III.
M. Fortunat had scarcely started off on his visit to the Vantrassonswhen the Marquis de Valorsay reached the Place de la Bourse.
"Monsieur has gone out," said Madame Dodelin, as she opened the door.
"You must be mistaken, my good woman."
"No, no; my master said you would, perhaps, wait for him."
"Very well; I will do so."
Faithful to the orders she had received, the servant conducted thevisitor to the drawing-room, lit the tapers in the candelabra, andretired. "This is very strange!" growled the marquis. "Monsieur Fortunatmakes an appointment, Monsieur Fortunat expects me to wait for him! Whatwill happen next?" However, he drew a newspaper from his pocket, threwhimself into an arm-chair, and waited.
By his habits and tastes, the Marquis de Valorsay belonged to thatsection of the aristocracy which has coined the term "high life" in viewof describing its own manners and customs. The matters that engrossedthe marquis's frivolous mind were club-life and first performances atthe opera and the leading theatres, social duties and visits to thefashionable watering-places, racing and the shooting and huntingseasons, together with his mistress and his tailor.
He considered that to ride in a steeple-chase was an act of prowessworthy of his ancestors; and when he galloped past the stand, clad asa jockey, in top-boots and a violet silk jacket, he believed he readadmiration in every eye. This was his every-day life, which had beenenlivened by a few salient episodes: two duels, an elopement with amarried woman, a twenty-six hours' seance at the gaming table, and afall from his horse, while hunting, which nearly cost him his life.These acts of valor had raised him considerably in the estimation ofhis friends, and procured him a celebrity of which he was not a littleproud. The newspaper reporters were constantly mentioning his name, andthe sporting journals never failed to chronicle his departure from Parisor his arrival in the city.
Unfortunately, such a life of busy idleness has its trials and itsvicissitudes, and M. de Valorsay was a living proof of this. He was onlythirty-three, but in spite of the care he expended upon his toilette,he looked at least forty. Wrinkles were beginning to show themselves;it required all the skill of his valet to conceal the bald spots on hiscranium; and since his fall from his horse, he had been troubled bya slight stiffness in his right leg, which stiffness became perfectlameness in threatening weather. Premature lassitude pervaded hisentire person, and when he relaxed in vigilance even his eyes betrayeda distaste for everything--weariness, satiety as it were. All the same,however, he bore himself with an undeniable air of distinction, albeitthe haughtiness of his manner indicated an exaggerated idea of his ownimportance. He was indeed in the habit of treating all those whom heconsidered his inferiors with supercilious sufficiency.
The clock on M. Fortunat's mantel-shelf struck eleven at last and themarquis rose to his feet with a muttered oath. "This is too much!" hegrowled, angrily.
He looked about for a bell, and seeing none, he was reduced to the direnecessity of opening the door himself, and calling some one. MadameDodelin answered the summons. "Monsieur said he would return beforemidnight," she replied; "so he will certainly be here. There is no onelike him for punctuality. Won't monsieur have patience a little longer?"
"Well, I will wait a few moments; but, my good woman, light the fire; myfeet are frozen!"
M. Fortunat's drawing-room being used but seldom, was really as frigidas an iceberg; and to make matters still worse, M. de Valorsay was inevening dress, with only a light overcoat. The servant hesitated for aninstant, thinking this visitor difficult to please, and inclined to makehimself very much at home, still she obeyed.
"I think I ought to go," muttered the marquis. "I really think Iought to go." And yet he remained. Necessity, it should be remembered,effectually quiets the revolts of pride.
