"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 194</span>and how
+joyfully they would welcome anything giving proof of moderation
+and wisdom on my part! My father, though rough to outward
+appearance, is the finest man in the world. He is anxious about
+my doings, only because of his affection for me, and his anxiety
+regarding my future welfare. He never gave the least sign of
+egoism, even when we quarrelled. His own pleasure and peace of
+mind, even, were subordinated to my interests. Only when he saw
+that some action of mine which he judged harmful&mdash;would
+injure me in some way, did his anger burst forth against me. He
+loves me so well that, were he certain my happiness might be
+assured under honourable conditions, he would sacrifice his own
+without the slightest hesitation. As for my mother, she is the
+very embodiment of virtue and goodness.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She bit her lips, and answered with sudden harshness, as
+though tired of listening to this wealth of praise.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very fine sentiments, indeed! Then you are not a
+dutiful son if you have not been in perfect accord with such
+loving parents.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have not been undutiful, though not always
+reasonable.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then what has been lacking to make you so?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A serious love.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Raising a delicate finger, with threatening gesture, to
+Marcel, she said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am afraid you are anything but a model of
+virtue!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do not judge me ill for having spoken so frankly. That
+would be neither benevolent or just. For, really, you would form
+a false idea of me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She continued, gaily&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come! I see that you are quite a model, after
+all!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now, you are joking! How changing is your mood! How can
+one hope to get the better of you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page195"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+195</span>&ldquo;Ah! my dear sir, did you think that a single
+word or look would suffice to seduce me? If so, I am more
+rebellious than you imagined. Did you suppose that the influence
+of spring, amid this charming scenery, an inactive solitude, and
+the length of the evenings, joined to your own particular
+qualities, would have induced me to fall down at your feet? You
+are going rather too fast. My melancholy mood cannot accommodate
+itself to such a rapid change! There, now, don&rsquo;t look so
+down-hearted; I am speaking to you very gently. Had I wished I
+might have assumed an offended attitude, for, after all, you
+offer me your heart without taking the slightest precaution.
+Still, in this out-of-the-way place one cannot help feeling
+nearer the simplicity of nature. It is easy to return to habits
+and manners that are almost primitive, even without troubling
+concerning forms and customs, and saying what one really thinks
+and feels. I will forgive you, on condition you do not
+recommence.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Astonished at hearing the young woman speak in such a
+vivacious tone of raillery, Marcel wondered if she were really
+the same sorrowful languishing widow whose tender melodies were
+so often broken by sobs. Her face sparkled with a malicious
+harshness, and those caressing eyes of hers belied the coldness
+of her words. She offered so irritating a mixture of decency and
+profligacy, of modesty and sensuality, that Marcel no longer knew
+what to think. Suddenly the church-bell of Ars began to toll the
+evening Angelus, changing the trend of their thoughts. The young
+woman suddenly stood upright, exclaiming&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Six o&rsquo;clock already! How time passes! They will
+wonder what has become of me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But you are quite alone!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My servant&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That extraordinary creature you call Milo.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page196"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+196</span>&ldquo;Do not speak ill of her; she likes
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thanks for the favour!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! she is not fond of everybody. With you, however,
+she is like my dog, which licks your hand; he does not treat
+everybody the same way!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I may charm the servant and the dog, but the
+mistress disdains me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! the mistress. She is the one who orders, and the
+others obey.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then I will obey.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Giving him a charming smile, she summoned to her the little
+terrier, which was hid among the heather, and, walking slowly by
+Marcel&rsquo;s side, returned in the direction of the villa. On
+approaching the gate they saw a man engaged in arranging on the
+road a pile of stones discharged from a tumbrel that very
+morning. A large sledge-hammer lay near his vest under a straw
+covering. Politely raising his cap to the two passers-by, and
+without appearing to bestow any further heed on them, he
+continued his task. Madame Vignola seemed vexed at this
+installation so near her home. She looked carefully at the man,
+and, as soon as the garden gate was closed, asked&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What does that person intend to do there?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He seems to be engaged in breaking stones,&rdquo; said
+Marcel. &ldquo;Most likely a journeyman who will be working on
+the road for some time.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Will he stay here long?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A few days, perhaps.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He has a villainous-looking face. Is there nothing to
+fear from such people?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing whatever, except the sound of their hammers
+breaking the stones. But you will not hear that from the
+house.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Madame Vignola did not appear to be quite satisfied <a
+name="page197"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 197</span>by what
+Marcel said. A look of anxiety shaded her brow.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If the presence of this poor fellow disturbs you so
+much,&rdquo; said the young man, &ldquo;would you like me to
+request the authorities to have him removed? He will be sent to
+work a few hundred yards away. I have sufficient influence to
+obtain this change.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do nothing of the kind. I shall get accustomed to his
+presence. After all, he has his living to earn.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She held out her hand to Marcel, with a smile. Holding it for
+a moment within his own, he said, softly&mdash;&ldquo;You are not
+angry with me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You will allow me to return to-morrow?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I should like you to do so.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And you will allow me to tell you that I love
+you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If it gives you pleasure to do so.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They said nothing more; night was falling, and a gentle
+obscurity was overshadowing all nature. Still, they were less
+alone than on the plain of Bossicant, and it was, perhaps, this
+very fact which rendered them more audacious. Marcel drew near to
+himself the young woman, without the slightest resistance on her
+part. The tissue of her black dress came in contact with
+Marcel&rsquo;s shoulder. A kind of fever seized him, and for a
+moment he lost all notion of the surrounding world.</p>
+<p>A cry of pain, and an effort of resistance, recalled him to
+himself. He saw Anetta fleeing towards the house. On the
+threshold she halted, looked at him for a moment, as though
+trying to find something to say to him. He took a step forward,
+but she stopped him with a gesture. Placing his fingers to his
+lips, he sent a kiss to the enchantress who had so completely
+gained possession of his heart, and took his departure.</p>
+<p><a name="page198"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 198</span>A
+disagreeable surprise awaited him on his arrival at the works.
+The gates, usually open, were now closed, and small knots of men
+were collected in the street. They removed as he approached, only
+to form again a little further distant. What the manager had told
+him a few days previously concerning the evil dispositions of the
+workmen returned to his mind. In his eagerness to overcome his
+love difficulties he had forgotten business worries. Going up to
+the concierge, he asked&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is the matter here? Why are the gates closed? What
+is the meaning of all these people in the streets?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! M. Marcel, there are troubles with the workmen.
+They went on strike at three o&rsquo;clock to-day, and are
+scattered about in the caf&eacute;s and inns, along with the
+strikers from the Troyes works, who have turned their
+heads.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No damage has been done?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, M. Marcel. But the manager has been looking for you
+everywhere.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will go at once and speak to him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He made his way towards the office. Through the closed
+shutters a ray of light announced the presence of M. Cardez in
+his study. Marcel entered. The manager was seated before his desk
+writing. On seeing the son of his master he rose at once, and,
+without waiting to be questioned, began&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well! what did I tell you, M. Baradier? Here they are
+in open revolt! And that without the slightest plausible reason!
+Simply to do as their comrades! Their heads have been turned by
+the leaders of the strike. I have reasoned and talked gently to
+them, but all in vain; they are nothing but machines! Ah! you are
+interested in the workers, now you will learn to know
+them!&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page199"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+199</span>&ldquo;What measures have you taken?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have closed the doors, so that no one may enter
+without our permission, or without incurring a penal
+responsibility. Now I am expecting a delegation of the
+workmen.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Under what pretext have they ceased work?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They demand the suppression of sweeping and lighting,
+the supply of needles at a lower price.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is the demand a just one?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is something quite new.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But is it just?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Mon Dieu</i>! Concessions might, doubtless, be
+granted, but then others would immediately be made. Their
+grievances would never come to an end. We are only at the
+beginning. Is it wise to yield all at once?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why not give them the impression that we wish them
+well?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They would look upon it as a sign of
+weakness.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marcel remained pensive.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So the weavers of Troyes are on strike, and are
+inciting our workmen to follow their example?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They were at Sainte-Savine yesterday, and to-day they
+are at Ars. They made sufficient noise; you must have been very
+busy not to have heard them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I was away from home,&rdquo; said Marcel,
+embarrassed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All the same had you been here; that would have made no
+difference; their plan of action is fixed. They would have
+insulted you, as they did me, that is all.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Insulted?&rdquo; exclaimed Marcel.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Listen.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A vague sound was heard breaking the silence of the night. The
+harsh untrained voices of the mob were heard singing a kind of
+workmen&rsquo;s Marseillaise&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote><p><a name="page200"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+200</span>&ldquo;Les patrons, les damn&eacute;s patrons,<br />
+Un beau matin, nous les verrons<br />
+Accroch&eacute;s au bout d&rsquo;une branche!<br />
+En se sentant morts a moiti&eacute;,<br />
+C&rsquo;est alors qu&rsquo;ils crieront piti&eacute;!<br />
+Mais nous leur repondrons: Dimanche!<br />
+Retroussez vos manches, luron!<br />
+Bient&ocirc;t va commencer la danse.<br />
+Ayons la victoire, ou mourons<br />
+Pour notre ind&eacute;pendance!<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Ayons la victoire, ou mourons<br
+/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Pour notre
+ind&eacute;pendance!&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>A shrill clamour, mingled with the shrieks of women and
+children, followed this threatening refrain; then came a
+formidable hooting&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Down with Cardez! Down with the manager! To the gallows
+with him!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you hear them?&rdquo; said Cardez. &ldquo;The
+gallows, indeed! And what have I done to them? Simply exact from
+them a conscientious amount of work, and respect for the
+regulations. The gallows! If they think they can frighten me with
+their threats they are mistaken. An old soldier like myself
+cannot be intimidated so easily. Besides, these are nothing but
+idle cries; no deeds will follow!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Have you written to my father and uncle?&rdquo; asked
+Marcel.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have telephoned to them. They must, by this time,
+have entered into relations with the prefect to insure the
+protection of the works, and respect for the rights of labour.
+But for that troops will be needed, and no one can tell how far
+things will go with people of the character of these Champagne
+fools. We have a loyal police at Ars, who are well known and
+respected. I think that ought to be sufficient.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are you afraid of a conflict?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page201"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+201</span>&ldquo;I am afraid of nothing, but I am obliged to take
+every precaution. Our Ars workmen, as I said, are more noisy than
+evil-intentioned. But there are strangers who have incited them
+to action, and it is with them that we shall have to
+deal.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A mob is a brute force, both blind and deaf. You cannot
+undeceive a hundred men. If they all clamour aloud at once, how
+can any possible understanding be reached?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is what leaders of strikes rely upon! Tumult and
+violence. To-morrow I shall receive a delegation of workmen, with
+whom, I hope, it will be possible to come to reasonable
+terms.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will help you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If you wish.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Will there be any hostile manifestation this
+evening?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No. Not before to-morrow.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then I will go and dine. Good night.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Baudoin was waiting for him. In serving his meal the devoted
+servant, to whom Marcel permitted a certain amount of
+familiarity, lingered near the table instead of returning to the
+kitchen. He looked carefully at his master, and seemed to wish to
+read his secret impressions on his face. Never had the young man
+been so silent and preoccupied as during the past few days. In
+solitude he lived over again the hours he had spent in the
+company of the beautiful Italian, and never appeared tired of
+thinking about her. Not a word did he say, but his countenance
+was illumined by an inner radiance. Still, in spite of his
+absentmindedness, Baudoin&rsquo;s persistence in standing there
+before him, like a note of interrogation, struck Marcel at last.
+Looking at him for a moment, he said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is the matter with you, this evening, Baudoin? You
+seem quite agitated.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page202"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+202</span>&ldquo;One might be so with less cause. You are aware,
+sir, that the employees have assumed a very threatening
+attitude?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well! Are you afraid?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, indeed, sir, not for myself, at any
+rate!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For whom, then?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For yourself, sir. When I left Paris M. Baradier gave
+me precise orders to protect you from all harm. If anything were
+to happen I should not know what to do. That is what agitates me,
+as you say, sir.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is nothing to do, Baudoin, except
+wait.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I beg your pardon, sir, there is something far
+preferable to that&mdash;that is, to take the first train back to
+Paris.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And leave my father&rsquo;s works exposed to the
+violence of his workmen?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;M. Baradier&rsquo;s works are doubtless very precious,
+but not so precious as his son.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do not be uneasy, Baudoin; no one will harm either the
+son or the works. The deuce! Are there no laws in existence? The
+people of Ars are not savages.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Neither are the people of Troyes, nor those of
+Sainte-Savine, savages, and yet, this very morning, they
+destroyed everything at the works of Messrs. Tirot and
+Malapeyre.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hard masters!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The question is not whether they are hard or lenient
+masters, but simply whether they are masters at all. Your
+presence here, sir, is not absolutely necessary. It would be
+better if you would go and spend a week in Paris.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They would say that I had run away. And old Cardez, who
+is none too fond of me, will say that I am good for nothing
+except making chemical experiments! That, when the works are to
+be defended, I am no longer <a name="page203"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 203</span>to be found. No, no! Chance has
+brought me here, and chance will keep me. I shall even try to
+arrange everything for the general good.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then you will take all necessary precautions,
+sir?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What precautions?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A good revolver on your person, in the first
+place.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What an idea! What would be the use of a revolver,
+Baudoin? If I have to deal with a crowd of men, I could not
+attempt to defend myself. With one or two men only, I shall run
+no danger.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;At any rate, if you have anything important here, sir,
+it might be useful to put it in safety.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They looked at one another in silence. Marcel had understood
+what the General&rsquo;s servant meant. He became very
+serious.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You allude to the powders, I suppose,
+Baudoin?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, sir, I am aware that you possess the
+formul&aelig;. Can nothing be stolen which would place the one
+who should be audacious enough to attempt the <i>coup</i>, in
+possession of the secret?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The powders, even the formul&aelig; might be stolen,
+Baudoin, without the secret being discovered. There is a peculiar
+trick of manipulation the General revealed to me, which alone
+constitutes the real value of the discovery.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All the same, it was to obtain possession of the
+formul&aelig; that my master was killed.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, Baudoin, he was killed because he refused to tell
+the proportions of the ingredients. It was madness at finding
+himself deceived that inspired the murderer&rsquo;s arm. He
+imagined he could substitute his own for the genius of the
+inventor, and find out the mixtures himself. He wished to storm
+the mystery and brutalize science. It was then the General was
+struck.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page204"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+204</span>&ldquo;Is it not possible he may try again?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is he even alive? Come, Baudoin, are you attempting to
+discover some relation, however far-fetched, between these
+disturbances, which are putting the whole district in commotion,
+and this powder affair?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know nothing; but I am on my guard against everything
+that appears of a suspicious nature. There are strangers in the
+works. It is they who lead the strikers. Strangers were also in
+the powder affair. <i>Mon Dieu</i>! I may be stupid, sir, but I
+would give a great deal to be safe back in Paris with
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are very imaginative, Baudoin.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, then, as I see you are determined to pay no
+attention to what I say, I should be glad, sir, if you would give
+me the key of the laboratory. I will keep watch by day, and sleep
+there by night. In that way I shall be more completely at
+ease.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very well, Baudoin. You will find the key in my room,
+over the mantelpiece. If that will restore your peace of mind, it
+is easy enough.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That will not restore my peace of mind entirely, sir;
+but, at any rate, it will give me a certain amount of
+satisfaction.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The dinner being now at an end, Marcel went out for a stroll
+in the garden and along the river bank. It was a cool evening,
+and the stars shone forth in undimmed brilliancy. At times a
+dull, rumbling sound was heard coming from the inns and
+caf&eacute;s of the town, where the workmen were celebrating the
+strike in numerous bumpers. A feeling of sadness came over Marcel
+at the thought of the women and children awaiting in their poor
+dwellings the return of the father for the evening meal, whilst
+the latter, under the persuasion of raillery or threats, lingered
+before the table covered with glasses, and drinking the most
+poisonous and <a name="page205"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+205</span>maddening liquors imaginable. What wretchedness would
+result from this interruption of work! The paltry savings of the
+thrifty would vanish, the debts of the improvident would
+increase. And the net result of all this tumult and agitation,
+excited by hypocritical leaders, would be nothing but severity
+and rancour.</p>
+<p>Turning aside his thoughts from these evils, to which he could
+see no remedy, he directed them to the Villa de la Cav&eacute;e.
+There, at the same time as himself, Anetta would be walking to
+and fro in the garden. He pictured her passing down the winding
+alley in dreamy solitude. What could she be thinking of, if not
+of himself; whose heart was filled with her memory? Were they not
+united in soul, and was not that delicious kiss a proof of her
+affection. A thrill of pleasure came over him in the silence of
+the night, and he thought to himself, &ldquo;Suppose I were to
+pay her a visit now? She does not expect me, true. What would she
+think of my eagerness to see her again? Would not the untimely
+hour, and the isolation she is in, make her consider my visit
+offensive? The more defenceless she is, ought I not the more to
+respect her? Ah! She loves me, I feel it. Am I on the point of
+spoiling by my rashness all the happiness the future has in store
+for me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>In his tenderness Marcel was anxiously solicitous of sparing
+the susceptibilities of her who had set the terrible trap in
+which he was hopelessly caught. Had he been able to penetrate
+into the Villa de la Cav&eacute;e, and reach the salon
+unperceived, he would have heard Sophia and her Dalmatian servant
+exchanging their impressions; whilst, seated astraddle on a
+chair, the terrible Hans was listening to them, smoking the
+while, and with an expression of ironical contempt on his
+face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;After all, madame, what will you do with this poor <a
+name="page206"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 206</span>young man
+when you have obtained from him what you want?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, that will not trouble me! He is very agreeable and
+charming, and will doubtless bewail my departure. But he has not
+yet reached the point I wish to bring him to.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What we chemists call the incandescence point,&rdquo;
+said Hans, harshly. &ldquo;We know what that is, Sophia, when you
+have a hand in the matter. For young Zypiatine it was the moment
+when, in his madness, he handed over the secrets concerning the
+concentration on the frontiers of Afghanistan; for poor Stenheim,
+the hour when he stole from the War Office the plan of defence of
+Herzegovina, and for our friend, the handsome Cesare
+Agostini&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t speak of Cesare,&rdquo; interrupted the
+young woman, frowning.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why not, indeed? The <i>coup</i> he effected was a very
+fine one. Were he to attempt to cross the Italian frontier I
+believe he would be sent to rot in the darkest fortress of
+Sardinia. For he is not one of those whom they risk passing
+judgment on, even in private; he knows rather too much.
+Certainly, this fair-complexioned young fellow from Champagne you
+are now preparing to shear, is a pascal lamb compared with the
+dangerous characters you have hitherto led to their ruin without
+the slightest compunction. All the same, you must beware, Sophia;
+I know you well. You are not quite at your ease just now, you
+have become silent and dreamy&mdash;preoccupied, in fact; not a
+good sign at all! Are you on the point of doing something
+stupid?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sophia shuddered. Fixing her eyes full on Hans, she asked
+suddenly&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, ah! Now you are interested. I am not <a
+name="page207"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 207</span>surprised.
+You are too intelligent to form any illusions regarding yourself.
+You must have noticed that something abnormal is taking place in
+your mind. The other day there was something in your way of
+saying that no harm whatever should come to the young Baradier,
+which gave me serious grounds for reflection. This very evening,
+on returning home, I saw you in a state of languor anything but
+natural to so practical a woman as you are. Usually, after
+playing a <i>r&ocirc;le</i>, you resume your ordinary expression
+and clear directness of speech, as though, after removing a mask,
+you had become your own self once more. This time it is not the
+same. You are under the sway of external influences. In short, to
+sum up, you seem to me as though about to fall in love with this
+young Baradier!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I!&rdquo; exclaimed Sophia, almost angrily.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, you, Sophia, Baroness Grodsko, known here under
+the name of Madame Vignola. Now listen, my dear, such an
+occurrence would be an out-and-out act of stupidity!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are mad, Hans!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I shall only be too glad if I am mistaken. But I have a
+very keen intuition! We all have our little weaknesses, Sophia,
+and I should not wonder in the least if this young man pleased
+you. But I should be very much astonished if you thought of
+attaching yourself really to him, for nothing would be more
+dangerous to us, or to him, or even to yourself. If you could
+keep the young Marcel from the works for a short time I will not
+deny that such a course would serve my purpose. But no passion,
+remember, just a passing fancy. Keep him in the villa just long
+enough to enable us to execute our plans. That is how I
+understand things.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;As I, also,&rdquo; said the young woman, coldly.</p>
+<p><a name="page208"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+208</span>&ldquo;Very good. If you can keep a cool head and
+heart, there is nothing to fear and everything to hope for. You
+hear that, Milo. If your mistress shows any inclination to go
+astray, you will be there to remind her of her
+engagements.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My duty is to obey her,&rdquo; said Milona, with
+scowling look, &ldquo;and not to order. As for you, never presume
+to order me to do anything.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why not, if you please, my young savage?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Because a girl like myself is willing to give up her
+liberty for the sake of one she loves, but she will not serve one
+she detests.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That means simply that we are not friends, my little
+one,&rdquo; jeered Hans, with a loud laugh. &ldquo;As you please;
+I will not force you to like me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Milona gave him a steady look, and shrugged her shoulders,
+pronouncing a few words in an uncouth tongue. She then left the
+room.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What did she say in that Romany tongue of
+hers?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She said, &lsquo;Son of a she-wolf, may you die of a
+burning fever without any one at hand to give you a glass of
+water.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Many thanks for her gracious wishes. Some day my stick
+shall make the acquaintance of your back, charming
+creature.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do not think of such a thing, Hans, she would repay you
+with dagger-blows!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What delightful relations! But you know well that I am
+afraid of no one. Now let us speak of something more serious.
+Have you heard from Cesare?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He writes to say that he is back from London, where
+business matters are progressing well. As you are aware, our
+English friends are very practical. They have launched <a
+name="page209"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 209</span>a company
+with a capital of fifty million francs. They will need a whole
+territory for their money, and they will certainly
+succeed.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Assuredly. When one&rsquo;s calculations are based on
+human folly and incredulity, failure is impossible. That is why
+business matters possess so little interest.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;At the bottom, you have no esteem for anything but
+force and might. Your temperament is that of a <i>condottiere</i>
+of the fourteenth century. You have been let loose in this coward
+society of ours, there is no scope for your talents in such a
+restricted civilization as the present. Come, Hans, since we are
+speaking to one another to-night, with apparent frankness, who
+are you, and where do you come from? It is five years since I
+first met you, and yet I know you no better than I did the first
+day. We have mutual interests, and yet I have no hold on you. You
+are generally called Hans, but sometimes Fichter; although you
+look like a German, you can speak both Russian and Spanish
+admirably. I have known you to accomplish the most abominable
+actions, and yet you are never cruel without necessity. You
+attempt to obtain possession of huge sums of money, though your
+style of living is anything but extravagant. Where do all your
+resources go to? What end have you in view? What is this
+mysterious task you are engaged on, for the little you accomplish
+with us is only a small part of your work? You have trusty
+companions who do not belong to us. Suddenly you disappear, to
+accomplish some work or other we know nothing about. I sometimes
+suspect that we are merely tools in your hands, and are
+collaborating, without the faintest suspicion of it, in the
+execution of some far-reaching plan which embraces the whole of
+humanity. At times, I wonder if you are not the visible head of
+some enormous and terrible international federation, which, at a
+given moment, and <a name="page210"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+210</span>everywhere at the same time, will set the revolution
+aflame.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Hans smiled, shook his head approvingly, and then said in
+railing tones&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Women are far better than men, after all, for being
+possessed of delicate tact and a clear perception of things. Ah!
+So you have wondered who I really was, Sophia? Well, well! my
+dear, you are more inquisitive than either Lichtenbach or
+Agostini, without speaking of the rest, for not one of them ever
+attempted to find out what I was unwilling to show. Good! Sophia,
+good! I am interested in you, my child, for you are no
+fool.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Rising, he took the young woman by the waist, drew her to
+himself, and gave her a friendly kiss on the forehead. Then,
+looking at her steadfastly as though to force his words to enter
+her brain, he said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If you attempt to make a psychological study of me you
+will lose your time, Sophia. Know that I am Hans Fichter to you,
+and shall never be any other. All the same, do not forget that I
+am not really Hans Fichter. You have sought my personality with
+amusing clear-sightedness, but you will never discover it, and
+that is very lucky for you, otherwise you would not survive your
+discovery a single moment. Yes, my child, I have too many people
+around me, interested in my freedom of action, for any one, who
+thought of playing the spy on me, to be permitted to live. Do not
+imagine, however, that I am a kind of evil genius, a master of
+rebel souls, or the arbiter of future social transformations. If
+you did you would be on the wrong track. My power is great, but
+not sovereign. I am one of the numerous soldiers of a cause which
+will triumph in time, and I bow to no master!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hans!&rdquo; exclaimed Sophia; &ldquo;you speak like
+the nihilists of my own country. I knew a young student, <a
+name="page211"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 211</span>named
+Sewenikof, who propagated nihilist literature among the Moujiks
+in Moscow, and spoke in almost the same tones as you are using
+now. One day he disappeared.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, my child, as you will disappear if you repeat a
+single word, however seemingly simple and inoffensive, of what I
+have just said. Your Sewenikof, whom I have never met, but whom I
+know, after all, as though I saw him, was merely an instigator,
+an agent who has been suppressed. That kind of thing happens
+every day. Be careful, Sophia. I am very fond of you, and should
+be sorry if any trouble befell you. All the same, I should be
+unable to do anything. Now it is time to say good
+night.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are going to bed?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No. I have a rendezvous with my men at Ars. Have you
+not heard them shouting themselves hoarse all day long, fools as
+they are? What a pack of simpletons! These people have no idea
+that they are hurling threats and imprecations simply because
+such a course suits my convenience.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Be prudent yourself, Hans.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! This is nothing more than child&rsquo;s play for
+me!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lighting a cigar, he took his leave. The garden was dark. He
+proceeded, without the slightest noise, along the edge of the
+turf; gliding along like a shadow. On reaching the gate he opened
+it noiselessly, and remained there a moment against the wood
+panel, so as not to be noticed from the road. Then he looked all
+around, as though possessed of the faculty of seeing in the
+darkness. After a moment&rsquo;s hesitation he set out in the
+direction of Ars. It would have been impossible for any one
+coming behind him to believe that he had come from the garden of
+the villa.</p>
+<p><a name="page212"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 212</span>When
+he had advanced a hundred yards the branches of a bush silently
+separated on the opposite side of the road, and another man, in
+his turn, appeared. He was the stone-breaker who had been working
+for the past few days at the Cav&eacute;e. Walking along in step
+with Hans, he, too, made his way towards the town.</p>
+<h3><a name="page213"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+213</span>CHAPTER IV</h3>
+<p><span class="smcap">On</span> leaving Marcel, Baudoin, after
+obtaining permission to keep watch over the laboratory, had gone
+out on to the main road. It was dark. Taking his pipe, he filled
+it with tobacco, then halting near the pillar which served for
+Lafor&ecirc;t&rsquo;s correspondence, he struck a match. By the
+light he examined the plaster, and discovered the following
+inscription in red pencil, &ldquo;This evening. Nine.&rdquo; The
+old soldier lit his pipe, looked at his watch, and muttered to
+himself&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nine o&rsquo;clock to-night. At last! I will go and
+wait for him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He made his way towards the inn, which was no longer dark and
+silent as usual. A vivid light shone through the glass on the
+door, and a rumbling sound arose from the bar. Baudoin drew near
+one of the windows on the ground floor, and listened through the
+shutters. A voice, as of some one delivering a discourse, could
+be heard, interspersed from time to time with shouts and
+exclamations. At one time it sounded louder and more violent, and
+a thunder of applause rang through the room, as though all the
+tables had been struck at one and the same time by the robust
+fists of the men present.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The deuce!&rdquo; said Baudoin; &ldquo;this place does
+not seem very safe for one belonging to the master&rsquo;s
+household. The strikers have met at the Soleil d&rsquo;Or, and
+they appear to <a name="page214"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+214</span>be paying favourable attention to one of their usual
+haranguers.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Making the round of the house, he reached the door of the
+courtyard, and looked around for an entrance into the kitchen,
+where he expected to find his friend the innkeeper. A hand was
+placed on his shoulder. Turning round, he recognized
+Lafor&ecirc;t, who had arrived, noiselessly, and was standing by
+his side.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I was watching you,&rdquo; said the agent. &ldquo;The
+place is full. I was convinced you would enter this way. We must
+not stay in the middle of the courtyard. Many eyes to-night are
+on the watch around us.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where shall we go?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come along into my room.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>An outer staircase led to a wood corridor, running along the
+first floor, and continued right to the top story. It was right
+under the roof that Lafor&ecirc;t had taken a room, the
+wretchedest in the whole establishment, and quite in accordance
+with the condition of a poor labourer. Opening his door, he
+signed to Baudoin to take a seat on the bed; then, raising the
+skylight, he looked along the roof to make sure no one was
+watching. Dropping the iron sash, he said in low tones&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Speak close to my ear. There are rooms on either side
+of this. The partitions are very thin, and it is possible to hear
+everything that is said.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What have you summoned me for?&rdquo; whispered
+Baudoin.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Because I have news from the Cav&eacute;e. The lady is
+no longer alone. There is a man in the house.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What kind of a man? A dark, handsome young fellow, who
+speaks Italian?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; tall, strong-looking, and light-complexioned, with
+a thick beard, and speaking with a kind of German
+accent.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page215"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+215</span>Baudoin&rsquo;s eyes shone. He vigorously grasped
+Lafor&ecirc;t&rsquo;s hand, and, in trembling tones,
+asked&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Did you see him?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, as distinctly as I see you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Had he both arms?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He has both arms.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Baudoin gave a sigh of disappointment.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then it is not he! Ah! For a moment I
+hoped&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That it was the man of Vanves? Could you recognize him
+if he were shown to you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps not, for I never saw him except in the dark,
+but if I heard him speak, yes, without the slightest doubt, I
+should recognize his voice from among a thousand.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very well! I hope I shall be able to give you
+satisfaction; the man is here.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In the inn?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In a room on the first floor with three others, the
+ringleaders, who were summoned from the common room when he
+arrived. He himself has no relations with the mass of the
+workmen; he communicates only with the staff. I shadowed him from
+the villa to this very spot. The cunning rascal forced me to keep
+my wits about me. He changed direction three times, and twice
+tried to throw me on a false scent. One would have thought he
+felt me close at his heels, though I followed him with the utmost
+precaution. He went to the Caf&eacute; de la Gare, where he drank
+a bitter; then he left by the servants&rsquo; door, after
+entering by the front. I suspected the trick, so I went round to
+the back. Then he went to the station itself, crossed the
+waiting-room, and reached the platform. He walked the whole
+length, right on to the storeroom; there he found an open gate,
+through which he entered the town, and came straight to the
+Soleil d&rsquo;Or. At this very <a name="page216"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 216</span>moment he is beneath us, holding a
+conference with his confederates.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How will you manage to give me an opportunity of
+hearing him?&rdquo; whispered Baudoin.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You will see shortly. But, first of all, what does the
+rascal want at the Villa de la Cav&eacute;e?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, you see, it has reference to M. Marcel, that I
+would swear to. There is trouble in the air. Why are the works in
+this condition when there has never, hitherto, been the slightest
+difference between the kindest of masters and the best-treated of
+workmen? The same thing is at the bottom of it all. When I
+summoned you I knew what I was doing. This Italian is here for M.
+Marcel, and so is this new arrival, and everything has been
+planned by the villains who killed the General!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well! We will throw some light on the matter. If I can
+succeed in laying hands on this gang the Minister of War will be
+delighted. After all, Baudoin, if you are not mistaken, this
+affair is simply the result of the attempt at Vanves. We have to
+deal with a whole company, and an experienced one, too, which has
+already had a crow to pick with us. Follow me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Raising the sash, he placed one foot on a chair, and mounted
+on to the roof. Baudoin imitated him. A large leaden pipe
+surrounded the building. This they followed until they reached
+the front, overlooking the courtyard twenty feet below.
+Lafor&ecirc;t pointed out to his companion a small zinc roof
+below the first floor. It was the covering of a shed, used as a
+saddle-room.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now, then, our friends are in the room where you see
+that lighted window above this roof. If you can get there
+unnoticed, and without making the slightest noise, you may see
+from the roof into the interior; certainly you could
+hear.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page217"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+217</span>Baudoin leaned over into the courtyard, looking for
+some means of descending.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How can I get there? Twenty feet and no
+ladder.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lafor&ecirc;t pointed to something projecting from the angle
+of the wall.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is a cast-iron pipe used for the
+drains.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are right! Come along!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Put your shoes in your pocket.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>After doing so the agent seized hold of the leaden pipe with
+his hands, and separating his knees in the angle of the wall to
+protect himself by the friction, he silently began to descend.
