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diff --git a/75477-0.txt b/75477-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..187cf3a --- /dev/null +++ b/75477-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3410 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75477 *** + + + +[Illustration: _“Why were you so extravagant about bread?” asked +Marsac, very cheerfully working away at the old screen._] + + + + + THE SPRIGHTLY + ROMANCE OF + MARSAC + + + BY + + MOLLY ELLIOT SEAWELL + + AUTHOR OF + + “CHILDREN OF DESTINY,” “A STRANGE SAD + COMEDY,” “THROCKMORTON,” + “LITTLE JARVIS,” ETC. + + + Illustrated by + + GUSTAVE VERBEEK + + + NEW YORK + CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS + 1897 + + + + + _Copyright, 1896_, + BY CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS. + + _Dramatic and all other rights + reserved._ + + + University Press: + JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE. + + + + +NOTE. + + + “The Sprightly Romance of Marsac” obtained the first prize of $3,000 + for the best novelette in the _New York Herald_ competition in 1895. + + + + +List of Illustrations + + + PAGE + +_“Why were you so extravagant about bread?” asked Marsac, very +cheerfully, working away at the old screen_ _Frontispiece_ + +_Madame Schmid was plainly in a rage_ 2 + +_Madame Schmid grew still redder in the face and shorter of breath_ 5 + +_It was easy enough to see who was the master mind_ 9 + +_Madame Fleury entered_ 17 + +“_Have you ever thought of marriage as a way out of your troubles?_” 25 + +_Marsac, advancing to Fontaine, whispered in his ear_ 37 + +_Marsac, taking his hand, led him to Madame Fleury_ 39 + +_With a few bold strokes the bull-fighter assumed the appearance of a +hale old gentleman of sixty_ 48 + +_He fell over on his chair with amazement and chagrin_ 50 + +_The two young men tore open the box_ 53 + +_They hugged each other and began to dance wildly_ 56 + +_“Don’t speak of your fiancée in that disrespectful manner,” cried +Marsac_ 65 + +_He opened it without a word and took out four bottles of champagne_ 67 + +_I saw these two poor creatures standing in front of a pastry-shop_ 68 + +_Marsac received them with as much kindness and respect as if they had +been banker’s daughters_ 75 + +_Madame Schmid made a dash for Fontaine, whom she collared and +dragged out_ 77 + +_“And now about the villa,” said the old brewer_ 83 + +_Monsieur Duval knelt down_ 89 + +_Monsieur Duval, closing one eye, playfully poked him in the ribs_ 93 + +_The door opened, admitting Fontaine and two remarkably pretty girls_ 97 + +_The young people talked gaily together while sipping champagne_ 100 + +_“A hundred and thirty thousand francs!” cried Maurepas_ 108 + +_Marsac turned a double handspring over the sofa_ 110 + +_Marsac, seizing her around the waist, began to waltz furiously_ 113 + +_They crept softly out of their apartment_ 115 + +_As it brought Delphine’s golden head quite close to Marsac’s brown one, +she consented willingly_ 121 + +_“Oh, Madame Fleury!” cried Marsac, actually hanging his head_ 129 + +_Madame Fleury pressed a handkerchief to her eyes_ 132 + +_Marsac could scarcely restrain a shout of joy_ 137 + +_Madame Fleury began eagerly searching on the ground for the letter_ 139 + +_“Here,” Marsac said, tearing the paper, “is half of it for you, +Fontaine, and dear Claire”_ 143 + +_Monsieur Duval’s victoria, with Madame Fleury in it_ 145 + +_Fontaine, sunk in a deep armchair, was a picture of misery_ 149 + +_He was a little old man clutching a rusty travelling-bag in his +trembling hands_ 151 + +_“Let me assist you,” said Fontaine, trying to take the old bag_ 159 + +_Marsac and Delphine were now left alone_ 161 + +_Madame Fleury stood petrified for a moment_ 175 + +_“The only thing for you to do now is to trust me,” said Fontaine_ 177 + +_In walked one of the most weazened, cadaverous little men who ever +stepped_ 180 + +_Madame Fleury rushed out, dragging the unhappy Fleury after her_ 188 + +_Marsac with his arm around Delphine’s waist_ 194 + + + + + THE SPRIGHTLY + ROMANCE OF + MARSAC + + + + +The Sprightly Romance of Marsac[1] + +[1] Dramatic and all other rights reserved. + +[Illustration] + + + + + Chapter I + + +Madame Schmid, round and red, with the spotless lappets of her +washerwoman’s cap flapping angrily, was plainly in a rage; and the +three loud whacks she gave at the garret door of 17 Rue Montignal +caused two young gentlemen on the other side of the door to quake +visibly. One of them, Fontaine, ran incontinently into a closet and +hid, while Marsac, the other, after a ghastly pretence of a joke about +Madame Schmid’s whacks sounding like the three given at the Comédie +Française before the curtain goes up, stalked with dignity to a +corridor door. But, Madame Schmid bouncing in suddenly, Marsac as +suddenly whisked out of sight. + +[Illustration] + +Madame Schmid was of that coarse, buxom beauty common enough in her +class. She had one year been elected queen of the washer-women, in that +picturesque festival peculiar to Paris, and it had been said that fear +of her stout arm and robust tongue had some share in her election. But +she had a good heart, along with her vile temper; and as she planted +her basket viciously on the floor, and whipped out a tremendously +long bill, her quick eye took in the poverty of the surroundings, and +she was softened in spite of herself. However, as one whistles going +through a graveyard, so Madame Schmid always stormed the more when her +excellent heart prevented her from taking stronger measures. + +The room was excessively shabby. A moth-eaten sofa, and a large but +rickety table, covered with newspapers and the implements of the +journalist’s trade, were the principal articles of furniture. The light +of a gray day shone dully in at the curtainless windows. A number of +pipes, together with a cracked mirror, ornamented the mantel, while +scattered about the room were a violin and case, an easel, and painting +materials. + +Madame Schmid belonged to that large class of persons who believe that +a man who engages in any form of art is necessarily a loafer. The sight +of the painter’s tools, the violin, and especially the abundance of +pens, ink, and paper, acted on her like a red rag on a bull, and gave +her the excuse she wanted to raise a tempest. First, she exclaimed +scornfully,-- + +“Painters!” + +Next, more scornfully still,-- + +“Fiddlers!” + +And last, with a concentration of contempt that would have made her +fortune at any theatre in Paris,-- + +“Journalists!” + +Then she began to bawl, in a voice like an auctioneer,-- + +“M’sieu Marsac! M’sieu Fontaine! Oh, I know you are somewhere about! +This is an old dodge, running away when I come with my bill! You owe +me, both of you, for seven weeks’ washing. Seven weeks have I rubbed +and scrubbed for you, and I have not seen the colour of my money yet!” + +Madame Schmid stopped for a moment to take breath, and then, noticing +the door leading into the corridor, darted to it and began to tug +vigorously at the knob. But Marsac, who was holding it on the other +side, was Madame Schmid’s superior in muscle, though not in weight, and +the door resisted successfully. She then marched over to the closet +door; but Fontaine followed Marsac’s tactics, and Madame Schmid grew +still redder in the face and shorter of breath, with no better luck +than at the corridor door. + +[Illustration] + +At that moment a very well-dressed little man entered the room, after +an almost imperceptible knock, and, unrolling a bill about a yard long, +began,-- + +“Gentlemen, I have a little bill here--” and then, raising his eyes, he +said in a surprised voice, “Why, there aren’t any gentlemen here!” + +“Not if gentlemen pay their bills, Monsieur Landais,” answered Madame +Schmid, sarcastically, who recognised an old acquaintance in Monsieur +Landais. Madame Schmid had had a good, obedient Alsatian husband, whom +she had talked to death some years before, and Landais and the late +lamented Schmid were from the same town. + +Landais silently held out his bill, and Madame Schmid flourished hers +in his face, with an air as if Landais owed the money instead of Marsac +and Fontaine. + +“Journalists are a bad lot, I can tell you,” rapidly began Madame +Schmid, who liked to have the first as well as the last word, “and a +lazy lot too. While you and I work for our living with our arms and our +legs, Monsieur Marsac and that pretty boy Fontaine do nothing but sit +in an easy-chair and write all day long. And they call that work!” + +“I only wish I could sit in an easy-chair and amuse myself with a pen +all day, instead of toiling over a cutting-board,” answered the tailor, +ruefully. + +“Painting and fiddling when they are not scribbling,--no wonder they +can’t pay their wash-bills. I dare say they think washing is an elegant +amusement. I’m sure I don’t know how I’ll ever get my money. Writing +them letters is a sinful waste of paper and ink.” + +“And calling to see them is a sinful waste of time. That Marsac always +makes me laugh in spite of myself. The last time I saw him I put on +a very determined air,” here little Landais assumed a fierce look, +“and asked him why my bill had not been paid. He told me that he and +Monsieur Fontaine threw all their bills into a basket, and every six +months they drew one out at random and paid that bill,--and it so +happened they had never drawn my bill! It was a wretched joke, but it +made me laugh; and I assure you, the first thing I knew I was asking +the fellow if he and his chum wanted anything in the tailoring line!” + +“And he chucks me under the chin, and tells me I’m so young and +handsome I’ll be getting married again; and then, like you, I turn +fool and laugh, and _pouf!_ goes my bill,” moaned Madame Schmid, +wagging her head dolefully, while Landais shook his like a Chinese +mandarin. + +“Then,” said Landais, wearily, “what are we climbing up all these +stairs for?” + +“God knows,” answered Madame Schmid. “But I have no more time to waste +on them, so I’ll leave my bill and go.” + +“So will I,” said Landais; and they laid their bills on the rickety +table and went out, Madame Schmid clacking angrily all the way +downstairs. + +The minute they disappeared, Fontaine slipped out of his closet, and +locked the door after them. He was a handsome, fair-haired fellow of +five-and-twenty, with the most winning air in the world; but it was +plain at the first glance that, with all his grace and intelligence, he +was a man to be led by his affections. + +“I wish there was a drawbridge outside this door,” he muttered, +and then began to rummage about the room. “I wonder where Marsac’s +purse is,” he continued to himself. “Ah, here it is,--and only two +francs five centimes in it; and the shoemaker wants three francs for +half-soling Marsac’s shoes!” And then he began to call for Marsac, +meanwhile going through the empty form of searching through his own +pockets. In a moment Marsac entered the room. + +[Illustration] + +It was easy enough to see who was the master mind there. Marsac was +not so regularly handsome as Fontaine, but his dark bright eyes and +captivating smile seemed to radiate brilliance all round him. After +the first moment of seeing these two young men together, it was not +necessary to explain their relations to each other. Fontaine could not +look at Marsac without an almost feminine expression of fondness and +tender reliance coming into his eyes; and at the bottom of his heart he +thought Marsac the most brilliant, capable, and lovable of men. Marsac, +on his part, could not look or speak to Fontaine without showing the +affection of an elder for a younger brother. + +They had been schoolmates, ten years before, at a provincial college. +From the first moment of their meeting, they loved each other. Fontaine +was of the best blood of the province; but he had neither father nor +mother nor brother nor sister nor any near relative living. His was +one of those hearts which must love something, and he could not help +loving Marsac,--a tall, lithe boy, older than he, and quite able to +fight Fontaine’s battles as well as his own. Marsac, like Fontaine, +was fatherless and motherless. He was educated from a fund for the +sons of poor gentlemen, which the recipient was expected to return when +he was able. After taking all the honours in his classes, and being +graduated with the highest distinction, Marsac went to Paris along +with Fontaine, both to seek their fortunes in journalism. They soon +got work, but they made precious little money. Marsac, inspired with +but one idea, sent every franc he made back to the fund, and repaid +the sum advanced in an astonishingly short time. But it was at the +cost of getting into debt on all sides. Neither he nor his chum had +that commercial knack, that intimate knowledge of the purchasing power +of a franc, which comes naturally to young men whose lives have been +spent in a large city. Marsac was of a buoyant temper, and constantly +expected something to turn up which would relieve them of all their +embarrassments. Meanwhile, confident of the honesty of his intentions, +he met his debts, duns, and difficulties with an incomparable archness +and good-humour. + +When Fontaine asked him for a franc for the shoes, his reply was,-- + +“A franc! Do you think I have a complete counterfeiting apparatus, that +I can produce such a sum as a franc at a moment’s notice?” + +“Then,” said Fontaine, ruefully, who would willingly have given his +only pair of shoes to Marsac would he accept them, “I don’t know what I +am to do. The shoemaker said three francs or no shoes, and I have only +two francs five centimes. You have already spent enough on them to have +bought a new pair,--new vamps in December, new uppers in January, and +now in February new soles.” + +“Go along with you!” cried Marsac. “Tell the shoemaker I have a bad +case of confluent small-pox, and I dare say he will be glad to let you +have the shoes for nothing. But give me that paste-pot. Our friends +Madame Schmid and Monsieur Landais have left us souvenirs which I +can put to use.” And he began deftly cutting the bills, which were on +stout paper, into square pieces to mend the screen with, which, like +everything else in the room, had holes in it. + +“I am afraid the small-pox story won’t be a--judicious subterfuge,” was +Fontaine’s reply. + +“What did you do with the eleven francs we had yesterday?” + +“I bought four bottles of wine, a box of cigars, and two loaves of +bread with it.” + +“Why were you so extravagant about bread?” asked Marsac, very +cheerfully working away at the old screen. “If you squander our +substance on luxuries like bread, we sha’n’t have anything left for +necessaries like wine and cigars. The fact is,” he continued, “when a +man enters journalism, he ought to have an education suitable to the +profession. Instead of going to the University, I should have been +taught the shoemaking and tailoring trades. How often have I heard +that no learning comes amiss in journalism! Now, if I had the most +rudimentary knowledge of cobbling, I could have mended those shoes +myself.” + +“At all events,” said Fontaine, brushing his hat, “I am rather glad to +be out of the way now; for this is the very day and hour that Madame +Fleury always appears to ask for the rent.” + +“There!” cried Marsac, for the first time showing impatience, “I have +been trying for two weeks to forget what day the rent is due, and had +just succeeded when you reminded me of it. I would rather see Joan of +Arc coming at me full tilt on horseback, or Charlotte Corday with her +dagger, than Madame Fleury with her bill.” + +“I have heard it said that it is possible to live comfortably on a +large capital of debts, but we have not found it so,” said Fontaine, +still brushing his hat, which, however, not all the brushing in the +world could benefit. + +“But the debts must be on a respectable scale,” answered Marsac, +“something like seventy or eighty thousand francs. I don’t believe, +though, that everything we owe would mount up to ten thousand francs. +I felt so humiliated the other day when one of the young fellows on +the staff--a mere reporter, while I am an editorial writer--boasted of +owing his tailor alone as much as we owe altogether. I could not help +translating hundreds into thousands, and said I owed my tailor nearly +seven thousand francs, when it is not quite seven hundred. But I saw +that the youngster respected me more from that moment, and Maurepas, +the editor-in-chief, asked me to breakfast the very next day. I was +obliged to decline on account of these infernal shoes; but I said it +was because I was sent for by the Minister of Public Instruction.” + +“Marsac,” said Fontaine, after a pause, “how can you be so cheerful in +the midst of our difficulties?” + +“Have you not heard, my little man, that the laughing philosopher +attained the goal of all wisdom, while the weeping philosopher stood +whimpering at the starting-post? Does a long face pay a bill? Or a sour +temper? Depend upon it, Fortune looks for the smiling faces; and so I +try to keep mine ready to welcome her.” + +Fontaine went out then, and Marsac, having finished the screen, took +off his coat, and with a needle and thread began sewing awkwardly on +it, whistling like a bird meanwhile. In the midst of it came a knock at +the door,--not a whack like Madame Schmid’s, nor a tap like Landais’s, +but a knock, delicate yet firm, polite but peremptory. Marsac turned +pale. Nevertheless he hustled on his coat, and opened the door with +his best air,--which was a very fine air, indeed,--and his landlady, +Madame Fleury, entered. + +Madame Fleury was a handsome woman of about five-and-thirty, with fine +dark eyes, and a carriage full of grace and dignity; and, moreover, she +exhibited a self-poise and self-possession which a prime minister might +have envied. She was very simply dressed, as became the morning; but +the simplicity was of the kind that costs. Marsac courteously placed a +chair for her. + +[Illustration] + +“I am glad to find you at home, Monsieur Marsac,” were Madame Fleury’s +first words after the politest greetings had been exchanged. “I had not +seen you go in or out for a day or two, and thought perhaps you were +ill.” + +“A trifle, a mere trifle,” answered Marsac, with much readiness; “a +little dinner at a ministerial house,--those fellows give one such +lots of champagne,--and I inherit gout, and it gave me a touch; so pray +excuse my slippers. As soon as Fontaine returns, I shall put on my +shoes and go for a little walk.” Then, seeing Madame Fleury’s handsome +face assume its “business expression,” he hastened to add: “How +wonderfully well you are looking! You are blooming like a rose.” + +“Thank you,” answered Madame Fleury, calmly. “In a house like this, +there are certain lodgers whom I am compelled to call on occasionally, +in the way of business.” + +“Do you know, Madame,” continued Marsac, who had not ceased to examine +Madame Fleury’s features as if she were a beautiful portrait or a +statue which he had never set eyes on before, “there is a picture +in the Salon this year that might be taken for you? It is called +‘Springtime,’--a young girl standing under an almond-tree in bloom. +The girl’s face--so fresh, so lovely--is simply yours.” + +Madame Fleury’s discouraging reply to this was, “Business is business, +Monsieur Marsac, and must be attended to.” + +Marsac kept on as if he had not heard a word. “I can’t, for the life of +me, recall the artist’s name; but I remarked aloud, ‘Madame Fleury must +have sat for this charming face;’ and a very distinguished-looking man +who stood next me said in English, ‘Then I would give a thousand pounds +to know Madame Fleury!’” + +“I wish you had accepted his offer,” responded Madame Fleury, in a tone +that would have disconcerted a Talleyrand, “for never in my life would +a thousand pounds or even a thousand francs be more acceptable.” + +Marsac, however, not at all abashed, exclaimed enthusiastically: “Then, +all you have to do is to offer to pose for a nymph or a goddess. +Bouguereau and all those high-priced fellows will simply be tumbling +over one another in their eagerness to paint you.” + +“Monsieur Marsac,” said Madame Fleury, in a tone of velvet softness +which Marsac perfectly understood and shuddered to hear, “I am talking +business.” + +“And I am talking art,” replied poor Marsac. + +“If you will kindly recall the date,” continued Madame Fleury. + +Marsac, taking up an almanac, began turning the leaves. “This is the +20th of February,” he mused. “Let me see--what happened on the 20th of +February? Ah, I have it! It is your twenty-fifth birthday, and you have +come to receive our felicitations.” + +“Nonsense, Monsieur Marsac!” replied Madame Fleury, with the same tone +of deadly sweetness. “It is the day your rent is due; and I have come +to see if you are prepared to pay it, and also the arrears of two +months you still owe.” + +Marsac merely shook his head, and for several minutes there was +unbroken silence in the room, each meanwhile closely attentive to the +other. At last Madame Fleury spoke. + +“It seems to me that two young men with your talents and +character,--for I have found you both to have good characters, except +for this rent business,--and of good families, should be able to make a +better living out of journalism than you do.” + +“Ah, Madame,” answered Marsac, sorrowfully, “modern journalism has but +one essential,--it requires a man to be an accomplished, ready, and +felicitous liar; and neither of us is that.” + +“Then why don’t you--ahem!