Left an orphan in his early childhood, placed in possession of animmense fortune at the age of twenty-three, M. de Valorsay had enteredlife like a famished man enters a dining-room. His name entitled him toa high position in the social world; and he installed himself at tablewithout asking how much the banquet might cost him. It cost him dear,as he discovered at the end of the first year, on noting that hisdisbursements had considerably exceeded his large income. It was veryevident that if he went on in this way, each twelvemonth would deepenan abyss where in the one hundred and sixty thousand francs a year, lefthim by his father, would finally be swallowed up. But he had plenty oftime to reflect upon this unpleasant possibility ere it could come topass! And, besides, he found his present life so delightful, and heobtained so much gratification for his money, that he was unwilling tomake any change. He possessed several fine estates, and he found plentyof men who were only too glad to lend him money on such excellentsecurity. He borrowed timidly at first, but more boldly when hediscovered what a mere trifle a mortgage is. Moreover, his wantsincreased in proportion to his vanity. Occupying a certain position inthe opinion of his acquaintances, he did not wish to descend from theheights to which they had exalted him; and the very fact that he hadbeen foolishly extravagant one year made it necessary for him to beguilty of similar folly during the succeeding twelvemonth. He failed topay his creditors the interest that was due on his loans. They did notask him for it; and perhaps he forgot that it was slowly but surelyaccumulating, and that at the end of a certain number of years theamount of his indebtedness would be doubled. He never thought what theend would be. He became absolutely ignorant of the condition of hisaffairs, and really arrived at the conclusion that his resources wereinexhaustible. He believed this until one day when on going to hislawyer for some money, that gentleman coldly said: "You requested me toobtain one hundred thousand francs for you, Monsieur le Marquis--but Ihave only been able to procure fifty thousand--here they are. And do nothope for more. All your real estate is encumbered beyond its value. Yourcreditors will probably leave you in undisturbed possession for anotheryear--it will be to their interest--but when it has elapsed they willtake possession of their own, as they have a perfect right to do." Then,with a meaning smile, the smile of a wily prime minister, he added: "IfI were in your place, Monsieur le Marquis, I would profit by this yearof grace. You undoubtedly understand what I mean. I have the honor towish you good-morning."
What an awakening--after a glorious dream that had lasted for ten years.M. de Valorsay was stunned--crushed. For three days he remained immuredin his own room, obstinately refusing to receive any one. "The marquisis ill," was his valet's answer to every visitor.
M. de Valorsay felt that he must have time to regain his mentalequilibrium--to look his situation calmly in the face. It was afrightful one, for his ruin was complete, absolute. He could savenothing from the wreck. What was to become of him? What could he do? Heset his wits to work; but he found that he was incapable of plying anykind of avocation. All the energy he had been endowed with by nature hadbeen squandered--exhausted in pandering to his self-conceit. If he hadbeen younger he might have turned soldier; but at his age he had noteven this resource. Then it was that his notary's smile recurred tohis mind. "His advice was decidedly good," he muttered. "All is not yetlost; one way of escape still remains--marriage."
And why, indeed, shouldn't he marry, and marry a rich wife too? No oneknew anything about his misfortune; for a year at least, he would retainall the advantages that wealth bestows upon its possessor. His namealone was a great advantage. It would be very strange if he could notfind some manufacturer's or banker's daughter who would be only toodelighted to have a marquisial coronet emblazoned on her carriagepanels.
Having arrived at this conclusion, M. de Valorsay began his search, andit was not long before he thought he had found what he was seeking.But something was still necessary. The bestowers of large dowers areinclined to be suspicious; they like to have a clear understanding as tothe financial position of the suitors who present themselves, and theynot unfrequently ask for information. Accordingly, before committinghimself, M. de Valorsay understood that it was necessary he shouldprovide himse
lf with an intelligent and devoted adviser. There must besome one to hold his creditors in check, to silence them, and obtainsundry concessions from them--in a word, some one to interest them inhis success. With this object in view, M. de Valorsay applied to hisnotary; but the latter utterly refused to mix himself up in any suchaffair, and declared that the marquis's suggestion was almost an insult.Then touched, perhaps, by his client's apparent despair, he said, "ButI can mention a person who might be of service to you. Go to M. IsidoreFortunat, No. 27 Place de la Bourse. If you succeed in interesting himin your marriage, it is an accomplished fact."
It was under these circumstances that the marquis became acquainted withM. Fortunat. M. de Valorsay was a man of no little penetration, and onhis first visit he carefully weighed his new acquaintance. He foundhim to be the very counsellor he desired--prudent, and at the sametime courageous; fertile in expedients; a thorough master of the artof evading the law, and not at all troubled by scruples. With suchan adviser, it would be mere child's play to conceal his financialembarrassments and deceive the most suspicious father-in-law. So M. deValorsay did not hesitate a moment. He frankly disclosed his pecuniarycondition and his matrimonial hopes, and concluded by promising M.Fortunat a certain percentage on the bride's dowry, to be paid on theday following the marriage.