+Baudoin, leaning over the roof, watched the operation with
+anxious curiosity. He was not afraid that Lafor&ecirc;t would be
+found lacking in strength or agility, but was wondering if the
+pipe would prove solid. Suppose the attaching cramp-irons became
+loose, both pipe and man would fall to the ground with a terrible
+clatter. The alarm would be raised, and the consequences of such
+an accident might be disastrous. But his anxiety did not last
+long. At the end of a few seconds Lafor&ecirc;t had reached the
+roof, and was lying there extended at full length.</p>
+<p>Baudoin thereupon followed suit. On reaching the bottom of the
+window, where the meeting was being held, he knelt down and
+looked. Through the muslin of the curtain the human forms
+appeared indistinct, like the silhouettes of a badly-focused
+magic-lantern. According to the position he was in, and his
+distance from the light, each of the three men assembled appeared
+either like a giant or a dwarf. One of them had risen from his
+seat, and was walking to and fro. According as he approached or
+went away from the window, a voice, distinct or indistinct,
+reached Lafor&ecirc;t&rsquo;s ears. The latter, without turning
+round, drew Baudoin nearer, and whispered in his ear&mdash;</p>
+<p><a name="page218"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+218</span>&ldquo;It is difficult to see, but you may hear. Come a
+little nearer and listen.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Baudoin obeyed, and listened attentively in the effort to
+discover the object of his keen curiosity. It was not the man who
+was walking to and fro whose voice could now be heard. It was
+rather the voice of some one seated near a table, who appeared to
+be examining some papers. Difficult as it was to find any meaning
+in what was said, all the same certain expressions reached them,
+&ldquo;No use using violence&mdash;nothing would result. Alarm
+the workmen. Excite the attention of the authorities.&rdquo; All
+the same, it was easy to understand that he was not of the same
+mind as the man on his feet, who appeared to be pacing to and fro
+with downcast head, as though impatiently submitting to
+opposition. Suddenly the walker stopped, and in harsh tones
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It shall be as I wish!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The other replied, though, on account of the distance, only a
+few broken phrases reached the listeners.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;General interest; unfavourable opinions.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The man on his feet resumed his walk, and was listening to his
+opponent.</p>
+<p>Once more he stopped, and said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It shall be as I wish, I tell you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lafor&ecirc;t whispered&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is he the man? Do you recognize the voice?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No!&rdquo; said Baudoin, anxiously. &ldquo;I
+don&rsquo;t recognize it at all.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The man seated before the table thereupon folded up his
+papers, and put them in his pocket, with the
+words&mdash;&ldquo;Then there is nothing to do but
+obey!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The other thereupon went up to the table, laid his hand on the
+shoulder of his opponent who had capitulated, and said in joyful
+accents&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s right! You were a long time before you
+would <a name="page219"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+219</span>give in! Now we must set to work. No one will repent
+the decision reached!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And he burst into a loud laugh.</p>
+<p>Lafor&ecirc;t felt the hand of his companion shake, and, at
+the same time, Baudoin murmured in accents of frightful
+anguish&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is he&mdash;yes, that is the man; I recognize his
+laugh!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He gave a gesture of anger, but Lafor&ecirc;t immediately
+restrained him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Listen once more! Make sure that you are not
+mistaken!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is he! I cannot be mistaken! Ah! that laugh of his;
+just as I heard it on the night of the crime, when he descended
+from the carriage.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, then, we know all we want. We must not stay any
+longer here; it is useless to risk any unnecessary
+danger.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Thereupon he glided down to the edge of the zinc roof. Baudoin
+followed him, and the two men put on their shoes and reached the
+courtyard. There they halted. The door of the inn was closed, but
+Lafor&ecirc;t knew how to deal with locks, and, a second later,
+his companion and himself were in the open street.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What are you going to do now?&rdquo; said Baudoin.
+&ldquo;The police are at hand. Will you hesitate to lock up this
+villain at once?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good!&rdquo; said Lafor&ecirc;t. &ldquo;That is one
+solution. And afterwards?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do you mean&mdash;afterwards?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing is easier than to take him. We need only wait
+till he leaves the inn, and then carry him off to the police! But
+what then?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Of course he will be accused of the crime committed <a
+name="page220"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 220</span>at Vanves;
+then he will be tried, convicted, and finally
+condemned.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed! Convicted? You think so? Such a man as the one
+with whom we have to deal? Take him unawares? Could he not easily
+find an alibi to prove that he was five hundred miles away from
+Vanves on the night of the crime? Even yourself, five minutes
+ago, hesitated about recognizing him. And then, whilst we have
+this bird safe under lock and bolt, only to be obliged, later on,
+to set him at liberty, perhaps, all the others will take to
+flight. That will be a fine end to everything!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All the same, we cannot fold our arms quietly, and let
+this rascal get off scot-free?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The villain is plotting something here, and the play
+must not be interrupted at the very moment the principal
+character is about to enter on the stage. What about the
+beautiful lady of the Cav&eacute;e and her pretended brother? And
+all these rascals who are just now doing their best to ruin the
+works of Baradier and Graff? Do you not think of them? Should we
+let them know that the whole affair is over and their plot
+discovered?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But we cannot remain inactive spectators in all
+this?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Spectators, yes, for the moment. Inactive, never! I did
+not come from Paris to Ars simply for the purpose of breaking
+stones on the road. I am engaged in my profession, and I intend
+the whole affair to be successful.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But can I not, at least, warn M. Marcel?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Under no pretext! His first impulse would be to have a
+frightful scene with his lady-love, and everything would be
+ruined. In the name of Heaven, let us keep those who are under
+the influence of passion out of our confidence! From them you may
+expect nothing but the most utter folly!&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page221"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+221</span>&ldquo;But suppose Marcel falls into some trap or
+other?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Have no fear for him. He will come out of it all right.
+For my part, I intend to shadow our man, and shall not let him
+give me the slip until I have everything necessary for giving him
+up to the magistrate in Paris, who is extremely mortified at his
+failure in this affair. Do you agree?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I must do so, I suppose.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then we will each attend to our own
+business.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They shook hands, and separated in the darkness of the night.
+The illuminated inn rang with shouts and exclamations,
+alternating with the cadence of mugs of beer, as they struck the
+wooden tables. Away in the distance the factory raised its sombre
+bulk under the star-lit sky. At the very moment Baudoin passed in
+front of the concierge&rsquo;s room, the latter stopped him, and,
+in joyful tones, said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;M. Graff has just arrived!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Uncle Graff, uneasy at what Cardez had telephoned, had not
+hesitated, but had left Baradier to continue an important
+operation at the Bourse on the shares of the Explosives Company,
+and, taking the train, had made straight for the works. Marcel,
+who was taking a walk by the riverside, had seen the worthy uncle
+come along the flower-beds, and had rushed joyfully forward to
+meet him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What! Is it you, Uncle Graff?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, my nephew, I wanted to see for myself what is
+taking place here. I have just had a talk with Cardez, and at
+present I know how matters stand. Now, let us speak of yourself.
+How are you getting along, and what are you doing? I don&rsquo;t
+want to find fault, but you send us very little news. Your mother
+is anything but pleased, and said to me only last night,
+&lsquo;He no longer thinks of us; he loves us no
+more.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I! Not think of you all!&rdquo; said Marcel.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How can your poor mother have any illusion on the <a
+name="page222"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 222</span>subject?
+Certainly, you do not spoil her! Ah! I well know that children do
+not live for their parents, but for themselves. All the same,
+they might do a little, from time to time, for those who have
+brought them up and loved them from childhood.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, uncle! What you say pains me very much!&rdquo; said
+Marcel, penitently. &ldquo;Has my silence been interpreted in
+this way? To obey my father I have come to bury myself at Ars for
+several weeks. I think I have given him sufficient pledges of my
+good intentions, in spite of a few silly escapades I have been
+guilty of.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Debts amounting to three hundred thousand francs, my
+little Marcel, without counting what I often gave you unknown to
+your parents, eh?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! Uncle Graff, why return to discuss such
+matters?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, you forget them very soon, don&rsquo;t
+you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marcel smiled.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are a very indulgent uncle; you know what young men
+are!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All the same, I have never been young! Ah! Marcel, I
+should have adored pleasure and luxury had I not looked as solemn
+as a churchwarden.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So you gave yourself up to finance, and succeeded
+brilliantly! My good uncle, it is you who pay when your
+spendthrift of a nephew is in difficulties! All the same, I am
+very fond of you, Uncle Graff.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He had taken him by the shoulders, and was embracing him with
+warmth. The old man, his eyes filled with tears, looked tenderly
+at the handsome young fellow by his side. He coughed to conceal
+his emotion, and said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I know you are fond of me. Well, well! Promise me
+that you will write a nice little letter to your
+mother.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page223"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+223</span>&ldquo;I promise, Uncle Graff, I will write to-morrow
+morning, and one to my father into the bargain.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is right! By the way, things don&rsquo;t seem to
+be going along very well here! Are these rascally strikers going
+to ruin our workmen?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is every appearance of it. Cardez has not
+sufficient tact; he is too straightforward in his talk. A fine
+man, in reality, but one who appears to act too
+tyrannically.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will attend to the matter myself. To-morrow I will
+see the syndicate. And you&mdash;what are you doing? Has your
+work been progressing?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Considerably. I have discovered the pale green and the
+golden yellow I have been looking for. You shall see my
+samples.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And the other affair?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lowering his voice, he asked in anxious tones&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The powders?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The formul&aelig; have been tested, and their success
+is assured.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Have you made any experiments?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Uncle Graff, and they have been terrible in their
+simplicity. I set off, carrying a small piece of the
+commerce-explosive, in the direction of Bossicant; I placed it
+all around the roots of a huge oak. After igniting it, the
+immense tree, without noise or smoke, lay there level with the
+ground, lying in the heather, as though cut down by a giant
+scythe.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No one saw you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No one. The following morning the gamekeeper said,
+&lsquo;Ah, M. Marcel, what a loss we have had! The old oak of the
+flat Mare was struck to the ground last night by the storm. It is
+strange how those old trees go; but the wind is a famous
+wood-cutter!&rsquo; In fact, it would be impossible to form any
+idea of the destructive force of this <a name="page224"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 224</span>powder. I wished to test it once
+more, and this time in the breaking up of a rock. Going to the
+old stone quarry on the Sainte-Savine road I placed a squib in an
+excavation. There were three hundred yards of earth and
+sand-stone to explode. When night came I set fire to it, and
+withdrew. There would be no one passing in the neighbourhood till
+morning came; accordingly I feared no accident. The detonation
+was extremely feeble, and I was only half a mile away. In fact, I
+scarcely heard it. The following morning I returned to judge of
+the result. It was terrible! The whole cube had been lifted, and
+a hole six yards deep had been dug out in the shape of a funnel.
+With a sufficient charge I would wager that a mountain could be
+blown into the air! See here, Uncle Graff, if the Spaniards took
+it into their heads to destroy Gibraltar they would succeed with
+this powder. What a fine sight it would be, that huge mass,
+rocks, parapets, casemates, cannons, and all the rest, thundering
+down into the sea!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Have you drawn up your formul&aelig;?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, not yet.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, draw them up, and give them to me. I will take
+them away with me to Paris, and deposit them at the Patents
+Office. The time is come to make use of them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You shall have them to-morrow morning, Uncle Graff. It
+is a mere trifle.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You see, your father and myself have for some time been
+putting into execution a plan, the consequences of which are
+far-reaching. Baradier, who has a fine intuition for business,
+has found out Lichtenbach&rsquo;s plans. The old rascal caused
+several shares in the explosives to be sold at a loss, and
+brought the stock down to nothing. We were wondering why the
+depreciation kept getting greater and greater, when chance
+afforded us the proof that it was Lichtenbach who was plotting to
+ruin the company, so as <a name="page225"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 225</span>to reconstitute it to his profit. He
+had seven or eight stockbrokers under his orders. One of them,
+however, committed an indiscretion, which placed us immediately
+in possession of the secret. Then your father, equal to the
+emergency, did not hesitate, but bought up all Lichtenbach was
+selling, and after the fall had reached the limit, the rise
+began. At this moment we hold two hundred thousand shares in the
+explosives, bought at a very low price, and which to-morrow, in
+case the patent of the new powder is acquired by the company,
+will rise above par. It is a formidable party stroke. If we
+succeed, the fortune of the family is increased tenfold. We shall
+have directed against Lichtenbach the attack he wished to inflict
+on the Explosives shareholders. He will lose on what we gain, and
+this time I think we shall have finished with him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very well! Uncle Graff, you shall have the
+formul&aelig; to-morrow, and you may do what you please with
+them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It will be a fortune for Mademoiselle de
+Tr&eacute;mont, and one for ourselves into the
+bargain.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! Are you not rich enough?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. But your father is ambitious. He wants the maximum
+in everything, and affirms that there is no reason why French
+fortunes should not be as great as those of the
+Americans.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! The Vanderbilts and the Astors! What a weakness to
+think of such things!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My young friend, you cannot understand this
+intoxication of success which takes possession of the calmest and
+most level-headed of men. You know well enough that your father
+is very simple in his tastes, and spends less money than you do.
+But it is no longer a matter of pleasure; it is a question of
+arithmetic.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I know. But it is precisely there that the harm
+lies. It would be far better if he were not so rich, and <a
+name="page226"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 226</span>spent more
+money. What weapons you place in the hands of these socialists,
+who are, at this very moment, causing us so much trouble! How can
+you justify in their eyes such a piling-up of capital at the
+disposal of one individual whilst the generality of men toil and
+suffer from all kinds of privations? You see, Uncle Graff; the
+sole excuse of wealthy men is that they spend a great deal, so as
+to throw their superabundant riches into general circulation. It
+would give me pleasure to see my father fling money out of the
+window, since he has so much. Those in the street would pick it
+up, and their momentary wretchedness would be relieved, at any
+rate. I should be glad if he would order statues of sculptors,
+and pictures of artists, and set rolling all the wealth now being
+piled up in the safes. How can you expect me to be interested in
+the shares of such and such a company? What does this paper
+represent in my eyes, if not the labour of a whole crowd of
+workmen, who toil and sweat to produce dividends which will
+enrich the shareholders? Uncle Graff, all this is neither moral
+nor just, nor even human! And I believe that a prodigal son like
+myself is the just ransom, from a social point of view, of a
+treasure-hoarder like my father.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But consider, my little Marcel, your father&rsquo;s
+work enriches, and his wealth strengthens the country. It is the
+resources of the rich which keep up the vigour of a nation in
+time of national peril. Your father is a citizen useful by reason
+of his wealth, just as an inventor is by his genius, or a general
+by his talent for war. It is your father who will give the
+inventor funds to perfect his invention, and who will pay for the
+improved cannons and guns of the soldier. Every man has his
+function in life, as in society. And, I can assure you, your
+father is not one of the most despicable.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Uncle Graff, I speak sentiment to you, and you reply <a
+name="page227"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 227</span>with
+political economy. It is impossible for us to come to an
+agreement. We are both right, only we are not speaking of the
+same thing.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Neither are we of the same generation. Ideas change
+several times in a single century, and one generation does not
+reason like the following. Your father and I have seen the war of
+1870, invasion and ruin on every side, and we remember what a
+ransom we had to pay. That has made us parsimonious for the rest
+of our days. You came into the world only when prosperity had
+returned; you have been brought up under the breath of Republican
+ideas. Your thoughts are quite different from ours; you are an
+advocate for equality. We are nothing of the kind. My father
+inspired in me respect for caste. I have less consideration for a
+tradesman than for a mill-proprietor, more respect for a lawyer,
+a magistrate, or a notary, than for a painter or man of letters.
+It is my nature. I cannot change if I would. I am well aware that
+ideas are changing all round me, but I shall die impenitent. Your
+generation has no bump of veneration as ours had. You consider
+yourself on the same footing as an elderly man, famous and
+respected, and you treat him on the most familiar terms. That is
+something which would be impossible for me, any more than I
+should expect the foreman at the works to look upon me as his
+equal, and pat me familiarly on the shoulder. Possibly you and
+your companions may be right, but I don&rsquo;t think so. At any
+rate we shall see what your children will be like, if you have
+any, for even family life is another institution quite out of
+fashion now.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, uncle, you have a very effective way of
+discussing, without giving yourself any pretensions! Father would
+long ago have called me a fool, without offering the slightest
+argument. With you, it is different, and when I listen to you I
+am by no means sure that I am right. <a name="page228"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 228</span>Besides, you are so kind and
+tolerant, Uncle Graff, that I do not feel myself capable of
+resisting you for any length of time!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, you little rogue! Now you are flattering me; you
+know how to make me do as you wish. At bottom you are a sly fox,
+and I believe you trick the lot of us!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! Uncle Graff!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come now, you are not so nice as that for
+nothing,&rdquo; said the old bachelor, with a laugh. &ldquo;What
+is it you want me to do for you now?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing, upon my word, uncle. I am perfectly sincere in
+everything I have just said!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then you are conducting yourself very well just
+now.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marcel raised his eyes, and said calmly&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How could I do anything else here?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! Do you think you could not find an opportunity if
+you wanted? I really believe that if you were thrown on to a
+desert island you would find means to fall in love and get into
+debt, even there!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But who would pay them if my Uncle Graff were not at
+hand?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are jesting with me, you rascal!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, I am quite serious. I never leave my laboratory
+except for a walk in the woods; and I have not spent twenty-five
+francs since I came here.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A violent clamour, coming from the direction of the town, cut
+short the conversation. A light shone in the sky. Songs, at the
+same time as a dull tramp of a marching band, were heard on the
+road. And the workmen&rsquo;s Marseillaise, shouted out by
+hundreds of voices, again broke the silence. On leaving the inn
+the workmen, accompanied by their wives, were marching through
+the sleeping town, hurling out against the startled citizens
+threats of <a name="page229"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+229</span>revolt and violence. Marcel and his uncle Graff,
+halting there in the garden, listened, and watched the shouting
+mob as it passed by, waving in the air torches made of pine
+branches. It was the smoke and flame hovering above a crowd which
+was hurling imprecations against the masters.</p>
+<p>Uncle Graff pointed to the street, and said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You hear what these people are saying. &lsquo;All the
+masters shall be strung up!&rsquo; And yet there is not one of
+them who, were he ill or infirm, would not have the right to rely
+on us to mitigate his suffering. We have given them
+workmen&rsquo;s dwellings where they are lodged, schools where
+their children are educated, hospitals where they are treated
+with every attention when ill, and co-operative societies where
+they may buy everything at cheap rates. There is only the
+public-house we have been unwilling to give them, and it is there
+they go, to become filled with sentiments of hatred against us!
+It is alcohol which is their master, and he is a pitiless tyrant
+who will give them no mercy!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The end of the column had just passed. Whether it was that
+they had seen the two men in the garden, or they simply wished to
+fling to the winds their cries of rebellion and rancour, these
+latter, the most intoxicated and miserable of them all, screamed
+forth in a shrill chorus, &ldquo;Down with the masters! Down with
+exploiters!&rdquo; Then silence was restored by degrees. Uncle
+Graff sadly shook his head, and said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come along, exploiter, let us turn in!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And they made their way towards the house.</p>
+<p>The following morning Uncle Graff was up early. He hunted up
+Cardez, to come to some arrangement with him; Marcel made his way
+to the laboratory. He had promised the powder formula, and he
+wished to draw it up at his leisure, As he entered he found
+Baudoin arranging the <a name="page230"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 230</span>chemical utensils. He admired the
+unwonted order reigning in the capharnaum.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, that is better!&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;here is a
+room which has not been so clean for several weeks. The dust
+cannot know what it all means to be disturbed in this way. But
+you must take care, Baudoin, not to touch a single product. There
+are some very dangerous ones here.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, sir, I know all about them; I handled any quantity
+of products during my poor General&rsquo;s lifetime. I always
+obeyed the orders he gave me. And after what has taken place at
+Vanves, I am not likely to risk handling them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have been sleeping in the summer-house,
+Baudoin?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, M. Marcel, I have arranged a bed very comfortably
+in the attic. Now, I am no longer uneasy. Still, so long as there
+are doubtful characters in the neighbourhood, I shall sleep with
+one eye open.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In my opinion, the people to whom you allude have
+intentions on the works rather than on the laboratory.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot tell, M. Marcel. There are sufficient mixed
+characters in the company which has come here the last few
+days.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;One would imagine you had discovered something
+extraordinary.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Baudoin bent his head. He was afraid he had said too much, and
+recalled to mind Lafor&ecirc;t&rsquo;s prudent advice.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! I am not clever enough for that; but I warn you, M.
+Marcel, to be on your guard. Have confidence in no one&mdash;in
+no one!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He left the room, leaving Marcel astonished at his
+persistence. What was the meaning of this mysterious warning his
+servant kept giving him? Did he know more than he meant to tell?
+To whom did he allude when he said, &lsquo;In <a
+name="page231"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 231</span>no
+one.&rsquo; The beautiful and charming silhouette of Madame
+Vignola sprang up in his imagination. Was it of her that he ought
+to be on his guard? He pictured her again in her dreamy, careless
+attitude, promenading sorrowfully in the woods of Bossicant. What
+had he to fear from her? What danger could she make him incur,
+except that of adoring her without obtaining a return of
+affection? There, indeed, was a very grave and serious peril! It
+was the most dreadful he could imagine just then, and one against
+which he felt himself utterly helpless. To love, without
+obtaining love in return! What would become of him if such a
+misfortune befell him? He could not think of it without a kind of
+distraction, so long as the young woman was mistress of his heart
+and mind. For a few moments he walked up and down the laboratory
+with anxious mien, and only halted when he heard the door open.
+It was Uncle Graff.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You know we have to meet the syndicate of workmen this
+morning, at ten o&rsquo;clock?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; I have not forgotten.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is the matter with you? You do not appear at your
+ease. Is there anything that troubles you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing whatever; it is simply this distressing
+situation that makes me anxious. Now that you have spoken to
+Cardez, uncle, what is it the workmen want?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, several things! In the first place, less work and
+more pay. Afterwards, themselves to nominate their own overseer.
+To have personal administration of the pension and assistance
+funds. To submit to no stoppage of wages for insurance against
+accidents. <i>Mon Dieu</i>! On all these points some
+understanding may be reached, and I am quite disposed to meet
+them half way. But there is on the point of being formulated a
+final demand which may render all conciliation
+impossible.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is that!&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page232"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+232</span>&ldquo;They will demand the dismissal of Cardez, who is
+accused by the workmen of being extremely severe in enforcing the
+regulations.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Dismiss the director? To-morrow they will want to send
+us away also.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, my nephew, is not that the collectivist doctrine,
+pure and simple? The works to the workers, the land to the
+tillers&mdash;that is to say, the dispossession of the master and
+the landlord. We are advancing in that direction.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marcel said coldly&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We cannot give way on these points. Abdicate all
+authority, be no longer master in one&rsquo;s own house? At no
+price and under no pretext. Be kind to the workmen, certainly!
+But be their dupe, never!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come,&rdquo; said Uncle Graff, with a smile, &ldquo;do
+not get excited. You always go to extremes. Yesterday all fire
+and flame; this morning full of reactionary energy. You must keep
+to the golden mean as I do. I still have hopes of seeing the
+triumph of reason and common sense. But I should like to obtain
+one thing from you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is that?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That you go out for a stroll instead of being present
+at the meeting.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; exclaimed Marcel; &ldquo;that is not your
+own idea, Uncle Graff. It is Cardez who has given you this
+hint.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well! I confess you are right. He mistrusts your
+impetuosity, and is afraid you cannot keep perfect possession of
+yourself. He knows what your opinions are.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The fool! Let him trouble himself with his own
+opinions! After having alienated our workmen by useless reforms,
+how can he have the assurance to ask that the son of his master
+should not be present at a debate in which his own interests,
+both material and moral, are engaged? And <a
+name="page233"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 233</span>he thinks I
+shall submit to this eviction? Decidedly, he knows me very
+little!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But if I myself asked you not to come to the
+meeting!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For what reason?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Uncle Graff hesitated a moment, but finally decided to
+speak.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I did not wish to tell you all my reasons. This
+morning&rsquo;s debate may cause grave disorders. We have been
+informed that the workmen, who have been worked up to a high
+pitch, will admit of no refusal to their demands. In short, it is
+feared violent measures will be resorted to.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very good! The greater reason I should be
+there!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If I consent, think what responsibility I assume in
+your father&rsquo;s eyes!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But what do you think I should do?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You would do well to take the next train for
+Paris.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And leave you to resist these madmen, all alone? You
+have a fine opinion of me, indeed!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come, now, Marcel, do not get angry. I am an old man,
+and command a certain amount of respect. It will be easy for me
+to keep out of a quarrel, but it will be no easy matter to keep
+an eye on you. To tell the truth, you would be greatly in the
+way. Here, you have no official standing; you are simply an
+inventor, and there is a whole group of workmen who regard you
+with no kindly feelings on account of your investigations in
+dyeing. They pretend that it is your intention to take away their
+living by manufacturing with the machine what they now do by
+hand. I assure you, Marcel, I have good reasons for keeping you
+away, and, if you are reasonable, you will obey me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Uncle Graff, I am not reasonable. That you have
+long known; on many occasions have I proved it, and I will prove
+it once again to-day. I don&rsquo;t care what people think. I
+will keep close to your side, without giving <a
+name="page234"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 234</span>you any
+cause for trouble. But I will be present, because it is both my
+duty and my right. Besides, if I did not come, some time after
+you would say to yourself; &lsquo;After all, he obeyed me very
+readily. My young nephew is bent on pleasure only, and is quite
+willing to keep out of the way when there is danger in the
+air.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As the old man listened to his nephew the look of anxiety, by
+degrees, disappeared from his countenance. Doubtless he blamed
+him for his unwillingness to obey him, but approved of his
+showing himself at once determined, devoted, and affectionate. Oh
+yes, affectionate above all! In the bachelor&rsquo;s tender heart
+Marcel&rsquo;s protests found a delightful echo. He felt himself
+loved by this nephew of his, whom he himself loved as though he
+were his own son, and all his discontent melted away in an
+exquisite sensation of happiness. Still, he would not confess to
+a satisfaction so little in accord with his expressed wishes. He
+gave himself an angry and displeased mien; but a smile shone in
+his eyes as he murmured&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very good! I cannot force you. As you please! If
+anything happens through you we shall know whose fault it
+is!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Uncle Graff, we will perish together!&rdquo; exclaimed
+the young man, gaily. &ldquo;What more brilliant end could I hope
+for! What a glorious item of news for the journals!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That would be the last straw!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What precautions are you going to take to prevent our
+being devoured by the popular lion?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;None whatever! I am convinced that a display of force
+would effect no useful end. Accordingly, I begged the authorities
+not to disturb themselves. They wished to send us out the
+dragoons! Why not the artillery at once?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And who are the delegates to whom we shall have to
+reply?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page235"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+235</span>&ldquo;There are eight of them. But it is the famous
+Balestrier who is at their head and acts as their
+mouthpiece.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He is a very intelligent fellow, only he reads too many
+books beyond his power of comprehension.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The rest are honest enough, but they have been incited
+to revolt by their companions at Troyes, and I am afraid I shall
+find them more violent than they are naturally disposed to be.
+They assume an attitude and play a <i>r&ocirc;le</i>.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We will judge them by their actions.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Pointing out to his uncle on the laboratory table a glass
+recipient of moderate size, Marcel said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Look at this jar, Uncle Graff. If I were to throw a
+lighted match into it, in a moment I could annihilate all these
+ill-advised strikers.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then that is the famous powder?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Show it me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marcel took the jar, removed the stopper, and poured into his
+hand a few small brown shavings. An odour of camphor spread
+throughout the room.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is the war powder in flakes, but I intend to
+manufacture it in pastilles. Then it will resemble an ordinary
+button without holes. In flakes it is more convenient for
+charging large projectiles. In pastilles it will be better suited
+for cartridge sockets. Non-compressed it burns like German
+tinder, with a smell of disinfecting powder, and entirely without
+smoke. Would you like to see it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No!&rdquo; said Uncle Graff, eagerly. &ldquo;I do not
+care to see you handling such substances. One never knows! They
+might explode without any one expecting it!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Impossible! Besides, as this powder smells of camphor
+it might be placed with one&rsquo;s clothes during the summer to
+prevent the moths from spoiling them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page236"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 236</span>He
+laughed aloud. Uncle Graff, slightly reassured, forced him to
+place the bottle back on to the table.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And the commerce powder?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have none manufactured. But the formula is already
+there in the drawer.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;With this formula Tr&eacute;mont&rsquo;s discovery may
+be exploited?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly, on condition one knows how to make use of
+it. But that is my secret, which I shall reveal only at the
+moment the exploitation commences. The different kinds of
+products employed, with their dosings, are specified.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Opening a drawer he took out a sheet of paper, at the head of
+which were written the words: Powder Formula. No. I. Then
+followed lines of abbreviated words, with figures.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Leave it in this drawer; I do not need it just now. You
+will give it me this evening, after the conference. Then I will
+write to your father and send on the paper to him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;As you please,&rdquo; said Marcel.</p>
+<p>Placing back the paper he shut the drawer. Uncle Graff left
+the room saying&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am going to see Cardez; if you want me you will find
+me with him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marcel, left all alone, walked up and down the laboratory,
+then drew near the open window, and looked out on to the river
+flowing beneath. A fisherman was sitting there in a boat, moored
+in the middle of the stream, engaged in throwing baked grain as
+bait into the water all around him. A large straw hat covered his
+head, whilst the wind blew out his grey smock-frock into the form
+of a balloon. He did not appear even to see Marcel, but filled
+his pipe with tobacco, lit it, and began to throw out his line,
+at the end of which was a ball of worms as bait. After a few
+moments a bite <a name="page237"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+237</span>came, he struck adroitly, and landed a small
+silver-bellied fish in the boat. Marcel, interested, sat and
+watched from the window-ledge. After watching for a good quarter
+of an hour, the fisher, in his smock-frock, who, by the way,
+appeared to have the best of luck, the door of the laboratory
+opened, and Baudoin appeared. He seemed embarrassed, but came
+straight up to his master, and said, in tones of seeming
+regret&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Monsieur Marcel, there is some one at the
+porter&rsquo;s lodge who is asking for you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who is it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Baudoin said, with a wry grimace&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A kind of chambermaid.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marcel arose eagerly. He thought, &ldquo;It is Milona, sent by
+Madame Vignola. Something has happened.&rdquo; In a trice he was
+out of the room.</p>
+<p>Baudoin followed him with ill-pleased look.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How he runs off to meet her! Ah, that crafty woman
+holds him tight indeed! And this servant, who looks like a gipsy!
+This kind of company does not inspire confidence in
+one!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marcel, on reaching the porter&rsquo;s lodge, had found Milona
+there, as he had conjectured. Drawing her aside, he asked
+anxiously&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No harm has befallen Madame Vignola?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; I am with her all the time. But my mistress is
+uneasy for your sake. She heard cries and threats, and saw
+flashes of light through the darkness of the night. She well
+knows what these mad acts of folly committed by an angry mob
+mean, and would like to see you and have you explain the meaning
+of all this tumult.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;May I go to her at once?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She is expecting you every minute.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He gave a gesture expressive of the joy he felt.</p>
+<p><a name="page238"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+238</span>&ldquo;Then start back at once. We must not be seen
+crossing the plain together. In a few minutes I will follow you.
+Tell this to your mistress.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Milona bowed with a kind of haughty deference. With a tender
+look at the young man she said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do not tarry; she is never happy except when you are
+there!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marcel stifled a cry of joy.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Milona! What has she told you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing. But even had she taken me into her confidence
+I would not betray her. All the same, I see the difference
+between when she is alone and when you are with her. She is not
+the same at all. Come! She was in tears all the
+morning.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>With a bow, she placed her fingers to her lips and
+withdrew.</p>
+<p>Marcel watched her take her departure. His heart beat wildly;
+flashes of light seemed to pass before his eyes. He had forgotten
+everything&mdash;works, strikes, danger, Uncle Graff, and his
+good resolutions. Now he thought of nothing but the radiant
+blonde awaiting him in that solitary villa, for which he set off
+with all the ardour of youth and love.</p>
+<h3><a name="page239"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+239</span>CHAPTER V</h3>
+<p><span class="smcap">In</span> the dimly-lit salon Marcel and
+Madame Vignola were seated chatting near the window. It was ten
+o&rsquo;clock. In the clear blue sky the sun shone brightly, and
+its warm rays breaking through the branches of the trees came
+with caressing gentleness to the lovers. Madame Vignola was
+saying in grave accents&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Even in this out-of-the-way little place, right in the
+midst of the forest and far away from the rush of town life,
+there is no perfect peace and calm.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You seem to have no luck. Never before have the
+inhabitants of Ars shown themselves so turbulent. Generally they
+are quite peaceable and harmless creatures. If they have any
+claims to make they do it with moderation and politeness, sure,
+in advance, of obtaining what they want. I do not know what
+madness has come over them!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Madame Vignola smiled.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Doubtless they have listened to bad counsel and advice.