--try to acquire that one essential?” + +“Transcendent liars, Madame Fleury, like poets, are born, not made. +And then there is a great deal in being notorious. Fontaine and I +have done everything short of felony, to bring ourselves before the +public; but we have failed. We have tried to drown ourselves in the +Seine,--with life-preservers on, of course; but the police found the +life-preservers on us, and instead of making us favourably known, +humph!--we were glad enough to hush up the affair. We have brought the +most horrible charges against each other in print, but nobody appeared +at all surprised at them; and the public, by its indifference, seemed +to take it for granted that the worst was true. The only newspaper +which took the trouble to investigate it sent a reporter here; and as +ill-luck would have it, the fellow caught us waltzing in each other’s +arms for joy because we had just got a dinner invitation,--and we +had not had anything that could be called a dinner for three weeks. +Our circumstances are indeed desperate. Yesterday we had some money, +and Fontaine bought two loaves of bread. I reproached him for his +extravagance in buying so much bread.” + +With these words Marsac managed to cover dexterously a box of cigars on +the table, which Madame Fleury had not noticed. + +“That is, indeed, poverty,” said Madame Fleury, with some feeling; and +Marsac, seeing she was a little touched, continued eagerly,-- + +“We have tried everything. I sent a play to a manager, and the only +notice he has taken of it has been to write me that he didn’t believe +it would draw. Of course it won’t draw, shut up in the manager’s strong +box. I never expected it to draw until it was produced. I sent it +under the name of Fontaine, as being more aristocratic than Marsac. +Fontaine, you know, has graveyards full of noble ancestors, while I, +like Napoleon, am the first of my family. Then I sent a picture, called +‘A Rough Sea,’ to the Salon, also under the name of Fontaine. One of +the judges said the thing made the whole committee ill,--it was so +realistic, I presume,--and yet they rejected it.” + +Madame Fleury’s eyes softened, and with a glint of a “widow’s smile” +upon her handsome mouth, she said gently, after a moment, “Have +you--has either one of you--ever thought of--ahem!--marriage, as a way +out of your troubles?” + +“Often,” answered Marsac, promptly,--“that is, for Fontaine. He was to +be the victim,--the Iphigenia, so to speak. As for myself, there are +two things I dread,--death and marriage. I must die, but I need not +marry. I have sworn I will never be taken alive.” + +Madame Fleury blushed, smiled, and murmured, “More men marry than +don’t. Most of them marry without a qualm.” + +“True,” answered Marsac, gravely; “and there are men who will pick up +a poisonous snake and dangle it in the air. But I am not one of them. I +have no taste for dangling poisonous snakes. I am afraid of them.” + +[Illustration] + +“And how stands Monsieur Fontaine on this subject?” + +“He is brave to rashness. I believe him fully capable of marrying. In +fact, Fontaine seems to have a _penchant_ for Mademoiselle Claire +Duval, daughter of Duval the rich old brewer.” + +“There is a niece--Mademoiselle Delphine Duval--who has just gone to +live with them,” said Madame Fleury, who liked to show her knowledge of +the acquaintances of the two young men. + +“I had not heard of that. The truth is, since we pawned our evening +clothes we have not seen anything of the Duvals. However, as Fontaine +could not marry Claire until he paid his debts, and he could not pay +his debts until he married Claire, the matter seems to have settled +itself.” + +Madame Fleury assumed a striking attitude in her chair, and then +began to speak, with an insinuating softness in every word and glance +and motion: “You have told me much about you and your friend; now I +will tell you something about myself, and it may result in--in--an +arrangement mutually advantageous.” Her voice sank to a mere whisper. +“As you know, I am a widow.” + +“Certainly,” replied Marsac. “I knew it the very first moment I saw +you: you had such a cheerful air.” + +“I have every reason to look cheerful. The late Monsieur Fleury was +nothing but a trouble to me, from the hour I married him until the day +the news was brought me that his body had been found in the river.” + +“Gracious powers!” cried Marsac, in astonishment; “was not the late +Monsieur Fleury an angel?” + +“No,” answered Madame Fleury; “and I don’t believe he is an angel now, +either.” + +“Strange, strange!” murmured Marsac. “A departed husband not an angel! +This is a phenomenon. Allow me to make a note of it;” and taking out a +note-book, he gravely made a memorandum. + +“A husband, Monsieur Marsac, is very like a lobster salad. When it is +good, it is very good, and when it is bad it is intolerable. Monsieur +Fleury was very bad. At last he sank so low that he became janitor in a +medical school. He was accused one day of stealing some valuable books +and instruments, and soon after his body was found in the Seine. It is +supposed he committed suicide, knowing himself to be guilty. I did not +see the body, and tried to avoid all associations with the affair; but, +do what I could, it became known that he had once been my husband. I +find the name of a man so unpleasantly notorious very inconvenient to +bear, and I should like to change it.” + +Marsac, after listening intently to this, buried his ears in his hands +and appeared to be thinking profoundly for some minutes. “I should +think, Madame,” he said, after this pause of reflection, “that could be +accomplished. The authorities on application will permit you to change +your name.” + +Something like contempt appeared in Madame Fleury’s dark eyes, and she +responded coldly, “I should also like the protection which the name of +some respectable man would give me.” + +A pause, longer and more awkward, ensued. It seemed to Marsac as if he +actually felt the temperature in the room falling ten degrees every +second. For once, language failed him; and he heard himself saying, in +a quavering voice and almost without his own volition,-- + +“Would that I were a respectable man!” + +Madame Fleury turned her dark eyes on him and drew nearer. Her +breathing quickened, and a faint pink rose in her smooth cheek, and she +said in a laughing voice, which also trembled a little,-- + +“You are quite respectable enough for me.” + +Proposals of marriage are always embarrassing, and none the less so +when, as the Breton peasants say, “the haystack chases the cow.” +Marsac felt himself suddenly grow hot, and as suddenly grow cold. He +sat quite near Madame Fleury, her half-laughing and brightly burning +eyes fixed on him. Every detail of her elegant and correct morning +costume, her well-shod feet, her handsome figure, was abnormally +present to him. But he found it impossible to raise his eyes to her +face. The only clear idea in his mind was a frantic fury towards +the women of the present day, who, he foresaw, would make these bad +quarters of an hour, such as he was undergoing, common enough to men in +the future. + +As for Madame Fleury, Marsac’s embarrassment was not lost on her; and +although a new woman, she was still a woman, and womanly pride impelled +her to control the slight tremor of her nerves, and say in a voice, +studiedly cold, “It is a mere matter of business and of convenience +with me.” + +This gave Marsac, as he thought, a loophole of escape, and he said +hurriedly, “I, Madame, in my innocence, have regarded marriage as a +matter of sentiment.” + +Imagine his chagrin, though, when Madame Fleury, smiling and blushing +like a girl, replied, “Well, Monsieur Marsac, if you will have it so--” + +Marsac saw in a moment the pit he had dug for himself, but he preferred +to play the part of a poltroon to stepping into it. He turned and +fidgeted in his chair; he looked out of the window, down at the street, +hoping to see Fontaine returning, and every moment the situation grew +more appalling. Presently he managed to say,-- + +“Until he is forty, a man is too young to marry; and after he is forty, +he is too old.” + +Madame Fleury surveyed him all over, with a cool contempt which seemed +to leave blisters on his body. Then a brilliant idea came to him. He +glanced at Madame Fleury, and saw as well as felt the rage rising in +her heart against him. He tried to speak calmly and naturally, but his +words were jerked out of him with stammering and stuttering,-- + +“You are very, very g-g-good, Madame; and I feel more pleased--no, no, +I mean honoured--than I can explain--express, that is. But you know how +Fontaine and I have lived together since our boyhood. We have nobody +but each other; we have shared everything as brothers. Now, d-d-do you +think it quite fair that I should, like a pig, accept this dazzling +offer without giving Fontaine a chance?” + +It was blunderingly enough spoken, but it served. Marsac saw, in a +moment, that Madame Fleury would much rather after that have killed him +than married him; and when she spoke, her cold dignity made him feel +like a mouse under an exhausted air-receiver. + +“I don’t know but that you are right, after all, and Monsieur Fontaine +is really the superior man, and consequently better suited to me.” + +The door at that moment flew wide open, and Fontaine rushed in,--his +coat a mass of mud and rags, and his trousers slit from the knee to +the hip; and he did not have Marsac’s shoes. Without observing Madame +Fleury, who sat a little to one side, he burst out,-- + +“It’s no good, Marsac; the shoemaker said three francs or no shoes.” +Then seeing Madame Fleury, he stopped, overwhelmed with embarrassment. +Not so the lady, who quietly remarked to Marsac,-- + +“This accounts for the story of the cabinet dinner, and the gout, and +so on;” and she added, with an air of the finest sarcasm, “I see no +earthly reason why you, Monsieur Marsac, should not succeed brilliantly +in journalism.” + +Marsac was quite disposed to let Fontaine take his part of the +situation then, and said not a word; but Fontaine exclaimed,-- + +“I know what you have come for, Madame Fleury. It is the rent.” + +“Then you show very superior intelligence to Monsieur Marsac, as I had +the greatest difficulty in making him understand what I came for,” +responded Madame Fleury. + +“I am awfully sorry,” kept on Fontaine, “but we haven’t a sou except +this,”--holding out two francs,--“and I had an accident on the way, and +ruined my only coat and trousers, and Marsac has no shoes, and I don’t +know what we shall do.” Fontaine stopped, half crying. + +“I can suggest something,” said Madame Fleury, showing an amazing +calmness. “Not to go over the same ground twice, I have determined to +change my name and condition; and--” Here she paused for effect, and +Marsac came unexpectedly to her assistance. + +“Fontaine,” said he, solemnly, “I have been a true friend to you. As +soon as Madame Fleury mentioned this, I offered her your hand.” + +Fontaine looked at Marsac, supposing either he himself or his friend +had gone crazy; but Marsac’s cool demeanour proved that he at least was +sane. Fontaine, with his mouth open, but dumb with astonishment, gazed +first at Marsac and then at Madame Fleury. + +“He is speechless with happiness,” cried Marsac. “I knew he would be +delighted. You see, marrying runs in Fontaine’s family. His father and +mother were married, and his grandparents on both sides were married; +and even his great-grandfathers and great-grandmothers were married. +Isn’t that so, Fontaine?” + +Fontaine, still dazed, mumbled, “I don’t know.” + +“Fie, you bad man!” replied Marsac, laughing. “Pray, Madame Fleury, +don’t believe that. I know what I am talking about, and I assure you +that all these people in Fontaine’s family were married.” + +Madame Fleury then rose majestically. “Gentlemen, this matter must be +settled at once. You have your choice,--a marriage, or an eviction +within twenty-four hours, and all the arrears of rent paid.” + +Fontaine, who was gradually returning to his senses, said, “But, +Madame, it is impossible. Marsac has no shoes; I have no clothes--” + +“If you do not choose to accept my proposition, Monsieur Fontaine,” +coolly interrupted Madame Fleury, “you will be put into the street +within twenty-four hours; and when you reach the street, you will be +arrested for non-payment of rent.” + +“And if I go into the street without any coat or trousers, I shall +certainly be arrested,” answered Fontaine, desperately. + +Madame Fleury shook her head, as if the whole affair were nothing to +her. + +[Illustration] + +Marsac, advancing to Fontaine, whispered in his ear, “Promise her. +Promising isn’t marrying, you know. You promise her.” + +“No, _you_ do it.” + +“I can’t. She won’t have me. You do it. I have known several men who +have escaped with their lives from widows.” + +Fontaine, thus urged by Marsac, whom he had never resisted in his +life, looked helplessly from his friend to his landlady, and from his +landlady back to his friend. After all, promising was not marrying, and +it was worth a good deal to get her out of the room. + +Madame Fleury brought matters to a crisis by asking, smiling, “Which +shall it be, gentlemen,--an engagement or an eviction?” + +Fontaine could not bring himself to say the word, but he submitted +silently when Marsac, taking his hand, led him to Madame Fleury, and +placing their hands together said, with something dangerously near a +wink,-- + +“Take the lovely hand held out to you. Quaff the cup of happiness +held to your lips. Madame Fleury, you will exchange for your present +name one of the most distinguished names among the great families +of France,”--which was true enough as far as Fontaine’s name was +concerned. + +[Illustration] + +Madame Fleury, whose principle it was to get through quickly with an +awkward business, asked Marsac to sit down and write out a little +agreement, to be signed by Fontaine and herself. “And it might be as +well,” she added, “to name the date of the fulfilment of this promise. +Let me see,--this is the 20th of February.” + +She paused and reflected. Marsac, who had seated himself at the table, +reflected too; and then after a moment he said,-- + +“The 31st of April.” + +“There is no 31st of April,” replied Madame Fleury. + +“The first of April would seem appropriate,” kept on Marsac, very +gravely. + +“Don’t trouble yourself to be sarcastic, Monsieur Marsac,” replied +Madame Fleury, with cutting emphasis. “It would do admirably if I were +marrying you, but otherwise, not.” + +“The twenty-ninth of February, then.” + +“This is not leap year.” + +“Oh, I thought it was.” + +Madame Fleury did not condescend to notice this fling; and Marsac, +writing very slowly, proceeded to draw up an informal agreement to +marry, between Marie Fleury and Auguste Fontaine. + +Fontaine had dropped limp upon a chair, and sat with his head buried +in his arms, the picture of misery. But awkward and humiliating as it +was, he had not the smallest doubt that Marsac, whom he thought capable +of meeting any emergency, would eventually get him out of the scrape. + +When Madame Fleury had signed the paper, Marsac called Fontaine, who +remained motionless, without lifting his head. + +“That’s his way of showing he is pleased,” explained Marsac in the most +serious manner. “I told you he would be delighted, and I know at this +moment he is revelling in rapture; only he has rather a singular manner +of showing it.” + +“He has, indeed,” said Madame Fleury; “but I am vain enough to think +that it is merely the suddenness of the affair which has somewhat +disconcerted him.” + +Fontaine, almost dragged out of his chair by Marsac, sullenly signed +the paper; and after taking possession of it, and recommending him to +act in good faith with her, Madame Fleury departed, with the air of a +person who has made a successful stroke of business. + +As soon as she was gone, Fontaine with a loud groan threw himself on +the sofa. Even Marsac began to be somewhat frightened at the turn of +affairs. He thought it not unlikely that the prospect of marrying a +handsome young man far above her in social position might be really in +Madame Fleury’s mind. But he would not mention his fears to Fontaine; +and as soon as Madame Fleury was safely out of hearing, Marsac +contrived to raise a burst of rather hollow and hysterical laughter. + +“To think she should imagine that she could trap us in any such way as +that! Ha! ha!” + +Fontaine’s reply, from the depths of the sofa, was something between +a groan and a howl, and he moaned, “You know, Marsac, I love Claire +Duval; and this devilish Madame Fleury has my written promise--” + +“A bagatelle!” cried Marsac, still keeping up the pretence of laughter. +“Do you suppose I would have let you get into such a trap if I could +not have got you out?” + +This gave some comfort to Fontaine, who had sublime faith in Marsac’s +powers as well as his friendship. But in spite of all his efforts, +Marsac pretty soon had to give up the hilarious view of the situation. +Fontaine lay on the sofa, groaning, kicking, and occasionally sighing +out the name of Claire Duval. Marsac looked out of the window at a +prospect made up chiefly of chimney-pots and a fine small rain that +began to fall, and for the first time realised their truly desperate +situation. After half an hour of silence on his part, and complainings +on Fontaine’s, a shadow of his old spirit came back to Marsac. + +“If one of us only had a rich relation we could murder! But I don’t +believe any two fellows in the world have so few near relations as we.” + +Fontaine by this time was sitting up on the sofa, his head in his +hands. Presently he said, with gloomy indifference,-- + +“I had an uncle, an American,--Uncle Maurice,--who has not been +in France for twenty-five years; and the last we heard of him, he +was living on fifteen cents a day in New York. Then we heard in a +roundabout way that he was dead; but he had nothing to leave anybody.” + +“Very likely,” sighed Marsac. “An American and his money are soon +parted.” + +The next moment, Fontaine believed that the last and greatest of +misfortunes had befallen his friend; for Marsac, leaping up, began to +charge about the room, shouting at the top of his lungs. + +“Hurrah! Hurrah! Your Uncle Maurice has died, and has left you a +fortune! Huzza! What a glorious idea! Huzza for Uncle Maurice!” + +Fontaine, stunned at first, went up to Marsac, who was capering wildly +about, and in a voice tremulous with apprehension, and himself deadly +pale, said, “My dear, kind Marsac, be quiet, pray. You have taken our +misfortunes too much to heart, and they have unbalanced you. Sit down +awhile; I have some money,”--the poor lad had not a sou but the two +francs,--“quite enough for several days.” + +It was piteous to see his weak pretences. He rattled the two francs +in his pocket and tried to smile. Marsac, seeing the dreadful thought +in Fontaine’s mind, stopped his whooping, and seizing Fontaine in his +arms, cried out,-- + +“You honest little simpleton! Of course Uncle Maurice hasn’t just +died and left you a fortune; but let the world think so, and see if +our fortunes are not made! How would a paragraph like this sound in +the papers: ‘We are happy to announce that Monsieur Auguste Fontaine, +the brilliant young journalist, has inherited a fortune of’--let me +see, it’s as easy to give you two million francs as one million--‘from +his lately deceased uncle, Monsieur Maurice Fontaine of New York, +the celebrated’--wine-importer, I should say; that’s a good decent +business. I can work the paragraph up more; tell about your Uncle +Maurice going against the traditions of his family in entering trade, +and all that sort of thing. Trust me to get it up!” + +Fontaine was so delighted at finding Marsac was not crazy after all, +that he could do nothing but hug him and say, “Marsac, I was so +frightened when you began to talk so; and you may kill all my uncles +and aunts, if you can find any to kill. But will--will this dazzling +story be believed about Uncle What’s-his-name?” + +“My dear fellow,” replied Marsac, in high good-humour, “don’t you know +there is a large section of the human race that goes about actually +begging to be humbugged? Did you ever know a wildly improbable +story started yet that wasn’t readily believed? And the more it is +contradicted, the more it is believed. At any rate, it can’t do us any +harm; nothing can harm us in our present straits.” + +“Well, if people should believe in Uncle Maurice,” began Fontaine, +anxiously; but Marsac cut him short. + +“Believe in Uncle Maurice! Why, I believe in him, and I created him +myself,--that is, _our_ Uncle Maurice. Dear kind old chap! I feel as if +I had just shaken hands with him.” + +“But,” persisted Fontaine, “if Madame Fleury should believe in him and +the fortune, wouldn’t it be that much more difficult for me to escape +from her?” + +[Illustration] + +“We should be in that much better condition to fight her. No, my boy, +don’t refuse a fortune of two million francs even on paper. Why,” +continued Marsac, producing from a corner his palette, brushes, and +an unfinished portrait of a Spanish bull-fighter, “look! I will make +you a portrait of Uncle Maurice;” and with a few bold strokes the +bull-fighter assumed the appearance of a hale old gentleman of sixty, +in a black coat and a white tie. “But there is no time to lose,” +cried he, throwing down his palette and brushes. “It ought to be in +the afternoon papers. There is the clock on the church-tower striking +eleven,--I shall have time yet before they go to press. Give me your +shoes--” Fontaine kicked them off, and Marsac put them on. “And your +hat is better than mine--” Fontaine ran and fetched the hat. “Let me +see; the paragraph ought to be written out.” Marsac seated himself at +the table, and Fontaine hung over him, while he rapidly wrote half +a page, and then, rising and going out, cried: “Keep up your heart, +old boy! You are not married yet; you are a long way off from being +Monsieur Fleury!” + +Left alone, Fontaine remained silent and overwhelmed at the various and +startling incidents which had befallen him that morning. “How little +one knows,” he thought, “what an hour may bring forth! It is now eleven +o’clock: since ten o’clock, I have become engaged to be married; I have +found a long-lost uncle; he has died, and left me two million francs.” + +A slight sound caused him to raise his head, and he saw a letter pushed +under the door. He ran forward and opened it, and then literally fell +over on his chair with amazement and chagrin. The letter ran,-- + + MY DEAR NEPHEW AUGUSTE,--The report which reached my family that I was + dead was erroneous. I am very much alive, and think of soon revisiting + my native land. I have had a hard struggle, and I may not meet with + a very flattering reception from my family, of whom you are my only + really near relative; but I feel quite able to take care of myself. I + may appear at any moment; and, until we meet, I am + + Your affectionate uncle, + MAURICE FONTAINE. + +Fontaine rallied enough to run to the window to call Marsac back. But +it was too late. Marsac, with the slip of white paper in his hand, was +just turning the corner. + +[Illustration] + + + + + Chapter II + + +Marsac returned within three hours, to be confronted by Fontaine with a +pale face and Uncle Maurice’s letter. + +For once, Marsac was staggered. The paragraph was already in print, and +the afternoon papers containing it were being cried on the street. He +read the letter carefully, then laid it down, saying, “It is impossible +that he should return. Living on fifteen cents a day for twenty years +must have impaired his constitution to that degree that he cannot stand +the voyage.” + +Fontaine, already in the depths of woe, seemed to sink deeper and +deeper. Not so Marsac, whose cheerfulness never left him. All day the +two friends sat in their garret, unable on account of Fontaine’s +dilapidated clothes and Marsac’s want of shoes to go out and get +anything to eat,--for they could still go to a restaurant near the +newspaper office and get a dinner on credit. They both shrank from +admitting their necessities by asking for an advance from the business +office of their newspaper. + +Marsac spent the day in patching and cleaning, with awkward industry, +Fontaine’s torn coat and trousers. Never had Fontaine loved and admired +him more. He sang and whistled all day long, made jokes, and pretended +that doing without food and fire was rather an amusing experience. +At nightfall he held up the torn and soiled coat and trousers for +inspection. The poor fellow had done his best, but they were clearly +not presentable. Not even then did his courage and spirits desert him. +He laughed at his own failure, and said gaily,-- + +“Well, my boy, what a tale this will make to tell when we get rich! +For half the pleasure of rich people consists in telling how happy they +were when they had not a second shirt to their backs.” + +[Illustration] + +At that moment a servant in the establishment opened the door without +ceremony, and thrust in a huge box, with the name of “Charlevois, +Tailor,” on it. Scarcely was the door shut, when the two young men +tore open the box. There lay several suits of the handsomest mourning +clothes imaginable, with hats and gloves to match; and on top of +everything was pinned a letter. It was from Charlevois, one of the +best tailors in Paris, saying that he had taken the liberty of sending +Monsieur Auguste Fontaine several suits of clothes, asking his +inspection of them. He had read in the papers that evening of Monsieur +Maurice Fontaine’s death, and would be glad to supply Monsieur Auguste +Fontaine’s mourning. Also that his son was in the stationery business, +and had enclosed some samples of stationery. + +The two young men gazed intently at each other. Then, without a word, +Fontaine, with Marsac’s help, put on an evening suit, and then a +top-coat, with crape-covered hat and black gloves. He certainly looked +very handsome in his new outfit. It was almost the first time in his +life that he had ever been really well dressed, and the elegantly +simple costume brought out his aristocratic beauty. Marsac looked at +him with the delight of a mother over a beautiful daughter dressed +for her first ball. Fontaine walked up and down, surveying himself +with satisfaction in the cracked mirror. He examined his old coat and +trousers,--they looked worse than ever by comparison. His silence said +eloquently, “I cannot take these gentlemanly habiliments off.” He put +the hat on his head. With Marsac, he moved toward the door; they paused. + +“This is the Rubicon,” said Marsac. + +“The Rubicon is passed,” replied Fontaine, stepping out. + +They went to the restaurant where they had credit to dinner, and were +seen by twenty persons of their acquaintance. As they approached the +desk, on entering, the cashier, a handsome girl, was glancing at an +afternoon paper containing the paragraph about Uncle Maurice. She +recognised Fontaine, whom she had seen before. + +“Do you wish a private room, gentlemen?” she asked. + +“Certainly,” answered Marsac, solemnly, who had not thought of it +before. “Auguste, you would rather not dine in public to-day?” + +Fontaine shook his head, and the two friends in silence, Fontaine with +his eyes bent on the mourning hat he carried, went into a private +dining-room. An obsequious waiter brought a card. Marsac ordered an +excellent dinner with champagne. + +[Illustration] + +When it came the sight of it was almost too much for the poor +half-starved young fellows. It was the first time they had really dined +in weeks. They made an excuse to send the waiter out of the room, when +they hugged each other and began to dance wildly, and barely had time +before he returned to scuttle back to their chairs and pull long faces +while they devoured fish, flesh, and fowl, entrées, _hors-d’oeuvres_, +and everything else eatable on the table. Marsac, in the waiter’s +absence, begged Fontaine to spare the candelabra, while Fontaine caught +Marsac in the act of chewing the paper off the _marrons glacés_. + +“This,” said Marsac, while the waiter was out of the room (for they +kept him on the trot), “may be called our first dress rehearsal. We are +to appear before the public to-morrow,--you as the heir of your Uncle +Maurice, I as the friend of the nephew of his uncle.” + +“Do you think we have deceived the waiter?” anxiously asked Fontaine. + +“Perfectly. He never saw us order such a dinner before; but I hope he +will see us order a good many more like it. Look solemn--he is coming.” + +And the waiter coming in found Marsac urging Fontaine to eat, who +seemed to be in the depths of despondency. When the time came for +feeing the man, Fontaine said sadly,-- + +“You, Marsac, must pay to-night. I forgot I had changed my clothes.” + +“Certainly,” replied Marsac, clapping his hand to his pocket and +producing the two francs--the last they had on earth, which he had +taken the precaution to bring with him--and handing them to the +waiter. Those two francs made everybody in the restaurant believe the +story of Fontaine’s fortune. + +After the dinner, which lasted for three hours, they went home, and +Fontaine wrote a note on the black-edged paper to the editor of their +paper, “La Lune,” asking for leave of absence for a few days, owing +to the loss of a near relative. Marsac took it to the office. His +fellow-workers crowded round him, asking questions about the paragraph +which had appeared that afternoon. Marsac confirmed it, but declared +they had not got any particulars as to the amount of the fortune. + +“But I should say it will be under three millions,” he added with +entire accuracy. + +Next day Paris rang with the story. It cannot be denied that both +Marsac and Fontaine were a little frightened at the sudden and +overpowering success of their little romance. They had not counted +upon the instant and enormous sensation it created. But there was now +no retreat for them. Being once committed to Uncle Maurice, they had +to abide by their own invention; and it taxed even Marsac’s powers to +meet the emergency. Fontaine simply declared that he could not face the +world in his new character, and kept close to his lodgings, to avoid +interrogatories. Naturally that did still more to set the story on its +legs; and when he began to receive letters of condolence mixed with +congratulations, and was forced to reply to them on paper with a black +border an inch deep and signed with inky sealing-wax, even he himself +began to believe that his Uncle Maurice had died and left him a fortune. + +Marsac, who was remarkably clever with his brush, made an excellent +picture of Uncle Maurice out of the transformed bull-fighter, and by +dint of artistically smoking it, the newness of the paint was taken +off. He was, however, simply forced to invent a biography of Uncle +Maurice, with names, dates, and events. The first time he was asked +how Uncle Maurice made his money, he was obliged to say how; so he +represented that it was all made in the wine-importing line. + +“If I had had a moment to think, I should have said mining operations,” +he said to Fontaine afterward; “but taken unawares, I hit upon the +wine-business. And then I had to explain that he went against the +traditions of his family by engaging in trade, but was immensely +successful, so they forgave him. And then I drew a noble picture of +Uncle Maurice,--for, look you, Fontaine, as we have profited by the old +gentleman, the least we can do is to give him a good character. I have +adorned him with every virtue. If he could come to life, I am sure he +would be pleased with the reputation I have given him.” + +“But, Marsac, he _is_ alive! That is the maddening part. Suppose the +real Uncle Maurice should come walking in here some fine day,--what +would you say?” + +“I should say, ‘Good morning, Monsieur Fontaine; delighted to see you. +Have a cigar? We heard that you were dead.’ And the old gentleman +would be so pleased at finding himself alive, that he would forgive us +anything.” + +Among the first persons to hear the story was Madame Fleury; and the +hardest task before Marsac was when he was stopped by her in the +entresol, one morning, with an inquiry whether the story was true or +not about Fontaine’s uncle’s death. + +“Alas! it is only too true,” replied Marsac, sorrowfully. + +“I think Monsieur Auguste should have informed me of it,” said Madame +Fleury, “considering our relations.” + +“Ah, Madame, you, a widow, can have no idea of the bashfulness of a +young man like Fontaine, in his first love affair. The relations of +men and women are so changed now. I am barely thirty, but I remember +when it was the lady who was diffident. But the last diffident woman, I +understand, has been secured for the Jardin des Plantes.” + +Madame Fleury heard this with a smile playing round her handsome mouth. +“I hardly think that the engagement between Monsieur Auguste Fontaine +and me can be called a love affair. It was a business arrangement, pure +and simple. However, if this story about his Uncle Maurice and his +fortune is true, then I shall look forward with more satisfaction than +ever to the 15th of May. But why does not Monsieur Fontaine call to see +me occasionally?” + +“Bashfulness, Madame Fleury,--pure bashfulness. I tell you, men and +women have changed places. I predict that in a few years a young man +will no more think of calling on his _fiancée_ than a few years back +his _fiancée_ would have called on him.” + +Madame Fleury heard this, uttered in Marsac’s airiest manner, with the +same inscrutable smile. When Marsac left her presence, after an hour’s +laboured explanations, he had not the slightest certainty whether +she believed in Uncle Maurice or not. He rather thought she did not, +from her last remark,--which was that if Monsieur Fontaine really had +inherited two million francs, she would be glad to have the two hundred +he owed her. + +However, to have got two hundred francs from Fontaine would have been +like getting oysters out of a strawberry bed. As the days went on, he +got a great many things, like the mourning clothes and black-edged +paper; and he was pursued by tradesmen desiring him to open accounts +with them. But not a franc had he. His absence from the newspaper +office cut off his small salary there; and while dining at his +favourite restaurant every day, smoking the best cigars and enjoying +other luxuries, he often had not one sou to rattle against another. +Marsac kept up his courage, though, by telling him that something +would soon turn up which would enable them to pay their debts, escape +from Madame Fleury’s house, and live like lords. And when that happy +event was accomplished, Marsac promised that Fontaine should be rid of +Madame Fleury, and in a position to ask the hand of Claire Duval, whom +Fontaine grew every day more passionately in love with, although it had +been months since he had seen her. Whenever Fontaine’s courage failed, +Marsac always held out to him the hope of marrying Claire. + +“Just let me catch old Duval,--I don’t like to go in search of +him,”--cried Marsac, “and I will give him such an account of you +that he will be throwing his daughter at your head. And as she is a +sweet girl, and I believe is really in love with you, there will be a +marriage, sure. The only thing on my conscience is, that I am putting a +noose around your neck.” + +[Illustration] + +“A noose! A garland, you mean! Ah, could I live to have Claire for my +wife! But that infernal widow downstairs--” + +“Don’t speak of your _fiancée_ in that disrespectful manner,” cried +Marsac, at the same time dodging Fontaine’s new hat, which flew in his +direction. + +One night about six weeks after Uncle Maurice’s advent, Fontaine was +in their garret, waiting for Marsac to return. The room was as shabby +as ever, but Fontaine was dressed in the height of the style, although +still in the deepest mourning. His bright face, as he walked about +whistling jovially, with his hands in his trousers pockets (which +were empty, as usual), was in striking contrast to his livery of woe. +Fontaine occasionally had spasms of fear concerning their ruse; but +at twenty-five, with a good appetite, and enough to satisfy it, with +love and hope and a friend like Marsac, one is apt to whistle jovially. +In one corner of the room was a table with a delicious supper set +out,--sent from the restaurant, which the two young men patronised +liberally. On the rickety writing-table lay a letter, bearing the stamp +of one of the leading theatres in Paris. In the intervals of walking +about, and wondering why Marsac was so late, Fontaine would read and +re-read this letter, with the most evident delight. + +At last, just as Fontaine was beginning to be impatient, in walked +Marsac, carrying his violin-case in his hand. He opened it without a +word, and took out four bottles of champagne. Then in solemn silence he +removed his tall hat, which proved to be full of flowers, and these he +arranged in the middle of the supper-table. + +[Illustration] + +“What are you up to now?” asked Fontaine, in surprise. + +“Ladies to supper,” gravely replied Marsac. + +Fontaine was astounded. Marsac habitually ran away from respectable +women, declaring he was afraid of them; and for those of another kind +he had nothing but the pity of a refined and honourable soul, which +leaves to harder hearts and more evil natures the condemnation of those +who sin because they are sinned against. Fontaine uttered only one +word,-- + +“Ladies!” + +[Illustration] + +“Yes,” said Marsac; “that is, they are ladies to me and to you,--for +they are women, half-starved and hard-working. What does it matter that +they are ballet-girls in a third-rate theatre? Listen. As I was coming +home just now, I saw these two poor creatures standing in front of a +pastry shop close by, eying the cakes in the window, and without a sou +to buy anything with. I overheard them, as they sorrowfully recalled +that their last franc had gone in white satin shoes for the ballet next +week. I have been hungry myself, and so have you, and I felt for them +in my pockets as well as in my heart; but I had no more money than +they. I had credit, though, thanks to your admirable Uncle Maurice, and +a good supper at home, and I said to them that for once they should be +warmed and filled. They are of a grade in society that is not bound by +conventionalities, and were quite willing to go anywhere for a good +meal. So I told them to slip by the concierge,--they will be