After a prolonged conference, the agreement was drawn up and signed,and that very day M. Fortunat took the nobleman's interests in hand. Howheartily, and with what confidence in his success, is shown by the factthat he had advanced forty thousand francs for his client's use, outof his own private purse. After such a proof of confidence the marquiscould hardly have been dissatisfied with his adviser; in point of fact,he was delighted with him, and all the more so, as this invaluable manalways treated him with extreme deference, verging on servility. Andin M. de Valorsay's eyes this was a great consideration; for he wasbecoming more arrogant and more irascible in proportion as his right tobe so diminished. Secretly disgusted with himself, and deeply humiliatedby the shameful intrigue to which he had stooped, he took a secretsatisfaction in crushing his accomplice with his imaginary superiorityand lordly disdain. According as his humor was good or bad, hecalled him "my dear extortioner," "Mons. Fortunat," or "MasterTwenty-per-cent." But though these sneers and insults drove theobsequious smile from M. Fortunat's lips, he was quite capable ofincluding them in the bill under the head of sundries.
The unvarying deference and submission which M. de Valorsay's adviserdisplayed made his failure to keep the present appointment all themore remarkable. Such neglect of the commonest rules of courtesy wasinconceivable on the part of so polite a man; and the marquis's angergradually changed to anxiety. "What can have happened?" he thought.
He was trying to decide whether he should leave or stay, when he heard akey grate in the lock of the outer door, and then some quick stepsalong the ante-room. "At last--here he is!" he muttered, with a sigh ofrelief.
He expected to see M. Fortunat enter the room at once, but he wasdisappointed. The agent had no desire to show himself in the garb whichhe had assumed for his excursion with Chupin; and so he had hastened tohis room to don his wonted habiliments. He also desired a few momentsfor deliberation.
If--as was most probably the case--M. de Valorsay were ignorant of theCount de Chalusse's critical condition, was it advisable to tell him ofit? M. Fortunat thought not, judging with reason that this would leadto a discussion and very possibly to a rupture, and he wished to avoidanything of the kind until he was quite certain of the count's death.
Meanwhile the marquis was thinking--he was a trifle late about it--thathe had done wrong to wait in that drawing-room for three mortal hours.Was such conduct worthy of him? Had he shown himself proper respect?Would not M. Fortunat construe this as an acknowledgment of theimportance of his services and his client's urgent need? Would he notbecome more exacting, more exorbitant in his demands? If the marquiscould have made his escape unheard, he would, no doubt, have done so;but this was out of the question. So he resorted to a stratagem whichseemed to him likely to save his compromised dignity. He stretchedhimself out in his arm-chair, closed his eyes, and pretended to doze.Then, when M. Fortunat at last entered the drawing-room he sprang upas if he were suddenly aroused from slumber, rubbed his eyes, andexclaimed: "Eh! what's that? Upon my word I must have been asleep!"
But M. Fortunat was not deceived. He noticed, on the floor, a torn andcrumpled newspaper, which betrayed the impatience and anger his clienthad experienced during his long waiting. "Well," resumed the marquis,"what time is it? Half-past twelve? This is a pretty time to keep anappointment fixed for ten o'clock. This is presuming on my good-nature,M. Fortunat! Do you know that my carriage has been waiting below eversince half-past nine, and that my horses have, perhaps, taken cold? Apair of horses worth six hundred louis!"
M. Fortunat listened to these reproaches with the deepest humility. "Youmust excuse me, Monsieur le Marquis," said he. "If I remained out somuch later than usual, it was only because your business interestsdetained me."
"Zounds! that is about the same as if it had been your own business thatdetained you!" And well pleased with this joke, he added, "Ah well! Howare affairs progressing?"
"On my side as well as could be desired."
The marquis had resumed his seat in the chimney-corner, and was pokingthe fire with a haughty, but poorly assumed air of indifference. "I amlistening," he said carelessly.
"In that case, Monsieur le Marquis, I will state the facts in a fewwords, without going into particulars. Thanks to an expedient devisedby me, we shall obtain for twenty hours a release from all the mortgagesthat now encumber your estates. On that very day we will request acertificate from the recorder. This certificate will declare that yourestates are free from all encumbrances; you will show this statement toM. de Chalusse, and all his doubts--that is, if he has any--will vanish.The plan was very simple; the only difficulty was about raising themoney, but I have succeeded in doing so. All your creditors but two lentthemselves very readily to the arrangement. I have now won the consentof the two who at first refused, but we shall have to pay dearly for it.It will cost you about twenty-six thousand francs."