+But that is of little importance. The main thing is that you are
+not exposed to the violence of these madmen. When I heard them
+last night shouting out their threats of death I
+trembled.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then you do take a certain amount of interest in
+me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Can you ask me such a question?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page240"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+240</span>Passionately he seized hold of a dainty hand, which she
+made no attempt to withdraw.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, now, listen, Anetta. I cannot understand how I
+have been able to find any joy in life before I knew you. I seem
+to myself only to have been alive the last month.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Graciously raising her hand with threatening gesture, she
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not another word! I know you have been anything but
+perfect. Don&rsquo;t try to deceive me like all the others you
+have said you were in love with.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! I have never been in love before. That I understand
+well enough now!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Marcel, for pity&rsquo;s sake, be quite frank with me.
+I have gone through such suffering hitherto, but that was because
+my heart was untouched. I am afraid of suffering now, as I shall
+love&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, have confidence in me. I will make you forget all
+your past sorrow. You are so young, and the future may yet be so
+bright for you. I want you all to myself. Once your mourning over
+you will again become mistress of your own destiny, and if you
+will authorize me to speak to your brother&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The young woman gave a gesture of fright.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To Cesare? Do nothing of the kind. You do not know him!
+In a moment he would become your most bitter enemy!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why so?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! It is sad to think of and even sadder to mention.
+Cesare is without fortune, and I have been left a wealthy widow
+by M. Vignola. Were I to leave my brother, and cease to be free,
+he would be absolutely without resource. How could I induce him
+to accept a modest station in life? He is already unhappy,
+indeed, at not being able to do honour to his birth, for we are
+descended from a princely <a name="page241"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 241</span>family. The Briviescas formerly
+reigned in Padua. An Agostini was ruler of Parma. But ruin came,
+and Count Cesare receives only the pay of a captain of cavalry. A
+sorry position for a man of his disposition! Accordingly, ever
+since I have been a widow he has undertaken the direction of my
+property. He finds it to his advantage, I believe, and I am well
+pleased that it is so. For he is very kind, and I am fond of
+him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In that case give him what belongs to you. Have I any
+need of your fortune? I only want yourself! Leave Count Cesare
+all your possessions. I, too, shall be rich, and if I wished I
+could restore to you to-morrow more than all you would have
+sacrificed in becoming mine.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She seemed astonished. A light shone in her beautiful eyes as
+she said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Tell me how?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>No suspicion came across his mind. He saw nothing but that
+exquisite mouth and those gentle eyes which questioned him so
+eloquently.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am in possession of a commercial secret calculated to
+bring about a complete revolution in the economic conditions of
+work in mines. The assured profit will not belong to me entirely,
+but I shall have my share of it. That sole share alone will be
+immense. They can do nothing without me, for I alone know the
+secret of the process of manufacturing the powder. A company will
+be formed to exploit the patents of this discovery. All this
+means fortune&mdash;you hear, Anetta?&mdash;an immediate and
+enormous fortune.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! continue! Tell me all, my dear friend.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are the first to whom I have said so much. But,
+then, can I conceal anything from you? Were you to ask me for my
+very honour I would sacrifice it for your sake. Besides, what
+have I to fear from one so kind and disinterested? Yes, I am the
+possessor of a glorious and <a name="page242"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 242</span>powerful secret. The glory of the
+discovery will belong to the inventor, and I shall be happy to
+have helped in making him world-famed. To those who have
+organized and rendered his work practicable will belong an
+incalculable financial power.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Madame Vignola interrupted Marcel.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But suppose you were to disappear&mdash;suppose some
+misfortune happened you; in these noisy street quarrels of the
+strikers you might be struck to the ground. Then what would
+become of this invention of yours? Probably you have given no
+more thought to the protection of your secret than you have to
+that of your life.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As she spoke she pressed him to her heart, a look of anguish
+overshadowing her face. Her looks seemed to burn into
+Marcel&rsquo;s brain as she gently passed her hand over his
+brow.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No!&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Do not deceive yourself. I
+took the precaution this very morning to write out the
+formul&aelig; of this wonderful invention.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have it on your person?&rdquo; she asked in
+terrified accents.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, do not be anxious, dearest; I left it in my
+laboratory. It cannot be destroyed now. My Uncle Graff would take
+it from the drawer of my desk in case anything were to befall me.
+But I love you, and nothing can possibly happen to me. I must
+succeed and triumph if you love me!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>With a gesture expressive of infinite content, she
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Can you doubt it, after what I have said? How could I
+help loving one so fervent and capricious as you are? It is this
+youthful folly of yours which pleased me from the beginning. You
+are so different from those with whom I have hitherto lived. My
+early life was passed with my old parents, who were very strict
+and severe with me, in a cold <a name="page243"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 243</span>and gloomy house in Milan. Then my
+husband, though so kind and anxious to please me, could not bring
+his cold and reasoning habits into harmony with my youth and
+inexperience. Sorrow and <i>ennui</i> were my daily portion. It
+seems that I have only awakened to life from this very day, as
+though I had all my life been like the sleeping princess in the
+fairy tale. You have appeared before me, and now my eyes open to
+the light of day, my ears listen to your tender, loving words,
+and with inexpressible delight I awake to a new birth of
+happiness.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The most accomplished actress could not have more artfully
+uttered such ravishing words as these which fell from the lips of
+the beautiful temptress. Turning aside her face, as though to
+conceal her blushes, her lithe form seemed to quiver with
+delight. He, maddened by this confession, and burning with the
+passion this redoubtable enchantress knew so well how to inspire,
+dropped his fevered head on Anetta&rsquo;s shoulder. His reason
+seemed to leave him as he murmured&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I adore you!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>At this moment she turned her head to look at him, perhaps to
+reply. Their lips met, and united in a burning kiss. Suddenly,
+above the green expanse of forest, in the midst of the calm in
+which the peaceful house was wrapped, rose a shout which grew
+louder and louder, whilst the clang of an alarm-bell could be
+distinctly heard. Anetta exclaimed&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is that?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marcel listened attentively.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It sounds like shouts and cries for help coming from
+the direction of Ars.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He rushed towards the window, and, already trembling with
+secret anguish, exclaimed&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is the alarm-bell! Perhaps the works are on fire! <a
+name="page244"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 244</span><i>Mon
+Dieu</i>! What can be the matter? You are well aware to what
+risks we were exposed at Ars, and I am afraid that matters have
+taken a turn for the worse in my absence.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Madame Vignola opened the door, and called&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Milo.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The servant appeared. Without waiting to be questioned, she
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is something wrong at Ars, madame. Bells are
+ringing, and a black cloud of smoke is rising above the trees. It
+might be possible to see from the roof.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will mount at once!&rdquo; exclaimed Marcel.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will follow you. Go with him,&rdquo; she said to
+Milona.</p>
+<p>But instead of keeping her word the young woman entered the
+small office where she was in the habit of writing her letters,
+took up a sheet of paper, and traced a few rapid lines. Steps
+could already be heard on the staircase. Marcel, pale and
+agitated, appeared before her.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The fire must have caught the works. Oh, Anetta, I have
+forgotten everything by your side! Good-bye, I must rush off at
+once.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Marcel, do not forget that you are mine.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>With a look of fright she pressed him in her arms, and held
+him back.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Darling, I must go. What would they think of me? I will
+return to-night. Let me go now.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very well. But Milona will follow you, and bring me
+back the news. Promise me you will be very careful.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A final kiss, and he was already in the garden. Anetta turned
+to the servant and handed to her the note she had just
+written.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Run to Ars. On the river, in a boat, you will see Hans,
+dressed like a peasant. Give him this paper, and return at once.
+Go, Milo! This time we shall succeed.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page245"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+245</span>&ldquo;And the young man, madame&mdash;what will you do
+with him?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A look of anxiety came over her brow.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot tell yet, Milo. I believe I love
+him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The servant smiled faintly as she said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Poor fellow! What a pity!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And, without another word, she disappeared.</p>
+<p>Marcel was running towards the works. At the first turn of the
+road the whole town lay before his eyes. From the Supply Stores a
+lofty column of black smoke mounted towards the sky, and flames
+were beginning to break through the roof.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, the wretches!&rdquo; exclaimed the young man.
+&ldquo;They have set the place on fire! And Uncle Graff? <i>Mon
+Dieu</i>! if only he is safe and sound!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Young and vigorous, spurred on by fear and anger, he ran along
+faster than ever. A mass of onlookers was standing in the street,
+kept in check by the police. Marcel rushed through them like a
+bullet and entered the yard, perspiring and out of breath.
+Workmen were manipulating the fire-engine belonging to the works.
+On seeing their master&rsquo;s son arrive they exclaimed
+eagerly&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, M. Marcel! You have come at last!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How did the fire happen?&rdquo; exclaimed the young man
+panting for breath.</p>
+<p>No one replied. They were two hundred; he was alone. All the
+same he exclaimed, in angry tones&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So it is you, rascals, you who have set fire to the
+works which afforded you your only means of
+livelihood?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They protested noisily.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, M. Marcel, we did not do it! We set forth our
+demands, but we did not enforce them by such villainous means.
+There are strangers about. We had nothing to do with
+it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page246"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+246</span>&ldquo;Where is my uncle Graff?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Terror-stricken, a foreman advanced&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, M. Marcel, we could not prevent him
+entering.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Entering where?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Into the managing department, with M. Cardez and your
+servant. They wanted to find the account books, etc.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But the managing department is on fire!&rdquo; shrieked
+the young man, in despair. &ldquo;If you could not prevent them
+going, you might at least have accompanied them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A crash was now heard coming from the burning building.
+Millions of sparks shot forth into the air, and a black dust
+filled the sky. It was the roof of the stores, which had fallen
+in.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How can we reach them now?&rdquo; said the overseer,
+anxiously. &ldquo;They are caught between the weaving department
+and the stores. The fire is all over the place now.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;By the roof.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The workman shook his head discouragingly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who will dare to go?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But it means death!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I will risk it with them!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We will not let you go. What would your father
+say?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What would he say if I did not go?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Scarcely knowing what he was doing, Marcel seized hold of a
+hatchet, and rushed into the works. A violent biting sensation of
+heat seized him by the throat, but he did not halt. He mounted
+the staircase leading to the door of the book-keeping department.
+Here he was forced to stop. Before him was a wall of flames.
+Climbing higher, he came out on the roof, ran along a drain-pipe,
+entered the loft, <a name="page247"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+247</span>which was filled with smoke, and, almost suffocated,
+reached that part of the building which lay above the offices.
+The fire had not reached them. He halted. If Cardez and Uncle
+Graff were in the book-keeping compartment they were surrounded
+on every side by the fire. Accordingly, they could only effect an
+escape either from above or below. Without the slightest
+hesitation he began to cut away at the floor. Suddenly he heard
+his name called from the roof. Without stopping he shouted
+back&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This way! In the loft!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It was the overseer and three of the workmen, who had followed
+with picks and levers. They set to work. Marcel, with his
+hatchet, seemed possessed of the strength of ten men; the beams
+appeared to fall away like reeds before the blows he dealt.
+Bricks and plaster were flying in all directions. At last a hole
+was made in the floor, and Marcel, lying flat on the ground,
+shouted with all his might&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Uncle Graff, Cardez, Baudoin&mdash;are you
+there?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A stifled voice replied&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! This is you, Marcel. Yes, we are here. Be quick; we
+are almost exhausted. The smoke is suffocating us. We cannot open
+the window on account of the flames.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Take care of yourselves!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Seizing the lever he gave a powerful lift, which considerably
+enlarged the hole. Then he saw the smoke rise as though by an
+escape-flue. There appeared in full view the three men, who had
+not let go their books and registers, stolidly awaiting
+deliverance or death. It was deliverance that came. A rope was
+lowered down the hole.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Baudoin, fasten my uncle firmly under the arms with
+this rope. Are you ready?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Pull away, my men!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The rope, hoisted by impatient arms, was drawn up, and <a
+name="page248"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 248</span>Uncle
+Graff, black with dirt and smoke, trembling, and scarcely able to
+breathe, though perfectly happy, was pressed in Marcel&rsquo;s
+arms, whilst tears flowed down their cheeks, though not a word
+was uttered. Cardez and Baudoin were hoisted up in the same
+way.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;By the way,&rdquo; said Marcel, &ldquo;is there
+anything else you want from the office? I will go down, if you
+like.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No!&rdquo; exclaimed Uncle Graff; finding his voice;
+&ldquo;we have all the books we want. That is sufficient! The
+place is insured, so there is nothing more to do.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then we must beat a retreat at once,&rdquo; exclaimed
+Marcel. &ldquo;The smoke is getting denser here.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marcel, helping along his uncle, made his way to the
+drain-pipe. From the yard they were seen returning safe and
+sound. An immense shout arose, almost deafening the roar of the
+flames. They reached the works, where the firemen had already
+taken up their positions with the object of preserving the
+buildings still intact. Once in the yard Uncle Graff sank down on
+a bale of wool, turned pale, and almost fainted. He had come to
+the end of his strength.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A glass of water!&rdquo; exclaimed Marcel.</p>
+<p>In a moment a decanter was in his hand. No matter what he had
+asked for, his demand would have been immediately obeyed. Full of
+respect before courage and devotion, the mob regarded him with
+indulgent and reverent tenderness. The very men who had cried out
+only the night before, &ldquo;Down with the masters!&rdquo; were
+ready to shout out, Hurrah for M. Marcel! The reason was that he
+had just performed a feat none of them had had courage to
+attempt, and in their inmost souls they were conscious that he
+was braver and better than themselves, and, accordingly, they
+felt nothing but admiration for him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Cardez, take these registers and the money home,&rdquo;
+<a name="page249"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 249</span>said
+Marcel. &ldquo;We will go to my home, Uncle Graff. You must try
+to regain your strength completely.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No! I feel better already. I can breathe more freely.
+Ah, Marcel, you came just in time. Another quarter of an hour and
+you would have found us all dead.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I was miserable at the thought that I was not with you
+all the time.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Had you been with us everything would have been lost!
+We were dying. Your absence was quite providential! But for that,
+all would have been over with us!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But how did it all happen?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We cannot understand anything yet! For an hour we had
+been discussing with the delegates, and I must say the peaceful
+settlement of the strike seemed very doubtful, when we were
+suddenly interrupted by shouts of &lsquo;Fire! Fire!&rsquo; The
+workmen assembled in the yard awaiting the delegates had just
+seen a dense cloud of smoke issue from the stores. To tell the
+truth, they were ill-disposed towards us. When we crossed the
+yard on the way to the office they received us with a hostile
+silence. Not a head was uncovered. Veritable enemies on our own
+ground! In a moment the fire effected a complete change. They
+became like madmen when they saw the works burning. At bottom
+these workmen are not evil-disposed, for they rushed forth from
+every direction, shouting out, &lsquo;To the pumps!&rsquo; When
+they saw me appear with Cardez they shouted: &lsquo;M. Graff,
+this is not our work!&rsquo; A moment after one of the strangers,
+who has been here only a week, a native of Luxembourg, named
+Verstraet, being caught prowling about the works, they half
+killed him, accusing him of being the incendiary. We were obliged
+to tear him from their hands.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marcel listened with gloomy interest to this recital. He
+associated the fire with the strange fears, manifested on <a
+name="page250"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 250</span>different
+occasions by Baudoin, respecting the safety of the laboratory. He
+heard the servant say, &ldquo;Just now, there are men here whose
+appearance is anything but prepossessing.&rdquo; The workmen also
+spoke vaguely about strangers. Everything was wrapped in mystery.
+Instinctively, Marcel felt himself enveloped in a network of
+threats and hatred. Was it still this secret of the General de
+Tr&eacute;mont, which brought disaster on all those who possessed
+it? Looking round for Baudoin, he found that he had disappeared.
+The fire was raging less fiercely, for the torrents of water
+poured on the stores had extinguished the bales of wool. The
+works themselves did not seem to have suffered to any
+considerable extent; the loss was only partial. The captain of
+the Ars fire brigade, a plumber by trade, came out from the rest
+and stood there, hot and panting, with cap in hand, before M.
+Graff and Cardez.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, gentlemen, we shall come out of this affair
+better than we might have expected. At present, more than
+two-thirds of the works are safe. We may take our breath a
+little. It has been warm work, indeed, the last hour!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. But for M. Marcel,&rdquo; said Cardez, &ldquo;we
+should not be speaking to you at this moment, M.
+Prevost.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That was a very noble act of his,&rdquo; said the
+captain. &ldquo;Ah! neither my men nor myself had thought of
+doing as he did. There was courage enough in us, but we should
+not have thought of piercing a hole in the roof. He did not lose
+his head; and that was the main thing.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Just at that moment, a voice quivering with anguish, was
+heard, and Marcel, pale and excited, came rushing from the
+laboratory, exclaiming&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Uncle Graff. Come here, quick!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is the matter?&rdquo; asked Cardez.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Stay here! My uncle only!&rdquo; said the young man.
+Monsieur Graff immediately went up to his nephew. <a
+name="page251"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 251</span>Baudoin was
+already on the threshold guarding the entrance.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come in! <i>Mon Dieu</i>! Come in!&rdquo; said Marcel,
+pushing the old man before him. &ldquo;Baudoin, shut the door and
+place the key inside.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is the matter now?&rdquo; exclaimed the old
+man.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Look!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Standing there on the threshold of the capharnaum, the three
+men looked around in bewildered astonishment. All the signs of a
+desperate fight had thrown the room into the utmost disorder. A
+curtain, half torn from the window still open on the river, was
+hanging from its broken pole. Jars, retorts, and alembics of
+every description crushed to pieces lay scattered about the
+floor. On the table was a large clot of blood, still wet, as
+though some one had there met his death. The paper everywhere was
+splashed over with large red spots, and the drawer of the table
+lay wide open before their eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What has taken place here?&rdquo; asked Uncle Graff, in
+low tones.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Look in the drawer, Uncle Graff,&rdquo; said Marcel.
+&ldquo;Try to find the formula I placed there before your
+eyes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is there no longer! It has been stolen! Look for the
+flagon containing the war powder, which was on the table.
+Disappeared!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Stolen? By whom?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps by the same person who set fire to the works?
+Whose blood is that on the floor? Uncle Graff, we have brought
+about our heads a terrible stream of enemies. Think of what has
+happened concerning the inventions of M. de Tr&eacute;mont. There
+has been a whole band of rascals at work for months, bent on
+stealing these secrets at whatever cost, and in face of the
+greatest difficulties! My father <a name="page252"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 252</span>guessed this, for it was with the
+utmost trouble that I succeeded in obtaining his permission to
+continue this discovery. Baudoin knew it, for he asked my
+permission to keep watch in the laboratory. It was the excitement
+caused by the fire which forced him to quit his post; doubtless,
+had he stayed here, he, too, would have lost his life. But whose
+blood is this that has been shed?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come, my child, do calm yourself,&rdquo; said the old
+man, alarmed at the increasing agitation of his nephew.
+&ldquo;Speak, Baudoin, tell us all you know.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Monsieur Graff, I know who has fallen here, and I know,
+too, whose hand struck the blow. The victim is a man devoted to
+our cause, who, from the very first, had scented the culprits. He
+could not help the robbery being committed, and, had he not been
+killed, he would certainly have arrested the thief.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And who is the man who struck him?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! This is by no means the first attempt. He is a
+determined villain; all the troubles in the district have been
+caused by this man. It is he who started the conflagration. He
+who stabbed General de Tr&eacute;mont. It is the man of Vanves.
+In a word, it is Hans!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How do you know this?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Because I have seen him. Lafor&ecirc;t, whom I had sent
+for to keep a watch on these people whom I suspected, and who has
+doubtless paid with his life for his zeal and devotion, followed
+him last night, and we both spent part of the night in tracking
+his movements. We were present at his conferences with the
+leaders of the strike at the Soleil d&rsquo;Or. We heard him give
+his orders to his acolytes. It is he our unhappy workmen obeyed,
+without knowing it, seduced as they were by the rabid language of
+the leaders. This is the villain who, secretly, and from a
+distance, directed the riot, and set fire to the
+works!&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page253"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+253</span>&ldquo;But how could he know that the written formula
+was in the table of the laboratory? Why did he come
+here?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He came here because I ran off to the fire and left my
+post. He has, somehow or other, received precise
+information.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Baudoin stopped. He gave his young master a look of
+anguish.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, Monsieur Marcel, must I speak? Will you pardon
+me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marcel turned pale. All the same he said, in firm
+tones&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Speak. I insist upon it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, then, this man, for the past week, has been
+living at the Villa de la Cav&eacute;e.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Impossible!&rdquo; exclaimed Marcel. &ldquo;Hans! This
+villain?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Monsieur Marcel,&rdquo; resumed Baudoin, bravely, but
+with infinite sadness, &ldquo;I have seen him there myself.
+Lafor&ecirc;t has been watching him for a whole week. He lived in
+the attic, and only went out at nights.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And I never suspected anything!&rdquo; exclaimed the
+young man, in stupefied grief. &ldquo;Then who is this woman who
+has been there the last six weeks? What is this atrocious farce
+she has been playing with me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; exclaimed Uncle Graff. &ldquo;A woman!
+Another woman? Incorrigible child!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marcel, seated by the table on a stool, his head in his hands,
+was endeavouring to collect his ideas. He was falling from a pure
+heaven of delight in which he had been living into the
+degradation of blood and crime.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come, it is impossible!&rdquo; he continued, with
+trembling voice. &ldquo;Why should she have deceived me so
+atrociously? Was there any need to make me so madly in love with
+her? No, I cannot believe her guilty; she never lied once to me.
+<a name="page254"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 254</span>Her very
+looks were frank and true. No, no! You are mistaken; you are
+heaping calumny on her! Even though the man be a villain, she, at
+least, is no accomplice of his. She is his victim, as we all are.
+If they tried to harm me, she had not the strength or the
+authority to resist. And if she knows what has happened, she is
+lamenting it all, as we are, this very moment.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>His desperate protests were stifled by sobs, and, leaning his
+head on the blood-stained table, he wept bitterly. His uncle
+respected his grief, and, taking Baudoin to the window, he said
+to him, in subdued tones&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In your opinion, who has been in the laboratory after
+you left it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Lafor&ecirc;t, who was keeping watch over our man, must
+have followed him to this very spot. During the tumult caused by
+the fire Hans entered the yard of the works, and went right to
+the summer-house. Lafor&ecirc;t must have surprised him whilst he
+was examining the drawer. A terrible struggle must then have
+taken place between Hans, who is a giant in form, and
+Lafor&ecirc;t, who is very muscular. Hans doubtless made use of
+some arm or other to rid him of his adversary. Lafor&ecirc;t,
+killed outright, or stunned, fell on the table, thereupon Hans
+seized him and dragged him to the window. He became entangled
+with the curtain, which has been torn away; the weight must have
+been a heavy one, for the pole is broken.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And afterwards?&rdquo; asked M. Graff, anxiously.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Afterwards Hans flung the ill-fated Lafor&ecirc;t out
+of the window. The current has carried him off. Probably he will
+be picked up in the sluice of the mill of
+Sainte-Savine.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And the woman, Baudoin?&rdquo; whispered the old
+man.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, Monsieur Graff, I do not know if she is the woman
+of Vanves or not. Both the scent she uses and her <a
+name="page255"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 255</span>voice are
+different. But a voice may be modified, and a perfume changed.
+What remains unchanging is villainous skill and seductive charm.
+This one has all that is needed to madden a man&mdash;beauty,
+distinction, grace. Look at M. Marcel there, in tears. It is
+neither crime nor theft that has brought him into that state. It
+is the grief caused by suspecting the one he adores, and the fear
+that he may now be under the obligation of hating her.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Poor fellow! He, at least, did not deserve to suffer.
+He has been very brave. But for him, Baudoin, we should not now
+be in the land of the living.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;True; and but for this wretched woman all this trouble
+would have been avoided. She well knows what she has done, and
+with whom she has had to deal. It is not you she would have
+undertaken to corrupt. She would have known beforehand that your
+calm and tranquil reason would have guarded you from her attacks.
+But with the General and M. Marcel it was different. Oh, M.
+Graff, she has made no mistake! Had she had either the necessary
+time or desire both the old and the young man would have given up
+their secret of their own accord.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Uncle Graff, astonished at such clear-sightedness, looked at
+Baudoin with considerable interest.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, sir, you are astonished at hearing me speak in this
+way. But what I have said is not an invention. My General, on
+those days when he was master of himself, spoke to me in similar
+terms. He accused and blamed himself, well knowing how weak he
+was.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And his weakness brought him to his death. Let us
+consider ourselves fortunate that Marcel has not been treated so
+harshly. The poor fellow suffers; he is unhappy. But, then, he is
+only twenty-five years of age, and in one&rsquo;s youth no sorrow
+lasts long. But if these rascals had killed him? Ah, his father
+seemed to guess the danger he ran! He <a name="page256"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 256</span>imagined his son would be safer at
+Ars, in the midst of the workmen, but you see how mistaken he has
+been.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! But, after all, this woman knew how to track him.
+And in this quiet spot her power was more manifest than
+ever.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What will she do now?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Disappear with her acolytes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are there many of them?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is a pretended brother, a handsome,
+dark-complexioned young fellow; the servant, who called this
+morning for M. Marcel; and then Hans, without counting those we
+know nothing about. A whole band, you may be certain. Sir, not a
+single act of rascality or treachery happens in the country
+without those rascals having a hand in it. Lafor&ecirc;t told me
+so himself: &lsquo;France is exploited by foreigners. The
+Government will do for strangers what they will not do for
+Frenchmen. If only an individual offers himself, speaking with a
+foreign accent, and wearing a many-coloured decoration, all kinds
+of privileges are showered upon him.&rsquo; We are a set of
+ninnies and simpletons, M. Graff, though we imagine ourselves
+very clever.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marcel drew near. During the past few minutes his face seemed
+to have become quite furrowed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Uncle Graff,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;the present is not
+the time for lamenting. We must act at once. Perhaps we may still
+come across the bold scoundrel who has been here. We must give a
+description of him to the police. For myself, I shall go to the
+villa and find out the whole truth.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We know very little, Marcel, about the people with whom
+we have to deal if we can think they have lost a single second in
+escaping.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How can they imagine they are even
+suspected?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The <i>coup</i> is effected; all they need do now will
+be to clear off!&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page257"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+257</span>Marcel gave a gesture of protest.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; continued the old man, gently. &ldquo;You
+are asking why she could have gone? How could she have taken her
+departure without seeing me again? My poor child, you are still
+under the effect of the delusion practised on you! You cannot yet
+understand that all the tenderness she lavished on you was
+calculated, interested in its nature, that, in short, you were
+only a victim. And you still expect her to be waiting for you.
+Well! we will all go and see, my child. Then we shall know the
+value of the promises by which you have allowed yourself to be
+deceived. Meanwhile we must inform the authorities. Take my
+advice, and say nothing about the powders. We must speak of the
+murder only. Our man will be caught just as easily, if he is to
+be caught at all, which I very much doubt. We will keep our
+secret in the background. Ah! We have to deal with enemies
+stronger than ourselves! Do not reproach yourself in any way.
+Everything was too well arranged. In one way or another, you were
+bound to succumb. Luckily, your life is out of danger.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thanks, Uncle Graff, you do your best to console me.
+But I shall never forgive myself, in case you are right. Come
+along.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They descended into the yard. The fire had been extinguished,
+and the pumps were now silent, with the exception of the one
+belonging to the works, which was still dashing water on the
+ruins. On their approach, the crowd of workmen stood there in
+respectful silence, all heads uncovered. This misfortune had
+kindled renewed sympathy with their masters, and their devotion
+enjoined an attitude of respect. Cardez came forward, and
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Monsieur Graff, the workmen want you to speak to them.
+They do not wish to remain suspected.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Graff advanced, and said in grave accents&mdash;</p>
+<p><a name="page258"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+258</span>&ldquo;My friends, I know you too well to accuse you of
+the crime which has been committed here. I am well aware that you
+are hot-headed, but you are very honest all the same. Besides,
+what would have been the use of such wilful destruction, if not
+to throw you on to the streets and cause you to die of hunger?
+The very moment the fire broke out, your delegates and ourselves
+were on the point of coming to a mutual understanding. After the
+good will you have just given proof of, in uniting to save the
+works, I can only admit of one solution, the one most favourable
+to you. Accordingly, I grant you your demands.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>An immense cheer of mingled joy and gratitude burst from five
+hundred throats. Caps were waved high in the air. Graff raised
+his hand; silence was instantly restored.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I beg you to remember that it is to the manager quite
+as much as to myself that you owed this result. If he is severe
+in point of discipline, it is because he feels it to be necessary
+in the interest of the work. But no one is a stauncher upholder
+of your interests than your excellent director.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hurrah for M. Cardez!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Uncle Graff smiled.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come, come! You are like overgrown children! Yesterday
+you wanted to hang him. And myself into the bargain! To-day you
+receive him with shouts of joy. And it is at this moment that you
+are more just and reasonable. Remember what has taken place. And
+next time you have any demands to make, do not begin by threats
+of murder. Now, go home, all of you, and to-morrow morning, at
+the usual hour, we shall expect you back at work!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The crowd melted away in respectful silence. With its usual
+fickleness it now showered blessings on those it <a
+name="page259"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 259</span>had
+formerly cursed. Obeying its instincts, which are always generous
+and kind when left to develop freely, it congratulated itself on
+the happy ending of a day which might have been so tragic, and
+now withdrew, delighted at the prospect of resuming the labour it
+had contemptibly looked upon as utter slavery.</p>
+<h2><a name="page260"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 260</span>PART
+III</h2>
+<h3>CHAPTER I</h3>
+<p><span class="smcap">Whilst</span> Milona was running in the
+direction of Ars, her mistress returned quietly to the salon.
+Flinging herself on the sofa, she abandoned herself to a
+delightful reverie. What a difference she found between Cesare
+Agostini and Marcel! A feeling of nausea came over her when she
+compared them with one another. The complaisant and needy lover,
+who always knew when to close his eyes, when some mysterious
+interests of his were at stake, and this tender, sincere lover,
+who thought of nothing but her happiness, and sacrificed for that
+his own.</p>
+<p>She remembered Hans&rsquo; sarcastic remarks, &ldquo;Take care
+you are not caught in your own net, and fall in love with this
+young man.&rdquo; Had he then read her inmost thoughts, this
+dread accomplice of hers, who trampled humanity under foot, and
+who had no more respect for joy and happiness than the hail has
+for the harvest? Suppose it were so? Had she not the right to do
+as she wished? Was she a slave, linked to obscure and threatening
+adventurers engaged in some formidable though tremendous task? Or
+was there equality for both them and herself, in danger, success,
+and pleasure alike? Who could compel her to do what was
+displeasing to her&mdash;above all, who would dare to attempt it?
+She knew she was as dangerous as any of them, <a
+name="page261"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 261</span>and they,
+too, were well aware how powerful and audacious she was. If it
+were necessary to try conclusions with them, they would see who
+would come out the winner.</p>
+<p>She smiled, and her face shone with the light of a glorious
+graciousness. In that young woman, with those delicate, refined
+features, who would have discovered the bold, sarcastic Sophia
+Grodsko? What would Lichtenbach have said, had he seen her, and
+what would all those have thought who had known her, so faithless
+and vice-stained, fatal to all who had loved her, and whom she
+had led on to ruin, dishonour, or death? A young man, the least
+remarkable of all she had hitherto met, in all probability, had
+obtained the triumph of making her uneasy and anxious at the
+thought of what might become of him. Following him in
+imagination, on his way back to the town, she wondered if it
+would not have been better to have kept him by her side, instead
+of allowing him to rush off to the burning works, and especially
+towards the spot where Hans was watching&mdash;Hans, more to be
+dreaded than all the other scourges combined.</p>
+<p>She rose, and, already repenting of having shown such a lack
+of decision, she was deliberating whether or not she ought,
+herself, to go to Ars, and find out what was taking place there.
+Prudence checked the impulse. All the same, she mounted to the
+second floor of the villa, on to a balcony from which a view of
+the valley could be obtained beyond the trees. There she quickly
+saw that the danger, if there had been any, had lessened. The
+smoke was disappearing, not a single flame was to be seen, and
+the hubbub from the town had calmed down, whilst even the church
+bell had ceased ringing. She was about to descend, when she saw
+Milona open the garden gate. The servant was coming along the
+alley with rapid and uneasy steps. Sophia had a presentiment that
+she was the bearer of bad news, and gave <a
+name="page262"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 262</span>a sharp,
+low whistle. Milo mounted the steps all out of breath, and came
+straight to her mistress&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have performed your commission,&rdquo; she said.