here in a +few minutes,--and I went and got the wine and the flowers to make it +a little more of a feast for the poor souls; and you and I, Fontaine, +will be the better, not the worse, for this night’s work.” + +“Marsac, you are the best fellow that ever lived,” cried Fontaine, +hugging him. Fontaine was always hugging Marsac, and Marsac always +responded by a pat on the head, such as a father gives a small boy. +“And read this letter,” he continued, thrusting the letter in Marsac’s +hand. It ran as follows:-- + + M. AUGUSTE FONTAINE. + + MY DEAR SIR,--Happening, some days ago, to read an account of your + deserved good fortune, I remember having had some correspondence + with you regarding a play,--“A White Marriage.” I chanced to look in + my strong box the same day, and there discovered the play itself, + where it had lain a whole year,--a fate most unworthy of its great + merit, and which could only have occurred by the most astonishing + forgetfulness on my part. I make you ten thousand apologies, and + assure you the loss is mine; for since reading the piece, I beg to + have the honour of presenting it at the Gaieté Theatre. You have + written a play which must command success; for I cannot understand + it, nor can the public, and I presume no more can you. All you have + to do, therefore, is to have it presented, and then sit down and wait + for the critics to explain the play to you as to the rest of the + world. Each one is bound to give a different explanation; they will + get to quarrelling, and your fortune will be made. It is essential, + in the drama of to-day, to be complex; and when you are so complex + that nobody, from the author down, knows what the devil a play is + about, or what problems you are proving or disproving, you will be + placed upon the same pinnacle with Ibsen, Maaterlinck, and the rest of + the Dutch Shakspeares. Ibsen or a skirt dance is what goes nowadays. + There is a slight tendency to clearness in your style, which must be + remedied if you wish to be a really great modern dramatist. And your + play is not really vicious enough: the wife merely gives her husband + an opiate while she escapes with her lover, instead of being driven by + an imperative fate to give him about a quart of corrosive sublimate. + But these are minor faults in a work of great villany, obscurity, and + prolixity, which I hope to have the privilege of presenting. + + Yours truly, + M. SAVARY, + _Manager of the Gaieté Theatre_. + +Fontaine capered about gleefully, while Marsac read this letter, +and then handed him another note which seemed to give him almost +equal pleasure. It was from a picture-dealer, and briefly announced +that an offer of a thousand francs had been made for “A Rough Sea,” +and he hesitated about taking it: there was a price marked on the +picture,--fifty something; it couldn’t be fifty francs! + +“But it was fifty francs, all the same,” cried Marsac; “and a thousand +francs! Good heavens! We shall be as rich as the Rothschilds, and we +shall be able to get away from these quarters and that dreadful woman +downstairs, and I shall marry you to Claire Duval!” + +Fontaine’s reply to this was humming a little song with a refrain, +“Claire, I love thee!” which presently made him sigh and look very +gloomy. Marsac, who knew what turn his thoughts were taking, said +slyly,-- + +“I met old Duval to-day.” + +Fontaine jumped as if he had been shot. “And what did he say? How is +Claire? When are you going to let me out of this infernal confinement, +so I can go to see the darling?” + +“Fie! fie! and you an engaged man,” cried Marsac; at which Fontaine +groaned and tore his hair. “But,” continued Marsac, “I have some good +news for you. Old Duval has read all the accounts of Uncle Maurice, and +has the most childlike faith in him; and I declare, Auguste, I begin to +believe in the old fellow myself. Anyhow, Monsieur Duval talked with me +a whole hour this afternoon, and you may depend upon it I stuffed him; +and the result is--now, don’t go crazy--that he more than hinted at a +match between you and Claire.” + +Fontaine fell on the sofa in an ecstasy, murmuring, “Dear, darling +Claire!” + +“And he is coming to see you very soon, to congratulate you. I told +him you were going nowhere on account of your recent bereavement; +and, listen to this! The old fellow wants to oblige you; and as I +mentioned, by way of corroborative testimony, that you were looking +round for a country-seat, he said he would sell you a villa he has +at Melun for ninety thousand francs. Now, I know that Maurepas, our +editor-in-chief, is wild for that villa; and I have reason to think he +will give a hundred and forty thousand francs for it. Do you see?” + +“Yes,” said Fontaine. “I buy it for ninety thousand, and sell it for a +hundred and forty thousand. But will it work?” + +“Not if you jump down old Duval’s throat when he offers it to you.” + +“I sha’n’t be able to prevent it.” + +“Then you will be unworthy of your Uncle Maurice, and I shall be sorry +to have provided you with such a relative.” + +A sound was heard outside. Marsac listened intently, thinking it to be +his two friends of the ballet; but it proved not. + +“I wonder, as much afraid as you are of women,” said Fontaine, “that +you should have had the courage to ask those two poor creatures here +even for the pleasure of doing a kind action,--for nothing gives you +so much pleasure as that.” + +“Pooh!” replied Marsac. “It is not women I fear, it is matrimony; and I +show my regard for the sex by remaining a bachelor. I feel that by not +marrying I shall secure one woman, at least, from eternal misery.” + +[Illustration] + +Again there was a noise outside the door; and this time it was the two +ballet-girls,--Mademoiselle Marie and Mademoiselle Louise, as they +introduced themselves. Marsac received them with as much kindness and +respect as if they had been banker’s daughters; and as for the girls +themselves, they were tawdry yet shabby, and extraordinarily painted +and bedizened. But the divinity of woman-hood was not extinguished in +them, and modesty itself would not have been abashed in the presence of +the four assembled in the garret of No. 17 Rue Montignal. + +Mademoiselle Marie and Mademoiselle Louise wished to be extremely +elegant in the company in which they found themselves; but it must +be admitted that they laughed rather loud, and talked excessively. +However, their account of the way in which they slipped past the +entresol was very amusing, and the two young men roared with laughter; +and then the fun began. But at the very moment that two corks flew out +with a loud report, the door came open with a bang, and Madame Schmid +stalked in. + +[Illustration] + +Not Banquo’s ghost made a greater sensation at a party than this stout +Alsatian. Fontaine, following his usual tactics, ran behind the screen. +Madame Schmid, with one rapid glance at the table and the champagne, +uttered but one word, “Thieves!” and made a dash for Fontaine, whom she +collared and dragged out. + +“Oh, you pretty boy,” she screamed, “this is your poverty,--champagne +and oysters and giving parties, when you can’t pay your wash-bill! I +used to feel sorry for you when you were so poor; but now I know you +are rolling in money, with twenty million francs left you in America, +and owing a poor woman two hundred francs for washing,--that is, you +and that slick-tongued Marsac yonder!” + +Marsac was not “yonder,” but directly behind Madame Schmid, and holding +a big tumbler of champagne in one hand, while with the other he deftly +seized her round the waist, and began pouring the champagne down her +throat. At the same time he was talking her down in vigorous tones, +shouting,-- + +“My dear girl, you really oughtn’t to come here. It will ruin our +reputations to have a handsome young thing like you found in our +apartment.” + +Madame Schmid, sputtering, protesting, but obliged to drink the +champagne, willy-nilly, was still able to make a good deal of noise. +“Oh, you hypocrite! you can’t honeyfuggle me--” Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle, +the champagne flowed down her throat. + +“Honeyfuggle _you_? Oh, you bewitching creature, _you_ honeyfuggle +_me_! Another glass, Fontaine.” + +Another tumbler followed the first, Madame Schmid trying to say, “Stop +hugging me, you impudent--” + +The young ladies enjoyed this excessively; and before the second glass +was wholly disposed of, Madame Schmid was struggling with the emotions +produced by the champagne, Marsac’s flattery, and wrath at her unpaid +bill, but being a thrifty Alsatian, the last was by no means forgotten. +Suddenly, amid all the laughing, choking, joking, and commotion, a +voice was heard calling at the foot of the stairs,-- + +“Monsieur Marsac! Monsieur Fontaine! open the door and help me up +these confounded narrow stairs! I am not built for such Alpine work as +this.” + +“Great heavens! it is old Duval!” exclaimed Fontaine, who had dropped +limp into a chair at the first sound of this voice. + +“Go and keep him below for a moment,” said Marsac; and with wonderful +quickness he hustled the two girls, nothing loath, into the closet, +where they willingly shut the door, tittering at their own predicament. +It was something else, though, to get rid of Madame Schmid. Marsac had +almost to drag her to the corridor door, she fighting like a tiger, +and Marsac assuring her that it would forever destroy them should a +young and handsome woman like her be found in their apartment. Barely +was she shoved out, and scarcely had Marsac time to seat himself in +a meditative attitude with a book, when Fontaine, with old Duval, +entered; and while greeting him, Marsac could hear Madame Schmid +prancing up and down the corridor in her wrath. + +Monsieur Duval, broad, rubicund, benevolent, conceited, and with the +true auriferous air which belongs to the vulgar rich, congratulated +Fontaine on his accession of fortune. Fontaine received this modestly, +while Marsac eulogised Uncle Maurice and pointed out the goodness +indicated in every feature of the portrait hanging on the wall. + +“Yes, yes,” said Monsieur Duval, “you have had a great stroke of luck, +young man; and I hope you will be worthy of it.” + +To which Fontaine replied that he hoped to prove himself entirely +worthy of his Uncle Maurice’s goodness. + +“And now,” cried Monsieur Duval, swelling out his waistcoat, “I must +tell you that I have other objects in calling to see you to-night, +besides congratulating you on your good fortune. One is, to sell you +a piece of property at Melun; and the other is to ask you both to +dine with me at my Passy villa very soon. I wish you to meet my niece +Delphine, who has lately come to live with my daughter and me. Would +to-morrow suit?” + +“Perfectly,” cried Fontaine, eagerly, but was checked by Marsac with a +look. + +“I think you have the poorest memory I ever saw,” said Marsac, +severely, to Fontaine. “Have you forgotten that to-morrow we dine with +the Prince, and next day with the Marshal, the day after with the +Archbishop?” + +Duval, a little staggered by these magnificent names, remarked, “I +thought you told me to-day that Monsieur Fontaine was not going into +society on account of his mourning?” + +“So he is not,” coolly responded Marsac. “These are merely little +family affairs with people we have always known.” + +This did not make old Duval any the less anxious to have them, and +he named a day the next week, which Marsac and Fontaine, after an +elaborate consultation of their notebooks, finally found they could +accept. + +[Illustration] + +“And now about the villa,” said the old brewer, standing with his feet +wide apart and his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets. “It’s a very pretty +place at Melun; my daughter is very fond of it; and if you are looking +for a country place, Monsieur Fontaine, you could not do better than +take it, at ninety thousand francs.” + +Fontaine, remembering Marsac’s injunction not to be too eager, hummed +and ha’d a little for effect. He was deeply indebted to Monsieur Duval +for his offer; ninety thousand was a mere bagatelle, etc. Old Duval +persisted, and his motive was ridiculously clear; every other word was, +“My daughter is fond of the Melun place,”--“My daughter could scarcely +be persuaded to leave it even for our finer house at Passy.” + +Marsac urged the apparently unwilling Fontaine to accept the offer, +mentioning several countesses, duchesses, and princesses of their +acquaintance who thought about buying places at Melun. At every mention +of a title, the old brewer rose to the bait, and was a perfectly happy +man when Fontaine agreed to take the place at ninety thousand, and +expressed his gratitude to Monsieur Duval for favouring him with the +purchase. + +The old man then got on the subject of his daughter, varied with +digressions on his niece Delphine, which seemed to amuse him very much. +“A fine, handsome girl she is, but the ‘new woman’ with a vengeance. +Believes in a woman’s having a mission, and all that, and is as deadly +opposed to matrimony as our friend Marsac,”--at which Monsieur Duval +cackled and chuckled with great enjoyment for some time. “By the way,” +he continued, “I expect her and my daughter to call for me on their way +from a dinner, and they will be here before long. Monsieur Fontaine, +will you oblige me by telling the porter to direct them to wait awhile +in case I should not be quite ready to go?” + +Monsieur Duval had an object in getting Fontaine out of the way, for +the moment the door closed upon him, he drew his chair up to Marsac’s, +and began very seriously, and mopping his forehead in his anxiety: “You +know, Monsieur Marsac, I have always thought extremely well of Monsieur +Fontaine; and now that he has come into a snug fortune, I should not +mind if he--if my daughter--” Here Monsieur Duval winked, and Marsac +grinned appreciatively. + +“I understand perfectly,” answered Marsac. + +“About ten millions, I hear,” remarked Monsieur Duval, in a whisper. + +“Oh, no, no!” replied Marsac, deprecatingly. “That is a gross +exaggeration. I give you my word, Monsieur Duval, it is nothing like +that. I know more about the matter than anybody except Fontaine, and I +assure you that it is but two millions.” + +“And how do you think Monsieur Fontaine feels toward my daughter?” + +Marsac knitted his brows thoughtfully. “I really don’t know,” he said +at last; “I have never heard Fontaine mention Mademoiselle Claire +except in general terms; but I know she is a very charming girl, and +any man might be glad and proud to have her. But, Monsieur Duval,” said +Marsac, confidentially, “you have no idea how the poor fellow has been +persecuted with propositions of the sort since his Uncle Maurice’s +death. At the club the dukes and marquises are sometimes four deep +around him, all with an eye on having him for a son-in-law; and as for +the widows, the poor fellow has had to insure his life against their +eating him up.” + +This whetted old Duval’s desire considerably. Marsac, seeing this, kept +on. + +“Now, here is a letter from the Prince de Landais,” taking up Landais’s +bill,--“I assure you, neither of us knows the man except in a business +way--and here he writes, not only wanting Fontaine to marry his +daughter, but actually asking for money in advance,--about six hundred +and seventy-five francs,--and he takes the tone of a person already +entitled to it!” + +“A wretched, aristocratic pauper!” cried old Duval, indignantly. +“At least, the man who marries my Claire will not have a worthless +father-in-law, like this Prince de Landais, to prey upon him!” + +“And here is a letter from Madame Schmid, or rather the Baroness +Schmid,”--Marsac made this addition, seeing how quickly Monsieur Duval +had jumped at every title he had named. “She is very particular about +her title, because she has just got one. This woman is a great swell, +but a rude, coarse creature, old enough to be Fontaine’s mother, and +was once a washerwoman, I am told. By the way,”--here Marsac put his +mouth to old Duval’s ear,--“she comes to this apartment in pursuit of +him! He keeps out of her way, refuses to answer her letters, and then +she pursues him here! She was in this room when you were announced +below, and it was with the greatest difficulty we got her out. She is +in the corridor still, I believe.” + +Marsac rose, and taking the old brewer by the hand, they tipped to the +corridor door. Monsieur Duval knelt down, and through the keyhole saw +Madame Schmid rampaging up and down the corridor like a caged lioness. + +[Illustration] + +“Great heavens!” whispered old Duval, “no one can blame Monsieur +Fontaine from running away from such a woman!” + +Scarcely were the words out of his mouth, when, Madame Schmid making +a lunge at the door, it flew open, knocking Monsieur Duval sprawling. +Madame Schmid dashed in, walking over the prostrate Monsieur Duval as +if he had been a frog, and began to harangue Marsac violently, swinging +her arms about like a Dutch windmill. + +“Oh, you deceiver! I know it isn’t worth while to do anything with +Monsieur Fontaine,--you have him under your thumb; but I will bring +you both to terms, that I promise you. And where has Monsieur Fontaine +gone? You have spirited him out of the way,--I know it; you do it every +time I come!” + +Marsac’s only reply was to catch her round the waist, and say +soothingly, as he dragged her back to the door, “My dear girl, you will +certainly ruin Fontaine’s reputation if you act in this manner.” + +“I don’t care a fig for my reputation,” bawled Madame Schmid,--“it is +money I am after; and money I mean to have, out of Monsieur Fontaine!” + +Marsac managed to get her outside the door, which he took the +precaution to lock behind her, and said as he stepped back into the +room, “That’s a sample of what poor Fontaine has had to put up with +since he came into his money. And there is another one--a widow--who is +worse than all.” + +“Oh, Jupiter!” was Monsieur Duval’s exclamation, as he picked himself +up off the floor, and dusted his knees and elbows. + +“A very handsome woman, a comtesse,--the Comtesse de Fleury. She +got a written promise out of Fontaine, in a moment of weakness--you +understand?” + +“Yes--a widow and a moment of weakness! I understand,” said the old +brewer, feelingly. + +“It isn’t of the slightest legal value, though, as I can testify that +it was obtained under duress; and Fontaine would give half he is worth +to get rid of her.” + +As Marsac said this about the written agreement, he could not help +wishing, with all his heart, that he had it that moment in his +possession. + +Monsieur Duval reflected seriously for some minutes before speaking. +“I acknowledge to you,” he said, “that I regard a widow in an affair +of this sort as a person to be reckoned with; and it is I who tell +you so, and I have a head on my shoulders. Now, I hear you have great +influence with Monsieur Fontaine--” + +“Not a particle,” Marsac protested vigorously. + +“Nonsense! You are trying to fool me! But I will say this to you. +Taking into account my daughter’s fancy for your friend Fontaine, and +his good character and his good birth and his fortune, if you can bring +about an--arrangement--you understand--it will be for the happiness of +the young people.” + +“I would do anything for Fontaine’s happiness,” said Marsac. + +“Then, couldn’t you--ahem--the widow--Now, you are yourself a very +attractive fellow. Perhaps the widow might make an exchange?” + +“Take me, do you mean? My dear sir, I would do anything on earth for +Fontaine but one; and that is, to get married.” + +“Ha! ha! That’s the way Delphine talks.” + +“I haven’t the remotest idea how to make an offer. It would be like a +horse trying to play the fiddle.” + +“Oh, well, you need not mind about that, with a widow. She will do the +business for you.” + +“She shall not have a chance, if I can help it--that is,” stammered +Marsac, as he recollected that Madame Fleury had already proposed to +him. “To be very confidential, this particular widow has--er--before +entangling Fontaine--in an interview with me--” Marsac stopped, +blushing; and Monsieur Duval, closing one eye, playfully poked him in +the ribs. + +[Illustration] + +“My dear young friend,” said he, with an air of superior wisdom, +“she did not want you very much, else she would have had you. Even +I have had to use all my astuteness to keep from being gobbled up by +widows. Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty where widows are +concerned. But if you won’t listen to my proposition in that respect, +I am sure you will to one upon another subject. I intend, next month, +reorganising my breweries into a stock company, and I have positive +assurances that the shares will command a premium. If you and your +friend Fontaine can raise ten thousand francs within the next week, I +can let you in on the ground floor; and within three weeks you will +make fifty thousand francs each.” + +“You shall have my cheque to-morrow morning,” promptly answered Marsac, +who had not a sou to his credit or in hand. + +Old Duval then began to examine the room. The supper-table seemed to +strike him favourably, but the room did not. “It seems to me,” he +said, “that--ahem--your friend might have better quarters. This is +pretty high up.” + +“Yes,” answered Marsac, “but we remain here on account of the widow, +the Comtesse de Fleury; and our surroundings are more valuable than you +think, perhaps. We have been collectors in our time, I assure you. Do +you see that sofa?” + +“Yes,” said Monsieur Duval, punching the poor old sofa; “but it’s +moth-eaten. It ought to be mended here.” + +“It would be sacrilege to touch that sofa. It belonged to Peter the +Great. He made that hole in it. I forget exactly what we paid for it, +but it is insured for forty thousand francs.” + +Monsieur Duval’s mouth came wide open with surprise. + +“And this mirror,” kept on Marsac, pursuing his advantage. “It is +cracked--but by whom? By Madame Pompadour. One day, the King was very +disobliging to her, and she flew into a passion. She picked up a--” +Here Marsac halted, but his eye travelling round the room fell on their +rusty bellows; he resumed glibly: “She picked up a pair of bellows, and +threw them at the King. His Majesty dodged, and smash went the bellows +against the mirror,--and here are the veritable bellows. The mirror and +bellows are worth, together, about twenty-five thousand francs.” + +Old Duval examined them with the highest respect. “I see,” said he, +“they are immensely valuable.” + +“And do you see this violin?” Marsac handed the old brewer the violin. + +“Ah!” cried Monsieur Duval, delighted to show he knew something about +violins, “a Stradivarius, perhaps?” + +“My dear sir,” said Marsac, in a tone of pity, “that violin was old +when Stradivarius was young. It is the identical instrument that Nero +fiddled on when Rome was burning!” + +This reduced Monsieur Duval to an amazed silence, during which they +heard laughter and voices on the stairs, and the door opened, admitting +Fontaine and two remarkably pretty girls. + +[Illustration] + +“Dear papa!” cried one of them, “just as we got to the door the wheel +came off the carriage, and the coachman had to go to a stable after +another carriage--and Monsieur Fontaine brought us up here.” + +“Quite right,” replied Monsieur Duval, looking fondly at his daughter. +“You know Monsieur Marsac; but I must present him to _you_, Delphine. +Oh, you two should get on famously,--you are both such haters of +marriage!” + +The instant Marsac’s eyes lighted on Delphine, he felt a singular +sensation. She was slight and tall, with a patrician beauty of face +and figure, and an air of self-possession second only to Madame +Fleury’s. Delphine, too, felt an instant attraction toward Marsac, with +his bright eyes, his alert look of intelligence, and his gentlemanly +figure. This perception of Marsac’s charm caused her to say lightly, +yet with a faint blush,-- + +“I am not exactly a hater of marriage. I only regard it as a primitive +and somewhat unintelligent arrangement.” + +The effect of these few words from the lips of a woman he had seen but +sixty seconds, produced a strange effect on Marsac. He felt a slight +chill of disappointment; but he answered in his old strain, “Just what +I have often longed to say, Mademoiselle, but never had the courage.” + +“But I have,” remarked Delphine, showing her beautiful teeth in +a smile. “Women, you know, have much more real courage than men. +Especially is this true in times of great calamity.” + +“Yes, indeed,” said Marsac, with energy. “I have often noticed, at +the wedding ceremony, the bride is always much more composed than the +groom.” + +Being launched into the discussion, Delphine’s next blow at the +masculine sex was this: “One phase of the question has frequently +occurred to me. Does the higher education unfit men for marriage?” + +Marsac shook his head, unable to find an answer to this proposition, +which he frankly acknowledged had never before presented itself to him. + +Fontaine and Claire had listened to this in silence, but the furtive +looks exchanged between them showed a silent protest against it, and +also a very deep interest in each other. Old Duval laughed at the +discussion between Marsac and Delphine, and then they gathered round +the table to have a glass of champagne while waiting for the carriage. +Both the young men urged Monsieur Duval and the young ladies to +partake of what Marsac called their frugal supper, and Monsieur Duval +chuckled at the idea of such frugality, while declining it. + +[Illustration] + +The young people talked gaily together while sipping champagne, and +blessed the coachman for taking so long to bring another carriage. +Marsac and Delphine seemed to find it impossible to get away from the +question of marriage, albeit they tried to outdo each other in railing +at it. Delphine declared that a woman should keep her eyes open at +the moment of marrying even the best of men, and Marsac recommended +that she should keep her eyes half shut ever afterward. Claire charmed +Fontaine by saying sweetly, after this,-- + +“I should scorn to watch the man I married. I should want to have every +confidence in him.” + +“Then, Mademoiselle, you would need to kill him immediately after the +ceremony,” counselled Marsac. + +Then the conversation turned on Uncle Maurice. Marsac and Fontaine +had a number of ready-made anecdotes respecting the old man and his +honourable career in New York, which they told with gravity and +effect. Marsac declared that he felt like going in mourning himself, +so grateful was he for what Uncle Maurice had done for Fontaine; +while Fontaine, with perfect truth, said that he thought more of his +Uncle Maurice than of any relative he had in the world. Every moment +passed in one another’s society drew these four young hearts closer +together,--Fontaine and Claire willingly, and Marsac and Delphine +loudly protesting and abusing the emotions which, just born in their +hearts, yet grew like Jonah’s gourd. + +At last, however, this accidental half-hour--which brought so much +happiness to Fontaine and Claire, and turned the world topsy-turvy for +Marsac and Delphine--came to an end. The carriage was reported, the +Duval party rose to go, after the two young men had reiterated their +promise to dine on the Saturday at Passy, old Duval saying,-- + +“Of course, it is most kind of you to come to us, with all your +engagements with marshals and dukes and princes; but,” with a +significant look at Marsac, “some of those titled people you want to +keep at long range.” + +“Especially the Prince de Landais and the Baroness Schmid,” boldly +responded Marsac. + +The door was open, and the Duvals were going out after saying good-bye +for the tenth time, when the two young men saw coming up the stairs the +compact figure and shrewd face of Maurepas, their editor-in-chief. He +met old Duval face to face on the landing. + +“Delighted to see you, Monsieur Duval,” cried Maurepas. “I was going to +see you to-morrow; but if you will pardon a busy man for introducing +business, just let me ask you to give me the refusal of that villa you +have at Melun until I can get to see you.” + +“Sorry to disappoint you, but it is the day after the ball. I have just +in effect sold it to Monsieur Fontaine,” replied Monsieur Duval, going +on downstairs. + +Maurepas entered the room with the air of a chagrined man, and throwing +down his hat, said crossly,-- + +“So, Fontaine, that newspaper story is true, and you have come into a +great fortune?” + +“Not so very great,” answered Fontaine, modestly,--“only a couple of +million francs.” + +“Oh, Lord!” sniffed Maurepas, “how our ideas have expanded! Well, I am +glad your old uncle cut up so handsomely.” + +“Monsieur Maurepas,” said Marsac, severely, “I beg you will at least +respect Fontaine’s mourning attire. It is exceedingly painful to us to +have Monsieur Maurice Fontaine’s death alluded to in that flippant and +heartless manner.” + +Monsieur Maurepas sniffed louder than ever, but did not pursue the +objectionable subject. “Well,” he said, “I suppose Fontaine will give +up journalism now?” + +“I don’t know,” responded Fontaine, dubiously; “I always liked my +profession.” + +“In that case,” replied Maurepas, “I will make you an offer. I know +what you can do.” + +Fontaine could not forbear remarking, “You used to say I couldn’t do +anything!” + +“My dear fellow,” answered Maurepas, coolly, “that was before you were +talked about. Now, as the most talked-about young man in Paris, your +name is worth something to a newspaper, even if your ideas are not. I +will make you this proposition. If you will give ‘La Lune’ three signed +articles a week, of a thousand words each, I will give you five hundred +francs a week. I make but one stipulation,--your name must be signed to +them, but Marsac must write them.” + +Fontaine hesitated for a moment, but Marsac answered for him: “Done!” + +“And another thing. There is to be a great journalists’ dinner given +on the 17th, and I want you, when called upon, to make a speech in the +name of the younger members of the staff of ‘La Lune.’” + +“I couldn’t! I wouldn’t! I never made a speech in my life.” + +“But you could. What’s the matter with Marsac composing the speech, and +your delivering it?” + +“None in the world,” answered Marsac, laughing. “So you can put him +down for the 17th.” + +“And now about the Melun villa,” continued Maurepas, after making a +memorandum in his note-book. “I dare not go home to my wife without the +promise of that place. I told her I would see Monsieur Duval to-day, +but I forgot it. I don’t know what you paid for it, but I will give you +a hundred thousand francs for it.” + +The prospect of making a clear ten thousand francs delighted Fontaine +so that he could not speak for a moment,--when, catching Marsac’s eye +fixed upon him, he understood the signal, and gave an evasive answer, +which Maurepas pooh-poohed. Marsac then interfered. + +“The fact is,” he said, with his most candid manner, “I am against you +there, Monsieur Maurepas. I want Fontaine to keep the villa. He wants +to buy a great hotel on the Avenue de l’Alma for seven hundred and +fifty thousand francs. I tell him it is much too expensive for him, and +I don’t think his Uncle Maurice would have approved of it.” + +Fontaine had never heard of the Avenue de l’Alma house, but he assented +promptly. Maurepas, however, being intensely anxious for the villa, +cut short the discussion about the Avenue de l’Alma house by offering +one hundred and ten thousand francs for the villa. Fontaine, dying +to accept, glanced at Marsac, who began to whistle softly. Maurepas, +growing more eager, jumped his bid immediately to one hundred and +twenty thousand francs. Fontaine thought Marsac crazy, when he rose, +buttoned his coat, and said,-- + +“Pray excuse us, Monsieur Maurepas. We have an engagement at a little +supper to-night at the Archbishop’s,--quite an informal little affair.” + +[Illustration] + +“A hundred and thirty thousand francs!” cried Maurepas. “I am a great +fool; but--” + +Marsac handed Fontaine’s crape-covered hat to him. + +“A hundred and forty thousand for the villa, and may the devil take +it!” said Maurepas, in desperation. + +“No!” joyfully shouted Fontaine, who saw acquiescence in Marsac’s eye. +“I’ll take it!” + +“Make one condition, my dear fellow,” said Marsac, earnestly, to +Fontaine. “If you will be such a fool as to sell the villa, make +Monsieur Maurepas promise you not to mention the price to Monsieur +Duval. The old gentleman thought he was selling it to you for a mere +song, and he will never forgive you if he finds out you re-sold it +immediately at so small an advance.” + +“Yes, yes,” said Fontaine; and Maurepas, who was making out a little +memorandum of the transaction, added readily,-- + +“Yes, yes. I will not mention it.” + +“Stop,” cried Marsac. “It would be as well to tell Monsieur Duval that +Fontaine got a large advance on it. That will reconcile old Duval to +his selling it.” + +“I’ll tell the old fellow anything you like. Only sign this little +memorandum, Fontaine, and you can pass the papers over directly to me +as soon as you get them. And if you will take a cheque to bind the +bargain--” + +Fontaine could scarcely refrain from embracing the editor on the spot, +but obeying a telegraphic signal from Marsac, he merely said, “If it +is any inconvenience to you--” + +“It is not the slightest; and it will please my wife to know it is +settled,” answered Maurepas, taking out a cheque-book and rapidly +writing a cheque for twenty thousand francs. + +[Illustration] + +In ten minutes the informal but binding agreement was made and signed, +and Maurepas took his departure. + +Fontaine and Marsac, left alone, sat looking intently at each other, +simply stunned by their good fortune. Marsac, finding words unable +to express his rapture, turned a double handspring over the sofa, +when Fontaine, rushing up to him, hugged and kissed him violently. +After this, they stood grasping each other for five minutes in silent +rapture, when Marsac’s countenance, losing its blissful expression, +became suddenly grave. + +“Fontaine, this is glorious; but tell me one thing. What is that +singular sensation which I felt the instant my eyes rested on Delphine? +I feel it now. It is most peculiar and penetrating, and, although +agitating, not unpleasant.” + +“Love, you idiot!” + +“You alarm me,” said Marsac, anxiously. “Tell me it is something +less dangerous, -- locomotor ataxia or paresis: I have been told the +symptoms are somewhat alike.” + +“I tell you that you are in love with Delphine, just as I am in love +with my sweet Claire; and you need not fight and struggle against it. +Love is lord of all. No man has lived until he has loved.” + +“But is there no way out of love? A course of Plato and a low diet--” + +“Not a particle of good!” + +Marsac relapsed into gloom, until Fontaine, whacking him on the back, +cried exultingly,-- + +“Think, Marsac, twenty thousand francs in hand; thirty thousand more +coming; forty thousand francs profit each from the brewery shares we +can now buy; a thousand francs for a picture; a play placed; clothes +enough for two years,--hurrah for Uncle Maurice!” + +“Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! for Uncle Maurice!” shouted Marsac, capering +wildly about. + +Fontaine ran and opened the closet door to let out the two +ballet-girls, who had gone to sleep. He pulled them out, and began +dancing gaily with them; while Marsac, finding Madame Schmid at the +keyhole listening, dragged her in out of the corridor, and seizing her +round the waist, began to waltz furiously, both of them hurrahing for +Uncle Maurice at the top of their lungs, and singing doggerel verses +made up as they danced, and all ending with a joyous refrain of,-- + +“Houp-là! for Uncle Maurice!” + +[Illustration] + + + + + Chapter III + + +The dinner at Passy resulted in several things. Fontaine and Claire +could no longer conceal their infatuation with each other, and a tacit +engagement ensued, to be announced as soon as Fontaine could free +himself wholly from Madame Fleury,--which meant, as soon as she gave up +the pursuit of him. + +[Illustration] + +The two friends had escaped from under the roof of 17 Rue Montignal +by the exercise of an ingenuity akin to that which enables men to dig +under castle walls, to steal past sentries, and to find their way +over prison gates. They secretly hired another lodging, and, to avoid +suspicion, made no move toward paying their rent to Madame Fleury, in +spite of their coming into ready money. This apparent absence of cash +led her to believe, more than ever, that the story of the rich uncle +was an invention of Marsac’s. They had little to move, except their new +clothes and Uncle Maurice’s portrait. For a week before their flight, +every day they came downstairs whistling, and wearing two and sometimes +three suits of clothes, which they shed, as a snake sheds his skin, at +their new lodgings. At last, in the dead of night, they crept softly +out of their apartment, leaving on the table a note addressed to Madame +Fleury, enclosing the full amount of their indebtedness; and stealing +downstairs,--Marsac with his violin case, and Fontaine with Uncle +Maurice’s portrait,--they gained the street, where they ran as if +Satan were after them. + +Madame Fleury’s chagrin next morning was excessive, particularly +when she read the note, in which Marsac thanked her ironically for +her hospitality to them. She had not the smallest clew to their +whereabouts, but she went to work quietly to find them out. Meanwhile, +Marsac and Fontaine, having her out of sight, were not disposed to +trouble themselves further about her; but old Duval naturally wished +his daughter to avoid any scandal which might arise over the affair, +and was very solicitous that Madame Fleury be settled with. “Let +sleeping dogs lie,” was Marsac’s motto; and he was not inclined to hunt +up Madame Fleury in order to get a formal release from her. + +Meanwhile, the catastrophe indicated at the very first meeting between +Marsac and Delphine had fallen out in the most violent manner. They +fell mutually in love, with a precipitance to which even Claire and +Fontaine’s ardour was not a patch. But although there was disaffection +in the citadel of both their hearts, pride and policy made a brave show +of defence when really each only waited the demand from the other to +surrender. Marsac dared not propose to Delphine that to secure himself +the charm of her society he enslave her in marriage. To ward off the +suspicions which might arise in her mind from the sly jokes and hints +of the two confessed lovers, he gibed at marriage more keenly than +ever. Delphine, who was not a whit behind Marsac in falling in love, +scorned to be outdone, and railed at love and marriage, quoted Plato +and Nordau, and made herself miserable in a manner truly feminine. + +Old Duval was bent on the match between his daughter and Fontaine,--the +more so, as Marsac informed him confidentially that Fontaine had two +more uncles in America, and an aged and infirm aunt, all of whom +intended to make him their heir, and each of whom was over eighty +years of age. + +The two young men were much at Passy, and the invitations elsewhere +which they had once been forced to invent now really existed. The +whole face of existence, indeed, was changed for them,--for Marsac +as for Fontaine. Fontaine had always thought Marsac the cleverest +fellow in the world, and he now ranked him with Napoleon and Alexander +the Great. The play had been produced, and was immensely successful; +the picture had been exhibited, and highly praised; while at the +journalists’ dinner, Marsac’s speech delivered by Fontaine had marked +Fontaine forever as a born after-dinner speaker and a man of _esprit_. +This last reputation was amply confirmed by the brilliant articles, +signed by Fontaine and written by Marsac, which sparkled three times +a week upon the pages of “La Lune.” In short, it appeared as if the +mere report of a fortune of two million francs