M. de Valorsay was so delighted that he could not refrain from clappinghis hands. "Then the affair is virtually concluded," he exclaimed."In less than a month Mademoiselle Marguerite will be the Marquise deValorsay, and I shall have a hundred thousand francs a year again."Then, noting how gravely M. Fortunat shook his head: "Ah! so you doubtit!" he cried. "Very well; now it is your turn to listen. Yesterday Ihad a long conference with the Count de Chalusse, and everything hasbeen settled. We exchanged our word of honor, Master Twenty-per-cent.The count does things in a princely fashion; he gives MademoiselleMarguerite two millions."
"Two millions!" the other repeated like an echo.
"Yes, my dear miser, neither more nor less. Only for private reasons,which he did not explain, the count stipulates that only two hundredthousand francs shall appear in the marriage contract. The remainingeighteen hundred thousand francs, he gives to me unreservedly andunconditionally. Upon my word, I think this very charming. How does itstrike you?"
M. Fortunat made no reply. M. de Valorsay's gayety, instead of cheering,saddened him. "Ah! my fine fellow," he thought, "you would sing adifferent song if you knew that by this time M. de Chalusse is probablydead, and that most likely Mademoiselle Marguerite has only herbeautiful eyes left her, and will dim them in weeping for her vanishedmillions."
But this brilliant scion of the aristocracy had no suspicion of thereal state of affairs, for he continued: "You will say, perhaps, it isstrange, that I, Ange-Marie Robert Dalbou, Marquis de Valorsay, shouldmarry a girl whose father and mother no one knows, and whose only nameis Marguerite. In this respect it is true that the match is not exactlya brilliant one. Still, as it will appear that she merely has a fortuneof two hundred thousand francs, no one will accuse me of marrying formoney on the strength of my name. On the contrary, it will seem to be alove-match, and peopl
e will suppose that I have grown young again." Hepaused, incensed by M. Fortunat's lack of enthusiasm. "Judging fromyour long face, Master Twenty-per-cent, one would fancy you doubted mysuccess," he said.
"It is always best to doubt," replied his adviser, philosophically.
The marquis shrugged his shoulders. "Even when one has triumphed overall obstacles?" he asked sneeringly.
"Yes."
"Then, tell me, if you please, what prevents this marriage from being aforegone conclusion?"
"Mademoiselle Marguerite's consent, Monsieur le Marquis."
It was as if a glass of ice-water had been thrown in M. de Valorsay'sface. He started, turned as pale as death, and then exclaimed: "I shallhave that; I am sure of it."
You could not say that M. Fortunat was angry. Such a man, as cold andas smooth as a hundred franc piece, has no useless passions. But he wasintensely irritated to hear his client foolishly chanting the paeons ofvictory, while he was compelled to conceal his grief at the loss of hisforty thousand francs, deep in the recesses of his heart. So, far frombeing touched by the marquis's evident alarm, it pleased him to be ableto turn the dagger in the wound he had just inflicted. "You mustexcuse my incredulity," said he. "It comes entirely from something you,yourself, told me about a week ago."
"What did I tell you?"
"That you suspected Mademoiselle Marguerite of a--how shall I expressit?--of a secret preference for some other person."
The gloomiest despondency had now followed the marquis's enthusiasm andexultation. He was evidently in torture. "I more than suspected it,"said he.
"Ah!"
"I was certain of it, thanks to the count's house-keeper, Madame Leon,a miserable old woman whom I have hired to look after my interests. Shehas been watching Mademoiselle Marguerite, and saw a letter written byher----"
"Oh!"
"Certainly nothing has passed that Mademoiselle Marguerite has anycause to blush for. The letter, which is now in my possession, containsunmistakable proofs of that. She might proudly avow the love she hasinspired, and which she undoubtedly returns. Yet----"
M. Fortunat's gaze was so intent that it became unbearable. "You see,then," he began, "that I had good cause to fear."
Exasperated beyond endurance, M. de Valorsay sprang up so violently thathe overturned his chair. "No!" he exclaimed, "no, a thousand times no!You are wrong--for the man who loves Mademoiselle Marguerite is nowruined. Yes, such is really the case. While we are sitting here, at thisvery moment, he is lost--irredeemably lost. Between him and the womanwhom I wish to marry--whom I SHALL marry--I have dug so broad and deepan abyss that the strongest love cannot overleap it. It is betterand worse than if I had killed him. Dead, he would have been mourned,perhaps; while now, the lowest and most degraded woman would turn fromhim in disgust, or, even if she loved him, she would not dare to confessit."