+&ldquo;I found Hans. He read your note, and placed it back in my
+hands. Here it is.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good. That is not all. What is the matter?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Agostini is close behind me. He has just landed at
+Ars.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sophia frowned. A slight blush mounted to her cheeks. Taking a
+match, she lit it, and set fire to the paper Milona had handed to
+her. Thoughtfully, she watched the ashes fly away in the wind.
+Then she asked&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How is he coming here?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In a cab. Listen, you may hear the horse&rsquo;s hoofs
+already.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The cab stopped in front of the door, and Cesare descended.
+The cabman waited. Sophia slowly descended the staircase, and
+found herself in the hall, to receive the handsome Italian. He
+advanced with shining eyes and eager gait. Carelessly, and with
+an air of indifference, she held out her hand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, well! my dear,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Is this the
+way you receive me after a fortnight&rsquo;s absence?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Silence!&rdquo; she said firmly; &ldquo;this is no time
+for nonsense. Hans at this very moment is doubtless risking his
+life to obtain possession of the powders.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Have you then succeeded with our young
+victim?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You may see for yourself. There will be more to learn
+later on.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Diavolo!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Rushing from the room, he exclaimed&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Milo, tell the cabman to wait.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He returned&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who knows if we shall not need him shortly? As I <a
+name="page263"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 263</span>passed by I
+saw the town was in the greatest commotion imaginable, and that
+the works were on fire. Is this accident an invention of
+yours?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I believe Hans arranged the whole affair.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Gay disposition, Hans! He is fond of an attractive
+<i>mise en scene</i>. But I should be glad to have a little
+lunch; I left Paris quite hurriedly.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Milona will serve you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They passed into the dining-room. The table was set, and
+Cesare took a seat.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come and talk to me, my beautiful Sophia. Time has
+weighed heavy on my hands since last I saw you. I have vainly
+sought for distractions.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What have you been doing?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! Trying to win a little money at cards. A kind of
+fatality seems to pursue me, my bad luck never leaves me, and I
+cannot touch a card without losing.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have lost much?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Too much! I so easily get excited, you know.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, how much?&rdquo; asked Sophia, impatiently.</p>
+<p>The handsome Italian replied with a smile&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing at all, cara; I had the money!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who gave it you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Lichtenbach. I was obliged to accustom him to my little
+fancies. When he becomes my father-in-law I shall appeal to him
+rather often.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Take care. He may tire.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He will not be allowed to do so.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;His resources are not inexhaustible.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are jesting. I am well acquainted with the source
+of his wealth.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed! Who has been informing you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A relation of mine, the Very Reverend Monsignor Boldi,
+whom I saw in Paris a few days ago. Lichtenbach, <a
+name="page264"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 264</span>in addition
+to his wealth, is a church trustee. I no longer wonder at the
+influence he wields. He has the disposal of immense sums, and of
+almost limitless power. But he is not a man of action. He is
+always hesitating and trembling. Had you seen how terrified he
+was when I alluded to his position as a kind of ecclesiastical
+banker, you would have laughed outright. Ah! cara, his brow was
+covered with perspiration. Whatever can he be afraid
+of?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;From his constituents, nothing. From you, everything.
+That he doubtless guessed at once.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! <i>Mon Dieu</i>! All that trouble for such a
+trifle! A mere bagatelle of forty thousand francs. That cursed
+baccarat! But Lichtenbach never plays, except on the Bourse. And
+there he always wins!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Question!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! Can he, too, be cursed with bad luck?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We are now doing our best to arrange matters so that he
+may have nothing but good luck!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The powder affair?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. Listen, what is that?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A sound was heard outside. Taking from a cupboard a small
+revolver, she slipped it into her pocket, and
+said&mdash;&ldquo;Are you armed?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am always armed. What are you afraid of?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Wait!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>In the silence a curious whistling sound was heard.
+Sophia&rsquo;s features relaxed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is Hans!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A rapid step was heard on the sand of the alley. The door of
+the salon opened, and Milona made her appearance, followed by the
+colossus. He was still clothed in his mean-looking fisher&rsquo;s
+costume. Flinging his hat on the ground, he removed his blouse
+and his huge shoes, without the slightest thought of
+Sophia&rsquo;s presence, and exclaimed&mdash;</p>
+<p><a name="page265"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+265</span>&ldquo;Milo, my clothes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Placing on the table a glass recipient and a sheet of paper,
+he said, with a grimace&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Here it is!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then you have succeeded at last?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sophia and Cesare approached with a kind of respect, and saw
+through the jar the brownish shavings of the powder which had
+already cost so much blood!</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, here it is! This small phial and this piece of
+paper again represent the life of a man.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You were surprised in the act?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. And I have killed again.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who is the victim this time?&rdquo; exclaimed Sophia,
+pale as death.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do not alarm yourself, my dear; it is not your
+turtledove.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>He</i> gave Cesare a glance, which immediately put the
+Italian on the alert. His light, careless attitude disappeared,
+and a cold, hard look came into his face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It was a troublesome fellow I have had on my track for
+several days,&rdquo; continued Hans. &ldquo;A Government spy. It
+was not the first time we had met, either. He almost caught me
+three years ago at Lyons, in the affair of the Sergeant-Major. I
+took good note of him at the time, and his account is now
+settled!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But will his murder not be discovered?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What then? We must clear off at once; the authorities
+never trouble about detectives, that you know very well. This one
+will undergo a curing process, with his broken head, in the
+river, until he is fished out. Meanwhile, we shall be on the
+other side of the frontier.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Milona entered, carrying a suit of elegant-looking clothes, a
+grey felt hat, and yellow shoes. Unceremoniously, Hans dressed
+himself.</p>
+<p><a name="page266"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+266</span>&ldquo;The cabman is at the door. Did he see you
+enter?&rdquo; asked Sophia.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No. I am not such a fool as to show myself to him. It
+was very convenient to come along the end of the garden, where
+the wall is conveniently low. I am returning the same way, and I
+would advise you, my children, to vacate this place as soon as
+possible. As you are aware, we are due shortly in Venice. The
+first who arrives will wait for the rest. There, I again become
+Major Fraser.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Placing in a leather bag his glass recipient and the folded
+paper, he shook hands with Agostini, smiled familiarly to Sophia,
+and disappeared as he had come. The Italian gave a kick at
+Hans&rsquo; cast-off clothes, and said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Milo, all this must disappear, my child.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In the kitchen fire,&rdquo; said the Dalmatian,
+gravely.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And you, Sophia, what do you intend to do? You have
+heard what our noble friend has just said. In my opinion, the
+best thing we can do is to start at once.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The young woman made no reply. She passed into the salon with
+slow, steady steps, as though laboriously seeking the right form
+to explain her meaning. Sitting down, she took a cigarette, and,
+looking at the handsome Italian standing before her,
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, indeed, I do think you would do well to start off.
+There is no reason for you to stay here. As for myself, a sudden
+disappearance would excite suspicion; it would, in fact, be a
+very tactless thing to do.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But will you not be suspected if you remain behind?
+Will no action be taken against you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I? Suspected? In what way? Who could suspect me? Have I
+done anything whatever calculated to excite mistrust? There has
+been no one here except Marcel Baradier; he alone knows
+me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page267"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+267</span>&ldquo;But doubtless he gave you the information by the
+help of which Hans succeeded in his enterprise.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He did certainly give it me, a couple of hours ago. The
+execution has been concomitant with the revelation, so to speak.
+By what miracle could I, who have not stirred from here, have
+informed the one who entered the laboratory, and rid himself of
+his spy? This latter will not speak, as he is dead! The
+laboratory will be found ransacked and in disorder. Very good!
+Have there not taken place to-day, at the works, sufficient
+events in which several rascals have been implicated, without
+there being any need to charge me with a deed so much more likely
+to have been wrought by any of them? If I leave I shall be
+suspected. Why have I taken to flight? How is it I have left no
+explanation of my departure? What has become of me? Then,
+afterwards, what and who am I? Whilst if I remain quietly here
+with Milona, Marcel returns, finds me serene and calm, and
+everything is safe. Is the arrangement not a good one?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Cesare smiled, and, in ironical tones, said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very good, indeed; too good, in fact!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sophia frowned.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Drawing near her, with subtle grace, and still bent on
+adopting gentle means, he said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Have you no longer confidence in me, cara? Why are you
+trying to deceive me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In what way, may I ask?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are not telling me the truth. This is the first
+time you have played me false, Sophia.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She bit her lips, and turned slightly pale.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My dear Cesare, do not ask so many questions. Do as I
+tell you, as you have always done hitherto. You have never found
+it a bad policy, have you? Very well, continue as
+before.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page268"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+268</span>&ldquo;No!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This refusal rang out sharp as a lash.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! Might I be permitted to know the reasons
+influencing you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They are the same as yours. You will not come with me
+on account of this young Marcel Baradier. But it is on that very
+account that I am bent on your accompanying me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Can you be jealous?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is something quite novel; and I must confess I am
+greatly surprised!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is diversity of sensations which gives a charm to
+life!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then you think&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That this fair-complexioned young fellow has pleased
+you more than was agreed upon in our programme. Now, though I was
+disposed to allow you to practice your wiles on him, in the
+interests of business, I no longer feel inclined to permit you to
+flirt with him for art&rsquo;s sake. The play is over, let us
+drop the curtain without continuing the love scene in the
+green-room.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are a very practical lover, Cesare.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Did you not know that before?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have been very generous to you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Many thanks.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And now I intend to act as I please, and to-day I
+cannot obey you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They looked at one another like two wrestlers about to come to
+close quarters. Cesare&rsquo;s eyes sparkled with anger, while
+Sophia stood there calm, with lowered eyelids, as though
+unwilling to meet his look. The Italian, with an effort,
+controlled himself, and speaking with affected gaiety,
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p><a name="page269"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+269</span>&ldquo;Come, cara, let us not quarrel. We have every
+possible reason to be indulgent with one another; have we not
+been acquainted so long? Tell me what you have resolved on. I
+will do all I can to further your wishes. Is it a week&rsquo;s
+liberty you want? When that length of time has elapsed will you
+promise to come to Venice? <i>Mon Dieu</i>! We may well be
+complaisant with one another. I will imagine I am nothing more
+than the brother of Madame Vignola, and will bear you no
+ill-feeling; that I promise. Will that satisfy you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She replied with a sigh&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I do not know.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But I must know.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How can you be so stupid, Cesare, as to speak to the
+Baroness Grodsko as you would to any other woman? One would think
+you had forgotten what she is when some fancy takes possession of
+her. My poor friend, I am sorry for you; Lichtenbach&rsquo;s
+company must have spoiled you. You must stop seeing him; he has
+turned you into a mere bourgeois!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are jesting with me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You refuse to promise to come and rejoin me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;When I left Zypiatine, was he ever a source of
+annoyance to me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then you confess you wish to leave me?&rdquo; exclaimed
+the Italian, pale with anger.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You will know later, my friend. At present I have not
+the slightest wish to see you again.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! Now you are speaking frankly. Do you forget that we
+have several secrets in common?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; nor do I forget there is no obligation for you to
+remember them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That means?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page270"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+270</span>Sophia raised her eyelids, and flashed a look on
+Agostini which astonished him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It means that if for my own safety your disappearance
+were necessary, your life would be very cheap.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You threaten me with death?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Fool! You are well aware that if you breathed a single
+word calculated to throw light on our enterprises, there are at
+least five persons who would kill you at once.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But the affairs of the association are not your
+affairs, and you know that I am acquainted with the ones as well
+as with the others.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Listen, Cesare; people like ourselves ought to be
+agreed in everything we do, if we wish to run no risk of ruin.
+The slightest discord places us at the mercy of our enemies. We
+must serve one another with the greatest self-sacrifice. Every
+selfish demand detracts from the force necessary to common
+success.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! Do you pretend to impose an apathetic indifference
+on people who live with an intensity a hundred times greater than
+the rest of mankind? You forget that I love you, and I will
+submit to no rivalry, Sophia.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And how will you compel me to obey your wishes, may I
+ask?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In the simplest manner imaginable. I will inform Marcel
+Baradier of your life before you gave up your whole existence to
+international investigations and diplomatic intrigues, and we
+shall see if his love for you will survive, for instance, an
+account of the incident of Segovia.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sophia turned so pale that Cesare was afraid of the impression
+he had produced. Grinding her teeth, and stamping about the room
+like a wild beast at bay, she seized upon the revolver she had
+taken up on the arrival of Hans, and, levelling it at the head of
+the Italian, said&mdash;</p>
+<p><a name="page271"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+271</span>&ldquo;Ah, you villain; never again shall you betray a
+single human being!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>With extraordinary agility, Agostini leapt on to her, dashed
+her arm upwards, so that the shot could not reach him, and
+pitilessly twisting her beautiful white wrist, he took possession
+of the revolver, which he calmly placed in his pocket. Then
+looking resolutely at Sophia, he said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now let the dagger have a turn!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She fell into a chair.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You dog! To dare to raise your hand against me! You
+shall be punished for it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good! But we cannot lose our time with such nonsense.
+Can it be admitted that the man the Countess Grodsko has chosen
+as her companion will submit to being fooled like the veriest
+ninny? You may hate me if you like, Sophia, but you shall not
+despise me! This is the first time we have tested our strength
+against one another, and as you see, I have not been found to be
+the weaker. Do not recommence the struggle; if you do, I shall
+treat you without the slightest gallantry?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Shaking her head, and looking at her bruised hand, she said,
+submissively&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have hurt me, Cesare!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Whose fault is it? Upon my word, I believe you were
+mad, for a moment. You brave me, all for the sake of this young
+fop! Do you know I am going to kill him?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I forbid you!&rdquo; said Sophia, emphatically.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I shall be delighted to obey you,&rdquo; he said
+gallantly. &ldquo;There is this difference between us, that I am
+dominated by respectful attentions towards you, and treat you
+like a sovereign, whilst you, by your language and your attitude,
+wish to reduce me to the rank of a lackey! Is that
+just?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page272"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 272</span>She
+made no reply. He walked to and fro for a short time, then
+drawing nearer said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Never have I seen you in such a passion before. What in
+the world can this young fellow have taught you? For the future I
+shall not be able to trust you at all, though hitherto I have had
+the most complete confidence in you! Is it possible that just now
+you thought of blowing out my brains? Afterwards, what would you
+have done with my body? Your Marcel would have arrived. He would
+have found the floor stained with blood, and my corpse lying in
+the middle of the salon! How would you have explained the matter
+to him? You see, Sophia, it was a fit of madness which came over
+you. And all for what? Place in the balance these love-dreams of
+yours, weigh them against the immense interests in which you have
+a part, and decide whether the former weigh down the latter?
+Really, women must at times be mad for one like yourself to give
+way to such acts of extravagance!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He gave her a side-long glance as he spoke, but the expression
+on her face did not appear to satisfy him, so he
+continued&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We neither have nor can have strength, unless we
+support one another. I rely on your beauty, and you ought to be
+proud of my skill and courage. Wherever we pass, it is your
+<i>r&ocirc;le</i> to charm and please, and mine to defend you.
+Have I ever failed in my duty? When Colonel de Bredmann, last
+year in Vienna, spoke of you in a manner you considered
+derogatory, did I hesitate to challenge him the following day,
+and drive six inches of cold steel through his throat in the
+Prater? I must confess that you, with charming generosity,
+enabled me to support the run of ill-luck which always overtook
+me at the club. Mutual exchange&mdash;you, of money; and myself,
+of respect. Meanwhile, we carried on our affairs. And with what
+success? Do you remember? Was it not better than quarrelling?
+Come, <a name="page273"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+273</span>Sophia, don&rsquo;t look so gloomy; I know your
+feelings are bitter, but don&rsquo;t let them be more bitter than
+my own. Diavolo! Wake up and speak. Give me an answer.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Appearing to shake off the feeling of numbness which had come
+over her, she once more looked at her reddened fingers, and said,
+with a strange smile&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very well! Order, since it is you who are the
+master!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>With displeased air, he replied&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No! Don&rsquo;t adopt such an attitude! Now you are
+acting the part of a resigned victim! You must act according to
+your own free will and pleasure. I think I have proved to your
+satisfaction that you are turning your back on the right path,
+and that it is time to turn round. Am I not right?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;One is never right when one is the stronger!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is a woman&rsquo;s reply. Well, Sophia, I am very
+sorry, but I will not assume this advantage of imposing on you
+any resolution whatever. I leave you free to do as you wish. Stay
+or go as you like. For my part, I must go; I do not feel inclined
+to let myself be caught in this house like a fox in a
+poultry-yard. I will give you ten minutes while you make up your
+mind and prepare your luggage. I will smoke a cigarette in the
+garden. Decide your future for yourself.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He left the room. A flash of hate shone in Sophia&rsquo;s
+eyes. She arose, gave a sigh of despair, and then
+murmured&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He is right!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She called for Milona. The servant appeared.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The trunk at once. We are leaving,&rdquo; she said
+briefly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good, madame.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sophia sat down before a small desk, took up a sheet of
+writing-paper edged with black, and wrote&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote><p><a name="page274"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+274</span>&ldquo;<span class="smcap">My dear Marcel</span>,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;When you return to the villa I shall no longer be here
+to receive you. My brother, to whom I have been denounced by some
+person unknown, has arrived in a passion, and is taking me far
+away. Never try to see me again. Keep the remembrance of my
+kisses ever fresh in your heart. I am carrying off the delicious
+flavour of yours on my lips. Good-bye.</p>
+<p style="text-align: right">&ldquo;Yours with life-long
+regret,<br />
+&ldquo;ANETTA.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>Sealing the envelope, she placed it in full view on the table
+of the salon, and, after looking all around, she went out into
+the small garden. Cesare was walking to and fro, along the alley,
+where she had spent so many hours by Marcel&rsquo;s side. She
+sighed deeply. But her mind was made up, and she was not a woman
+to draw back.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well?&rdquo; asked the Italian.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, you have convinced me; I will accompany
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very good. Now you are yourself again. It was only a
+momentary weakness which came over you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed, I was mad,&rdquo; she said, mockingly.
+&ldquo;Just think, I was in love with this young
+Baradier.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That I can well understand,&rdquo; he conceded
+graciously. &ldquo;He is a charming young fellow. But everything
+comes to an end. And since, thanks to this intrigue, you have
+obtained the result so ardently followed up by Hans, the only
+thing we can now do is to quit. And that is what you are now
+doing, with your usual good sense. Just now you surprised me, I
+must confess, by your resistance. This is the first time I have
+ever seen you sentimental. This fit of idyllic tenderness seemed
+quite incomprehensible to me. Now, can you explain to me what has
+taken place?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page275"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+275</span>&ldquo;Oh! It is very simple. In this young Marcel I
+found a love and affection at once simple and disinterested,
+quite refreshing. It seemed as though I were in a thirsty desert,
+and came upon a limpid spring, at which no one had drunk
+previously. I stopped at the edge, looked into the crystal water,
+and the reflected image was so different from myself, that I
+stood there astonished and delighted. I thought I was about to
+find tranquil rest, and a delightful regeneration, and cease
+being the Sophia who had gone through so many adventures, to
+become a simple harmless woman in the eyes of a love-stricken
+swain. Perhaps my mouth would forget its lying, and my eyes their
+deceit and fascination! What a dream! And how near realization!
+What unexpected happiness, ruined in a moment by your
+reappearance. Ah! I have cursed you, Cesare, and Hans as well!
+But what can I do, how can I tear myself away from my destiny? It
+was the height of madness for me to think that a sincere love
+could unfold in my heart, as though a wild floweret of the open
+fields could spring up in a marsh! Come, let us think no more of
+all this. Society shall pay the price of my
+disillusion!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now you are speaking sensibly. But all you have been
+telling me is most deplorably romantic. To think of your settling
+down in a village like the Dame aux Camelias to live on new-laid
+eggs with Armand Duval! How ridiculous! Ah! Here is Milona with
+your hat and cloak.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ask the coachman to mount the luggage.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sophia, apparently impassive, watched her trunk and bags
+change position. As Cesare stood at the garden-gate calling her,
+she looked around for the last time, raised her hands to her
+lips, and to all she associated with Marcel&mdash;green trees,
+forms on which they had sat, birds that had sung above their
+heads, sky which had shone on their happiness&mdash;she sent a
+rapid kiss.</p>
+<p><a name="page276"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+276</span>&ldquo;Are you ready?&rdquo; asked the Italian.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Here I am.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We will not leave by Ars, the town is in too great a
+commotion. This worthy coachman will drive us to Saint-Savine,
+where we will take the express for Paris.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;As you like.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come along, then, quick!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She mounted the open carriage. Milona took up a position
+opposite her mistress. A lash of the whip, a sound of bells, and
+at the turn of the road everything was out of view.</p>
+<p>It was four o&rsquo;clock when Uncle Graff, after arranging
+for the search for Lafor&ecirc;t, and giving orders for the
+management of the works, in short arranging for whatever was
+absolutely pressing, came for his nephew to go with him to the
+Villa de la Cav&eacute;e. Baudoin, with a trusty revolver in his
+pocket, went on in front as a scout. Marcel and his uncle
+followed, a hundred yards behind. The excitement of the struggle
+and danger was now past, and they were beginning to examine the
+position more coolly.</p>
+<p>It was not a brilliant one. The boldness and violence of their
+enemies had been manifested with too few precautions, for the
+utmost excesses were to be dreaded at their hands in case the
+struggle were continued. Now, at this moment, they appeared to be
+on the point of triumph. They had just obtained possession of the
+scientific treasure, the commercial application of which would
+assure them an enormous fortune. How exultant they must feel,
+accordingly! But then, on the other hand, how disconcerted they
+would be on attempting to utilize the stolen formula! As Marcel
+had said, to obtain the explosive in its full power, and with its
+special destructive qualities, a particular manipulation, a twist
+of the hand, so to speak, discovered by General de
+Tr&eacute;mont, was necessary. They might try to apply the <a
+name="page277"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 277</span>formula;
+but if they did not know how to handle the different doses, their
+hopes would fail of realization. Now the thief-assassin, who had
+found his way into the laboratory, had carried off the precious
+document, but would it not remain utterly worthless, like the
+golden crown in the legend, which changed into a dry leaf?</p>
+<p>Uncle Graff was meditating on all this as he walked by
+Marcel&rsquo;s side. He said nothing to the young man. What was
+the use? It was also certain that the villains, bent as they were
+on obtaining the secret, had already killed two men and set fire
+to the works to accomplish their object. Granting that they had
+once more failed, would they not recommence the struggle, and
+purchase victory at the cost of no matter what sacrifices? Under
+these conditions there was no drawing back; they must risk much
+to try and check an offensive return, and not hesitate in case
+the unknown beauty were an accomplice in the crimes already
+committed; it must be their object to keep her in view, question
+her, and if need be, deliver her into the hands of justice in
+order to try and throw light on this dark and dangerous
+affair.</p>
+<p>They reached the wood, and, the house being no more than a
+hundred yards distant, Baudoin, who had waited for them,
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will go all round the garden, and bear off in the
+direction of the wood, so that, if any one tries to escape, I may
+be able to cut off his retreat.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Marcel. &ldquo;Let us remain
+together.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Just at that moment an old woman appeared before them,
+dragging a faggot of decayed wood.</p>
+<p>She smiled with her toothless mouth, and, stopping to take
+breath, said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is it the young lady of the villa you want to see? If
+so&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page278"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+278</span>&ldquo;Well?&rdquo; said Marcel.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You will not find her here. An hour ago she went away
+in a cab with all her luggage, in the direction of Sainte-Savine.
+Cacheu, of the Lion d&rsquo;Or, drove the cab himself.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Gone?&rdquo; exclaimed Marcel, stupefied.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So it seems,&rdquo; said Uncle Graff. &ldquo;The
+<i>coup</i> is effected.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Impossible!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Poor young man! His walks with the young lady were very
+agreeable,&rdquo; muttered the old woman.</p>
+<p>She shook her head, encircled with a kerchief, accepted the
+two-franc piece Uncle Graff slipped into her hand, and walked
+slowly away, in the direction of the town, dragging her faggot
+along the road.</p>
+<p>Marcel had already entered the villa. On the threshold his
+heart seemed almost to stop beating. The door remained open, as
+though, in the hurry of flight, they had not had time to close
+it, or rather, as though she had left nothing behind worth
+keeping. Crossing the garden, he entered the hall, and
+called&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Milona! Anetta!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>No reply came; nothing but silence and darkness. Entering the
+salon, he saw a letter lying on the table. Tearing it open, he
+rapidly ran over the contents, sat down to read it once more,
+finally understood it, and sat there, with bowed head and
+throbbing brow, as though in the presence of a terrible disaster.
+There Uncle Graff found him. He had gone over the whole house,
+and acquired the certainty that it was abandoned. Baudoin was
+seated in the garden. Seeing his nephew&rsquo;s anguish and the
+pallor of his countenance, the old man&rsquo;s heart melted; he
+placed his hand affectionately on the young man&rsquo;s head,
+softly stroked his hair, and seeing the letter pressed between
+his passive fingers, asked&mdash;</p>
+<p><a name="page279"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+279</span>&ldquo;Has she written to you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>At these words, simple though they were, his fugitive love
+seemed almost reinstated in his eyes, as he felt that she had not
+forgotten him, and Marcel burst into sobs as he silently held out
+the paper and hid his face in his hands. Uncle Graff drew near
+the window and read the letter, after which he stood there in a
+reverie. Marcel, regaining possession of himself to defend the
+one he loved, finally rose from his seat, and said in
+supplicating accents&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Uncle Graff, is this the letter of a woman who lies? Do
+not her protests appear sincere to you? Has she the faintest
+complicity in the crimes committed? Do you accuse her of having
+deceived me? Is she not rather a victim undergoing a rigorous
+tyranny at the hands of the very monsters who threaten us? This
+letter, Uncle Graff, this letter&mdash;does it not breathe
+despair in every line? Is it not a confirmation of her love for
+me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The letter appears to be sincere,&rdquo; said the old
+man, calmly. &ldquo;I cannot but recognize that grief is evident
+in every word, and that the one who wrote it was evidently acting
+under compulsion when she left the house. That is a proof that
+she loves you, and regrets your absence. But is that a proof that
+she is not guilty, and the accomplice of the rest?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Uncle Graff, do you think it possible?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I do, and I am afraid it is so, my dear Marcel, and
+that would be more serious than anything else, for, if this woman
+loves you&mdash;and how could she help loving you, my dear child,
+once she knows you&mdash;ah, if this woman loves you, my anxiety
+will become greater than ever. For she might try to see you
+again, and then&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A light of hope illumined Marcel&rsquo;s face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, if only that could be!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Marcel, you see what grounds I had for fear. At the <a
+name="page280"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 280</span>very
+thought of seeing her again you at once become radiant with joy.
+And yet she is a rascal, there is not the slightest doubt of it.
+I will not dispute her charms, since she has obtained such
+control over you; but she is very dangerous all the same, for, in
+short, suppose she were the woman of Vanves?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Impossible!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do not say impossible. You know nothing about it. These
+women, you see, are terrible creatures. In matters like the one
+now engaging our attention they are a kind of female Proteus,
+capable of assuming all forms, even the most diverse and
+disconcerting, to deceive their enemies and allay suspicion.
+Cosmopolitan adventuresses, living on human folly; spies, on the
+track of State secrets; corruptresses, sufficiently fascinating
+to obtain the mastery over all consciences. You are aware that
+these women are insinuating and of plausible manners, generally
+very beautiful. And this one&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! No, no!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Uncle Graff insisted authoritatively.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This one, very clever and dangerous, more dangerous
+than the rest, even, has played her <i>r&ocirc;le</i> with you,
+whilst satisfying her caprice at the same time. Come, Marcel, be
+reasonable; do not blind yourself. Why was the man of Vanves
+concealed here? Why have the powders been removed from the
+laboratory, and why is the house deserted, now that the burglary
+is accomplished? It is not a mere departure, it is a flight.
+Consider the rapidity and suddenness of the resolution reached.
+This morning only she had no thought of it, or, rather, in that
+case she deceived you, since she said nothing about it, and was
+to receive you to-night. Crime and duplicity are manifest
+everywhere. You have been deceived by words of tenderness, whilst
+the others, her accomplices, were stealing and
+murdering.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page281"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+281</span>Marcel gave a movement expressive of anger.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If only I had the proof of this!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Uncle Graff looked at him fixedly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, what would you do?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! I would have my revenge, that I swear! All my love
+would turn into hate. If my heart has been deceived with lying
+words, I would tear it out of my breast, rather than cherish a
+poisoned love! If that woman was not a victim, she would be a
+monster. And, by what I hold most sacred in existence, I would
+punish her!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The old man looked at his nephew with considerable
+satisfaction.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! <i>Mon Dieu</i>! We don&rsquo;t ask you to do that!
+Simply forget her. Above all, make up your mind not to fall into
+her toils again, if ever you meet her.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>At that moment the door opened, and Baudoin appeared. Holding
+a book in his hand, he approached mysteriously, and
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is useful to make a thorough search. One can never
+examine too well.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He laughed as he spoke and held the book aloft&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Had I done nothing but cast a careless glance over the
+lady&rsquo;s bed-chamber, I should not have found
+this.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; asked Graff.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A book&mdash;a simple book.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marcel took it up, looked at the title, and said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, it is a book she has been reading
+lately.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! the book in itself signifies nothing,&rdquo; said
+Baudoin. &ldquo;It had fallen down by the side of the bed nearest
+the wall. In a hurry of departure she did not see it, and it was
+left there. But there was something between these
+leaves.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Baudoin took between his fingers a piece of paper, and showed
+it to his masters.</p>
+<p><a name="page282"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+282</span>&ldquo;This envelope, torn in two, and folded to serve
+as a book-mark. To whom does it belong, if not to the one who has
+been making use of it? Now on the folded part, there is a line of
+writing and an address.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;An address?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Look!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He handed the paper to Marcel, and on the small band,
+concealed by the folding, the young man read aloud the name:
+&ldquo;Madame la Baronne Grodsko.&rdquo; The bottom of the
+envelope, on which was doubtless written the street, number and
+town, had disappeared. On the top, however, a large stamp
+contained the postmark: &ldquo;Wien, April 18.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The rest was effaced.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Baroness Grodsko,&rdquo; repeated Marcel. &ldquo;But
+her name was Anetta Vignola.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said Uncle Graff; &ldquo;these women change
+their names as easily as their dresses. She has only kept this
+envelope from the most incredible and imprudent carelessness. And
+how is it this letter, which came from Vienna a fortnight ago, is
+now here? It must have been forwarded under another envelope to
+the name and address she assumed here!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Baudoin then remarked&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps I may be permitted to state that the woman who
+called on my master on the night of the crime was addressed by
+him as Baronne&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marcel turned pale.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;True,&rdquo; he murmured, in a low tone. &ldquo;But
+what relation is there between Anetta Vignola and the Baroness
+Grodsko?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is what we must discover, for it is the clue which
+may guide us through the darkness in which we are now groping.
+Courage, my child; if this woman is the same who has committed
+such infamous actions&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page283"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+283</span>&ldquo;Ah! Uncle Graff, in that case I should feel no
+pity whatever for her.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The uncle shook his nephew&rsquo;s hand, in sympathetic
+approval.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now, there is nothing more for us to do here. The house
+has delivered up to us part of its secret. The rest we must seek
+elsewhere.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The three men went out into the garden, after carefully
+closing the doors, and slowly returned to Ars.</p>
+<h3><a name="page284"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+284</span>CHAPTER II</h3>
+<p><span class="smcap">Lichtenbach</span> was sitting in his
+study, listening to young Vernot, his broker, who was speaking
+with the utmost volubility.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Baradier and Graff will not long be able to maintain
+their position on the Explosives now. It has already been
+remarked at the Bourse that they have not reduced their stock.
+The coming liquidation will be a decisive one; or else they will
+remain firm; then what a bankruptcy it will be! Or they may sell
+everything. What a fall that will mean!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A faint smile came over the banker&rsquo;s lips.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I should like to see that!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Man Dieu</i>! My dear master, I cannot conceal from
+you the fact that, in business circles they say it is a duel
+between the firm of Baradier and Graff and the firm of
+Lichtenbach. One of the two will go under.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know it; but I have no fear.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have negotiated this affair for you, so I know our
+mode of action. Hitherto it has been an admirable one. To sum up
+in a word, you have sold what the Baradiers have
+bought.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, my friend, and I have their money, as they have my
+vouchers. Now, Vernot, be wideawake as to what is about to
+happen. The explosives, which are now at their highest price,
+will rapidly fall to the very lowest.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page285"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+285</span>&ldquo;Are you sure?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Absolutely certain.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Because a rival company is being formed, which is in
+possession of the patents of a product destined to replace,
+within a very short time, all the mining powders and other
+dynamites hitherto employed, and which will cost fifty per cent.