was enough to produce +two million francs. But the real fact was that Marsac, hitherto an +unappreciated genius, had risen to the great occasion offered him, and +his success was not that of a charlatan. It was that of a man of parts, +accomplishments, and that large generosity which does a good thing and +troubles not that the world gives the credit to some one else. And as +everybody believed in the defunct Uncle Maurice, Fontaine and Marsac +actually seemed to be deceived by their own illusion, and would talk +quite gravely between themselves of Uncle Maurice,--his tastes, his +habits, and his appearance. As for the real Uncle Maurice, nothing +more had been heard of him, and the two young men easily persuaded +themselves that nothing would. In any event, they did not intend to +cross the bridge until they came to it; and some of the advantages +gained by the fictitious uncle were of so solid a nature that even if +Uncle Maurice turned up, he could not rob them of the entire fruits of +their scheme. + +One bright evening early in May, they had dined at Passy, and after +dinner sat, with the two girls and old Duval, on the terrace. The +evening was warm for the season, and coffee was served out of doors. +After a while Delphine, who carried a volume of Plato about with her as +her oriflamme of battle, asked Marsac to read something to them from +the great philosopher. This Marsac promptly agreed to, if Delphine +would hold a candle,--which would be necessary in the fading light. +As it brought Delphine’s golden head quite close to Marsac’s closely +cropped brown one, she consented willingly. Old Duval, who had but a +poor opinion of Plato, sauntered off to the other end of the terrace, +close by the hedge which overlooked the high-road. A table with +coffee, iced champagne, and cigars mitigated his solitude. Afar off +in the dark illumined by the wax candle which looked like a firefly, +Marsac read Plato aloud, with assent on his lips and contradiction in +his heart. Fontaine and Claire, exchanging laughing glances, varied +by an occasional tender pressure of the hands, half listened; while +Delphine, happy to be near Marsac, and smiling at him, yet cherished +bitterness against him in her heart for his professed disdain of love. + +[Illustration] + +Presently Monsieur Duval was heard calling, “Monsieur Marsac!” Marsac, +to whom Plato had become well-nigh intolerable, laid the book down with +a vicious slam, and walked to the other end of the terrace, where they +were almost out of sight and hearing. + +“Come,” said the old man, good-humouredly, “haven’t you had enough of +that old fool Plato?” + +“My dear Monsieur Duval, you horrify me, you pain me!” responded +Marsac, in a shocked voice. “Plato--the divine Plato--may go to the +devil,” was his inward conclusion. + +“Well, well,” continued Monsieur Duval, “we won’t say anything more +on the subject, since you and Delphine are so touchy about it. Take a +glass of champagne,--you like it?” + +“I am not afraid of it,” said Marsac, pouring out a glass. + +Monsieur Duval sighed, fidgeted, and then burst out with, “Do you know, +I am afraid--I am afraid I have been to blame in letting my daughter +and Monsieur Fontaine see so much of each other, while matters are +still so uncertain about the Comtesse de Fleury; for I see the two +young people are deeply in love with each other. Now,” he continued, +with a smile, “there is no such danger for you and Delphine, for I +believe you talk about nothing except the folly of loving and being +loved.” + +“True,” responded Marsac, gloomily, and trying to drown in champagne +the resentment he felt at the scurvy trick which fate had played him. + +“Monsieur Fontaine is a very gifted young fellow,” said Monsieur Duval. + +“He is,” replied Marsac, with enthusiasm. + +“That picture he painted--” + +“Admirable!” + +“I have no objections to a man’s knowing something about art, if he +can sell his pictures,” said Monsieur Duval, with cautious praise. +“There was--ahem--Michael Angelo, for example--” + +“Michael Angelo was a devil of a fellow with a brush and a paint-pot; +but the man who painted Fontaine’s picture wasn’t far behind him.” + +“And that play?” + +“Literally, a screaming success. The women are carried out in hysterics +at every performance. One of them, we hoped, would die from excitement. +It would have been worth five thousand francs’ advertising. But, +unfortunately, she recovered just when our prospects seemed brightest.” + +“And the speech at the journalists’ dinner--” + +“The greatest effort of my--I mean, of Fontaine’s life.” + +“Those signed articles are making a sensation.” + +“Ah, yes; many a night have I sat up writing--that is, reading those +articles. Depend upon it, the things that go under Fontaine’s name are +very remarkable.” + +At that moment a footman approached, and handed Marsac a card, saying, +“The lady asked for Monsieur Fontaine.” + +Marsac was about to hand the card back, when he happened to see on it +“Madame Fleury.” + +“Stop!” he cried instantly; “give me a moment to think. Monsieur Duval, +here is the Comtesse de Fleury come after Fontaine! She must not see +him!” + +Monsieur Duval jumped up, flurried, and anxious to be out of the way +at the coming scene. “Good heavens! Let me get away. I must keep my +poor child out of sight. And Fontaine--” Monsieur Duval waddled off, +making remarkably good time for a gentleman of his years, but returned +to say impressively, “Take care she doesn’t bamboozle you. You need +two pairs of eyes to watch, and four legs to run away, where a widow is +concerned;” and then he disappeared. + +“Show the lady here,” said Marsac, with assumed calmness, and at the +same time taking another glass of champagne to steady his nerves. + +In a minute or two he saw Madame Fleury’s imposing figure advancing +along the gravelled walk, and then she had mounted the terrace steps +and was gliding over the velvet turf toward him. As usual, she was +perfectly well dressed. Her bonnet was set on her head with the grace +of a coronet. In one hand she carried a parasol, and in the other a +silver card-case. Marsac advanced politely to meet her, and the two +exchanged bows, as pugilists shake hands on entering the ring. + +Madame Fleury lost no time in proceeding to business. “Monsieur Marsac, +I have been at a great deal of trouble to find you; but, as you see, +I have succeeded. I wish to see Monsieur Fontaine in regard to the +engagement between us.” + +“Is there an engagement between you?” asked Marsac, innocently. “Of +what nature, may I ask?” + +Madame Fleury smiled scornfully at Marsac’s pretended ignorance. “If it +be true that he has come into a fortune, then I am the more determined +that our contract shall be fulfilled on the 15th of this month. I +acknowledge, though, that I have not yet been able to persuade myself +fully of this old uncle’s death, or even of his previous existence, +because _you_ have had too much to do with the affair.” + +“This, indeed, is humiliating,” said Marsac, with an offended air. +“But, Madame, uncle or no uncle, let me beg of you to give up this +pursuit of Fontaine. He loves another woman,--perhaps not so beautiful +or attractive as you, but still he loves her. I can invent some +plausible story to account for your coming here. I will introduce +Monsieur Duval to you; he will, I guarantee, offer to send you back to +Paris in a superb victoria.” + +“No, I thank you.” + +“In a brougham, then. The brougham is very handsome. I will also +introduce you as the Comtesse de Fleury--think of that!--coming from +Paris as Madame Fleury in a cab, returning as the Comtesse de Fleury in +a splendid private carriage!” + +Madame Fleury only laughed a little at this. “I know what your offers +to serve me mean, and also how much good-will you owe me.” + +“Do you doubt, Madame, that I have the very highest regard for you? Try +me. There is, just behind the house, a well sixty feet deep, and the +water of an icy coldness. Just you jump in, and see how quickly I will +jump in after you to save you.” + +Madame Fleury laughed more than ever as she declined this, and said +banteringly, “How could I believe you, considering that when I made +you an offer you refused me?” + +“Oh, Madame Fleury!” cried Marsac, actually hanging his head, +“surely I said my affections were engaged--or--or I asked time for +consideration--or I was too young to marry--or something of the sort. +I did not put it in that brutally frank fashion in which you represent +me.” + +[Illustration] + +“Yes, you did,” replied Madame Fleury. “But I like your proposition +that I shall meet Monsieur Duval. I know a good deal about him and +his family, but I have never seen him, and this is an admirable +opportunity.” + +The world called Marsac a clever man, but at that moment he felt +himself to be the greatest lunkhead in existence. What had he mentioned +old Duval’s name for? And at that very moment the old brewer’s +curiosity having got the better of his cowardice, he was seen advancing +across the terrace. There was no help for it; and Marsac, with a very +bad grace, had to present him to the widow. + +Madame Fleury was a perfect mistress of the art of coquetry as applied +to elderly gentlemen. She turned her eyes upon Monsieur Duval with a +melting glance that would have put a younger man on his guard. Not so +Monsieur Duval. It had been a long time since a woman so young and +handsome had made eyes at him, and he relished it exceedingly. All his +precautions against widows were thrown to the four winds of heaven. +Marsac almost groaned aloud as he saw, in five minutes’ talk, the widow +sailing into the old fellow’s good graces. Monsieur Duval offered +Madame Fleury a glass of champagne; and when the two sat down together +on a rustic bench, Marsac was so overcome with chagrin at the chance +he had given his enemy that he turned his back and walked toward the +edge of the terrace. + +Madame Fleury improved her opportunity. She drew closer to Monsieur +Duval, and from tapping his hand gently with her card-case soon grew +to letting her hand rest on his, while she poured into his ears the +story of her alleged engagement to Fontaine. According to her account, +Fontaine had pursued her, and by his importunity had made her consent +to an engagement, which he now refused to fulfil. Her desire for a +settlement of the question was simply to avoid scandal; and she dwelt +so upon the impossibility of her feeling any affection for so young a +man as Fontaine, and the chance she sacrificed of meeting a man old +enough to please her, that old Duval began seriously to fear that his +own age--sixty-seven--was callow and immature. + +After fifteen minutes of this had gone on, Marsac turned round and +glanced at the pair. It was still light enough to see. Madame Fleury +had reached the weeping stage. Her left hand pressed a handkerchief to +her eyes, while Monsieur Duval patting her right was saying tenderly,-- + +“There, there, don’t cry.” + +[Illustration] + +“Ah, if one has a heart, one must suffer,” murmured Madame Fleury, with +a beautiful little sob, and pressing a lace-trimmed handkerchief to her +eyes. “And I have a heart too impulsive, a nature too unsophisticated.” + +“I see it, I know it,” was old Duval’s fervent answer. “It is that +charming simplicity, that inability to take care of your dear little +self, that wins upon me.” + +“I am so weak,” whispered Madame Fleury, squeezing his hand. “Pray, +forgive me. You are so good--I know you are so good.” + +“Yes, yes, I’ll forgive you,” Marsac heard old Duval answer, although +what he was forgiving her he could not have told to save his life; “and +it is a thousand shames that any man should cause that innocent little +heart of yours to ache. Now, wouldn’t it be better for all parties if +you and Fontaine could separate amicably? And then you might find some +other man that you could love.” Old Duval, at this, stuck his head +sentimentally on one side. + +“A mature man, Monsieur Duval,” said Madame Fleury, wiping her eyes. +“I have had enough of young men. It is impossible for me to feel a +passionate regard for any man under sixty-five, at the least.” + +At this, old Duval assumed a seraphic air, which fairly made Marsac, +who could see it all, perfectly ill with disgust. Nevertheless, +knowing that Madame Fleury and her victim both wished him out of the +way, he continued to stand his ground stoutly, walking up and down +and whistling loudly and contemptuously, as their voices sank to the +sentimental pitch. Presently he saw Madame Fleury take carefully out +of her card-case a folded slip of paper, which she read in a low voice +to the old brewer. Marsac’s heart jumped into his mouth at the thought +that it was the marriage contract she was reading. + +Monsieur Duval kept looking toward Marsac with the evident desire to +get rid of him. Presently he rose and walked over to where Marsac +stood, and began to whisper in an embarrassed manner,-- + +“I say, Monsieur Marsac--pray pardon me for asking--would +you--er--ah--be kind enough to tell me--excuse me for inquiring--” +Here the old fellow burst out explosively: “What the devil are you +sticking here for?” + +“Because,” answered Marsac, “I thought you would like the protection of +my presence, under the circumstances.” + +“Well--I don’t.” + +“And then, it occurred to me that you had once suggested I should +myself make an offer to Madame Fleury. The lady is here; also the moon, +nightingales, flowers, and other incentives to romance.” + +“I withdraw that suggestion, Monsieur Marsac.” + +“I have not asked to have it withdrawn, Monsieur Duval.” + +“O-o-o-h!” groaned old Duval. Then, suddenly, the absurdity of Marsac’s +making love to any woman overcame him, and he burst out, laughing: +“This tickles me under the fifth rib! Delphine must know it.” + +It was now Marsac’s turn to be chagrined. + +“My dear sir,” he cried, “I beg of you not to mention it to +Mademoiselle Delphine. It was a mere idle remark. As you have +frequently heard me say, my ideal of a woman is a Platonist. I would +not marry any other, and no Platonist would marry me; so you perceive +the utter baselessness of my language.” + +“I do,” answered old Duval, looking much relieved, “and I hope you’ll +stick to it. Now, I’ll return to that poor woman yonder;” which he +immediately proceeded to do. Within two minutes he said in a loud +voice, meant for Marsac to hear, “Come, Madame, let us look for +Fontaine in the garden.” + +The two walked off, round the corner of the terrace, in a direction +opposite to the garden. + +[Illustration] + +Marsac knew in an instant that Madame Fleury’s manœuvre meant a chance +to finish up old Duval in private, as a tigress drags her prey off +to the jungle to devour. Marsac then looked carefully around him, and +seeing that he was quite unobserved, he took from his pocket the copy +of Plato out of which he had been reading to Delphine, and giving the +book a vicious kick, sent it spinning to the other end of the terrace. +“Villain,” “scoundrel,” “dolt,” “rascal,” “idiot,” were a few of the +expletives that he hurled after the greatest of the Greeks. Then he +walked over to the corner of the terrace where the table was, as the +best point to command a view of the grounds, and seeing a champagne +bottle half emptied was about to drink the balance of the wine in order +to save it, when his eye suddenly fell upon a paper lying face upward +on the table. It was the contract between Fontaine and Madame Fleury. +Marsac could scarcely restrain a shout of joy. He seized it and put +it in his pocket; but the next moment he saw Madame Fleury crossing +swiftly toward him, and alone. + +“Pardon me,” she said in a voice that she tried unavailingly to make +calm. “I had a letter here a moment ago, in an envelope. I put the +envelope back in my card-case, and thought I had the letter in it, but +I have not. Did you see it on the ground anywhere about here?” + +“No, Madame,” answered Marsac, looking her steadily in the eye,--a gaze +which she as steadily returned. + +Madame Fleury began eagerly searching on the ground for the letter, +Marsac politely assisting, and lighting matches from time to time to +supply the fast-vanishing light. Marsac never had so hard a task in +his life as to keep his countenance straight while he fondled the +breast-pocket in which lay the document that Madame Fleury searched for +so eagerly. + +Madame Fleury grew more and more anxious as she failed to find the +paper. They were both tired with stooping, and presently sat down on +the ground, facing each other, and each steadily eying the other. + +[Illustration] + +“It is so vexatious to lose a letter,” said Madame Fleury. + +“Yes; one might lose a love-letter,” hazarded Marsac. + +“Not you, Monsieur Marsac,” replied Madame Fleury, sarcastically. + +“True; I am not a widow,” was Marsac’s response to this shot. + +Then they both began crawling round again, watching each other like +cats. An idea came into Marsac’s head which almost made him laugh +aloud. With a great show of secrecy, he took an old bill of Landais’s +from his pocket, and began to tear it up into little bits, which he +scattered about. Madame Fleury saw the bits, and with as much secrecy +as Marsac she began to collect them, smiling to herself: she was +convinced that Marsac was tearing up the contract. Presently, Marsac +lighting another match dropped it, as if by accident, upon a little +pile of these pieces of paper. Madame Fleury pretended to stumble +against him, nearly knocking him over, and then deftly secured the +half-burned scraps. They each sat on the ground and surveyed the other +with an air of triumph. + +“Never mind about the letter,” said Madame Fleury with a brilliant +smile, clutching her precious scraps in her gloved hand; and then they +both laughed. + +Madame Fleury rose, and shaking her skirts into place, said, “I have +not seen Monsieur Fontaine; but I am not ill-satisfied with my visit.” + +“May I have the pleasure of escorting you to your carriage?” asked +Marsac. + +“No, no!” cried Madame Fleury, hastily; “I have promised Monsieur Duval +that he shall put me in the carriage.” + +A grinding of wheels on the roadway beneath them and behind the tall +hedge was now heard, and Madame Fleury flew down the terrace steps +as lightly as the swallow skims the ground; and then Marsac heard +a vehicle rattle off. He could hardly wait until the carriage was +half-way down the drive before shouting in his delight for Fontaine. +But Fontaine and Claire and Delphine were all peeping round the +verandah; and seeing that Madame Fleury was gone, all three came +trooping toward Marsac. + +“My dear fellow,” cried Marsac, in a tone of suppressed rapture, as he +took out the contract, “here is that cursed paper. She has gone off +with a lot of half-burned scraps of an old bill of Landais’s which she +thinks is this contract.” + +Fontaine, without a word, hugged Marsac according to custom; and Claire +showed such an evident inclination to do the same that Marsac gave her +a truly brotherly embrace, to which Fontaine made no objection. + +“Here,” Marsac said, tearing the paper, “is half of it for you, +Fontaine, and dear Claire; the other half is for Mademoiselle Delphine +and me. And,” he added timidly, “we will have a marriage contract +between us.” + +“To be destroyed,” answered Delphine, supplying what she supposed +Marsac meant. + +[Illustration] + +Then, with laughter and little jokes, and blushes on Claire’s part, the +contract was destroyed. Never were four persons merrier, until Claire +suddenly asked,-- + +“Where is papa?” + +At that moment Marsac happened to glance toward the high-road that +crossed a hill about a mile off. The sunset glow was still upon the +hill, and Marsac’s keen eyes recognised Monsieur Duval’s victoria, with +Madame Fleury in it; and that stout figure in nankeen trousers and +gaiters, with the Panama hat on his lap, could be no other than old +Duval. The situation flashed upon them. Madame Fleury had bamboozled +the old man into taking her back to town in one of his own carriages. +Marsac could only point