M. Fortunat seemed greatly disturbed. "Have you then put into executionthe project--the plan you spoke of?" he faltered. "I thought you wereonly jesting."
The marquis lowered his head. "Yes," he answered.
His companion stood for a moment as if petrified, and then suddenlyexclaimed: "What! You have done that--you--a gentleman?"
M. de Valorsay paced the floor in a state of intense agitation. Had hecaught a glimpse of his own face in the looking-glass, it would havefrightened him. "A gentleman!" he repeated, in a tone of suppressedrage; "a gentleman! That word is in everybody's mouth, nowadays. Pray,what do you understand by a gentleman, Mons. Fortunat? No doubt, youmean a heroic idiot who passed through life with a lofty mien, clad inall the virtues, as stoical as Job, and as resigned as a martyr--a sortof moral Don Quixote, preaching the austerest virtue, and practisingit? But, unfortunately, nobility of soul and of purpose are expensiveluxuries, and I am a ruined man. I am no saint! I love life and all thatmakes life beautiful and desirable--and to procure its pleasures I mustfight with the weapons of the age. No doubt, it is grand to be honest;but in my case it is so impossible, that I prefer to be dishonest--tocommit an act of shameful infamy which will yield a hundred thousandfrancs a year. This man is in my way--I suppress him--so much the worsefor him--he has no business to be in my way. If I could have met himopenly, I would have dispatched him according to the accepted code ofhonor; but, then, I should have had to renounce all idea of marryingMademoiselle Marguerite, so I was obliged to find some other way. Icould not choose my means. The drowning man does not reject the plank,which is his only chance of salvation, because it chances to be dirty."
His gestures were even more forcible than his words; and when heconcluded, he threw himself on to the sofa, holding his head tightlybetween his hands, as if he felt that it was bursting. Anger chokedhis utterance--not anger so much as something he would not confess,the quickening of his own conscience and the revolt of every honorableinstinct; for, in spite of his sins of omission, and of commission,never, until this day, had he actually violated any clause of the codeacknowledged by men of honor.
"You have been guilty of a most infamous act, Monsieur le Marquis," saidM. Fortunat, coldly.
"Oh! no moralizing, if you please."
"Only evil will come of it."
The marquis shrugged his shoulders, and in a tone of bitter scorn,retorted: "Come, Mons. Fortunat, if you wish to lose the forty thousandfrancs you advanced to me, it's easy enough to do so. Run to Madamed'Argeles's house, ask for M. de Coralth, and tell him I countermand myorder. My rival will be saved, and will marry Mademoiselle Margueriteand her millions."
M. Fortunat remained silent. He could not tell the marquis: "Myforty thousand francs are lost already. I know that only too well.Mademoiselle Marguerite is no longer the possessor of millions, and youhave committed a useless crime." However, it was this conviction whichimparted such an accent of eagerness to his words as he continued toplead the cause of virtue and of honesty. Would he have said as muchif he had entertained any great hope of the success of the marquis'smatrimonial enterprise? It is doubtful, still we must do M. Fortunat thejustice to admit that he was really and sincerely horrified by what hehad unhesitatingly styled an "infamous act."
The marquis listened to his agent for a few moments in silence, and thenrose to his feet again. "All this is very true," he interrupted; "butI am, nevertheless, anxious to learn the result of my little plot. Forthis reason, Monsieur Fortunat, give me at once the five hundred louisyou promised me, and I will then bid you good-evening."
The agent had been preparing himself for this moment, and yet hetrembled. "I am deeply grieved, monsieur," he replied, with a dolefulsmile; "it was this matter that kept me out so much later than usualthis evening. I hoped to have obtained the money from a banker, whohas always accommodated me before--M. Prosper Bertomy, you know him: hemarried M. Andre Fauvel's niece----"
"Yes, I know; proceed, if you please."
"Ah, well! it was impossible for me to procure the money."