+less in commerce. What do you say to that?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It will be a crushing blow!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are right. Read my journal to-night; it will
+contain the first article of a series destined to set forth
+before the world this new discovery. In two months from now I
+wish to see Baradier and Graff bankrupt!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, they have a long purse to draw on,&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We shall see about that.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So now you engage me to sell?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;From to-morrow sell as fast as you can. There will be a
+gain of five hundred francs per share. You will see the movement
+begin. All my personal orders will be executed on foreign
+Exchanges. Profit by this opportunity.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I shall not be likely to forget.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now go. My daughter is expecting me, and I am punctual
+in my habits.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My dear master, many thanks, and my respectful
+compliments.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The stockbroker left the room. Lichtenbach did not even rise
+from his seat to accompany him to the door. He was thinking. From
+Venice a letter had reached him which, on the one hand, caused
+him great satisfaction, and, on the other, brought him a certain
+amount of uneasiness. Sophia Grodsko had written to him:
+&ldquo;The war powder is a triumphant success. Experiments made
+at Spezzia and Trieste have given prodigious results with marine
+cannons. <a name="page286"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+286</span>Plates of Siemens steel a foot thick are pierced like
+sheets of paper. We have received two million francs, the rest
+will come afterwards. The affair is big with magnificent results.
+Things are not progressing so well with the commerce powder. Hans
+has been at work for the last fortnight at Swalbach with Prunier,
+from Zurich. He has been disappointed. All the attempts have been
+unsatisfactory. They have manipulated the product in different
+manners, but no result has been obtained. The explosive is worth
+no more than dynamite. True it is not so dear, but we are far
+from what we hoped, and from what must actually be the case.
+There must be some secret or other in the fabrication of the
+powder unknown to us. Hans is trying to find it, and has not
+abandoned all hopes of doing so. But, up to the present, fiasco.
+Don&rsquo;t be discouraged, but thank me for telling you the
+exact truth. Agostini sends you his best wishes, and informs you
+that you will shortly receive your brevet of baron.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lichtenbach growled.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Baron! That will be of some use to me, indeed, if this
+affair fails.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Rising, he gave a gesture of defiance.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It will not fail! Hans is a skilful chemist. He will
+find out the secret. Besides, if need be I will retrace my steps.
+They will not catch me so easily, altogether
+unprepared.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He smiled. His daughter entered the room. She was no longer
+the little schoolgirl, dressed in the blue convent robe, but an
+elegant and graceful Parisienne. The banker looked at her with
+considerable satisfaction.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are you ready?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, father. It was agreed we should start at four
+o&rsquo;clock.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And where are you taking me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page287"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+287</span>&ldquo;To the Charity Bazaar in favour of the
+Alsace-Lorraine orphans. You must come.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I might have sent a cheque.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But I must be there. Madame Sainte-Alix has charge of a
+stall, along with several of my old school companions. I promised
+to be there.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, let us start.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They set off. The sale took place in the Agricultural Hall of
+France. All over the walls hung groups of flags, whilst above a
+verdant groove stood a marble bust representing Alsace, with a
+mourning sash flung across the breast. The wife of a Deputy from
+the Vosges, surrounded by a group of ladies belonging to official
+circles, performed the honours. A large double sofa occupied the
+middle of the room, between two rows of stalls, in which the most
+aristocratic families of Alsace and Lorraine were represented by
+white haired grandmothers who had never been willing to
+acknowledge the conquest of these two lost provinces, and elegant
+young ladies, smiling and careless, educated or born in exile,
+and finding France beautiful, and life pleasant, even though it
+were passed far from their native soil.</p>
+<p>Lichtenbach and Marianne were warmly received immediately they
+entered the room. Here the financier&rsquo;s prestige and the
+influence of the journal proprietor could be exercised in
+uninterrupted sovereignty. Nothing but smiles on every side. The
+more republican one&rsquo;s opinions, the more unctuous was the
+respect lavished on Lichtenbach, the reactionary. Marianne, timid
+and anxious, was looking for the stall presided over by Madame
+Sainte-Alix.</p>
+<p>A young attendant, anxious to serve so rich an heiress, placed
+himself under the young girl&rsquo;s orders, and Marianne passed
+through the crowd of buyers and sellers until she reached the
+stall where her old companions were selling children&rsquo;s
+clothing at five times its real value, and that <a
+name="page288"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 288</span>without the
+slightest difficulty. Genevi&egrave;ve de Tr&eacute;mont, dressed
+in mourning, presided over the hosiery department. After
+exchanging a friendly greeting she asked&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are you all alone?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh no. My father has stayed behind for a moment to
+speak to the wife of a Senator.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He is going to leave you here for some time?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I do not know. Perhaps it would not be convenient for
+him to return for me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Turning towards the nun presiding at the cash-box, she
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are you pleased with the result of your sales,
+madame?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We have made three thousand francs since noon, my
+child. But it will soon be five o&rsquo;clock. In an hour
+everything will be over. We have still a third of our stock
+left.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very well. Send me everything you have not sold
+to-night,&rdquo; said the young girl, simply.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, my child, how grateful I feel to you. But what will
+your father think?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mademoiselle Lichtenbach smiled calmly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My father? He never opposes my wishes. Besides, I am
+rich.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She exhibited a purse full of gold.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And, if that is not sufficient, papa will make me an
+advance.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ha, look in front!&rdquo; said Genevi&egrave;ve de
+Tr&eacute;mont. &ldquo;There is Am&eacute;lie at the stall of
+Madame Baradier.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marianne blushed. She remembered what her father had said
+regarding their quarrels with the Baradiers and Graffs, and felt
+considerably embarrassed in consequence. What kind of relations
+could be set up between these hostile families? Suddenly the
+smiling face of Marcel Baradier <a name="page289"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 289</span>awoke in her memory. The hostility
+of the parents could not bind the children, since he had so
+graciously received Lichtenbach&rsquo;s daughter when she had
+called at the Rue de Prov&egrave;nce. Turning her eyes in the
+direction of Genevi&egrave;ve, she recognized the one of whom she
+was thinking, near the counter where Madame Baradier and
+Am&eacute;lie were selling. He smiled as he talked to an old man
+who was purchasing a porcelain vase of a very ugly pattern. After
+the bargain was struck he took it from his hands, placed it gaily
+back again on to the stall, and said, in tones sufficiently loud
+to be heard by Marianne&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This is the third time, Uncle Graff, that we have sold
+it, and it has been left behind. People don&rsquo;t object to
+paying for it, but it is so frightful that no one will decide to
+carry it off.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The old man put back his purse into his pocket and
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now, where is the stall of Mademoiselle de
+Tr&eacute;mont?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We will go there together. The very thing you want,
+uncle. <i>Trousseau</i> and baby linen. Indispensable for
+bachelors!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You rogue!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They crossed the room. Suddenly Marcel became very grave; he
+had recognized Mademoiselle Lichtenbach. She, too, had seen him
+approach, and, trembling, had not had the courage to look him in
+the face. Uncle Graff, with his usual good nature,
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Mademoiselle Genevi&egrave;ve, what are you going
+to sell me? Children&rsquo;s hoods? How much a dozen?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sixty francs, as it is you, Monsieur Graff. And you can
+leave them with us if you like.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly. It would be too much trouble to carry them
+all off.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What you leave us we will give to the Sainte-Enfance <a
+name="page290"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+290</span>institution. After you have finished, if there is
+anything which remains one of our friends has promised to buy it
+up.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who is she?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mademoiselle Marianne Lichtenbach.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Graff started. His face changed expression, and he
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The daughter of&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As he took a step backwards he heard a gentle voice
+say&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;On the ground of charity there are no enemies, only
+competitors as to who shall do the most good.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are quite right, mademoiselle,&rdquo; replied the
+old man, with a bow. &ldquo;And I will immediately put your
+precept into practice.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Leaning towards the nun, he asked calmly&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How much for the contents of the stall?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My dear sir,&rdquo; stammered Madame Sainte-Alix,
+astonished.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is two thousand francs enough?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, that&rsquo;s nothing! I will give four
+thousand!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And Count Cesare Agostini, smiling and elegant, appeared by
+the side of Mademoiselle Lichtenbach.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Our father has sent me to you, mademoiselle,&rdquo; he
+said, with a bow. &ldquo;He will be here in a moment, and,
+really, he would not have tolerated that <i>any</i> one should
+rob you of the honour of your generosity at so moderate a
+price.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Glancing around at those present, and recognizing Marcel he
+affected a joyful surprise.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! Monsieur Baradier! I am delighted to meet you. We
+have had a great deal of trouble since last I saw you. I heard
+all about it on my return to call for my sister. I greatly
+regretted not being able to stay and tell you how sorry we felt
+for you. You were so kind and gracious to us in that quiet
+country place.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page291"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 291</span>He
+spoke without the slightest hesitation, and with a boldness which
+stupefied Marcel. As he looked at Agostini he wondered whether he
+were not dreaming&mdash;whether this calm, phlegmatic person
+speaking to him at this charity bazaar in the heart of Paris,
+without even thinking of escape, was indeed the man he suspected
+of having mystified him at Ars, of being, doubtless, the
+accomplice of murderers and incendiaries; at the very least in
+collusion with this enigmatical woman whose memory still filled
+his heart. He listened with astonishment, and replied&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And your sister, Madame Vignola?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! Poor Anetta!&rdquo; interrupted Cesare. &ldquo;She
+is at Venice, engaged in troublesome family affairs. But she will
+probably come to Paris this summer to assist at my
+marriage.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! You are about to be married, Count?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, M. Lichtenbach has given his consent at
+last.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This news of the marriage of Agostini into the Lichtenbach
+family produced an electric effect. Marcel immediately regained
+full possession of his faculties.</p>
+<p>Looking at the Italian from head to foot, he said
+ironically&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! you are about to enter the family of M.
+Lichtenbach. It was to be, and it would have been a pity could it
+not have taken place!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I do not understand very well,&rdquo; replied
+Cesare.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, you understand perfectly. And if you wish further
+information ask for it from your sister.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;These are strange words,&rdquo; said the Italian,
+arrogantly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Every one does as well as he can; all men have not the
+privilege of being strange in their actions.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Agostini was about to reply, and the two men stood
+threateningly in front of one another, when a hand was laid <a
+name="page292"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 292</span>on the
+Italian&rsquo;s arm, and the voice of Mademoiselle Lichtenbach
+was heard saying&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Monsieur le Comte, will you come this way, please? My
+father is looking for you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Cesare gave Marcel a defiant glance. Then, turning with
+flattering humility to the young girl, he said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Your slightest wish shall be obeyed, mademoiselle. But
+I shall see this gentleman again, and&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I forbid you!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very good.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lichtenbach came up to them. He passed in front of Graff,
+without appearing to see him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is this they are telling me, Count?&rdquo; he
+said, addressing Agostini. &ldquo;You have been bidding up to
+four thousand francs for the contents of this stall? What a
+trifling sum! You must have had some very sorry competitors
+against you!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>An expression of disdain came over his face as he looked round
+on Marcel and Uncle Graff.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Formerly my opponents were more tenacious. The struggle
+for gold has considerably cooled them down.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Turning towards the nun he wrote a few lines on a piece of
+paper, saying&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Here, madame, is a cheque for ten thousand
+francs.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What shall I give you in return?&rdquo; asked Madame
+Sainte-Alix, stupefied.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Your prayers,&rdquo; said Elias, humbly.</p>
+<p>A group had formed round the stall, and a murmur of approving
+admiration reached the ears of Lichtenbach. Agostini exclaimed,
+with emphasis&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This is a magnificent gift!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come along, my daughter,&rdquo; said Elias.</p>
+<p>Marianne kissed Genevi&egrave;ve de Tr&eacute;mont, and,
+lowering her head, so as not to see Marcel, followed her father
+and <a name="page293"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+293</span>Agostini. As she passed in front of Graff she heard him
+say&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ten thousand francs&rsquo; worth of prayers! At a franc
+per villainous trick he has committed he loses
+nothing!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The old man had not time to further exhibit his bad temper,
+for Marcel interrupted him&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not so loud, Uncle Graff; his daughter might hear you.
+Poor child; it is not her fault!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marianne felt sad at heart, and, more afflicted at the
+nephew&rsquo;s humiliating indulgence towards herself than at his
+uncle&rsquo;s scorn for her father, she left the room.</p>
+<p>Since his return to Paris, Marcel had been restored to the
+good graces of M. Baradier. Graff&rsquo;s story of the
+conflagration at the works, and the rescue effected by his
+nephew, had touched the old man&rsquo;s heart. The danger
+incurred by his brother-in-law, Cardez, and Baudoin, had made him
+quiver with anxiety; the intervention of his son at the critical
+moment, when even the bravest among the workmen drew back from
+the danger, had aroused his enthusiasm. He had taken Marcel in
+his arms, and said to Madame Baradier and Am&eacute;lie, who were
+sitting there in tears&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You seem quite astonished. Did you think this child, on
+account of a few silly escapades, was not a fine and brave
+fellow, after all? For my part I was sure, if the opportunity
+occurred, he would act as nobly as he has done! It is because I
+knew what he was capable of that I treated him harshly when he
+went astray. But, after all, he is a Baradier!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The same evening, alone with his wife, he said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed, I am very well pleased with Marcel. Graff has
+told me things concerning him which have touched me very much. I
+am beginning to hope that, once the passion and giddiness of
+youth is over, he will turn out a remarkable man. All he lacks is
+a certain amount of order. But that <a name="page294"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 294</span>will come in time. He is both
+intelligent and warm-hearted. Now, it is time he thought of
+marrying.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He is only twenty-five years of age.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The very best age imaginable. One&rsquo;s happiness in
+life is assured when one finds a good partner and marries young,
+as I did. What kind of attitude does he show with regard to
+Genevi&egrave;ve?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He treats her like a sister, neither more nor
+less.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not the slightest sign of flirtation?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I believe she has a faint liking for him, but I know
+nothing about his feelings for her.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ask Am&eacute;lie a few discreet questions.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will think of it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marcel&rsquo;s mind was occupied with things entirely
+different. He thought of everything except marriage. His return
+home appeared very pleasant, for he was very fond of his parents.
+Perhaps the exile&rsquo;s son, more than another, possessed a
+liking for home. He had so often heard his father and uncle
+regret the old home at Metz, their friends and customs of former
+times, that the bonds which attached him to his father&rsquo;s
+house were very strong, and when away from them all something
+essential seemed to be lacking in his life. Doubtless this
+something was his father&rsquo;s affectionate chiding and his
+mother&rsquo;s consoling smile.</p>
+<p>Since his return he spent almost the whole of his time out of
+the office; went out very little at nights, and worked away at a
+task known to no one except Uncle Graff. M. Baradier, greatly
+troubled at the turn of events the Explosives had taken,
+expressed his anxiety to no one but his partner. Uncle Graff,
+however, calmly replied&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We must keep wide-awake, but we need not exaggerate the
+danger. Everything will come out right in the end, that I am sure
+of.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Eh! Do you expect a miracle?&rdquo; murmured Baradier.
+<a name="page295"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+295</span>&ldquo;These Explosives shares continue to go down, in
+spite of all our efforts. Yesterday there was a rumour out on the
+Bourse that a patent had just been taken, in Germany, England,
+and France, by an Englishman named Dalgetty, for some marvellous
+powder or other superior to dynamite. They go so far as to state
+that this substance is so manageable and harmless, in spite of
+its destructive power, that they expect to make use of it for
+engine power. That would mean the suppression of steam, gas and
+petroleum. A complete revolution. If a quarter of all this is
+true we are ruined! Doubtless it is an application of
+Tr&eacute;mont&rsquo;s formul&aelig;, and Dalgetty is the dummy
+of the villains who stole them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Possibly,&rdquo; murmured Graff, calmly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And you can find nothing else to say?&rdquo; exclaimed
+Baradier, furiously. &ldquo;You resign yourself to all this
+robbery and murder?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; I am simply waiting for the Dalgetty powder in use.
+It may be the Tr&eacute;mont explosive, but then, on the other
+hand, it may be something entirely different, and in that case
+worth nothing at all.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But suppose we are ruined in the meantime?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We shall obtain the upper hand in the long
+run.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But it is this villain of a Lichtenbach who is leading
+the campaign against us. This is what I am informed from both
+London and Brussels.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Give him his head. The farther he goes the greater will
+be his fall.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I should like to know the cause of your
+confidence.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is Marcel, your son, who is stronger in himself,
+than Tr&eacute;mont, yourself, myself, and all the others. You
+will see.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But, after all, cannot you tell me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, I will say nothing. Let Dalgetty go ahead, and <a
+name="page296"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 296</span>the shares
+continue to lower. Above all else, do not sell. He laughs best
+who laughs last.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The calm assurance of Uncle Graff had its due impression on
+Baradier at the time. But afterwards, in his study, in front of
+his correspondence, which brought him nothing but bad news, fear
+again took possession of him. He was aware that Marcel was
+working hard. He saw him start every morning for the laboratory
+of the Arts-et-M&eacute;tiers. But what was he engaged in?
+Doubtless some improvement of the Tr&eacute;mont powder; perhaps
+simply the exact doses of the products. How could he prove, after
+all, that he knew the dosing, which was the General&rsquo;s
+invention? And Baradier, red and excited, would take up his hat
+and go out for a walk, to avoid a congestion.</p>
+<p>At night, when they were dining, he again saw Marcel in the
+salon, seated between his mother and sister, or playing the piano
+with Genevi&egrave;ve de Tr&eacute;mont. He was an excellent
+musician, this son on whom Nature had lavished such gifts. And
+Uncle Graff, a passionate melomaniac, lay stretched out in an
+armchair, listening, in delighted ecstasy, to some <i>lied</i> of
+Schubert or a concerto by Schumann. He pointed out to Baradier,
+who had entered the room on tip-toe, the charming picture of
+these two young people playing duets together, and
+murmured&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What a fine couple. She is dark; he is fair. Perfect
+match. And as their fortune&mdash;the General&rsquo;s
+powder.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing but smoke!&rdquo; growled Baradier.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, it does not give any,&rdquo; laughed Uncle
+Graff.</p>
+<p>In his partner&rsquo;s feeling of security, though he was
+mistrustful enough in business matters, there was a kind of
+unconsciousness which astonished Baradier. Evidently Marcel was
+preparing something extraordinary, which Graff was well aware of
+and which promised to have extraordinary results. But what was
+it? Besides, with rascals who went <a name="page297"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 297</span>about everywhere carrying into
+action their murderous plans, under the indulgent regard of the
+Government, was one sure of anything? Accordingly he fumed and
+raged, but that in itself was something, and kept him
+occupied.</p>
+<p>Baudoin, on his part, had not remained inactive. His first
+visit had been to Colonel Vallenot. He had found him at the War
+Office, busily engaged on a question the Minister was to receive
+from a socialist Deputy, who complained that anarchist journals
+were not permitted in barracks. How could the people be educated
+if the soldier were refused the right of knowing why it was his
+duty to despise his superiors? The good Colonel had bristled up
+like a wild boar. Only the night before he had been abused by his
+superior, who, greatly worried, himself, had passed on his
+ill-temper to the other, and so it descended from grade to grade
+right down to the concierge. The latter had given a drubbing to
+his dog, which had been at a loss to understand the reason for
+this treatment. It was the only difference between the animal and
+the functionaries.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is it you want?&rdquo; growled Colonel Vallenot to
+Baudoin, as he saluted. &ldquo;To see the Minister? Well, you are
+lucky. If you go in there I will not guarantee your safe exit.
+And, then, what is it you want to tell him? That the agent he had
+placed at your disposal has disappeared? It is now three weeks
+since we heard from him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have brought you news of him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! What is the matter?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He is dead.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The deuce! How did that happen!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He has been killed.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who has killed him?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The same who killed General de
+Tr&eacute;mont.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What was his object?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page298"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+298</span>&ldquo;The same as before&mdash;to obtain possession of
+my master&rsquo;s secrets.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Was he successful?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So now he is in possession of the powder
+formula?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He is.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, this is a fine business. We suspected something
+of the kind, for we have received notice from abroad that
+experiments have been made with smokeless powder of extraordinary
+power.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is the one.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Colonel Vallenot had forgotten all about the Deputy&rsquo;s
+question. He pulled and twisted his moustache furiously. Finally
+he asked&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;When was poor Lafor&ecirc;t murdered?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nearly a fortnight ago. But it was only later that we
+had the proof of his death. The poor fellow had been flung into
+the river, and the current had carried him into a millrace. He
+remained several days fastened to some piles under water, and it
+is only just recently that his body mounted to the surface. It
+was taken out, recognized, and buried as was fitting for an old
+soldier and an honest man. Now he is lying under the green turf
+of the cemetery of Ars.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And his murderers?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, that is what I have come to speak to the Minister
+about. I know the villains.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Vallenot sat upright.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Those spies! You know who they are?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And you, also, Colonel, without doubt, for this is not
+their first attempt. The Minister, before now, has had a crow to
+pick with them. They are professionals in treason!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Colonel rose, and, with changed expression,
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p><a name="page299"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+299</span>&ldquo;Ah! Here, at any rate, is something which will
+distract him! I will risk entering his room without being
+summoned. Yes, it is possible such news may restore him to good
+humour again. Wait for me here.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Opening a door, he left the room. Baudoin, standing near the
+mantel-piece, stood there a few minutes &lsquo;attentively
+listening to the hum of voices which proceeded from the next
+room; then suddenly the door opened, and a voice
+called&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Baudoin!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The old soldier advanced, and, on reaching the threshold of
+the study, he saw the Minister standing there, a frown on his
+face, which was even redder than usual.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come in!&rdquo; he said.</p>
+<p>Baudoin entered. The General, who wore a black frock-coat and
+grey trousers, was striding to and fro. Vallenot stood waiting in
+the embrasure of the window.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The Colonel informs me that you have very important
+news to relate concerning the death of M. de Tr&eacute;mont and
+my agent.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, General.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You think you know the rascals who have committed these
+murders?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, General.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Tell me all about it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I must ask permission to speak in the presence of no
+one but yourself. It is a secret which interests the lives of
+those who are too dear to me to warrant my entrusting it to any
+other than yourself.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not even to Colonel Vallenot?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A secret which belongs to several persons,&rdquo; said
+Baudoin, coldly, &ldquo;is no longer a secret. I will tell it
+either to the Colonel or to yourself.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very good, my friend, you are right. Will you retire,
+<a name="page300"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 300</span>Colonel
+Vallenot? This good fellow means no offence. I approve of his
+thoughtfulness.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Vallenot smiled and saluted. It was evident he would gladly
+have stayed. But his chief had given the order. A quarter of an
+hour later the telephone bell rang. Placing the apparatus to his
+ear, he heard the Minister call out&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Bring me File Z, No. 3, from the secret
+press.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Vallenot opened a large iron safe, and took out a yellow
+bundle of papers, which he carried into his chief&rsquo;s room.
+Baudoin was standing before the desk, and the General <i>was</i>
+attentively listening to him. Vallenot withdrew. Another interval
+for a quarter of an hour, then a fresh ring at the
+telephone&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Send me Captain Rimbert, who had charge of the Valance
+affair.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Vallenot murmured&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The deuce! There is something in the wind
+here!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Ringing for his office-boy, he gave the order and waited
+patiently. Half an hour passed, then the study-door opened, and
+Baudoin, conducted by the General himself, appeared. The latter
+now appeared satisfied, and said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very good, Baudoin; so it is understood?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, General.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You will request M. Marcel Baradier to call on
+me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, General.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And if you hear of anything, let me know of it at
+once.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, General.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good day. Come in, Vallenot.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Baudoin left the room. The Minister returned to his study,
+where the young Captain Rimbert stood waiting.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Colonel, will you kindly make out a
+<i>resum&eacute;</i> of the Espurzheim and Vicomte de
+Fontenailles affairs. I believe <a name="page301"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 301</span>we are on the point of laying our
+hands on this crafty woman who so completely tricked all my
+predecessors, and mystified myself two years ago. Ah! If I can
+have my revenge it shall be a complete one!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then we have to deal with the woman who has
+successively borne the name of Madame Ferranti, with Espurzheim,
+. . . &rdquo; said the Colonel.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And of Countess de Vervelde, with poor
+Fontenailles,&rdquo; added Captain Rimbert.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And finally of La T&eacute;n&eacute;breuse,&rdquo;
+summed up the Minister.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! What trouble and money the wretch has cost us
+without our succeeding in laying hands on her!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, gentlemen, we will try not to fail this time.
+Prepare the notes I requested, Colonel. And you, Captain Rimbert,
+not a word!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Both Colonel and Captain left the room. The Minister rubbed
+his hands with satisfaction. Meanwhile Baudoin had made his way
+along the quays, and reached the Law Courts as four o&rsquo;clock
+was striking. Crossing the large entrance hall, he mounted to the
+second floor, and stopped in front of M. Mayeur&rsquo;s study.
+The attendant was an old friend of his, and welcomed him
+cordially&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Holloa! you here?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;Have you come
+as witness in another affair?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No. I simply wish to speak to the magistrate. Is he
+engaged?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Always! Just now it is a gang of oil-painting thieves,
+who have been overhauling the hotel of a marquis in the
+Champs-Elys&eacute;es.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Can I speak to him?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;As soon as he rings, I will tell him you are here. Ah,
+he is in no amiable mood. He and the attorney seem to be
+quarrelling all the time!&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page302"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 302</span>The
+bell rang, a door opened, and three men of slouching gait,
+regular types of Parisian blackguards devoured by absinthe,
+advanced, casting sly, searching looks in every direction. But
+there were neither doors nor windows by which they could gain the
+open-air, so they quietly continued their route.</p>
+<p>The attendant said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;M. Baudoin, will you come in now? M. Mayeur is
+disengaged.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The old soldier entered the study. The registrar looked at him
+as he passed with a certain amount of curiosity. M. Mayeur
+smilingly pointed to a chair, placed his papers in order, and,
+turning to the clerk, said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You may go now. Put all the files in order.
+Goodbye.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The clerk gave a grimace, which might at will have been taken
+as a mark of politeness or of insolence, and withdrew. M. Mayeur,
+doubtless tired of questioning, looked steadily at Baudoin, and
+invited him to explain himself.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I undertook, monsieur, to inform you of whatever fresh
+might happen concerning the Vanves affair. I have come to keep my
+promise.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Has something taken place of a nature to throw light on
+the affair?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A great deal has happened.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A fire, a murder, and a robbery!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>M. Mayeur&rsquo;s face lit up.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And where have these crimes been committed?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;At Ars, in the Aube.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The magistrate&rsquo;s countenance darkened, as though the
+inner light which had just illumined it had died away. He
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p><a name="page303"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+303</span>&ldquo;In the Aube? That is not within our
+jurisdiction, and does not concern us.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I beg your pardon; it concerns us very much. For the
+people who have committed these crimes have also the Vanves
+affair to their credit, and it is for this affair, of which the
+other is only the consequence, that they are wanted.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then you know them?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I do.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And you know where to lay hands on them?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No. But I can tell you how to do so.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So the affair we were so unfortunately obliged to
+shelve a couple of months ago is about to recommence? Perhaps
+this time we shall be able to reach a satisfactory
+conclusion!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I maintain without the slightest hesitation that we
+shall succeed if you will do your duty.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I?&rdquo; exclaimed M. Mayeur, his face purple with
+agitation. &ldquo;I! After all the trouble I have had, and the
+humiliation I have endured.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He felt that he was giving himself away. The passionate and
+ardent nature of the man disappeared, and the calm, cold nature
+of the magistrate resumed sway.</p>
+<p>With a sigh, he said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Tell me everything in detail.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Baudoin resumed one by one all the events that had taken place
+at Ars. He depicted the character of Madame Vignola, and of
+Agostini, and finally explained the dreaded intervention of Hans.
+Motionless, the magistrate listened, taking short notes from time
+to time. The time sped swiftly along, the sun as it sank tinged
+with a ruddy glow the waters of the Seine, and the veil of
+darkness had fallen when the magistrate ceased listening, and
+began to question.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So this Cesare Agostini is in Paris?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;M. Graff, M. Marcel&rsquo;s uncle, has seen him, and M.
+<a name="page304"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 304</span>Marcel
+has spoken to him. It appears he is engaged to the daughter of M.
+Lichtenbach, the banker.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Lichtenbach? A man in his position, with his fortune
+and relations? Is it possible?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You will see. If you wish to know where Agostini lives,
+set a watch over Lichtenbach. They are hand and glove with one
+another.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And the woman Vignola?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Agostini will take you to her abode. And when you have
+the Vignola, you come to Hans, and the rest of the accomplices,
+if there are any. And I believe there is a whole gang of
+them!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And what will M. Marcel Baradier do?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do not trouble about him; he does not wish to appear in
+the matter. A mere question of scruples!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But suppose some attempt is made against him? Does he
+not wish me to take precautions to assure his safety?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No. He is strong enough to protect himself. Besides I
+am with him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And so was Lafor&ecirc;t.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, that is true; still, it is my master&rsquo;s
+wish&mdash;do not do any more than he asks you to undertake. I
+think you will be well pleased with the result. That has cost
+dear enough! But if we can obtain vengeance for the murder of my
+General and poor Lafor&ecirc;t we shall be quits!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; said the magistrate. &ldquo;If I need
+you, M. Baudoin, where can I find you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am living with my master, M. Baradier.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good. Now that you have been working so well, it is my
+turn. This gang will find that they have not been mocking at
+justice with impunity.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! This has been going on a considerable time, from
+what I understand at the War Office.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I shall put myself into relations with that Office; <a
+name="page305"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 305</span>we will act
+in co-operation. Keep your courage up, and have good hopes, M.
+Baudoin; the affair is about to start afresh.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Baudoin, conducted to the door by the magistrate, went out
+into the passage, shook hands with the attendant, and left the
+building. Returning straight to the Rue de Prov&egrave;nce, he
+mounted to Marcel&rsquo;s rooms.</p>
+<p>This evening he was seated in a small salon examining with
+minute care the plan for a machine at which he was working. On
+seeing Baudoin enter he placed the diagram on the table, looked
+at his visitor, and said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have just left?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, M. Marcel.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have seen the Minister?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. At the very first words I uttered he was all
+attention. He wishes to see you, and affirms that the lady in
+question is a spy of the most dangerous category, who has had the
+police on her tracks for the past six years. That woman must have
+a number of crimes on her conscience.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is not what I asked you,&rdquo; said Marcel.
+&ldquo;Are they going to take measures to keep a watch on
+Agostini and his companions? If so&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The Minister told me that was the business of the
+Detective Department, and advised me to see Mr. Mayeur. I have
+just left him. Ah! he will not allow the affair to
+lag.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The tinkling of a bell in the yard interrupted the
+conversation. It was the signal for dinner, which, from time
+immemorial, had thus been announced every evening, as is the
+custom in the provinces. Marcel took off his coat, and replaced
+it by another, after which he made his way to the salon. On
+entering, his father, Uncle Graff, the two young ladies, and
+Madame Baradier, were already waiting before <a
+name="page306"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 306</span>passing
+into the dining-room. More comfort than luxury was evident
+everywhere; not the slightest sign of ostentation was manifest.
+Usually, dinner was the time when all the company related the
+events of the day. This evening one would have thought that
+nobody wished to speak. All the same, Graff, when the joint was
+brought on the table, risked the remark&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The Bourse has been firmer to-day.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No great improvement!&rdquo; growled Baradier.</p>
+<p>A deeper silence than before followed. But Uncle Graff had the
+patience of a Lorraine, and he continued after a while&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have received a letter from Cardez, in which he says
+they have reached the second floor of the new building. The
+Assurance Company has paid the claim. After all, everything has
+turned out for the best.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are the workmen quiet now?&rdquo; asked Madame
+Baradier.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Poor creatures! They were sorry for what they had done.
+But they were not responsible. It was the leaders of the strike!
+The deuce take them!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Have they fixed upon a larger building-site for a new
+steam-engine?&rdquo; asked Baradier, who forgot his bad temper as
+soon as business was on the tapis.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Father,&rdquo; interrupted Marcel, &ldquo;I should
+advise you to postpone this plan of yours. Something might happen
+which would cause the system of power employed in the works to be
+radically changed. Better wait a little.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mere idle fancies and whims! Some wild impracticable
+invention, I suppose.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; replied the young man, with warmth.