in silent consternation to the carriage. The +two girls burst into hysterical tears. Marsac, throwing himself into +a chair, groaned aloud; while Fontaine alone, although pretending to +be grieved, felt perfectly willing to get rid of Madame Fleury at +any price, even by presenting her with the head of his prospective +father-in-law on a charger,--after the manner of Herodias, another +enterprising would-be widow of a good many years ago. + +[Illustration] + + + + + Chapter IV + + +Some weeks now passed, but not in the happiness which might have been +expected when it was at least certain that Fontaine and Claire could +freely love each other. Old Duval had returned late, the night he had +driven with Madame Fleury to Paris, and his conduct since had been such +as to make his family miserable. Under pretence of having some repairs +made in the Passy villa, he had brought them all back to Paris in the +heats of May; and it was tolerably certain that this move was in order +to be nearer Madame Fleury. Claire was wretched at this idea; and +although, being a timid girl, she dared not question her father, she +had every reason to suspect his infatuation for the widow who had come +so near wrecking Fontaine’s life. + +As for Fontaine, although he daily and hourly got the benefit of his +reputed two millions, all the money he made went like wildfire in +the effort to keep up the delusion of a great fortune. He spent his +principal, and the world thought he was spending his income. Besides, +he feared seriously the effect his deception might have upon Claire +when she found it out,--which she must, sometime or other. Then he +began to have a morbid apprehension of the real Uncle Maurice turning +up; and last and worst of all, he was now saddled with a reputation for +brilliancy founded upon the play, the speech, and the picture,--all +Marsac’s work, which had been ably sustained by the series of powerful +articles signed by him and written by Marsac,--which was simply +maddening. Fontaine, who was of an extremely honest and simple nature, +suffered agonies from this false reputation; but the embarrassed manner +and sickly smile with which he received compliments on his achievements +was taken for modesty; and he passed, therefore, as the most modest as +well as the most gifted young man in Paris. + +As for Marsac and Delphine, they were tormented in a hell of their own +making. Each profoundly in love with the other, and each smarting under +the supposed contempt of the other, they grew sharper in their attacks +on love and marriage, and suffered accordingly. + +One morning, Marsac happening to go to Monsieur Duval’s quite +early,--for they were now upon the most intimate terms at the +house,--he found Fontaine sitting alone in a little drawing-room +which communicated with the conservatory and overlooked the trees and +fountains in the Luxembourg gardens. The morning papers lay on a table +before him; but Fontaine, sunk in a deep armchair, was a picture of +misery. Marsac, seeing Fontaine’s gloomy mood, began jovially and +jauntily,-- + +“I say, old man, what a good time you must have had last night!” + +[Illustration] + +“Why?” asked Fontaine, sulkily. + +“Because you are so blue this morning.” + +“You would be blue too, in my place,” answered Fontaine, sullenly. +“Here I am, spending every franc I make in the pretence of a fortune I +haven’t got; and when I tell the truth to Claire, whom I love from the +bottom of my heart, she will hate me for the fraud I have practised +upon her.” + +This view had not occurred so forcibly to Marsac before. He took a turn +about the room, and then said in an agitated voice, “Is it possible +that Uncle Maurice was not a happy invention?” + +“Happy invention! Damn Uncle Maurice!” almost shouted Fontaine, burying +his head in the pillows of the great chair. “Marsac, you are the best +fellow in the world; but you have been just a little too clever this +time. Besides giving me a fictitious fortune, you have made me out to +be the most brilliant man in Paris; and I can tell you it is simply +killing me, trying to live up to the character. If that picture hadn’t +been so deuced good; if that speech hadn’t been so devilish funny; if +that play hadn’t been so damnably bright,--ah, hell and all its furies!” + +Fontaine rolled about his chair in anguish, while Marsac sat silent and +appalled at the result of his own ingenuity. + +“And,” cried Fontaine, desperately, dashing his hand to his forehead, +“suppose that infernal old Uncle Maurice of mine should turn up from +America?” + +“No, no!” said Marsac, “that is impossible. No, no, fate has not such a +cruel blow in store for us. It is just as rational to suppose that the +other uncles and aunts I gave you should materialise and come to life +in Paris--” + +[Illustration] + +A knock at the door startled them both. It was an ordinary enough +knock, such as might precede a footman or a tradesman; but to Marsac +and Fontaine, whose nerves had been a good deal wrought upon in the +last few exciting months, it sounded like the crack of doom. Both +of them sat with pale faces, and neither could say the ordinary +words, “Come in.” But the person knocking came in, after a moment. +He was a little old man, a shabby little old man, clutching a rusty +travelling-bag in his trembling hands. He stood in the centre of the +room, looking about awkwardly and timidly. Marsac felt as if he were +frozen to his chair. His tongue clove to the roof of his mouth, and +he could feel his hair rising on his head. Not Frankenstein, when his +monster came to life, could have felt more horror. Fontaine, with one +wild look, seemed inspired with the motion that was denied Marsac, and +darted into the conservatory. + +The old man advanced, still holding on to his shabby bag. “I am told,” +he said hesitatingly, “that this is the house of Monsieur Duval, and +I would find my nephew, Monsieur Auguste Fontaine, here. The lackeys +below didn’t want to let me up: I suppose I am not so well dressed as +I ought to be. I am Auguste’s uncle, just from America. I am Monsieur +Maurice Fontaine.” + +Had the arch-fiend appeared in person, with a tail and hoofs and horns, +and said calmly, “I am Beelzebub, Prince of Darkness, just from Hades,” +he could not have disconcerted Marsac more. He rose to his feet, but +found himself incapable of speech. + +This, then, was Uncle Maurice! Like the foolish man who let the genie +out of the trunk, the apparition had grown and grown, until it was +now unmanageable. And here was the substance, the actual man of that +figment of Marsac’s imagination; here was Uncle Maurice! Marsac felt a +singular kind of acquaintanceship and even kinship with Uncle Maurice; +and through it all he had a dim sensation of pity for the poor old +man standing there, holding on apparently to all his few worldly +possessions, and looking so deprecating, so apologetic, so blankly +disappointed. + +Uncle Maurice began to speak again, trying to smile, but his eyes +meanwhile filling with tears. “Perhaps I counted too much on this +home-coming; and--and--it’s ridiculous, you know, for a poor old man to +expect a very warm welcome. I haven’t had a single hand held out to me +yet, since I landed.” + +A wave of pity swept over Marsac. Terrible as this _dénouement_ was, +wreck and havoc as it made, the old man’s disappointment touched him; +and Marsac had one of the best hearts in the world. + +“My dear Monsieur Fontaine,” he said, advancing, and trying to speak in +a natural voice, “you shall not say that again. Here is my hand, and +I guarantee that Fontaine, who is my best friend, my brother in fact, +will not fail to welcome you. I have often heard him speak of you, and +in the kindest terms.” + +“Did he?” asked the old man, delightedly grasping Marsac’s hand. “That +was good of the boy! I dare say he heard that false report that I was +dead.” + +“He did,” answered Marsac, “and he put on mourning for you, and did not +go into society for several weeks.” + +That seemed to overjoy the poor old man. “Good lad, good fellow! I’ll +not forget that. There’s no such proof of real respect. And you--What +is your name, may I ask?” + +“Marsac,--and at your service.” + +“Well, Monsieur Marsac, since you are so kind, tell me more about my +nephew. You know he is my only near living relative.” + +“He is a noble fellow; and he is engaged to be married to the daughter +of the owner of this house,--a lovely girl, Mademoiselle Claire Duval.” + +The old man seated himself, and with his precious bag between his knees +drank in eagerly Marsac’s every word. Marsac saw the advisability of +preparing Monsieur Maurice Fontaine for the state of affairs that he +must presently find out. + +“When Fontaine went in mourning for you--which I am glad to see there +was no occasion for--” + +“And I am glad too. Go on--” + +“Some miscreant started the report that you had left him a fortune. +It got into the newspapers, and everybody believed it,--even Claire. +Fontaine--foolishly, I think--did not confide to her frankly how it +was; and he was telling me just now his distress at having to confess +his deception to Claire. She is a sweet girl, though, and I believe his +confession will not alter her affection in the least. I will go and +fetch Fontaine.” + +Marsac went into the conservatory. There stood Fontaine, as white as a +sheet, and wild-eyed. + +“Come in and see your uncle,” whispered Marsac. + +“I can’t--I won’t,” answered Fontaine, desperately. + +“But you must. The best and only thing now is to face the music. And, +besides, you would feel sympathy for the old man,--he is so humble, so +gentle, and seems so grateful for even the small kindness I have shown +him.” + +“He has wrecked my life,” was Fontaine’s angry reply. + +“Rubbish! you are twenty times better off for him. Come along;” and +Fontaine never having resisted Marsac in his life could not do so now, +and went obediently into the drawing-room to greet affectionately the +man whose very existence he conceived was utterly disastrous to him. + +Uncle Maurice was charmed with the reception he got from Fontaine, +and immediately began joking him about Claire. “And she thought you +had a rich old uncle who had died and left you a fortune--ha! ha!” he +chuckled. “Well, perhaps, after all, you will be just as happy when the +truth is known.” + +Fontaine could scarcely stand this; but luckily Uncle Maurice concluded +he would make himself a little presentable before being introduced to +Claire. + +“I have some better clothes than these,” he said apologetically, +“though I haven’t them in my bag with me.” + +“Never mind,” said Marsac, cordially; “go to our quarters, just around +the corner; here are my keys. Get anything you want,--linen, cigars, +liqueurs,--and come back very soon, so we can present you to Claire and +her cousin Delphine. We will wait for you here.” + +“Let me assist you,” said Fontaine, trying to take the old bag. + +“No, no, no!” cried Uncle Maurice, determinedly; “I’ve got to hold on +to that,--it has all my little savings in it.” And the old man went +off, promising to return in half an hour. + +Left alone, Marsac and Fontaine avoided each other’s gaze, and said not +a word. Language could not express the depth, the height, the breadth +of the catastrophe that had befallen them. Yet they were undeniably +better off than if Uncle Maurice had never lived. After a long and +painful pause, Marsac spoke. + +“You must confess at once to Claire; and I don’t believe it will change +her affection for you.” + +[Illustration] + +Fontaine had no time to reply, for at that moment Claire and Delphine +entered the room together. It was plain that they were distressed +about something, and Delphine’s first words were,-- + +“We are in very great trouble.” + +“All is not bright for us, either,” gloomily replied Marsac. + +“Ours is a very real trouble,” began Claire, half crying. “We have +found out that papa spends half his time with Madame Fleury. He writes +to her, and to-day came a bill for thirty bouquets in three weeks for +her. If he should marry her--oh, the thought is too dreadful!” and +Claire burst into tears. + +Fontaine took her hand tenderly, and led her into the conservatory. + +Marsac and Delphine were now left alone. Marsac for once was completely +unnerved, but he managed to hide it from Delphine. + +“What do you suppose Auguste and Claire find to say to each other in +these tremendously long private interviews?” she asked, wishing from +the bottom of her heart that Marsac would show some inclination toward +long private interviews with her. “I have a great mind to interrupt +this one.” + +“Pray, don’t,” cried Marsac, eagerly; and then with a sickly attempt at +a return to his old manner, he said, “Let them be happy while they can. +Soon they will be married, and then--” + +A dismal shaking of the head finished the sentence. + +Every word went like a knife to Delphine’s tortured heart; but not to +be outdone, she flippantly replied, “As far as those two go, Plato +might never have lived, and Socrates might never have died!” + +Now, for a long time, ever since Marsac had known and loved Delphine, +the name of Plato had become peculiarly odious to him. He considered +that a large part of the misery he was enduring was directly to be laid +at the door of that philosopher, and he had often ardently wished +to himself that Plato and not Socrates had been forced to drink the +hemlock. He could not forbear saying bitterly,-- + +“Do you know, Mademoiselle, there are persons who loathe and hate and +despise and revile and scorn and contemn the divine Plato?” + +Marsac’s tone of ineffable disgust when he said “divine” might have +enlightened Delphine; but it did not. “I am afraid our two friends in +the conservatory do not appreciate him,” she answered, smiling. “I dare +say Claire is asking Auguste the very same question that Eve asked Adam +in the Garden of Eden,--is she the only woman he has ever loved?” + +It occurred to Marsac that it would be well to prepare Delphine for +what Fontaine actually was revealing at that moment; so drawing his +chair nearer, he said confidentially, “Mademoiselle, I can tell you +exactly what they are talking about at this moment. What would you +think if I were to tell you that Fontaine’s Uncle Maurice was not dead, +after all, but has just arrived at our lodgings, and will very soon +present himself in this room?” + +Delphine’s mouth came open with astonishment, and her first question +when she had recovered from the shock of her surprise was, “And how +about the fortune?” + +Marsac shook his head lugubriously. “I can tell you nothing. That +fortune is involved in the deepest mystery. There are indications of a +plot the most extraordinary you can conceive. I know nothing, except +that Monsieur Maurice Fontaine is alive, and is in Paris, and will be +here shortly.” And then, to divert her from so perilous a subject, he +said, “But we are consumed with anxiety regarding Monsieur Duval and +the Comtesse de Fleury. It will be terrible for you and Claire if she +succeeds in capturing Monsieur Duval.” + +Delphine’s answer was artfully contrived: “If that dreadful woman +should succeed in marrying my uncle, this could no longer be a home for +me.” + +Here was an opportunity at once for Marsac to declare himself, if +he had a spark of tenderness for her. The tenderness, amounting to +adoration, was there; but Marsac--the ready, the witty, the glib, the +daring--was silent and abashed in the presence of the master-passion. +His silence, which was really one of deep emotion, was naturally +misunderstood by Delphine. Just as he had nerved himself to take what +he thought a desperate chance, by telling her of his love, her face +hardened, she deliberately turned her back to him, and picking up some +fancy-work on the table, seated herself at it. + +There was nothing left for Marsac but the newspaper which Fontaine had +dropped. He took it, and for half an hour no sound was heard except +the rattle of the sheets as they were turned. Delphine stitched in +silent anger and disappointment. + +It seemed fated that all the persons whom Marsac and Fontaine +particularly did not wish to see at M. Duval’s house should turn up +that morning, for within five minutes of Marsac’s and Delphine’s latest +misunderstanding a footman appeared to announce another startling +arrival. The man usually maintained the stolid countenance of his +tribe, but on this occasion he wore a grin like a rat-trap. “M’sieu +Marsac,” he said, almost laughing in Marsac’s gloomy face, “here’s +a--person--” + +“A _lady_, if you please,” proclaimed a loud voice, as Madame Schmid +marched in, shoving the footman unceremoniously out of the way. + +Poor Marsac’s nerves were sufficiently unstrung by Uncle Maurice’s +arrival, and Madame Schmid’s seemed likely to finish him. But she was +such a good-hearted creature, and in spite of having, figuratively, +dragged Fontaine and himself around by the hair of their heads, had +washed and scrubbed for them so faithfully, that Marsac could not find +it in his heart to receive her coldly. As for Madame Schmid, Marsac’s +delightful impudence had won its way into her honest heart, and she had +come to do him a great service. Her errand not being a professional +one, she wore a gorgeous red bonnet, all flowers; a green mantle, all +spangles; a purple gown, all stripes; and, with a yellow parasol, +looked something like a bird of paradise. + +“Here you are,” she cried, a broad smile on her handsome face. “Just as +impudent as ever, I warrant. If I get out of this room without being +kissed--” + +Delphine, looking on in amazement, became pale at this; while Marsac +turned blue in the face. + +“I perceive I am in the way,” murmured Delphine, in a scarcely audible +voice, and made for the door. + +“Mademoiselle--I implore--” Marsac got this far when Delphine slammed +the door in his face. + +“Is the young lady jealous?” asked Madame Schmid, delightedly. + +“I am afraid not,” was Marsac’s dejected reply. + +“Well, M’sieu,” began Madame Schmid, with an air of importance, “I have +come to tell you and that pretty boy Fontaine something you will like +to hear. In the first place, Madame Fleury is coming here this morning.” + +“Charming! Ha! ha! Fontaine will be rapturously happy.” + +“Wait a minute. Don’t laugh in that dismal manner. She is determined, +of course, to marry M. Duval; but she thinks, by coming to this +house, she can force Fontaine to give her money rather than betray +her presence to his _fiancée_. Well, I found this out,--no matter +how,--and I said this morning to Fleury--” + +“To Fleury!” + +“To Fleury. He is no more dead than you or I. He has been living at my +house for a month past. I said, ‘I won’t keep your secret any longer. +I’ll tell your wife that you are alive.’ Oh, he cried like a baby at +that.” + +Marsac seized her hands, and could only cry breathlessly, “Go on! go +on!” + +“It was this way. About a month ago Fleury came walking into my place +and asked for lodgings. I said, ‘Why, you were drowned.’ He said, ‘I +wasn’t.’ I said, ‘Your wife thinks so.’ He said, ‘I hope she will keep +on thinking so.’ I hadn’t the heart to betray the poor creature, so +I said nothing until I heard about this new move of his wife’s, but +then I determined to tell you; and I have him around the corner, in a +wine-shop, where he is crying and drinking; and you must come with me.” + +Two minutes later Delphine saw, from an upper window, Madame Schmid +parading down the street, with Marsac gallantly holding the yellow +parasol over her red bonnet, and attending her as if she were a +duchess. That, then, was the woman Marsac loved! + +Delphine, pale and agonised, returned to the drawing-room. + +There came a rustle of draperies from the conservatory, and Claire +flitted in with Fontaine. One look at their happy faces told that Uncle +Maurice’s fortune had made no figure in their love affair. + +“What do you think, Delphine,” asked Claire, with her hand still lying +in Fontaine’s,--“this foolish boy has not a fortune, after all; and he +has known it for some time, and dared not tell me. It seems that when +the report of his Uncle Maurice’s death came, some one started the +story in the newspapers about the fortune, and Auguste did not have +the nerve to contradict it. Besides, it might have been true, for he +had an Uncle Maurice in America. And this very morning Uncle Maurice +arrived in Paris, and was directed here to find Auguste. And Auguste +says the old man looks very poor and friendless, but cheery and glad +to get back to France; and dear, kind Monsieur Marsac was so good to +the old man, and made Auguste kind to him too. So he has gone to their +apartment to make ready to come and see us. I shall be just as nice to +him as I can be, and I shall make papa be the same.” + +“Claire, you have the dearest heart in the world,” burst out Delphine, +generously forgetting her own misery; “and I love and respect you the +more for not caring whether Auguste has a fortune or not.” + +“But with his talents,” answered Claire, proudly, “a fortune will be +his. We can live well enough on his pictures, his plays, and his +articles in the newspapers.” + +Fontaine’s effort at a cheerful grin when this was said was piteous to +behold. Just then the footman again entered and handed him a card. One +look was enough. “It is Madame Fleury!” he cried. “Don’t let her up.” + +But he was too late. Madame Fleury walked into the drawing-room on the +heels of her messenger and said to the servant, in an authoritative +manner, “Take my card to Monsieur Duval.” + +Never had the gentle Claire showed haughtiness to any human creature +before; but when face to face with Madame Fleury, she drew her slight +figure up, and in a tone of quiet disdain said, “I think, Madame, that +I--my father’s daughter--have some rights in this house; and I forbid +my servant to take your card.” + +“And I think,” suavely replied Madame Fleury, “that your father, +master of his house, has some rights here too; so--” A look at the +footman finished the sentence. The man went out with the card. + +Claire, with a heightened colour, turned to Delphine, saying, “Shall we +withdraw?” + +“By no means,” answered Delphine, coolly; “that would indeed be a +surrender.” They both therefore stood their ground. + +Fontaine, who was glad to keep out of the mêlée, had prudently kept in +the background during this; but Madame Fleury would not let him rest +there. + +“Monsieur Fontaine,” she asked in her smoothest voice, “do you remember +a certain document which we both signed, referring to the 15th of May?” + +“I do, to my eternal sorrow,” was Fontaine’s reply; but before he +could say anything more, Monsieur Duval bustled in, looking flurried, +nervous, but elated with the elation of a stupid old man who finds +himself an object of interest to a handsome young woman. + +“Good morning, Madame,” he cried. “I am delighted to see you.” + +“It is more than your daughter and niece were,” answered Madame Fleury, +smiling. + +“How is this?” sternly asked Monsieur Duval, wheeling around upon the +two girls. Claire, who dearly loved her father, could not utter a word; +but Delphine was equal to the situation. + +“Of course we were not delighted to see her; and, uncle--pardon me--but +a man of your age should know better--” + +“Monsieur Duval,” interrupted Madame Fleury, “your age is one of your +greatest charms in my eyes.” + +“And yet,” coolly continued Delphine, “Monsieur Fontaine’s youth was no +objection to him. Anything between the cradle and the grave seems to +suit this--person.” + +Monsieur Duval felt called upon to say reprovingly, “Delphine!” but the +next moment he weakened and muttered, “I wish Marsac were here. He is +the only one that can manage all of you!” + +“I wish he were too,” said Madame Fleury. “I was just speaking of a +valuable paper I took with me to Passy that evening I was there. By +an unfortunate oversight on my part Monsieur Marsac got hold of it, +and tore it into bits, which he afterward tried to burn up. I saved +the scraps, but I was not able to put the charred pieces together. +Therefore I gave an expert one hundred and fifty francs to restore it. +He has just returned it to me, and I have not yet had a chance to open +it; but I will do it now, and I would like Monsieur Marsac to see how +much cleverer I am than he is.” + +Madame Fleury produced an envelope from her card-case, tore it open, +and then stood petrified for a moment. “Why--it is--it is--” she +stammered. + +“A bill of Landais the tailor,” maliciously put in Fontaine. “That is +what he tore up.” + +[Illustration] + +“And what you paid one hundred and fifty francs to have restored,” +Delphine chimed in. + +“Madame Fleury,” said Fontaine, determinedly, “I have put up with this +hounding of me as long as I intend to. I shall to-day report it to the +police, and ask protection.” + +Instead of flying into a rage at this, Madame Fleury executed a +masterly _coup_. Pressing her handkerchief to her eyes, she almost fell +upon old Duval’s shoulder, crying, “Monsieur Duval, will you stand by +and see me so affronted?” + +“No, Madame Fleury,” sturdily answered Monsieur Duval, with his arm +half round her waist. “Never mind, Madame Fleury. If he reports you +to the police, Madame Fleury, he will have to reckon with me, Madame +Fleury. I know I’m old enough to be your father, but if you’ll marry +me, Madame Fleury, you’ll find me a great improvement on that rascally +count you married first; and you may be Madame Duval any day you like.” + +At this a faint shriek burst from the two girls; and Fontaine, who +had not dreamed the old man capable of such folly, couldn’t repress +an exclamation. However, he took Claire’s hand, and said to her +tenderly,-- + +“Well, my dear one, the only thing for you to do now is to trust me, +and become my wife at the earliest moment possible.” + +[Illustration] + +Claire felt at that moment as if she had but one earthly dependence; +she clung to Fontaine, and weeping said, “I will marry you whenever you +like; for I cannot, and never will, countenance my father’s marriage to +this creature.” + +“And even I would marry to escape living with this woman,” said +Delphine, in much agitation. “I would marry Monsieur Marsac, or commit +suicide even, rather than live in the house with her.” + +Delphine was scarcely conscious of what she said, but a gleam of wicked +amusement in Madame Fleury’s eyes showed her that she had made a +dangerous slip. + +Steps were heard outside in the hall as if of three or even four +persons; but when the door opened, only Marsac entered. He wore a +look of jaunty expectation, which seemed only to be increased by the +startling spectacle before him,--Madame Fleury holding on to Monsieur +Duval’s arm, the old man puffing, blowing, smiling, and frowning with +alternate spasms of rage and delight; Claire clinging to Fontaine and +in great distress; while Delphine, pale and defiant, stood alone in the +centre of the group. It was one of the most delicious moments of Madame +Fleury’s life. + +When Marsac, raising his eyebrows, inquired, “What is this I see?” +Madame Fleury cut in before even Monsieur Duval could reply,-- + +“You see the betrothal between Monsieur Duval and me.” + +Marsac’s wide, handsome mouth came open as if it were on hinges. His +enjoyment of the situation seemed intense; and Fontaine, Claire, +and Delphine were all astounded at his heartless amusement over a +catastrophe so ruinous to all of them. He only said, with a grin, after +surveying the scene for a minute or two,-- + +“And are you quite certain, Madame, of carrying out your plan?” + +“Perfectly certain,” responded Monsieur Duval, pompously; “and she will +find her good old Duval a better husband than that rascally count she +married first and buried afterward.” + +“But did she bury him?” asked Marsac, and paused to get the whole +effect of this. It was magical on Madame Fleury. She clenched her +teeth; her eyes flashed fire; but she held on stoutly to Monsieur +Duval, who grew white about the chops. Marsac, after coolly surveying +his audience, announced,-- + +“I have the honour of presenting to you Madame Fleury’s husband!” + +With that, he threw the door open with a grand flourish, and in walked +one of the most weazened, cadaverous little men who ever stepped, and +behind him Madame Schmid’s rubicund countenance and rotund figure. + +[Illustration] + +Madame Fleury could not repress a cry of rage, and Monsieur Duval +dropped her arm as if it was red-hot. Fleury, who seemed not at all +abashed by his surroundings, looked calmly about. Monsieur Duval was +the first to recover his voice, and his disgusted exclamation was,-- + +“That creature a count!” + +“I did not say he was a count,” corrected Marsac. “I merely said, by +way of making things agreeable, that Madame Fleury was a countess.” + +Madame Fleury’s reply to this was one word, uttered in a tone of +concentrated hatred, “Wretch!” + +“Is that all the thanks I get for restoring to you your long-lost +husband?” said Marsac in an injured voice. “Oh, the ingratitude that +is in this world!” + +Fleury, meanwhile, seemed determined to assert himself. “I’m not a +count,” he said; “and that lady yonder,” indicating Madame Fleury, +“always turned up her nose at me; but I am not as insignificant as she +would have you believe. I have a standing offer from the medical school +of seventy-five francs for my skeleton as soon as I peg out.” + +“I wish it were available at this moment,” cried Madame Fleury. + +“There!” said Fleury, “I knew she wouldn’t be glad to see me; and I +told this gentleman so. But I don’t know that I am very glad to see +her. I haven’t had so peaceable and quiet a time since I was married as +when I was dead.” + +Here Madame Schmid was bound to be heard; “I said to Fleury, said I--” + +“Hold!” said old Duval, advancing, “I know this person. It is the +Baroness Schmid.” + +“_Baroness_ Schmid! _Comte_ de Fleury! Oh, this is too comical!” +screamed Madame Schmid, laughing. + +“Who wanted to marry Monsieur Fontaine,” continued old Duval, +determinedly. + +“No, no!” cried Delphine, almost beside herself with jealousy. “She +wants to marry Monsieur Marsac.” + +“_I_ want to marry that pretty boy, Fontaine!” bawled Madame Schmid, +finding her voice. “_I_ want to marry M’sieu Marsac! I want their +washing, that’s all. I’m a washerwoman.” + +“Ladies and gentlemen,” implored Marsac, “all can be explained at a +future day; but the fact remains that this is Monsieur Fleury.” + +Old Duval’s face was a study during this, and he began to stammer, +“I--I--don’t think we can be married, Madame.” + +The hopelessness of her situation was plain to Madame Fleury. She +prepared to depart from the house she had intended to preside over. She +gave a glance of speechless contempt around the circle, including every +member of it, and ending at Fontaine, who had taken no part in the +_dénouement_, but had watched it in amazed but delighted silence. + +“Monsieur Duval,” she said in a hard voice, “I am truly sorry I cannot +marry you. As for Monsieur Fontaine I would only have married him for +lack of something better. The indignation of the two young ladies +against me seemed wholly devised to marry themselves off. Mademoiselle +Claire at once announced her willingness to marry Monsieur Fontaine; +while Mademoiselle Delphine took occasion to say that she would marry +Monsieur Marsac or commit suicide,--each a terrible alternative. For +Monsieur Marsac, I can say that he has concocted and conducted the most +extraordinary fraud ever perpetrated upon you. I am firmly convinced +there never was an Uncle Maurice, and the story of his death and his +fortune was a pure invention of Marsac’s, from beginning to end.” + +“The story of his death, I grant you, I was mistaken about,” blandly +responded Marsac; “but as to there being an Uncle Maurice--” + +Marsac stepped to the door, opened it, and Uncle Maurice, evidently +bubbling over with delight, entered, still holding on to the seedy old +bag. + +“Allow me,” said Marsac, with a low bow, “to present to you all, ladies +and gentlemen, Monsieur Maurice Fontaine, late of New York, and from +henceforth from Paris.” + +Madame Fleury seemed literally stunned by the sight of the little old +man, who, without noticing the sensation made by his appearance, went +all round the circle, shaking hands, not forgetting Madame Fleury, who +gave him her hand like a woman in a nightmare, and then he asked,-- + +“Where is my little niece?” + +Claire ran up to him, looked smilingly into his face and said, “Here I +am, Uncle Maurice!” + +The old man’s gratification was touching. He kissed her cheek, he +patted her hair and stroked her hand again and again; but he never let +go of his bag. Monsieur Duval gazed mechanically at Uncle Maurice, +while Delphine’s cordiality was second only to Claire’s. + +“Ah,” cried Uncle Maurice, beginning and shaking hands all round for +the second time, “you can’t imagine how kindly I was received by these +two fine fellows. They didn’t mind my shabby clothes; they treated me +nobly. I sha’n’t forget it, my lads.” + +Madame Fleury at this found her tongue. “He doesn’t look as if his +acquaintance would be much of an acquisition to his family,” she said +scornfully. + +“Eh?” asked Uncle Maurice, and he seemed stung by her remark. “Well,” +he continued with an unexpected twinkle in his eyes, “that’s as may be. +I have in this bag a million francs’ worth of United States government +bonds,--a part of what I made in that noble country. I intended some +of it for my nephew, provided he received me kindly. I am proud and +happy to say he did so, when he thought I hadn’t a decent coat to +my back; so I’ll give him--let me see--I might as well do the thing +handsomely--half a million francs, so he can get married.” He opened +the bag and took out a parcel. “Monsieur Duval, you are a man of +affairs; you know what these are.” + +The sight of the securities seemed to wake Monsieur Duval up. He +examined the parcel carefully, while Fontaine brokenly expressed his +thanks, and Claire kissed the old man with tears in her eyes. + +“And, Auguste,” she cried generously, “Monsieur Marsac must share in +our good fortune; you know he has shared everything with you.” + +“Indeed he shall,” replied Fontaine, clasping Marsac’s hand. + +“Perhaps you don’t know,” said Madame Fleury to Uncle Maurice, stopping +in a somewhat precipitate flight toward the door, “that it was that +Marsac who started the story of your giving Fontaine a fortune.” + +“Did you then--ha! ha!” Uncle Maurice seemed tickled at the idea. + +“Yes,” replied Marsac, modestly; “when it was reported that you were +dead, I determined to give Fontaine every franc of your fortune; and I +gave you, sir, a very good character besides. I endowed you with every +virtue of a man and a gentleman; and it seems I was clairvoyant.” + +Uncle Maurice laughed excessively at this, and handing a smaller roll +out of the old bag to Marsac, he said: “Well, I would like to have you +for a nephew too, for you were no less kind than my nephew, and with +less obligation; so there is a hundred thousand francs for you,--a mere +nest-egg. A fellow as clever as you can always make his way in the +world.” + +[Illustration] + +Marsac was overwhelmed by the old man’s generosity; and the silence, as +he stood grasping Uncle Maurice’s hand, was only broken by the slamming +of the door as Madame Fleury rushed out, dragging the unhappy Fleury +after her. As Monsieur Duval watched her exit, he said slowly,-- + +“Perhaps it is better, after all, that I am not in Fleury’s shoes.” + +“A great deal better,” remarked Uncle Maurice, solemnly; “she’s too +much for you, Monsieur Duval.” + +This great truth seemed to strike the old brewer with much force; the +more so when Madame Schmid said, pointing after Fleury’s departing +figure: “That man weighed near two hundred pounds when he married that +woman, and I believe he has lost not less than a pound a day since that +time; and you see what he is now. Well, I must be going. M’sieu Marsac, +when you and that pretty young lady”--pointing to Delphine--“are +married, please to give me your washing. The same to you, M’sieu +Fontaine, and your young lady.” + +Marsac was so embarrassed by this speech that he remained perfectly +silent; but Fontaine escorted Madame Schmid to the door with profuse +thanks. + +Old Duval still seemed dazed about the dead and the living Uncle +Maurice. At every mention of the suppositious Uncle Maurice the real +one would shake with merriment. + +“So Monsieur Marsac made up the yarn,” said Monsieur Duval, dubiously. + +“The noble romance, you mean,” replied Marsac. “My invention of Uncle +Maurice ranks with Orestes, with Pantagruel, with Don Quixote, with all +those splendid creations of the imagination that are as real to us as +you, sir, are,” to Uncle Maurice. “I endowed you with every virtue, and +I find, happily, that I have only done you justice.” Marsac folded his +arms, and assumed a look of triumphant virtue. + +“What a clever fellow! what a very clever fellow!” chuckled Uncle +Maurice, delightedly. + +“And I also invented two other rich uncles and an aged and decrepit +aunt,--all of whom were to make Fontaine their heir,” added Marsac; at +which Uncle Maurice nearly went into convulsions of enjoyment. + +“I used to think,” said Monsieur Duval, “that Monsieur Marsac with his +plays and his paint-pots and his writing and his fiddling was a great +fool, but I have changed my opinion.” + +“A thousand thanks,” replied Marsac, with dignity,--“not only for +myself, but for all the other fools who write or paint or fiddle, and +thereby add to the gaiety of nations.” + +“Well, well, well,” said Monsieur Duval, hastily, “let us sit down and +talk things over.” + +So he and Uncle Maurice and Fontaine and Claire formed a group and +sat down. Delphine, who had taken but little part in the proceedings, +but whose heart had swelled at Marsac’s triumph, walked toward the +embrasure of a window. Marsac followed her. The curtain fell behind +them, and they were as much alone as if in another room. Outside the +window the fountains plashed in the May air; the day was all blue and +gold. The trees in the Luxembourg gardens rustled softly; it was a day +for making love. + +Presently Marsac spoke timidly: “Mademoiselle, I recall some words +of that she-devil, Madame Fleury. She said you had declared you would +commit suicide, or--or--marry me, if--Tell me, what did you mean?” + +“Just what I said,” answered Delphine, with a beautiful blush. + +“Did you mean that either fate was equally dreadful?” + +“No.” + +“Or, perhaps, that--I have a second thought, but I am afraid to mention +it.” + +“Second thoughts are always best,” demurely replied Delphine. + +And then there was a scene that would have broken the heart of a +Platonist. A few murmured words, a hand-clasp--and Delphine lay in +Marsac’s arms. A bird was singing in a tree outside the window, and a +bird also sang in their two happy hearts. + +So deep was their ecstasy that they did not hear steps approach, nor +the curtain softly drawn, and they were wakened from their dream in +Paradise by a shout of laughter. Fontaine and Claire, Uncle Maurice +and Monsieur Duval, were laughing uproariously, and gazing at the two +apostles of platonic love, the relentless enemies of matrimony,--Marsac +with his arm round Delphine’s waist, and his handsome head almost +touching her bright hair. Old Duval grunted out one word,-- + +“Plato!” + +“Let Plato go to the devil!” cried Marsac. “If ever I meet the old +scoundrel on the other side of the Styx, I promise to kick him all over +the lower regions for having deprived me for one hour of the sweet +knowledge of Delphine’s love.” + +“Hurrah!” cried Uncle Maurice. “To perdition with the rascal Plato!” + +“He is there already, I hope,” shouted Fontaine, dancing in his +delight. “Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! Marsac loves and is beloved!” + +“And I can tell you one thing,” interrupted Monsieur Duval, with +ponderous solemnity, “that Marsac is not such a fool after all!” + +[Illustration] + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75477 *** |