+&ldquo;No idle fancy at all! My dear Genevi&egrave;ve, it would
+cover your father&rsquo;s name with glory, for it was he who had
+the idea of this invention first, and, indeed, if it is
+realizable, <a name="page307"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+307</span>as I believe will be found to be the case, it will bear
+his name.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then this is something at which you have been working
+the last month?&rdquo; asked Baradier, inquisitively.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The last two years, father. It is on this application
+of the regulated explosive power of the Tr&eacute;mont
+powder&mdash;you understand, regulated, that is the
+point&mdash;that I have been working with the General. We were on
+the point of success when he disappeared. But I was in possession
+of all the plans, sketches, and calculations we made together,
+and I have continued the work all alone.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And you think you have succeeded?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I do.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And what result will you attain with your
+machine?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A substitute for coal, petroleum, and even electricity,
+in the production of force. That is to say, the suppression of
+magazines in war vessels, permitting them to increase to an
+indefinite extent their sphere of action. There would be no
+necessity for locomotives to be supplied with a tender, and in
+all industries coal need only be used for metallurgic and heating
+purposes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, oh!&rdquo; said Baradier. &ldquo;And what will you
+put in the place of coal, petroleum, and electricity?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That, my dear father, is what I will tell you the day
+the patents have been taken all over the world.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;When will you take them?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To-morrow, if you will advance me the forty thousand
+francs necessary.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will give you them,&rdquo; exclaimed Uncle Graff,
+with warmth. &ldquo;I have confidence in you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who says I am not ready to advance the sum
+myself?&rdquo; resumed Baradier. &ldquo;I would do it merely to
+honour the memory of Tr&eacute;mont.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very good, father; I warrant you have never advanced <a
+name="page308"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 308</span>money at
+better interest,&rdquo; said Marcel, joyfully. &ldquo;It is a
+discovery calculated to completely change the methods of
+commerce, and yet it is the simplest thing in the
+world!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Like all good inventions!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Baradier remained silent for a moment, and then
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But the invention of this machine is connected with the
+discovery of the Tr&eacute;mont powders?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, father.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And the powders have been stolen?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A sad smile passed over Marcel&rsquo;s lips.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, father, the powders have been stolen. The war
+powder, for instance, and it is very unfortunate. For the General
+intended to present France with this marvellous product, which
+would have assured for our army a supremacy of several years over
+the other Powers of Europe. Then you know what would have
+happened; foreigners would have set to work, and either
+discovered or bought our secret, and equilibrium again have been
+restored. There will be no superiority for any one, since the
+formula of the Tr&eacute;mont war-powder will be given by me
+to-morrow to the War Office. That will establish equality. And if
+there is war, valour and intelligence will have to undertake the
+victory. As for the business powder, that is another matter. They
+may have stolen the formula, even manufactured it themselves, but
+I defy them to find the means of using it for its destined
+purpose.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is a secret about it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, which I discovered quite by chance when working
+with the General. That is the peculiarity of this powder, which,
+under ordinary conditions, is destructive enough, being ignited
+by simple friction&mdash;in a word, very dangerous to use; but
+which, employed according to our method, is under perfect
+control, and regulates its dynamic <a name="page309"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 309</span>effects, even to the movement of a
+pendulum, according to my pleasure.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>All present were listening attentively, thinking of the
+importance of this discovery, and the wretched fate of its
+initiator. M. Baradier said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To-morrow you shall have your money. If the affair is
+worth merely the hundredth part of what you claim,
+Genevi&egrave;ve will be rich and Tr&eacute;mont
+world-famed.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;As for the Explosives Company,&rdquo; added Graff,
+&ldquo;it is in a bad way. Lichtenbach is likely to have met his
+match at last!&rdquo;</p>
+<h3><a name="page310"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+310</span>CHAPTER III</h3>
+<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was five months since Marcel had
+solemnly promised his father to break with his giddy companions,
+give up his fast life, and no longer set foot in the club, but,
+instead of all this, to work and obliterate the acts of folly he
+had previously committed. Scrupulously keeping his word, he
+withdrew to Ars, and only seldom appeared in Paris. So well had
+he worked that the result of his efforts were manifest. The
+Minister, after the conversation he had had with Marcel, had
+expressed himself to Baradier, concerning the young savant, in
+such terms that the father was quite disarmed. All these
+deprivations of rights, which he had patiently submitted to, were
+now removed, and, not without considerable satisfaction, this
+fine young fellow of twenty-six years of age had resumed his
+former habits.</p>
+<p>The first time he appeared at the club he had been welcomed
+with open arms by his companions, young and old alike.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What has become of you; we have seen nothing of you for
+several months! Probably you have been travelling?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marcel replied that he had indeed been away from Paris, but
+added that he had been thinking seriously concerning gambling,
+and had determined to give up baccarat.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How often have I heard you talk in that way,&rdquo;
+said the Baron de Vergins. &ldquo;All the same, you could not
+resist the <a name="page311"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+311</span>temptation to play if you were in front of the
+baccarat-table a single quarter of an hour!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come along, then, and you will see.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They passed into the large room. Beneath the ceiling floated a
+grey mist of tobacco smoke, like a fog.</p>
+<p>On either side of the room was a green table, around which
+thronged a crowd of sour-visaged punters.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! You have two baccarat-tables now,&rdquo; remarked
+Marcel.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; it is an innovation. At the one the minimum stake
+is a louis; at the other, it is ten francs. So that, when a
+punter has had a run of ill-luck at the large table, he goes to
+the small one to try and recoup, with the privilege of returning
+afterwards to the other, to lose once more what he may have
+won.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very ingenious. A double sieve from which nothing
+escapes!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He approached the large table, and his look immediately became
+fixed. In front of him, dealing the bank, he had just recognized
+Agostini. Impassive and smiling, a flower at his buttonhole, he
+gracefully distributed the cards at both tables. He did not see
+Marcel. With his sing-song voice he called out&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Cards!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marcel, addressing the Baron de Vergins, asked&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who is the banker?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Count Cesare Agostini.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Newly joined the club?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For a time. Agreeable fellow, good fencer, and reckless
+player.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is he lucky?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, no. He has very bad luck. Loses more than any one
+else, in fact.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you know anything about him?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page312"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+312</span>&ldquo;He was introduced by the Prince de Cystriano and
+M. Beltrand. The Agostini family is well known; they are the
+younger branch of the great Italian family, the dukes of
+Briviesca.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why do they receive so many foreigners at the
+club?&rdquo; asked Marcel, with a displeased air.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, my dear friend, the club lives on them, so to
+speak. I know they make themselves as much at home here as at
+their hotel. It is not very pleasant for us. But what is there to
+be done? The establishment must be kept going.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Has he any relations in Paris?&rdquo; asked Marcel.
+&ldquo;A sister?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; he is unmarried, and has never been seen in the
+company of a lady.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marcel changed the conversation, made an excuse for leaving
+his companion, and went to the writing-room. Taking up a
+directory, he found a recent indication, handwritten as follows:
+&ldquo;Count Cesare Agostini, 7 Rue du Colis&eacute;e.&rdquo; It
+was something to know this address, though what he wanted was
+information respecting that mysterious woman, Anetta or Sophia,
+Madame Vignola or the Baroness Grodsko. What was Agostini to him
+besides that infinitely charming creature, who had suddenly
+become metamorphosed into a most dangerous monster. Her brother,
+really? Her accomplice, without the slightest doubt. That was
+what he wished to know, and, at the risk of the greatest danger,
+he was determined to have his doubts removed.</p>
+<p>He had taken a seat in a large armchair, the back of which,
+turned towards the door, almost entirely concealed him. Two
+members of the club were writing letters. The quiet of this
+retired spot, the ticking of the timepiece, seemed to numb his
+faculties. The murmur of distant voices lulled him into a
+reverie.</p>
+<p><a name="page313"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+313</span>Suddenly a quiver ran over him, and he listened
+attentively. The voice of Agostini had just joined in the
+conversation.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have again lost two thousand louis. With the thousand
+yesterday, it is quite enough.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He laughed, and one of his companions said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You ought to hold off for a few days, Agostini! It is
+useless being obstinate against ill-luck.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But if I did not play, what should I do? It is my only
+distraction.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That was a beautiful lady, at the opera, to whom you
+introduced Colonel Derbaut the other night.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marcel&rsquo;s heart seemed to stop beating. He had a
+presentiment that the woman in question was the one who was
+engaging his own attention so strongly. He could not hear
+Agostini&rsquo;s reply, and the other continued&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If she is no more than a compatriot of yours, I should
+be pleased to make her acquaintance.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Agostini laughed, but made no promise. And Marcel said to
+himself: &ldquo;His compatriot? An Italian? It is Anetta, I am
+sure of it. What is she doing here with this villain? The army
+once more in danger, for she has made the acquaintance of Colonel
+Derbaut, a staff-officer.&rdquo; Meanwhile, he had lost the
+thread of the conversation, but a second sentence told him all
+that was necessary&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very good! To-night, at the opera?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Agreed!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Silence was restored. The members of the club continued their
+correspondence. Marcel rose from his seat, sure that he was about
+to meet the pretended sister of Agostini. She was not in Italy,
+as the adventurer had had the audacity to tell him at the charity
+sale. She was in Paris and, without thinking of the past, engaged
+on some <a name="page314"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+314</span>fresh intrigue. Along whatever path she travelled she
+sowed corruption, infamy, and death.</p>
+<p>Suddenly in Marcel&rsquo;s memory arose the smiling, tender
+image of Madame Vignola with that bewitching smile, and those
+clear, limpid eyes. Was it possible that such a creature should
+be a monster? If so, then one greatly to be dreaded!</p>
+<p>How can one help trusting in that exquisite gentleness which
+pervaded her whole person? And yet, had she not betrayed him? Had
+she not revealed the presence of the secret documents in the
+laboratory? And that, too, with marvellous rapidity, and a skill
+scarcely compatible with honesty. He would have liked to free her
+from every suspicion which hung over her; but was it
+possible?</p>
+<p>Leaving the club, he returned to the bank, and, entering his
+father&rsquo;s study, found his uncle Graff, attentively reading
+an evening paper. The old man arose on seeing his nephew enter,
+and, holding the printed sheet out to him, said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;See here, Marcel, here is an article on this affair of
+ours. It is a report of a meeting of the Academy of Science,
+where Professor Marigot read his notice on the Tr&eacute;mont
+powder.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marcel carelessly took the journal. Without even glancing at
+it, he laid it on the desk.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is that all the interest you take in the matter?&rdquo;
+exclaimed the uncle. &ldquo;You are not inquisitive about the
+effect produced by Marigot&rsquo;s official communication? Very
+well, I will tell you what he says. The <i>Globe</i> has given up
+a whole column to the discovery, which it states is an important
+one, and it predicts, within a short date, a revolution in the
+use of motive power. On the other hand, the <i>Panache Blanc</i>,
+Lichtenbach&rsquo;s journal, is dead against the invention, which
+it qualifies as a shamefaced imitation, <a
+name="page315"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 315</span>insinuating
+that it is simply the Dalgetty process, without the slightest
+change in the doses of the products.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What a brazen falsehood!&rdquo; Marcel exclaimed,
+unable to restrain himself.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Here is something better. At the Bourse a rumour has
+got abroad that the Explosives Company is in possession of the
+Tr&eacute;mont patents, and the shares have begun to mount, in
+spite of the desperate efforts of the bears. Accordingly, our
+situation is saved, and, on the other hand, that of Lichtenbach
+seems to be in a terrible pass!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You do not expect me to get excited over
+that?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I do not, indeed. But your father, who for the past
+three months has hardly been able to sleep, is now happy and
+smiling. He has just gone to Aubervilliers to examine a plot of
+land, covering seven acres, which has been offered to us, and
+which would be the very spot for constructing the works
+necessary. He is especially pleased at owing this result to you.
+Though not very expansive, he is enthusiastic and warm-hearted,
+and exceedingly proud to be obliged to confess that you are so
+gifted. Up to the present, it is Tr&eacute;mont that has been
+mentioned, but, when it is known that it is you who brought the
+affair to its completion, and your name is in everybody&rsquo;s
+mouth, as soon will be the case, then you will see your father
+expand.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marcel made no reply. He walked to and fro in the study, with
+so absent-minded an air that Graff exclaimed&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What a strange fellow you are! And yet you must be well
+pleased with what I have been telling you. Though you will
+scarcely listen to me. What is the matter with you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The young man shook his head, and, with an attempt at a smile,
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is nothing the matter with me, Uncle Graff. What
+do you expect me to say?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page316"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+316</span>&ldquo;Ah! Perhaps you have no suspicion of the plans
+Baradier has been forming for you. He explained them to me this
+very morning. We are going to put Marcel at the head of the works
+as director. At the same time he shall be one of the managing
+directors of the Explosives Company we are about to completely
+reorganize. You see, Marcel, you are about to play a very
+important <i>r&ocirc;le</i> in life at twenty-six years of age.
+And your father added, &lsquo;If he will marry, I shall no longer
+have anything to wish for. He will have satisfied me in
+everything.&rsquo; What do you think of the idea? I believe he
+was thinking of Genevi&egrave;ve de Tr&eacute;mont. What will
+your reply be?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marcel replied quietly&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing whatever, Uncle Graff.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The old man touched Marcel on the shoulder, and, looking
+attentively at him, said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I do not understand you, Marcel; there is something you
+are hiding from me. Have you seen the woman of Ars
+again?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This time, the young man broke out&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, I have not seen her; but I know she is in Paris. I
+know where I shall see her this evening. Uncle Graff, I intend to
+have the key to this living enigma.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! My child, there is no enigma; she is simply a
+villain, nothing more! How anxious you make me in still troubling
+yourself with this woman! Take care! You know how dangerous she
+and her companions are. Remember the poor General, and this brave
+fellow killed at Ars. Just inform the police, she will be
+arrested, and all will be over.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If I were certain she were as guilty as you suspect her
+to be, I would do so. Though it is not very gallant to give up a
+woman.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What! Chivalry with such people?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page317"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+317</span>&ldquo;But I have my doubts, Uncle Graff. I cannot make
+up my mind to condemn her unheard.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes! In a word, you wish to see her again. Don&rsquo;t
+tell me any idle stories; I am not so stupid as to be taken in by
+them. She still holds you in her power. And you are about to risk
+being murdered, in some dark corner or other, for the pleasure of
+being deceived once more by such a traitress.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Uncle Graff, no one will kill me at the opera. It is
+there I rely on seeing her to-night.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are you in earnest?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Have you disposed of your orchestra stall?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very well, give it to me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Promise me you will do nothing extravagant, and that if
+this woman wants you to accompany her, you will not do
+so.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; I cannot promise that. But I will be on my guard
+all the same. Agostini shall not knock me over like a
+pigeon.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Take a good revolver with you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! <i>Mon Dieu</i>! And I was feeling so happy!&rdquo;
+groaned the old man. &ldquo;Suppose you take Baudoin with
+you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Under no pretext. Be assured, however, I am running no
+risk this time. Later on, we shall see.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The arrival of Baradier cut the conversation short. Marcel
+returned home to dress before dinner.</p>
+<p>That evening the <i>Walkyrie</i> was being given at the opera.
+When Marcel reached his stall, the second act was commencing. The
+domestic troubles of Wotan, the Scandinavian Jupiter, with
+Fricka, a real Juno without her peacock, possessed only a slight
+interest for the young man. <a name="page318"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 318</span>Turning round, he leaned his elbow
+on the back of his stall, and looked about him. Slowly, the boxes
+began to fill, as though the subscribers had only decided to come
+at all because they had paid dearly for the privilege. Up above
+in the amphitheatre was a sea of eager faces turned on to the
+stage. There was the real amateur and artistic public.</p>
+<p>But Marcel was not looking for critical observations as to the
+musical capacity of the different auditors of a masterly piece,
+rather for the face of a woman. Nowhere could he catch a glimpse
+of the beautiful profile of Madame Vignola. Two side boxes on the
+right of the actors still remained unoccupied. And Marcel, again
+turning towards the stage, kept a watch on them.</p>
+<p>Towards the end of the act the sound of an opening door drew
+his attention. He saw a light appear in one of the side boxes,
+then a vague uncertain form appeared in its velvet frame. The
+door closed again, the background again darkened, and a woman,
+clothed in white, <i>d&eacute;collet&eacute;</i>, and wearing a
+necklace of beautiful pearls, came to the front of the box. As
+her face was turned away from Marcel he could not distinguish her
+features. Still, what relation could there be between this
+vigorous brunette and the blonde and languishing Anetta?
+Strength, where he had found grace. No. This could not be the
+one.</p>
+<p>As the curtain fell amidst a tempest of cheers, and the
+artists reappeared on the stage to bow their acknowledgments, the
+lady turned round, in such a way as to face Marcel, who,
+stupefied, recognized the look of the one he loved. He might have
+been mistaken in everything else, but not in the languishing look
+which formed so delightful a contrast with that mocking smile and
+imperious brow. He examined her attentively, without her being
+aware that she was observed. But what grief he felt at being
+obliged to recognize her in such a disguise!</p>
+<p><a name="page319"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 319</span>Was
+not the very fact of this metamorphosis, the most complete of
+confessionals? Why, if not to disarm curiosity, these changes, in
+head-dress, in the colour of the hair, and the expression of the
+face? What was this comedy she was playing, and when? Was it at
+Ars that she was painted and disguised, or at the opera?</p>
+<p>Marcel arose. All around him were leaving their seats. Madame
+Vignola was no longer in front of the box. Marcel counted the
+number of boxes. This one was the fourth after the passage.
+Standing behind a column, he kept watch.</p>
+<p>This self-imposed waiting seemed interminable to him. The
+passers-by irritated him, he replied to a few bows, but avoided
+shaking hands with any one. Finally, the door of the box opened,
+and Agostini and an elderly man, wearing the rosette of the
+Legion d&rsquo;Honneur, appeared. The count and his companion
+made their way towards the grand staircase, before Marcel, who
+had his back turned to them, and disappeared. Then the young man
+opened the door of the box, and entered.</p>
+<p>The spectator was seated on the sofa. Marcel closed the door,
+and walked up to her. Turning her head, she looked at the
+intruder, and said, without the faintest agitation&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are in the wrong box, sir.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He replied ironically&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, madame, there is no mistake, if I am in the
+presence of Madame Vignola, unless you are the Baroness
+Grodsko.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>At these words, the young woman&rsquo;s face appeared
+frightfully agitated. Her eyes turned pale, and her lips
+trembled.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Whose name is that you have uttered?&rdquo; she
+murmured, in unsteady accents.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Evidently one of your own! So far as I can judge, <a
+name="page320"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 320</span>you change
+names, according to circumstances, just as you change faces,
+according to the men you associate with.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I do not understand what you mean. Once more I say, you
+are mistaken, retire.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No! I shall wait here till Count Agostini returns. We
+will have an explanation in his presence. He, at any rate, will
+not be able to deny his identity. And that will help to establish
+yours.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Rising from her seat, and no longer taking the trouble to
+deny, she said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And he will kill you! Wretched man, leave here at once,
+without a moment&rsquo;s delay. You do not know what dangers you
+are running!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know them quite well. General Tr&eacute;mont is dead,
+Lafor&ecirc;t, the police agent, is dead, and so, doubtless, are
+many others who have resisted your fancies or intrigues. And if
+I, too, do not yield, you will try to compass my death also. But,
+before that happens, I will know who and what you are.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The woman&rsquo;s countenance darkened. Raising her beautiful
+arm, she said in tragic tones&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do not attempt it! You will never succeed!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Still, I have made a beginning,&rdquo; he said madly.
+&ldquo;Spy&mdash;thief&mdash;actress; yes, actress even in
+love!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She did not appear to have heard the other insults he hurled
+at her, but from this last one, she recoiled. Blushing, she
+seized Marcel by the arm, and fixed on him a pair of eyes which
+seemed to flame with passion.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No! I have not lied! Don&rsquo;t believe that of me! Do
+not accuse me of having been false in love. I did love you! Can
+you think otherwise? Accuse me of whatever you wish, it matters
+little to me! We shall never see one another again, you
+hear!&mdash;never see one another again in this world. Therefore,
+believe what I now swear to you: <a name="page321"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 321</span>I loved you; I still love you! I
+have never loved any one as I have loved you, and that is why I
+shall never see you again. Do not attempt to understand or to
+fathom my secrets; they would cause your death. Content yourself
+with what you know of me, and with the fact that you have not
+paid for it with your life. Become blind when I pass by your
+side; deaf, whenever my name is mentioned. Do not enter the
+darkness in which I am shrouded. Oh! Marcel, my loved one, go
+away, do not suspect me of having lied to you. Clasped in your
+arms, your lips pressed against mine, I told the truth,
+I&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She stopped. Tears shone in her eyes, and her beautiful arms
+are flung around Marcel&rsquo;s neck. He felt himself pressed to
+her throbbing bosom, the fire of her eyes blinded him, and he
+shuddered at the contact of that ardent mouth pressed to his own
+in a delirium of delight. Amid her sighs, he heard the word
+&ldquo;Adieu!&rdquo; and found himself near the door. There, her
+embrace relaxed, and he stood dazed and maddened in the passage,
+amidst the spectators who were returning to their seats. Taking
+up his coat, and staggering along like a man intoxicated, he
+obeyed his mysterious love, and left the theatre.</p>
+<p>He no longer doubted. That cry, &ldquo;I love you
+still!&rdquo; was sincere. She was not lying when she confessed
+her love. Besides, why had she driven him away from her, if not
+inspired by the passionate fright of the woman who trembles lest
+her loved one meet his death. Then it was some strange will,
+superior to her own, which had compelled her to fascinate him,
+and which was again controlling her in the performance of some
+dark, mysterious deed or other! That he was, and must remain,
+ignorant of.</p>
+<p>On reaching the Place de l&rsquo;Op&eacute;ra, he felt calmer.
+The open air did him good. But the memory of those glorious eyes,
+and that quivering voice, as she held him in her arms, <a
+name="page322"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 322</span>came back
+to him with painful intensity. Ah! What a woman!</p>
+<p>But she was a monster of corruption and depravity. He had told
+her so without the slightest protest. She was, beyond doubt, an
+accomplice in several murders; perhaps even that white and
+delicate hand of hers had itself been stained in blood! She was
+the secret agent of threatening hostility and venal treason. Her
+beauty, grace, and intelligence were so many attractions which
+served to captivate her dupes. Her love was only a means to an
+end.</p>
+<p>A feeling of revolt came over him. He said to himself,
+&ldquo;Really, I am too much of a coward. The attraction this
+woman exercises over me is taking away my moral faculty! At the
+very moment she appears in such a despicable light before me, I
+yet love her. And yet, I scarcely know her. She loved me; that is
+the reason she left me, unwilling as she was to ruin me!&rdquo;
+He laughed in a nervous fashion, and thought, &ldquo;Very soon, I
+shall be obliged to feel grateful towards her! And yet she is an
+infamous wretch. Yes; but how beautiful!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A prey to these contradictory thoughts, he reached the Rue de
+Prov&egrave;nce, and immediately retired to rest. The following
+morning, when he awoke, he was astonished to find his uncle Graff
+at his bedside. It was eight o&rsquo;clock. He had had a
+dreamless sleep. The old man, feeling uneasy, had been turning
+over and over in his bed, and, at daybreak, had not been able to
+resist the desire of making sure that nothing had happened to
+Marcel. For some time he had been watching his nephew sleep, and
+now he wished to question him, but, finding him silent, or
+evasive in his answers, he abandoned all hope of learning
+anything just then, and called on Baradier for a cup of coffee.
+He had left his room, fasting, and was dying of hunger.</p>
+<p>The same morning, in Lichtenbach&rsquo;s study, about ten <a
+name="page323"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+323</span>o&rsquo;clock, Agostini and Hans were engaged in a
+<i>t&ecirc;te-&agrave;-t&ecirc;te</i> with the banker. Count
+Cesare was sitting in dreamy attitude, smoking a cigarette. Hans,
+impassive, was listening to Elias, who was speaking in even a
+duller voice than usual.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The situation is certainly serious for you,&rdquo; he
+was saying, &ldquo;but for me it is becoming very grave. Relying
+on your information, I undertook a bear campaign, which was to
+place the Explosives Company in my hands, by permitting of my
+redeeming the shares for a mere trifle. It happens that my
+closest rivals, and deadly enemies, the firm of Baradier and
+Graff, have undertaken the counter-part of my operations, and all
+my efforts to shake them off have been unavailing. Then, I did
+not understand the causes of their firmness, but now I do. The
+notice read at the Academy of Science gives me the key to their
+calculations. They are in possession of the secret you have
+failed to find. They are in a position to exploit the
+Tr&eacute;mont powder, and the Dalgetty patent is worth nothing!
+This is the net result of all your intrigues. You have indeed
+something to be proud of!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What will all this cost you?&rdquo; asked Agostini,
+coldly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How much will it cost me?&rdquo; exclaimed the banker,
+furiously. &ldquo;Almost all I possess! You seem to look at
+things in a very philosophical light! It is easy to say to a man
+one has ruined, &lsquo;How much has it cost you?&rsquo; Can I
+rely on my physical attractions? To have money I must work, and
+it has been so with me for the past forty years!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come, Lichtenbach,&rdquo; said Hans, &ldquo;don&rsquo;t
+cry about it. We are aware that you will lose considerably, in
+case the affair does not succeed. But there will be something
+left. I will offer you ten million francs for whatever remains,
+if you like!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Stupid rogues as you are!&rdquo; exclaimed Elias.
+&ldquo;You <a name="page324"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+324</span>are speaking of what you know nothing about! This
+filthy affair of yours, managed by such silly dolts, has cost me
+the labour of half my life, and even more&mdash;my pride! For I,
+who have always had the upper hand of Baradier and Graff, am now
+at their mercy. Your famous Sophia has, indeed, been brilliant in
+this matter! A man-eater who has never failed. A flower of
+rottenness, one need only breathe to be intoxicated, such
+corrupting ferments does she exhale! A simple young man is given
+into her hands; a mere child&rsquo;s-play for her, and here she
+remains, inactive and powerless, either unable or unwilling to
+make him give up his secret. Meanwhile, I have been losing all my
+money. You idiots! You stupid rascals! Will you give me back my
+money? I know of nothing in the world more despicable than an
+imbecile bandit! And that is what you are, both of you, and your
+Sophia into the bargain!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Hans&rsquo; countenance remained unchanged. Agostini, with
+sombre look, flung away his cigarette, and said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is some truth in what you say, Lichtenbach, so I
+will overlook your insolent words. But for that, I would have
+made you pay dearly for what you have just said.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not another word!&rdquo; growled Lichtenbach. &ldquo;I
+defy you!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You will be foolish to do so,&rdquo; continued the
+Italian. &ldquo;A Count Cesare Agostini will not receive a
+gratuitous insult from a Lichtenbach.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Gratuitous? Indeed!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come! Peace!&rdquo; said Hans, in tones of authority.
+&ldquo;We are not here to exchange compliments with one another,
+but to find some solution to the difficulty. It is true the
+Baroness has failed. We know the reason now, when it is too late.
+She has been stupid enough to fall in love with this young man,
+and has only half accomplished her mission. <a
+name="page325"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 325</span>When she
+led him on to talk confidentially to her, she was afraid that he
+would despise her later on. To sum up, the <i>coup</i> failed.
+The young man is now on his guard; he will say nothing more,
+unless I undertake, as a last resource, to question him. For the
+present, however, the situation is as follows: We possess an
+excellent patent, similar, as regards the composition of the
+powder, to the one taken under the name of Tr&eacute;mont. But we
+are in ignorance of the trick of working it. Our powder is a
+brutal explosive. The Tr&eacute;mont powder is graduated in
+action. There is the real value of the discovery. Under these
+conditions, Dalgetty could establish a claim, and accuse of
+counterfeit the exploiters of the Tr&eacute;mont patent, which
+was taken out after ours. The result&mdash;scandal, trial,
+blackmailing. This is the line we must follow, and it may serve
+as a means for a settlement.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In what way?&rdquo; asked Lichtenbach, interested.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;By sending a trusty ambassador to Baradier and Graff to
+offer them terms of peace.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They will not accept!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How do you know? It all depends on the manner in which
+the proposal is made; you may have to concede to them both
+material and moral advantages, in order to reach a fusion of the
+two affairs.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That would mean safety, and even triumph!&rdquo;
+exclaimed Lichtenbach. &ldquo;Just let me get them into my power,
+and they shall not escape so easily!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then I will rely upon you! Ah! You sly rogue, you have
+come back to life again.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The fact is, the idea of being their dupe was killing
+me! The whole of my life would have been spent in vain! Ever
+since I have been in Paris, I have only had one desire&mdash;to
+injure them! Give up this joy! I could not! Whom shall I send
+them?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page326"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+326</span>&ldquo;A priest,&rdquo; insinuated Agostini.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The Abb&eacute; d&rsquo;Escayrac, if he would do me
+this service! Fine idea! He well knows how to lull one&rsquo;s
+conscience by moulding a man&rsquo;s intelligence to his will.
+But what can we offer Baradier and Graff?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Anything you imagine they might decently accept. What
+will it cost you? Have you not a daughter? She has been carefully
+brought up, and is of an amiable disposition, so I am
+told.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Offer her to young Baradier, with an enormous dowry. If
+Sophia were only willing, she would arrange the matter well
+enough!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This time, Agostini manifested symptoms of violent discontent.
+He brought his hand down forcibly on the table, and, looking at
+the others with murderous eyes, said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And what is to become of me in this combination? Are
+you forgetting that Mademoiselle Lichtenbach is my affianced
+wife?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The engagement can easily be broken,&rdquo; replied
+Hans, coldly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you intend to jest with me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I never jest with any one to no purpose.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then you are seriously thinking of overthrowing all my
+plans?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What use will your plans be to you, if Lichtenbach is
+ruined? Besides, you silly fellow, do you think Elias is a man
+likely to trouble himself with you, if you are no longer of any
+use to him? Already you have gone down several notches in his
+esteem. If an arrangement has to be made with you, we will offer
+you money. I know where to find it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The handsome Italian laid his hand on his heart.</p>
+<p><a name="page327"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+327</span>&ldquo;And what compensation will be large enough to
+satisfy me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, ah!&rdquo; jeered Hans. &ldquo;We are well aware
+that your conscience is as tender as it is delicate!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lichtenbach, who had remained silent, after hearing the
+suggestion concerning his daughter, now said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A Baradier marry a Lichtenbach! Is it possible? Never
+would the Graffs and Baradiers consent to such a thing! For my
+own part, I ought to protest with all my might against such a
+proposal.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He remained silent, as though absorbed in thought, and then
+said slowly&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Still, my daughter is well worthy of entering such a
+family. They are honest people, after all! And she is a charming
+and proud child. If only they would consent! My daughter would be
+certain of a happy future. She would have a peaceful and tranquil
+life. These Baradiers are honest and respectable, after all! If
+they would receive my daughter as their own, they would treat her
+well, and she would not be the prey of an adventurer! True, I
+hate them, and wish to do them harm, for all the humiliations
+they have inflicted on me. But if they would accept my
+daughter!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A tear shone on the cheek of this hardened man&mdash;a tear
+more precious than a diamond, for it owed its source to a
+father&rsquo;s love. Hans interrupted the scene; he was not a man
+to understand such tender feelings.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So you adopt my plan? You will make an attempt at
+conciliation with our opponents. Offer them what you like, that
+is your own affair, and if we succeed, we will unite the two
+patents. You alone carry on the transaction, though, naturally,
+you reserve us our share. You see, this young Count Cesare might
+turn out troublesome. Is it agreed upon?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page328"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+328</span>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Hans and Agostini took their leave. Elias walked to and fro
+about his study, then he proceeded to his daughter&rsquo;s room.
+Marianne was seated near the window overlooking the garden,
+working. She rose on seeing her father appear. Wearing a blue
+dressing-gown ornamented with quipure lace, her fair hair tied up
+in bands, she had about her a kind of virgin gentleness, which
+caused her father&rsquo;s heart to swell with love and
+tenderness. Sitting by her side, he drew her near to himself, and
+entered into conversation.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have now been settled down here some considerable
+time. Are you satisfied? Is everything progressing as you
+wish?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, father, I should be very ungrateful if I were not
+satisfied. You let me do whatever I want. But I hope you are well
+pleased yourself, also.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly, little one, and I wish us always to remain
+so. But, you know, some day we shall be obliged to
+separate.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marianne looked serious; her smile vanished.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A day in the distant future, father; there is no
+hurry.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You will marry. Would you not like to be
+married?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That will depend on the husband.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A silence followed. The controller of men felt ill at ease
+before this child, whose future he had disposed of by
+calculation. He did not dare speak to her of Agostini, whom he
+had introduced to her, and praised in her presence only the night
+before. It was Marianne who took it upon herself to explain the
+precise situation of things.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am rather troubled, I confess, at the favour you
+accord this young Italian count, and at the way in which you
+speak to me of him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My dear child!&rdquo; exclaimed Lichtenbach.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No! Let me continue,&rdquo; interrupted Marianne. <a
+name="page329"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+329</span>&ldquo;Afterwards you may praise your candidate as much
+as you like. But allow me to speak to you quite freely. Your
+<i>proteg&eacute;&rsquo;s</i> conduct and habits make me uneasy.
+He does not seem to me frank; he is too polite, and full of
+compliments. There is something suspicious about this man who is
+always smiling and flattering. Besides, his voice has no genuine
+ring about it. His cold, cruel looks belie his handsome face and
+gentle words. Lastly, dear father, he is a foreigner. Are there
+no more Frenchmen to marry in France that one should be obliged
+to look for a <i>fianc&eacute;</i> for one&rsquo;s daughter on
+the other side of the frontier? He is a count, but I have no
+ambition in that direction. He does not work, and I should not
+care to marry any one without business of any kind. Papa, if you
+wish to please me and consult my tastes, you will choose another
+suitor. Your daughter is something to you&mdash;that you have
+often given me to understand; you have, perhaps, insisted rather
+too much on the fact, for I might have formed too good an opinion
+of myself. Luckily, I am reasonable and modest in my demands. Do
+not marry me to an idle man, who is also ambitious and wicked. If
+you want me to be free from anxiety, send away this handsome
+Italian. He is not the man for me!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lichtenbach smiled good-humouredly and said&mdash;&ldquo;Then
+who is?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marianne blushed, but made no reply.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, ah!&rdquo; continued Lichtenbach. &ldquo;So there
+is a secret, is there? Better tell your father all about it,
+little one. Have you met some one you like, my dear? Tell me
+everything; don&rsquo;t be afraid. You know very well I will do
+nothing opposed to your wishes. If you do not like Agostini, why
+did you not tell me so sooner? Come, now, tell me all!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>With downcast head she said&mdash;</p>
+<p><a name="page330"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+330</span>&ldquo;No, no! It is useless. I have only one
+wish&mdash;to stay by your side just as I am. I shall be very
+happy.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are not telling me the truth,&rdquo; exclaimed
+Lichtenbach, excitedly. &ldquo;You must tell me what you mean. Do
+you imagine there are difficulties in the way? Yes? Of what kind?
+Is it some one I know?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Let us say nothing more on the subject, father,&rdquo;
+said Marianne. &ldquo;I was wrong in introducing the subject. It
+can be nothing but a painful one for both yourself and myself.
+You had given me warning. But it was too late. The subject shall
+never be brought up again between us; that I promise
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You could not speak to me otherwise if it were my
+greatest enemy. Is it so?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He did not utter the name of Baradier, but Marianne read it
+upon his lips. She raised her eyes up to her father&rsquo;s face,
+as though to ask pardon from him for what he must consider a kind
+of treason. She did not, however, find in his countenance that
+angry and threatening expression she dreaded to see there. He was
+passive and calm, and sat there for a moment without uttering a
+word. Then, in accents of great deliberation, he asked&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We are thinking of Marcel Baradier, are we not? Yes, it
+must be he. I was wrong to let you visit Genevi&egrave;ve de
+Tr&eacute;mont. That was very imprudent on my part. However, it
+cannot be helped now. We must try to arrange matters.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Arrange matters!&rdquo; stammered Marianne.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, my dear child. We must make an attempt. I would do
+anything to make you happy.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Forget your bitter feelings of the past?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will try to make the Baradiers forget
+theirs.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, father, dear father!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She flung her arms around his neck with such a burst of <a
+name="page331"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 331</span>joy, that
+Lichtenbach turned pale with shame. For the first time in his
+life, he had a very clear impression of the significance of a
+cowardly action, doubtless, because his victim in this case was
+his own daughter. At the same time, he felt that the evil deeds
+of a whole lifetime accumulate, and that, at some time or other,
+the interest must be paid, in humiliation and suffering. He
+looked at Marianne tenderly, and said, in accents of
+sincerity&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! is it so serious as that? Very well, my child, I
+will do everything possible to make you happy.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>After kissing her, he returned to his room, ordered his
+carriage, and drove away to call on the Abb&eacute;
+d&rsquo;Escayrac.</p>
+<h3><a name="page332"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+332</span>CHAPTER IV</h3>
+<p><span class="smcap">About</span> five o&rsquo;clock Madame
+Baradier had just returned, and was reading in her small salon;
+her daughter, Am&eacute;lie, and Genevi&egrave;ve de
+Tr&eacute;mont were working at the table, chatting pleasantly the
+while, when the servant entered, and said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is a priest here, who wishes to speak to you,
+madame.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Madame Baradier, lady patroness of several charitable
+institutions, was continually receiving appeals to her
+generosity. She made no distinction between the clergy and the
+laity, but received all with equal benevolence. Accordingly, she
+ordered the visitor to be showed in. The first glance she gave
+him showed her a fine, intelligent face, the general aspect being
+rather that of a fashionable and carefully dressed priest. The
+first words he uttered confirmed this judgment&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Madame,&rdquo; said the visitor, &ldquo;I am the
+Abb&eacute; d&rsquo;Escayrac, secretary of the Issy
+establishment, which is under the lofty patronage of the Bishop
+of Andropolis.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Superior of the Absolutionists, unless I am
+mistaken.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are not mistaken, madame.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What can I do for your work, Monsieur
+l&rsquo;Abb&eacute;?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You can do much, madame. But, first of
+all,&rdquo;&mdash;here the Abb&eacute; lowered his
+voice&mdash;&ldquo;I have information of special importance to
+communicate to you, and it might be better, if you have no
+objection, if we were alone.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page333"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+333</span>&ldquo;As you please, Monsieur
+l&rsquo;Abb&eacute;.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The two girls had been well brought up. On a look from Madame
+Baradier, they arose, bowed, and left the room.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You may now speak freely, Monsieur
+l&rsquo;Abb&eacute;.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am well aware, madame, how you are animated by a
+sincere Christian fervour,&rdquo; continued the priest,
+&ldquo;and it is on the certainty that all apostolic work must
+receive your cordial assistance that my mission is based. As you
+know, we are devoted heart and soul to the service of the poor.
+Poverty and misery, nay, even vice itself, have an exclusive
+claim on our interest and attention. To us a criminal is a
+brother we try to restore to the path of virtue, just as we use
+our best efforts to save a sick man. In this way a vast amount of
+misfortune and crime is revealed to us. We are the confidents of
+the most painful of physical vices, the most lamentable of moral
+back-slidings. We offer help to all, without exception, and often
+serve as intermediaries between those who have the power to
+punish and those who wish to be spared. We are never deaf to
+repentance, and try to turn it to the advantage of our holy
+religion.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He spoke with grave earnestness, and an insinuating voice,
+turning on one side the obstacles in the way, preparing his
+ground, and gradually attempting to win over to his side the
+intelligence of the wife, so as to make of her an ally against
+the husband. Madame Baradier, astonished at this lengthy
+introduction, was beginning to wonder what was the meaning of it
+all, so she asked&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is it pecuniary help you want, Monsieur
+l&rsquo;Abb&eacute;? If so, you will find us very sympathetically
+disposed towards your work.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We shall be very grateful, madame, for whatever you may
+do for us, but money is not at present the object of my visit.
+Recently, we have founded in the Var an important <a
+name="page334"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+334</span>establishment, where we propose, in imitation of other
+powerful religious orders, to open a business establishment. To
+facilitate our efforts, we have received very important
+assistance. We are full of gratitude towards those who have
+helped us, and, the opportunity of doing them a service now
+offering itself, I, your humble servant, have been appointed to
+bring to you a message of conciliation from a man who, for many
+years, has been in a state of hostility with your family, but who
+now wishes to end his life in concord and peace.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Madame Baradier, for the last few minutes, had been
+manifesting serious symptoms of uneasiness. She saw that the
+interview was assuming a form which did not please her;
+accordingly, she cut short the speech of the amiable Abb&eacute;,
+and said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Will you kindly tell me what you wish, Monsieur
+l&rsquo;Abb&eacute;? The man&rsquo;s name will, I believe,
+explain the affair far better.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The young priest smiled; and, with the suppliant look of a
+martyr, he said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am a minister of charity and pardon, madame. The
+man&rsquo;s name is M. Lichtenbach.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I suspected it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Am I to imagine that his personality will render all
+understanding impossible, even in the interests of
+religion?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is not my place to form such a resolution, Monsieur
+l&rsquo;Abb&eacute;. I cannot forget that there are in this house
+two men who are alone entitled to reply: my husband and my
+brother. Permit me to call them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am at your disposal, madame.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No. Monsieur l&rsquo;Abb&eacute;, do not speak so.
+Whatever happens, be sure that we all rightly appreciate the
+mission of conciliation you have accepted. We shall not confound
+the mission with its agent.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page335"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+335</span>Bowing to the priest, she left the room. The
+Abb&eacute; remained motionless in his armchair, buried in
+thought. He was fulfilling a mission useful to his order in a
+double sense. No preoccupation foreign to his religious duties
+troubled him. He rightly appreciated Elias, but the evangelical
+spirit would not allow him to neglect the salvation of even the
+most despicable of men. Had not Christ permitted the kiss of
+Judas? Did not the Holy Father lave the feet of the filthiest of
+beggars? Besides, the interests of the Church inspired him. The
+door opened, and Graff appeared. Coming up to the young
+Abb&eacute;, he bowed&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My sister, Madame Baradier, has just informed me of
+your presence, Monsieur l&rsquo;Abb&eacute;. My brother-in-law,
+Barassin, is busy in the office, and begs to be excused. Besides,
+I have full permission to act as I think best. Will you
+explain?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Has not Madame Baradier told you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In a few hasty words. You are sent by Lichtenbach?
+Good! That does not astonish us in the least. So long as he was
+the stronger, he did us all the harm he could. Now that we have
+the upper hand, he is trying to stop the game. Let us hear what
+he wants.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>M. d&rsquo;Escayrac smiled.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is pleasant to talk to you, monsieur; one knows at
+once where one is going.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very well, Monsieur l&rsquo;Abb&eacute;; since you
+know, proceed at once to facts.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;By chance, your firm and that of Lichtenbach have met
+on the same ground concerning the exploitation of a
+patent.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You call that chance? Good! Good! As for the
+&lsquo;same ground,&rsquo; there is some truth in that, since, in
+order to obtain the patent in question, they have exploded a
+house, that of one of our friends; set fire to a manufactory, our
+<a name="page336"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 336</span>own;
+assassinated two men, and risked killing several others. It is a
+&lsquo;ground&rsquo; sprinkled with blood, Monsieur
+l&rsquo;Abb&eacute;! But, still, it is that abominable
+&lsquo;same ground!&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The priest crossed his hands with an expression of horror.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Monsieur, I knew nothing of what you are now revealing
+to me. Were it any one but yourself who were speaking, I should
+think he had taken leave of his senses. It is impossible that the
+man, in whose name I am here, should have committed the frightful
+acts you now reproach him with.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Let us understand one another,&rdquo; replied Uncle
+Graff, eagerly. &ldquo;I do not accuse Lichtenbach of having shed
+blood. He is incapable of it for several reasons, the best of
+which is that he would not dare to do such a thing. But the
+patent of which you speak has been obtained by the means I have
+just informed you of. Monsieur l&rsquo;Abb&eacute;, you have been
+beguiled into a disagreeable enterprise. Still, in us you have to
+deal with those who have too much respect for religion for you to
+need to fear any responsibility. You may explain yourself without
+any further beating about the bush. Whatever may be said between
+us will not be repeated. After all, this interview may have some
+useful result, who knows?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have no doubt whatever of that,&rdquo; said the
+Abb&eacute;, considerably troubled all the same. &ldquo;Oh,
+monsieur, how pleased I am to have to discuss the interests
+entrusted to my charge with so benevolent a man as yourself! God
+be praised! If possible, we will bring about a perfect
+understanding. If only you knew what I myself dread! In very
+truth, M. Lichtenbach is not so responsible for all that has
+happened as you suppose. He is not his own master in this matter;
+he has to deal with powerful personages, who will not lay down
+their arms, and who, I am afraid, <a name="page337"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 337</span>will have recourse to the most
+extreme measures to obtain the supremacy over you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We have nothing to fear!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There are poisoned weapons which will kill even the
+most invulnerable. Be on your guard, monsieur, against the plots
+to which your adversaries at bay may have recourse. I speak to
+you in all sincerity. I was not aware of the past, but I have
+been terrified at the glimpse into the future that has been
+permitted me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;By whom? Lichtenbach?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! He was terrified himself; and begged me to come and
+speak to you, simply knowing me to be one whose character could
+offer him sufficient guarantee for discretion. I can assure you
+that in him you no longer have an enemy to deal with. Of that he
+is ready to give you whatever proof you wish.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He is deceiving you, Monsieur l&rsquo;Abb&eacute;. You
+have been his dupe, and know him well. What does he
+want?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He proposes the complete fusion of the two enterprises
+by the exploitation of the two patents. Though the Dalgetty is
+previous to the Tr&eacute;mont patent, the two discoveries, being
+almost similar, shall be considered as equal.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is that?&rdquo; exclaimed Uncle Graff.
+&ldquo;Lichtenbach is, indeed, very kind. One is genuine, the
+other counterfeit. The Tr&eacute;mont patent is the result of
+work and intelligence; the Dalgetty patent is the result of fraud
+and theft.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My dear sir,&rdquo; exclaimed the Abb&eacute;,
+uneasily, &ldquo;official declarations are a guarantee of faith.
+One cannot go against facts. The Dalgetty was taken out by an
+English company before the Tr&eacute;mont.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And how does that affect us? The Dalgetty has no value;
+those who have sent you here are well aware of that fact. We have
+them in our power, I tell you; they <a name="page338"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 338</span>can do nothing. Their patent is not
+worth the money they have spent in taking it out. For months past
+Lichtenbach and ourselves have been adversaries over the
+Explosives Company. We hold the right end, that he well knows. He
+will soon have to undertake a liquidation. And then?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He offers to stop his bear operations.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He cannot continue them any longer.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He will take at half price the shares of the Explosives
+of which you are the holders, and pay for them at
+once.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I dare say he will; they will rise at a leap to two
+hundred francs each!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He is ready to offer you a pledge of his frank and,
+henceforth, invariable co-operation. If, in your family, you had
+a person belonging to his family, if an alliance united your
+common interests, would you not consider that an absolute
+guarantee of his sincere cessation of enmity against
+you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Graff turned pale, but succeeded in mastering his emotions,
+and, wishing to know his opponent&rsquo;s inmost thoughts, he
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who is the person in question on Lichtenbach&rsquo;s
+side?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mademoiselle Marianne, his daughter.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And on ours?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Your nephew, M. Baradier.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So these two would be married, and Baradier, Graff, and
+Lichtenbach would form one single family.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I do not know whether or not you are acquainted with
+Mademoiselle Lichtenbach. She is a charming young lady, brought
+up under the loftiest religious influences, and calculated to
+offer your nephew the most serious guarantees of happiness
+possible. It would be a joy to us to have contributed to the
+reconciliation of former enemies, separated by quarrels, which
+might, doubtless, easily be forgotten in <a
+name="page339"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 339</span>the midst
+of general satisfaction. Concord and peace instead of enmity; no
+more fears or threats. One common and complete prosperity! Come,
+my dear sir, pronounce the words of redemption and hope, make an
+effort over your pride, and give the world an example of
+gentleness and charity.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Graff had silently listened to the priest&rsquo;s earnest
+pleading. His bent forehead and closed eyes gave the Abb&eacute;
+d&rsquo;Escayrac to believe that his words were having their due
+effect on the old man&rsquo;s thoughts. There was a
+moment&rsquo;s silence. Then the uncle looked the Abb&eacute;
+straight in the face, and, in firm tones, said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Monsieur l&rsquo;Abb&eacute;, in the cemetery of Metz,
+there are Graffs who would leap from their tombs if one of their
+descendants were to demean himself so far as to marry the
+daughter of a Lichtenbach!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Monsieur!&rdquo; exclaimed the Abb&eacute; in
+surprise.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then you do not know the Baradiers and Graffs, or you
+would not propose to them an alliance with a Lichtenbach? Do you
+know who Lichtenbach is? Between Lorraine and Paris, there is not
+a mile of ground which has not been strewn with French blood, on
+account of this wretch. A spy, to lead the enemy to victory;
+food-supplier to the foe; when our troops were dying of hunger,
+he fattened on war, and enriched himself on treason. He sold his
+brothers of France&mdash;the Jews, who fought in our ranks and
+died like brave soldiers, double Judas as he was! And after
+receiving the reward for his treason, he turned Christian, and
+set about defiling another religion, by the disgusting
+intransigence of his apostate zeal! There you have a picture of
+Lichtenbach, Monsieur l&rsquo;Abb&eacute;. Must I now tell you
+who Graff and Baradier are?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, I know well, my dear sir! Your honour and
+patriotism are universally respected. But what animosity <a
+name="page340"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 340</span>and
+rancour! Is this what I shall have to tell the one who sent
+me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Tell him he is an impudent rascal for having charged
+such a man as yourself with such a mission. Tell him our scorn
+for him is only equalled by his hatred against us. Assure him we
+have not the slightest fear. If he wishes to slander us, we will
+pay him back in the same coin; if he dares to strike us, we will
+defend ourselves. In the latter case, let him be
+careful!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Monsieur!&rdquo; said the Abb&eacute;, in tones of
+entreaty. &ldquo;Reflect? Anger is a bad counsellor.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Monsieur l&rsquo;Abb&eacute;, I am perfectly calm. You
+do not know me. I never give way to passion. If I did, the result
+would be terrible. But a great deal would be needed to bring
+about such a state of things!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Must I then leave you without obtaining any result? I
+am well aware that you are exposed to the most terrible
+dangers.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I thank you for warning us. We shall be on our
+guard.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is that your last word?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, Monsieur l&rsquo;Abb&eacute;. Never has a priest
+entered this house without taking away, for himself and his work,
+a testimony of our respectful deference and humble
+piety.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Graff took from his pocket a cheque-book, wrote a few words,
+and, handing the piece of paper to his visitor, said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For your poor parishioners, Monsieur
+l&rsquo;Abb&eacute;.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; exclaimed the priest. &ldquo;This is
+princely liberality. I will pray for you, monsieur, with all my
+heart.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thanks, Monsieur l&rsquo;Abb&eacute;,&rdquo; said
+Graff, with a smile. &ldquo;But pray, above all, for
+Lichtenbach.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And, opening the door, he conducted the priest out.</p>
+<p>That same evening, about nine o&rsquo;clock, after dinner,
+Lichtenbach descended from his brougham, close to the <a
+name="page341"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 341</span>entrance of
+the Boulevard Maillat. It was a brilliant night, and the groves
+in the Bois, under the silvery light of the moon, raised their
+dark masses against the horizon. The banker hurried along, not
+without some anxiety, for the spot was a deserted one, and a
+likely haunt of undesirable characters. After walking about a
+hundred yards, he halted in front of the ivy-covered gate of a
+villa, and knocked. A few seconds passed, then a small door
+turned on its hinges, and a woman appeared. It was Milona.
+Recognizing the banker, she stepped backwards, without uttering a
+word, and led the way into a garden in front of the house.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is madame at home?&rdquo; asked Elias.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She is expecting you,&rdquo; said the Dalmatian, in
+guttural accents.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good. Have the others arrived?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; an hour ago.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They proceeded along a flower-bed, the flowers of which gave
+out fragrant odours on to the night air. The servant mounted a
+flight of steps, followed by Lichtenbach. On reaching a dark
+ante-chamber, Lichtenbach handed his overcoat and hat to Milona,
+who opened a door, and out of the darkness he passed suddenly
+into the light of the salon, the windows and curtains of which
+were hermetically closed. Seated at a table, Hans and Agostini
+were playing at piquet and drinking grog. On a divan Sophia
+reclined, in an elegant white deshabill&eacute;. The two men
+scarcely raised their heads on hearing Lichtenbach enter. The
+Baroness slowly sat upright, nodded graciously, and
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sit down by my side. They are finishing their game. How
+did you come? I did not hear the wheels of your
+carriage.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I left it near the Porte Maillot.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What precautions! Can you not trust your
+coachman?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page342"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+342</span>&ldquo;I trust no one.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And suppose some night prowler had struck you to the
+ground, to teach you not to walk about alone at night in these
+parts?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Elias raised the butt-end of a revolver from his pocket, and
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I should have been able to speak to him in his own
+language.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I see; then you never travel without an
+interpreter?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot let myself be murdered for a paltry twenty
+francs; it would be altogether too stupid!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The conversation was interrupted by an exclamation from
+Cesare, who, in a passion, threw the cards down on to the table.
+Hans laughed to himself, and made a rapid calculation on a piece
+of paper.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That makes thirty-five louis for you to pay. You have
+lost fourteen hundred points!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is enough to make one believe in the Evil
+Eye!&rdquo; growled the handsome Italian. &ldquo;Ever since this
+Marcel Baradier cast his eyes on me, I cannot touch a single card
+without losing, at no matter what game!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Glancing angrily in the direction of Sophia, he
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This must come to an end!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come, now, peace!&rdquo; ordered Hans, authoritatively.
+&ldquo;What noise you make for nothing at all! What news have
+you, father money-bags? Has your jesuit d&rsquo;Escayrac seen our
+friends?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He has. They refuse.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Refuse what? Be precise. Your daughter or our
+affair?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Elias changed colour, and his eyes flashed. However, neither
+anger nor chagrin appeared from his voice.</p>
+<p><a name="page343"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+343</span>&ldquo;They refuse both alliance with me and
+co-operation with you. Everything, in short!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Donnerwetter!&rdquo; growled Hans. &ldquo;Are they
+mad?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; they are aware that you have nothing, and they have
+everything. This they prove by sending us about our
+business.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You take all this very calmly,&rdquo; exclaimed Count
+Cesare. &ldquo;I have seen you less resigned than you now
+appear.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am not in the habit of fighting windmills. You have
+tricked me into an absurd and dangerous business; now I am simply
+leaving it, that is all.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Leaving your feathers behind.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;As you say. But as few as possible. I have already
+turned round about and effected a counter-operation.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You rogue! You will end by earning money, where we lose
+everything!&rdquo; replied Agostini, pale with anger.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If I do so, it is because I am not so stupid as you,
+who can do nothing but spend it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Hans burst into a laugh. As Agostini seemed to be on the point
+of losing his temper, he laid his hand on his arm, and forced him
+to keep his seat.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Old money-bags is right; but we must not act like
+horses when there is no hay in the rack, and begin to fight. Let
+us study the situation, and see what can be done. First of all,
+what does the beauty say? Up to the present she has not spoken a
+word. Still, she must have an opinion on the matter; we will
+allow her to give it first.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Baroness appeared to awake from a reverie, and she said,
+in disdainful tones&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is not my custom desperately to follow up
+badly-conceived operations. You know what I have always told you
+since the Vanves night: that there was an evil spell over the
+whole affair. You will arrive at no successful end. <a
+name="page344"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 344</span>After all,
+you have obtained half of what you wanted&mdash;the war powder.
+Follow the example Lichtenbach sets you. Give it up, and pass on
+to something else.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Something else, indeed!&rdquo; growled Hans. &ldquo;No,
+I shall not let go an affair which has cost me so dear. Some one
+must pay me for the arm I have lost!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, what plan have you to offer?&rdquo; asked the
+Baroness, impatiently.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You will arrange to strike up a fresh acquaintance with
+Marcel Baradier. Bring me the young man here one of these
+evenings. He knows the secret of the manufacture, and he shall
+either give it up to you of his own free will, or I will
+undertake to force him to do so.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lichtenbach&rsquo;s hands trembled nervously. Sophia remained
+impassive.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, what do you say to my proposal?&rdquo; asked
+Hans, in jovial tones.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will have nothing further to do with the
+matter!&rdquo; declared the Baroness.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! take care!&rdquo; exclaimed Agostini. &ldquo;I know
+why you refuse to help us against young Marcel. You are afraid
+for him. That is the difficulty.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And what if it were so?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Hans made no reply. He appeared to reflect deeply. Then, with
+feigned good temper, he said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;After all, you may be right. In any case, we can do
+nothing without you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lichtenbach heaved a sigh of satisfaction. The conciliating
+attitude suddenly assumed by Hans seemed to be full of meaning.
+Wishing to know what this terrible partner of his really thought,
+he judged it useful to dissimulate his own ideas.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come, we will say nothing more on the matter! What this
+affair has cost me I will pass through the profit <a
+name="page345"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 345</span>and loss
+account. Still, it is a pity we could not find that secret trick
+of manipulation. There was a great deal of money to be earned by
+it, after all!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Hans bit his lips, but made no reply; whilst Agostini turned
+gracefully round to Lichtenbach, and said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And my marriage? What is to become of it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What has become of this affair of ours,&rdquo; replied
+Elias, roughly, &ldquo;nothing. The one fell with the other! My
+fine fellow, you have no longer a prospective dot. I took you
+with the Tr&eacute;mont powder, and the only powder now left is
+blinding dust!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! You treat me in this way. I may give you reason to
+repent it!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And if I wished, you would not be allowed in France
+another twenty-four hours. Let us be going,&rdquo; added
+Lichtenbach; &ldquo;it is already late.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We will accompany you to the toll-gate, for fear
+something may happen to you. This quarter is not very safe at
+nights. Good night, Sophia.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good night.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She held out her white hand, which her dreaded ally touched
+with that iron hand of his, covered with a glove.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;May I not stay a few minutes, Sophia?&rdquo; asked
+Agostini.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said the Baroness, emphatically. &ldquo;Good
+night!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Ringing the bell, Milona appeared.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Show these gentlemen out, Milo.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Silently they left the house, preceded by the Dalmatian, who
+held a round lantern to light the way through the sinuous
+turnings of the path leading to the little ivy-covered door. This
+she opened, and then disappeared. They proceeded along the Avenue
+Maillot in silence, each occupied with his own thoughts. Suddenly
+Hans stopped, and said, in low accents&mdash;</p>
+<p><a name="page346"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+346</span>&ldquo;Sophia is tricking us. But things shall not
+happen as she imagines. I pretended to give way, the better to
+deceive her. Now this is what we will do. Cesare will send a
+letter in a disguised hand-writing to young Marcel Baradier,
+fixing a rendezvous at the Boulevard Maillot about ten
+o&rsquo;clock at night. I shall be there to receive him, with
+others on whom I can rely, and I will undertake to introduce the
+pigeon into the dovecot. Once there, Sophia must be forced to
+employ her wiles, whether she will or not. It is the same plan I
+mentioned just now, and which she refused. The only difference is
+that I do not ask for her permission before putting it into
+practice.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But suppose Baradier does not come?&rdquo; said
+Cesare.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What? Not come? Can you imagine that he would not come
+to a rendezvous fixed by the Baroness? He will fly to it at once.
+And when we have him!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What will you do?&rdquo; asked Lichtenbach, in
+quivering accents.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is my own business. Just trust to me to loosen
+this young man&rsquo;s tongue!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Violence?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A mode of persuasion he cannot resist.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And suppose he denounces you on leaving the
+house?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If only he will speak beforehand he will have plenty of
+time to say what he wishes afterwards.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lichtenbach shuddered. He felt that Hans had made up his mind
+to kill Marcel Baradier, and that the bandit was pursuing a
+double end: possession of the secret, and revenge for his
+mutilation.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For the future,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I will have
+nothing more to do with your actions, in which I repudiate all
+share. I do not wish even to know the result of your attempt. You
+seem to have gone mad!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! don&rsquo;t think we ever relied on you for
+anything <a name="page347"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+347</span>else than an advance of funds?&rdquo; said Count
+Cesare, jeeringly. &ldquo;To us you have been the hen which laid
+the golden eggs; now that you have stopped laying, go your own
+way!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No tricks with us, Lichtenbach,&rdquo; said Hans.
+&ldquo;If we succeed, the Dalgetty patent will have its full
+effect, you know; consequently you will share in the profits.
+What you say now is only another instance of your hypocrisy; you
+reject the responsibility, but are willing to accept the profits.
+Very well, my friend, you shall have them!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They had reached the spot where Lichtenbach&rsquo;s carriage
+stood. Agostini gracefully opened the door, saying&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good night, my prince, pleasant dreams!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Meanwhile, M. Mayeur had acted in accordance with information
+received from Baudoin and Colonel Vallenot. For a week now he had
+known the details of Count Cesare&rsquo;s life. Of very good
+birth, belonging to an illustrious family, Signor Agostini had
+been obliged to leave the Italian army after an affair of
+honour.</p>
+<p>Concerning Hans, nothing could be discovered. The Baroness had
+been tracked, through Agostini, to her rooms in the Boulevard
+Maillot. The hotel had been let furnished. She lived very
+quietly, under the name of Madame de Frilas. M. Mayeur had sent
+an intelligent agent to the Baron Grodsko at Nice, and obtained
+from him full information concerning her.</p>
+<p>Provided with his notes, M. Mayeur had returned to the War
+Office to communicate them to Colonel Vallenot, and ask of him
+the result of his personal investigations. Introduced at once
+into the Minister&rsquo;s cabinet, the magistrate had seen the
+results of his examination confirmed by supplementary details. In
+proportion as light was thrown on the personality of the
+different actors in the drama, the gravity of the affair became
+more and more evident. They discovered, beyond the faintest
+shadow of doubt, that they had <a name="page348"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 348</span>to deal with an association of
+international espionage, which had been working for at least ten
+years on behalf of foreign governments, probably exploiting them
+in turn, and betraying them to the profit of one another.</p>
+<p>It was possible that the whole of Europe had been duped by
+these clever rascals. The least false step might alarm the
+culprits and cause them to disappear! M. Mayeur grew pale at the
+restraint placed on him. But how was it possible to neglect such
+imperious political necessities? Colonel Vallenot was the first
+to speak out clearly on the subject&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;From this moment, General, it is certain we hold the
+T&eacute;n&eacute;breuse, as our agents call her. This is the
+woman of whom I spoke to you at the outset of our investigations
+some months ago, the one involved in the Cominges, Fontenailles
+affairs, etc. We have only to order, and she is in our power. Is
+it possible that we can let her escape?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is these deuced formalists, with their
+politics!&rdquo; growled the old chief. &ldquo;If the matter were
+in my hands it should not be allowed to linger in this way. These
+lawyers and quibblers astonish me! I only regain possession of
+myself when in the midst of my officers. What do you say,
+Monsieur le Juge?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>At that moment the door opened, and the porter brought a card
+to Colonel Vallenot. The latter handed it to the Minister, who
+exclaimed&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Marcel Baradier! Show him in!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The young man entered, bowed, and, addressing the General,
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I undertook, General, to keep you <i>au courant</i> of
+anything fresh that might happen. I have come to keep my
+promise.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very good, my friend, explain.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This morning, General, I received this
+letter.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page349"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 349</span>He
+placed on the desk a sheet of paper, which the Minister examined
+attentively.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No date, very common paper, an evidently counterfeit
+handwriting, and no signature. Now let us see what it says:
+&lsquo;If you wish to see once more the one who still loves you,
+go to-night, at ten o&rsquo;clock, to the Place de
+l&rsquo;Etoile, at the corner of the Avenue Hoche. A carriage
+will be stationed there. Enter it, the coachman will ask no
+questions, and will take you where you are
+expected.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good. The classic mode of procedure, except that you
+are not asked to submit to having your eyes bandaged. What have
+you made up your mind to do?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I shall go to the rendezvous.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, ah! Without the slightest apprehension?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is another matter, General. All the same, I shall
+go. I am determined to have the solution to this
+enigma.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The magistrate interrupted him in gentle tones&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Permit me to remark, monsieur, that this resolution of
+yours is an exceedingly imprudent one. Ninety-nine chances to a
+hundred they are attempting to entrap you. Do not add to our
+trouble by exposing yourself to danger for an uncertain
+result.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If it is she who has written to me, I have nothing to
+fear.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The deuce!&rdquo; exclaimed the General. &ldquo;You are
+very affirmative!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marcel replied gently&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You may have concerning this woman whatever opinion
+your information has permitted you to form. False with the
+others, she was truthful to me. She betrayed the rest. To me she
+has been faithful and devoted.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Listen!&rdquo; exclaimed the General. &ldquo;He is
+convinced of the truth of what he says. She persuades each and
+every one of them that she is sincere, and they all believe
+her!&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page350"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+350</span>&ldquo;I will run the risk!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The old soldier brought down his fist on to the
+desk&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, you are a brave fellow! I like this obstinacy,
+Vallenot. The deuce take me if I would not have done the same
+thing at his age. Well, it is understood, go to the rendezvous.
+But we, too, shall take precautionary measures to protect and
+defend you, if necessary.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! General, do nothing whatever, please! The slightest
+intervention would ruin everything! If it is really Sophia who
+has written the letter, I have no need of an escort or protection
+of any kind. If it is a trap, those who have prepared it have
+their eyes open, and will notice all your
+preparations.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you know where the lady lives?&rdquo; asked the
+magistrate.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, sir; as you see, no address is given in the
+letter.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>M. Mayeur then said in measured tones&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My dear sir, your reasons are not bad ones at all.
+True, I have recommended you to be prudent, but if you will go to
+the rendezvous, go. Still, as we must always look at things from
+a practical standpoint, what result do you expect to
+obtain?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Monsieur,&rdquo; said Marcel, gravely; &ldquo;General
+de Tr&eacute;mont was my friend; his death has not been avenged.
+Our works have been fired; my uncle Graff, my servant, and myself
+were almost burnt alive. This crime has not been punished, any
+more than the assassination of Lafor&ecirc;t. I intend to throw
+light on all these facts, though it be at the peril of my
+life.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very good, sir, all I can do is to wish you good
+luck.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marcel bowed and shook hands with the three men.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He is a true Baradier! But he is too
+venturesome!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As soon as the door was closed, M. Mayeur rose from his seat,
+exclaiming&mdash;.</p>
+<p><a name="page351"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+351</span>&ldquo;Here is an opportunity, General, to seize all
+these rascals at once. Of course, you know as well as I do that
+it is their object to entice M. Baradier into the house in the
+Boulevard Maillot, and there force him to give up his secret.
+Just now you said that these villains must be induced to resist,
+and then massacred. Without going to that extremity, we have now
+an opportunity of simplifying the whole proceedings.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But you promised Marcel you would not interfere!&rdquo;
+said Colonel Vallenot.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t intend to interfere. He shall do as he
+likes. But I cannot take no interest in these preparations, nor
+will I, like young Baradier, be chivalrous with bandits. This is
+my plan: The rendezvous is for ten o&rsquo;clock. You know the
+situation of the Boulevard Maillot; there is a ditch separating
+it from the Bois de Boulogne. A splendid hiding-place to hide a
+posse of police entering by the wood. I know a detective officer
+who is as intelligent as he is determined. I shall give him
+instructions to post himself there, and keep watch. In case M.
+Baradier is right, and there is nothing to fear, my men will
+simply have passed a night in the open-air. If he is mistaken
+then the danger will be a real one. You heard him say that he
+would be armed and ready to defend himself. At the first cry or
+shot my men will invade the house. If they are threatened they
+resist, if they are struck they will fire. Whether diplomacy
+wishes or not, if the villains are caught in the act the matter
+must take its course.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Whatever happens, do not let young Baradier be killed,
+and above all try to lay hands on the woman.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do you think of the plan, General?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The old soldier looked at the magistrate, then at Vallenot. He
+noticed the impassive countenance of the latter, and
+replied&mdash;</p>
+<p><a name="page352"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+352</span>&ldquo;You need not ask for my advice. All these
+judicial operations are out of my province. Act as you think
+best; I have nothing to say.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The magistrate shook his head, with a mocking smile; then,
+taking up his hat, he said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, I know what you mean! So long as the affair is not
+over, no one wishes to have anything to do with it. If it
+succeeds, then I shall be the only one to be left out of it all.
+But that matters little. It is my duty, and I will not hesitate.
+Your servant, General.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And he left the room accompanied by Colonel Vallenot.</p>
+<h3><a name="page353"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+353</span>CHAPTER V</h3>
+<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was about half-past nine, and
+Uncle Graff had dined in the Rue de Prov&egrave;nce as usual.
+Baudoin approached him, and whispered in his ear&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Two ladies have called, and one of them wishes to speak
+to M. Marcel.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What kind of a woman is she?&rdquo; asked the
+uncle.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A very respectable-looking person, sir. The other must
+be a governess or a lady&rsquo;s maid.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where are they?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In the ante-chamber.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Turn on the electricity in my room, and show them
+in.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Baudoin did as he was ordered. Uncle Graff continued his
+descent, murmuring to himself&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Another of Marcel&rsquo;s escapades! I wonder what it
+is this time.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>On approaching his room he saw, standing by the door, a young
+lady dressed in black, and wearing a veil. Uncle Graff&rsquo;s
+first impression was a favourable one. Pointing to a seat, he
+said kindly&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My nephew, madame, is not at home. Cannot
+I&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He was not allowed to finish the sentence. The young lady said
+in beseeching tones&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Monsieur, it is a question of life or death.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page354"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+354</span>&ldquo;For whom?&rdquo; asked Uncle Graff,
+anxiously.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For your nephew!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How have you been informed of this? And who are
+you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The visitor replied immediately&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am Mademoiselle Lichtenbach, monsieur, and I place
+myself entirely at your disposal.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As she spoke she removed her veil. Uncle Graff, stupefied,
+recognized the daughter of his enemy. She was pale and trembling,
+but resolute.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who has sent you?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My father! He thought that if he came himself, perhaps
+you would not receive him. At this very moment, perhaps, your
+nephew is running the most serious danger. My father, who has
+just received news of it, begged me to come and tell
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But how did he receive his information?&rdquo; asked
+Graff, suspiciously.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, monsieur! begin by taking the necessary measures to
+help M. Marcel,&rdquo; said Marianne, eagerly. &ldquo;Afterwards
+you may ask what questions you please.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;At whose hands lies the peril?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;At the hands of the same band which killed General de
+Tr&eacute;mont. My father has been informed of these intrigues.
+Act without losing a moment.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But what can we do?&rdquo; exclaimed Uncle Graff,
+carried away by the young lady&rsquo;s eagerness.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will explain to you. Wait a moment.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Passing her hand over her forehead, she said in piteous
+accents&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, that was it. A woman he knew at Ars.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The Italian?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, doubtless. He loved her, and they knew he would be
+pleased to see her again.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page355"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 355</span>She
+paused. The pallor of her face increased. What she was relating
+seemed to torture her.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So they wrote to him to fix a rendezvous. And they are
+expecting him this very evening, in a solitary out-of-the-way
+house. But he will not find the one he expects to meet, but,
+instead, a band of villains, determined to employ the most
+violent measures to force him to reveal a secret that they cannot
+fathom. Now do you understand?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. &lsquo;Where is this house?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;See, here is the address written on this piece of
+paper.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Graff read&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Boulevard Maillot, 16 bis. And you say that he was
+expected there about ten o&rsquo;clock?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As though in obedience to his words, the timepiece struck the
+hour at the very instant.</p>
+<p>Graff rang the bell. Baudoin appeared.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Quick, Baudoin, a carriage! You will accompany me. Have
+you a good revolver?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then bring it with you. Do not say a word to any one. I
+will rejoin you in the yard. Ten o&rsquo;clock! We will be there,
+all the same, and if they have harmed the child, let them
+beware!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Baudoin had already left the room. Marianne, motionless,
+watched Uncle Graff make his preparations. He took up a bundle of
+bank-notes, a revolver, and a heavy steel-headed stick. Then he
+appeared to remember that Mademoiselle Lichtenbach was in the
+room. Coming up to her, he said kindly&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My child, I thank you for the service.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, monsieur!&rdquo; exclaimed Marianne, her eyes
+gleaming with suppressed tears; &ldquo;save him, that is the main
+thing!&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page356"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+356</span>&ldquo;He shall be informed, mademoiselle, of what you
+have risked for his sake. I know what this errand must have cost
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marianne smiled sadly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am returning to-morrow to the convent, doubtless for
+ever. Life is full of sadness and pain.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Graff waited no longer, but rushed out into the street, as the
+brougham of Mademoiselle Lichtenbach vanished in the distance.
+Baudoin was standing near the cab. Graff leapt into the carriage
+and said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To the Porte Maillot! You, Baudoin, mount with me. I
+want to speak to you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<p>Marcel had never felt so calm as on the evening he made his
+way towards the Place de l&rsquo;Etoile.</p>
+<p>When he entered the carriage it immediately started off along
+the Avenue de la Grande-Arm&eacute;e, wheeled round at the Porte
+Maillot, and, after a two minutes&rsquo; further run, came to a
+halt in a dark-looking avenue, near a garden gate. Marcel stepped
+out, and the carriage disappeared. A small door, hidden in the
+ivy, was now opened, and a valet in livery appeared. Marcel
+followed him in the direction of a house which raised its sombre
+mass in front. A single light shone from a window on the first
+floor. Mounting a flight of steps, he entered an ante-chamber.
+Suddenly an exclamation was heard in the next apartment, a rapid
+step was heard, a door overhung with tapestry was flung open, and
+Sophia, her face convulsed by the violence of her emotion,
+appeared. Her looks expressed the terror she felt, but not a word
+did she utter. Taking Marcel by the wrist, she drew him into the
+room she had just left&mdash;a bedroom&mdash;quickly turned the
+key in the lock, bolted another door, and, seizing the young man
+in her arms, whispered in his ear&mdash;</p>
+<p><a name="page357"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+357</span>&ldquo;Wretched man that you are! How did you come
+here?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>At the same time, and without appearing to be able to help
+herself, her lips sought Marcel&rsquo;s neck, and she kissed him
+with a delirious rapture.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then it was not you who summoned me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I! <i>Grand Dieu</i>! I would give ten years of my life
+if you were anywhere but in this house at this moment. Ah! the
+wretches! They have deceived me!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who are the wretches you speak of?&rdquo; asked Marcel,
+firmly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! Do not question me! I cannot, must not,
+speak!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are you jesting?&rdquo; said Marcel, ironically.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Poor child! You do not know them!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Madame, is your brother among them?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She laid her hands on his mouth, those beautiful white hands,
+and he remained silent. Then, clasping him to her breast with
+passionate ardour, her eyes filled with tears&mdash;she stammered
+out&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! Marcel, Marcel!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A sudden pallor came over her; she clung to him to prevent
+herself from falling, and her shapely head, with its wealth of
+raven hair, lay on the shoulder of the one she loved with
+hopeless passion.</p>
+<p>A sharp knock on the door brought them back to the reality of
+life.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Listen!&rdquo; said Sophia.</p>
+<p>She drew near the door, asked a short question in a foreign
+language, and received an immediate reply. Apparently reassured,
+she opened the door, saying to Marcel&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is Milo.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page358"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+358</span>Milona entered, and the door was carefully closed
+again.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Have they sent you?&rdquo; asked Sophia.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, mistress.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do they want?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To come to an understanding with you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I shall not go.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They have provided for that contingency.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They have told me to repeat to you their demands from
+the young master.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Silence! I do not wish him to know them!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Would you rather they mount the stairs and kill
+him?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A deep silence followed. Sophia twisted about her arms, and
+groaned in despair. Her beautiful features were convulsed by
+powerless rage and exasperated dismay. Grinding her teeth, she
+flew to the mantel-piece, seized a short, sharp dagger, which she
+brandished aloft with a terrible skill.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Milo, you will not abandon me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Never! I will die for you, that you know
+well!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Marcel is armed; so we are three! Oh! I will defend him
+with my last breath!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Against them?&rdquo; said Milona. &ldquo;Can you hope
+to do such a thing? It would be impossible to resist them. They
+are all waiting below, in the dining-room, ready for
+anything!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! <i>Mon Dieu</i>! How mad I am! Do I not know them?
+Oh! Marcel, why did you place yourself at their mercy?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Flinging her poniard on to the ground, she sat down, overcome
+with emotion, buried her head in her hands, and <a
+name="page359"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 359</span>burst into
+tears. Marcel, turning to the Dalmatian, asked, in calm
+accents&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Tell me, in a word, what it is they want from
+me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Milona cast a questioning glance at her mistress. As Sophia
+made no sign, the servant explained&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They want the famous secret, which will give value to
+the powder they stole from you!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marcel smiled, and then frowned in disdain.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! that is what is puzzling them. I am glad to know
+that they have not succeeded in discovering what they were so
+interested in knowing. Milona, you may tell them that they will
+never learn it from me!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We shall see about that before long!&rdquo; exclaimed
+Agostini, passionately, from behind the door.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! you are listening, you villain?&rdquo; said Marcel,
+in vibrating tones. &ldquo;I am very pleased to know it, for such
+a procedure simplifies things considerably! Tell your acolytes
+that I am not afraid of them; I have in my hand a revolver which
+will answer for the lives of six men. If they like, I will open
+the door, and the dance shall begin.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Take time for reflection!&rdquo; replied a deep,
+guttural voice&mdash;that of Hans. &ldquo;Do not do anything
+stupid!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who is that?&rdquo; asked Marcel. &ldquo;He does not
+appear so stupid as the others.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;One would think you know us!&rdquo; railed the bandit.
+&ldquo;Patience! We will give you half an hour in which to
+decide. If, within thirty minutes, you have not given us
+satisfaction, I will undertake to make you speak. The night is
+damp&mdash;there is a good fire below!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Steps were now heard descending the staircase. Milona silently
+left the room, and Marcel and Sophia remained <a
+name="page360"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 360</span>alone. The
+time-piece pointed to ten minutes past ten.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You heard them,&rdquo; said Sophia. &ldquo;Now you know
+what they propose to do. They want your secret.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very well! I have told them they shall not have
+it!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Looking at the young woman, he saw that a shudder came over
+her. Laying his hand on her shoulder, he added&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But I wish to know yours.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mine?&rdquo; exclaimed the young woman, with a
+terrified gesture.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes! Who and what are you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She smiled sadly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A broken-hearted woman who loves you!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Empty words! You say you love me. The only proof of
+this confession I ask for is that you be sincere with
+me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Hiding her face in her hands, she exclaimed&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Never! You would hate me if I told you!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then it is true that you are the most abominable
+creature on earth?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! my darling, do not insult me!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You will not speak? Then I will ask your accomplices
+downstairs. I imagine it will be a pleasure to them to give me
+information about you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He started towards the door. She leapt forward. &ldquo;Madman!
+You do not know the danger you are running! Stay here by my
+side.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He looked steadily into her eyes, and asked
+again&mdash;&ldquo;Who are you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She groaned.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why are you so pitiless?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If you do not speak, it is because you are well aware
+<a name="page361"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 361</span>that my
+scorn for you would be so great, that nothing but disgust would
+remain in my memory from this past happiness!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She stood up, and proudly answered&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Poor Marcel, you are mistaken&mdash;you would still
+love me. If I pleased, nothing could withdraw you from
+me!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She looked at him as she spoke, and under the influence of her
+glance Marcel felt all his resolutions melt away, a feeling of
+languor came over him, and he lost the faculty of will-power.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Death is all around us,&rdquo; she whispered.
+&ldquo;Let us forget everything. Do not think any more, my
+love&mdash;leave your poor tortured heart in peace.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Suddenly a sound of footsteps was heard throughout the house,
+and cries coming from outside. Then came a sound as though a door
+had been torn from its hinges, followed by a revolver-shot. At
+the same time was heard a voice, which Marcel knew well.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Help! Baudoin, help!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then another shot, followed by a volley of oaths. Marcel, on
+his feet, exclaimed&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is my uncle Graff! <i>Mon Dieu</i>! They are killing
+him!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Stay here, do not stir!&rdquo; said Sophia, in
+beseeching tones.</p>
+<p>He made no reply, but rushed forward into the corridor, found
+the staircase, and, in the semi-darkness, saw in the hall, on the
+ground floor, a group of three men, in a hand-to-hand conflict
+with Graff, who, half-stifled, and encircled by their arms, was
+trying in vain to make use of his revolver. In front of the
+entrance-door Hans and Baudoin were engaged in a fierce struggle.
+The brave servant had his forehead gashed open, and the blood was
+flowing freely, <a name="page362"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+362</span>but he had obtained a firm hold on his terrible
+opponent, and succeeded in holding him harmless for the
+moment.</p>
+<p>Standing above the balustrade, Marcel took aim at one of the
+three men who were strangling his uncle. A flash followed, and
+the man fell. At the same moment a shot was heard behind Marcel,
+and a ball whizzed past his ear. Turning round, he found himself
+face to face with Agostini, who was preparing to repeat the shot.
+With a sudden blow he dashed aside the weapon, seized the Italian
+by the waist, and, his strength doubled by the fury and rage
+which now possessed him, raised him in the air, and flung him
+over the rails of the staircase.</p>
+<p>At this exploit, Hans, powerless to strike Marcel, who was
+descending the steps four at a time, gave a howl of fury. He
+shook Baudoin with such energy that he forced him to abandon his
+hold. Then he placed him under his knee, and his iron arm was
+already raised to deal the deathblow, when Marcel rushed to the
+rescue with a terrible blow in the body, which hurled the
+colossus to the ground. He immediately rose to his feet, however,
+and, taking up a position in a corner, shouted out
+aloud&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Help! Here, you others! Help!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But the others had by this time too much to do. The police,
+attracted by the firing, invaded the house. Uncle Graff, at
+liberty, now came up with his revolver. But Baudoin, in hoarse
+tones, exclaimed&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Monsieur Graff, leave him to me&mdash;he is mine! It is
+he who killed my General!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He then took from the old man&rsquo;s hand his steel-headed
+stick, disdaining a firearm, which would have made the combat
+unequal, and fell upon Hans. The bandit swore frightfully on
+seeing that all was lost; he struck a blow with his iron fist,
+but Baudoin lightly stepped aside. Then the stick whizzed through
+the air, and the steel head descended. <a
+name="page363"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 363</span>Hans,
+struck on the temple, rolled over the flag-stones, and fell like
+an ox to the ground. This was a signal for a general rout. The
+three men who still resisted now leapt through the open windows,
+and vanished like shadows into the garden.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All escape is cut off; do not trouble about
+them,&rdquo; exclaimed the head detective. &ldquo;Let us see
+after the wounded and the dead.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Uncle Graff wished to take Marcel into his arms, question him,
+and assure himself that he was safe and sound; but, on turning
+round, he found Baudoin wiping away with his handkerchief the
+blood and perspiration flowing from his forehead. Marcel, as soon
+as the issue of the struggle left no room for doubt, had
+immediately thought of Sophia. Now that danger for him had
+disappeared, it loomed forth with a terrible aspect for her. The
+police, who had restored the situation by intervening to save
+him, would now appear on the scene for her ruin. He mounted the
+stairs more quickly than he had descended, for he felt that the
+time in which anything could be done was short indeed.</p>
+<p>Rushing into the room, the door of which was still open, he
+drew the bolts on Sophia with as much fear and solicitude as she
+had drawn them on himself. She had remained standing, leaning
+pensively against the mantelpiece, as though devoid of interest
+in what was taking place on the floor beneath. Milona stood by
+her side; she had doubtless told her of the defeat of her
+companions. Marcel, in terrified ardour, rushed up to her.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The house is in the hands of the police, do you not
+know? Why are you still here?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I was waiting for you,&rdquo; replied Sophia, calmly.
+&ldquo;But it means ruin to you!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How does that affect you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will not consent to it! I cannot endure the idea <a
+name="page364"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 364</span>that you
+should suffer threatenings and torture for having defended
+me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A light came into Sophia&rsquo;s face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then will you still allow me to see you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He replied, firmly&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Impossible! After what has taken place between us, I
+must never see you again! I cannot, I must not! For your own
+sake!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Her tranquil, careless look returned.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then leave me to my fate!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No! I will not do that! You, ruined on my account,
+when&mdash; Will you torture my thoughts by the frightful memory
+of the past?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Marcel, if I could only please you! If you would
+only love me! How dearly I would pay you for such
+happiness!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She smiled. Tears filled her eyes, and she looked so beautiful
+that a shudder ran through his whole body. Turning aside, he
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Wretched woman! what will become of you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She showed him a ring, the bezel of which was made of a bead
+of chased gold.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Look at this bead of gold; it contains liberty and
+death at the same time. Pour its contents into a glass of water,
+and all is over, without suffering.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She stretched out her hand towards a tray containing a bowl of
+water and a glass.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I forbid you!&rdquo; cried Marcel, dismayed.</p>
+<p>She looked at him with a terrible intensity, whilst her face
+shone with superhuman ardour.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing without you!&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Everything
+with you! Decide!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Impossible!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>With a sorrowful smile, she continued&mdash;</p>
+<p><a name="page365"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+365</span>&ldquo;Reflect! You know what I am. If you wish, I will
+live, but only to be yours. I will come whenever you want me, and
+will not trouble you in any way. Oh! every expiation and
+sacrifice, every grief and pain imaginable, to be yours once
+more!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Steps were heard mounting the staircase. Marcel,
+terror-struck, said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They are coming! They will take you! If you wish to
+save your life, leave the room at once!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Let them come! They will only take me if I am willing.
+I have nothing to fear from any other than yourself. Do you wish
+me to live? Swear that you will see me again!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>At that supreme moment the pale faces of General de
+Tr&eacute;mont and poor Lafor&ecirc;t, of Agostini, dead, and
+Hans, lying on the blood-stained stone, rose before
+Marcel&rsquo;s imagination, and an insurmountable horror came
+over him. He bent his head without a word. A slight noise of
+something touching glass caused him to look up. He saw Sophia
+drinking the poison. Rushing up, he dashed from her hands the
+empty glass. Smiling, she said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Too late!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Open! Open!&rdquo; exclaimed several voices behind the
+door.</p>
+<p>Sophia found sufficient strength to say&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Open now, Milona!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Dalmatian obeyed. A veil came over Sophia&rsquo;s eyes,
+her cheeks turned deadly pale. Milona, terrified, fell to the
+ground, her dark, dishevelled hair falling round her face like a
+funeral veil.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where is the woman?&rdquo; shouted M. Mayeur from the
+staircase, as he came on the scene, panting and triumphant.
+&ldquo;She has not been allowed to escape, I hope!&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page366"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 366</span>He
+appeared, accompanied by Graff, and stood, as though petrified,
+on the threshold.</p>
+<p>Marcel, pointing to Sophia, who had just breathed her last,
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Here she is!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The T&eacute;n&eacute;breuse, ever elusive, had this time
+taken refuge in the darkness of eternal night.</p>
+<h3><a name="page367"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+367</span>CHAPTER VI</h3>
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> affray of the Boulevard Maillot
+was prudently passed over as a drama founded on jealousy. Two men
+quarrelling over a woman, and the rivals killing one another over
+the corpse of the fair one&mdash;such was the account furnished
+to the reporters. Imagination did the rest. Paris dwelt with
+passionate interest for twelve hours on this magnificent
+butchery, the horrors of which were described all the better from
+the fact that no one had been admitted to see them. M. Mayeur
+alone made a complete search all over the house, but discovered
+nothing calculated to throw any light on the identity of Hans.
+Neither the anthropometric service nor the most experienced
+detectives could find out the slightest indication as to the
+mysterious personality of the dreaded bandit. Certainly he was
+the same man whose arm had been carried off at Vanves, when he
+had appeared there with Sophia, on the evening the
+General&rsquo;s house had been destroyed. But what was he
+besides? The international police, on being questioned, said
+nothing. Either they knew nothing, or were unwilling to give
+information.</p>
+<p>Sophia and Agostini were identified. The Princes of Briviesca
+undertook to inform the magistrate concerning the one member of
+their family they were well pleased to see themselves rid of.
+Count Grodsko could relate nothing more than he had already told
+to the agent who had questioned him at Monte Carlo. The examining
+magistrate <a name="page368"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+368</span>enraged at finding nothing, thought for a moment of
+bringing a charge against Lichtenbach. He summoned him to his
+study, questioned him, and tried to obtain from Baradier and
+Graff revelations concerning him. But the former would not
+impeach, as was expected, their old enemy. Rivalry in business
+affairs, quibbles in banking relations, but nothing legally
+guilty. If a charge could be brought on these heads, then they
+would be obliged to surround the Place de la Bourse, from twelve
+to three every day, and arrest all who were raising those
+frightful cries beneath its columns. Besides, the highest circles
+had immediately interceded in favour of Lichtenbach, and the
+examining magistrate saw at once that he was on a wrong track.
+Accordingly, this time the Vanves affair was definitely shelved,
+and classed amongst the legal mysteries of the year.</p>
+<p>But though these tragic events were not destined to have any
+material consequences for Lichtenbach, serious moral results
+rapidly followed. Within a week following the death of Agostini
+and Sophia, Mademoiselle Lichtenbach entered the Convent des
+Augustines of the Rue Saint Jacques. She had had a
+two-hours&rsquo; conversation with her father. Pale, but
+determined, she was seen to leave her father&rsquo;s study. Elias
+followed her, trembling, and with bowed head, tears streaming
+down his cheeks. On the landing he tried to stop his daughter,
+and stretched out his hands beseechingly as he
+stammered&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My child, do not be inexorable; have pity on
+me!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Marianne bowed her head as she replied&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I wish I could, father; but how will you redeem the
+past?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Without turning round, she descended the stone staircase, at
+the foot of which the carriage was waiting to conduct her to the
+Rue Saint Jacques. A moan of pain escaped the old man&rsquo;s
+lips as he leaned over the iron balustrade. For a <a
+name="page369"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 369</span>moment he
+seemed as though he would fling himself over. Then he cried out
+in heart-piercing accents&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Marianne! Marianne!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She raised her head. Stretching out his hands, he
+groaned&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are the only one I have left in the world! Will you
+forget your father?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The young girl shook her head sadly, but did not give in. What
+terrible explanation could have taken place between father and
+daughter? What had Lichtenbach been forced to confess, for
+Marianne to show herself so inexorable? She made the sign of the
+cross, as though to strengthen her fainting heart. The pallor of
+her face increased, though she replied in firm accents&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I shall not forget you, father. I will pray for
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She mounted the carriage, a rolling of wheels was heard, then
+followed a long silence. Lichtenbach returned slowly to his room,
+and sank down in a reverie.</p>
+<p>All the same, he did not give up business. On the contrary, he
+seemed to show a greater ardour than before for finance. His
+position on the Explosives settled, he regained the ground he had
+lost by a formidable campaign on gold mines. Never had his
+speculations been more brilliant or lucky than they were during
+the six months following his daughter&rsquo;s departure. One
+would have thought that his grief had brought him good fortune,
+for everything succeeded which he undertook. All the same,
+nothing seemed to give him pleasure, and he changed greatly in
+physique. No longer could he mount the steps of the Bourse
+without halting for breath. Society had no further attractions
+for him.</p>
+<p>One winter evening, the <i>valet de chambre</i>, as he entered
+his master&rsquo;s room, found Elias leaning over his desk,
+apparently asleep. Calling him by name, he received no reply. <a
+name="page370"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 370</span>Terrified,
+he drew nearer, and touched his master. The banker remained
+motionless, whilst his hand clasped a short letter from his
+daughter. The few words he had been reading were still moist with
+the tears he had shed. He was dead, a victim to the only
+sentiment by which he had ever been vulnerable; the love of a
+father.</p>
+<p>Six months later, at twilight, in the study of the Rue de
+Prov&egrave;nce, Uncle Graff and Marcel were seated together.
+After signing all the letters for the evening&rsquo;s post,
+Baradier had retired to his own room.</p>
+<p>The darkness gradually deepened, and uncle and nephew, seated
+in their armchairs, without a word, looked like vague, uncertain
+silhouettes. The clerks had all left, and silence reigned
+around.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are you asleep, Uncle Graff?&rdquo; asked Marcel.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; I was just thinking.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What about?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;About all that has happened the past twelve months. It
+is no mere trifle!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, indeed. And what is the result of your
+reflections?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That we have had the most extraordinary luck; we had to
+deal with enemies who seemed destined to triumph over us time
+after time; and that we have manifestly been protected by a
+divine providence.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Uncle Graff, you are rather illogical; extraordinary
+luck on the one hand, and divine providence on the other. They do
+not go very well together.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, you are too sceptical. It is your generation which
+makes you so. You no longer believe in anything.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I do not believe in chance, no!&rdquo; said Marcel,
+ironically. Then he added, in tones of sudden gravity, &ldquo;But
+I believe in the firm, steadfast will of human beings. If we <a
+name="page371"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 371</span>have been
+protected, as you say truly enough, it is because it was so
+willed. But for that&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Silence followed. The darkness had now become complete.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It was so willed,&rdquo; repeated Uncle Graff.
+&ldquo;You are alluding to that woman?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am alluding to &lsquo;that woman.&rsquo; It was she
+who defeated the plans of her acolytes, and saved me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Because she loved you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Because she loved me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, then, tell me what passed between you for a woman
+of this stamp to sacrifice herself for a man she first intended
+to dupe, and afterwards to rob. For you cannot doubt the fact
+that she had plans concerning you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am quite aware of the fact.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She had had considerable experience in life, and
+yet&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And yet she fell in love with a young man like myself.
+Well, probably because I was a change from all her other
+acquaintances. A cup of milk to a drunken man, for
+instance.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And she killed herself for your sake, under your very
+eyes?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Uncle Graff, because I would not promise to see
+her again.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And yet you loved her?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I both loved and hated her. Had I seen her again she
+would have obtained renewed dominion over me and ruined me. I
+determined it should not be so.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Uncle Graff sighed&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And do you sometimes think of this woman?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Always.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you know what you ought to do now, if you wish to
+turn over a new leaf?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page372"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+372</span>&ldquo;I know very well, my father spoke to me
+yesterday. And it is doubtless because I received his overtures
+coolly, that you are now returning to the same
+subject.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are right, my child. If you would only marry, now
+that you are reasonable and settled in life.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Marry Genevi&egrave;ve de Tr&eacute;mont?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. She is the wife your father and mother have always
+intended for you. It would give them great pleasure, if you would
+marry her.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>After a moment&rsquo;s silence, Marcel said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;When Mademoiselle Lichtenbach came to warn you that a
+snare had been set for me, was she excited?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Greatly excited.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And you thought, when you saw her, that this
+extraordinary emotion was caused by some special interest she
+took in myself. At any rate, you said so to me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly. I promised I would tell you. Besides, the
+child pleased me. She was anything but commonplace. And her
+determination the following morning confirmed the good opinion I
+had formed of her.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Her resolve to enter the convent?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are right.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In a word, then, Mademoiselle Lichtenbach has abjured
+the world for my sake. This child will have been recompensed for
+her devoted tenderness by the loss of everything happy and
+pleasant life had in store for her; and she is now destined to
+die poor; wearing a nun&rsquo;s robe, with shorn hair, attending
+to the wants of the destitute?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Uncle Graff, in your opinion, are children responsible
+for the misdeeds of their parents?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The old man did not reply.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You do not reply,&rdquo; urged Marcel. &ldquo;My
+question troubles you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="page373"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+373</span>&ldquo;It troubles me greatly. One day, in this very
+room, I told an envoy of Lichtenbach&rsquo;s, who made us an
+offer of the hand of his daughter for you, that all the Graffs
+would rise in their graves if a Baradier were to marry a
+Lichtenbach.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What!&rdquo; exclaimed Marcel, greatly agitated.
+&ldquo;Such an offer has been made, and you never informed me of
+it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What would have been the use? You know how we felt just
+then for me to have given such an emphatic and stupid reply. Your
+father&mdash;Oh! I believe he would have preferred to see you in
+your grave rather than married to a Lichtenbach. Just think of
+it! The General had just been killed&mdash;the works were still
+in flames! No, no! It was impossible.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But now, Uncle Graff?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What! Can you think of such a thing?&rdquo; asked the
+sentimental old fellow, in trembling accents.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think of it so much,&rdquo; said Marcel, firmly,
+&ldquo;that if Mademoiselle Lichtenbach does not consent to
+become my wife I will never marry another.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>At that moment a slight sound was heard, and the door
+closed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who is there?&rdquo; asked Graff, eagerly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do not excite yourself,&rdquo; said the voice of
+Baradier.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Were you listening?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; I have just come. But I heard your last words. How
+long are you going to remain in this darkness?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>At the same moment he turned on the electric light. The three
+men looked at one another for a moment; they were very grave and
+serious, but a look of contentment was visible on their
+countenances. Baradier did not bow his head with that obstinate
+mien his son and brother-in-law knew so well. He was perfectly
+self-possessed. Sitting down at his desk, he said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What difference would there be between us and mere <a
+name="page374"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 374</span>nobodies or
+good-for-nothings if we were incapable of showing gratitude? It
+is not sufficient to appear honest and delicate in the eyes of
+the world&mdash;one must be without the slightest reproach before
+one&rsquo;s own conscience.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He fixed on his son a look of perfect satisfaction, though his
+face paled with the emotion which had taken possession of
+him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Marcel has spoken like a real Baradier or Graff. We
+must do as he has said.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>At these simple words the three men quivered, consecrating as
+they did their successor with the worthy renown of his
+predecessors. Tears of joy and pride shone in his uncle&rsquo;s
+eyes. Marcel, without a word, flung himself into his
+father&rsquo;s arms.</p>
+
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<p style="text-align: center">THE END</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS,
+LIMITED, LONDON AND BECCLES.</p>
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOMAN OF MYSTERY***
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+</pre></body>
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