The marquis had hitherto been pale, but now his face flushed crimson."This is a jest, I suppose," said he.
"Alas!--unfortunately--no."
There was a moment's silence, which the marquis probably spent inreflecting upon the probable consequences of this disappointment, forit was in an almost threatening tone that he eventually exclaimed: "Youknow that I must have this money at once--that I must have it."
M. Fortunat would certainly have preferred to lose a good pound of fleshrather than the sum of money mentioned; but, on the other hand, he feltthat it would not do for him to sever his connection with his clientuntil the death of the Count de Chalusse was certain; and being anxiousto save his money and to keep his client, his embarrassment was extreme."It was the most unfortunate thing in the world," he stammered; "Iapprehended no difficulty whatever--" Then, suddenly clapping his handto his forehead, he exclaimed: "But, Monsieur le Marquis, couldn't youborrow this amount from one of your friends, the Duke de Champdoce orthe Count de Commarin?--that would be a good idea."
M. de Valorsay was anything but unsophisticated, and his naturals
hrewdness had been rendered much more acute by the difficulties withwhich he had recently been obliged to contend. M. Fortunat's confusionhad not escaped his keen glance; and this last suggestion aroused hissuspicions at once. "What!" he said, slowly, and with an air of evidentdistrust. "YOU give me this advice, Master Twenty-per-cent. This iswonderful! How long is it since your opinions have undergone such achange?"
"My opinions?"
"Yes. Didn't you say to me during our first interview; 'The thing thatwill save you, is that you have never in your whole life borroweda louis from a friend. An ordinary creditor only thinks of a largeinterest; and if that is paid him he holds his peace. A friend is neversatisfied until everybody knows that he has generously obliged you. Itis far better to apply to a usurer.' I thought all that very sensible,and I quite agreed with you when you added: 'So, Monsieur le Marquis,no borrowing of this kind until after your marriage--not on any pretextwhatever. Go without eating rather than do it. Your credit is stillgood; but it is being slowly undermined--and the indiscretion of afriend who chanced to say: "I think Valorsay is hard up," might fire thetrain, and then you'd explode.'"
M. Fortunat's embarrassment was really painful to witness. He was notusually wanting in courage, but the events of the evening had shaken hisconfidence and his composure. The hope of gain and the fear of loss haddeprived him of his wonted clearness of mind. Feeling that he had justcommitted a terrible blunder, he racked his brain to find some way ofrepairing it, and finding none, his confusion increased.
"Did you, or didn't you, use that language?" insisted M. de Valorsay."What have you to say in reply?"
"Circumstances----"
"What circumstances?"
"Urgent need--necessity. There is no rule without its exceptions. I didnot imagine you would be so rash. I have advanced you forty thousandfrancs in less than five months--it is outrageous. If I were in yourplace, I would be more reasonable--I would economize----"
He paused! in fact, he was compelled to pause by the piercing glancewhich M. de Valorsay turned upon him. He was furious with himself. "I amlosing my wits," he thought.
"Still more wise counsel," remarked the ruined nobleman ironically."While you are about it, why don't you advise me to sell my horses andcarriages, and establish myself in a garret in the Rue Amelot? Such acourse would seem very natural, wouldn't it? and, of course, it wouldinspire M. de Chalusse with boundless confidence!"
"But without going to such extremes----"
"Hold your tongue!" interrupted the marquis, violently. "Better than anyone else you know that I cannot retrench, although the reality no longerexists. I am condemned, cost what it may, to keep up appearances. Thatis my only hope of salvation. I have gambled, given expensive suppers,indulged in dissipation of every kind, and I must continue to do so.I have come to hate Ninette Simplon, for whom I have committed so manyacts of folly, and yet I still keep her--to show that I am rolling inwealth. I have thrown thousand-franc notes out of the window, and Imustn't stop throwing them. Indeed, what would people say if I stopped!Why, 'Valorsay is a ruined man!' Then, farewell to my hopes of marryingan heiress. And so I am always gay and smiling; that is part of my role.What would my servants--the twenty spies that I pay--what would theythink if they saw me thoughtful or disturbed? You would scarcely believeit, M. Fortunat, but I have positively been reduced to dining on creditat my club, because I had paid, that morning, for a month's provenderfor my horses! It is true I have many valuable articles in my house, butI cannot dispose of them. People would recognize them at once; besides,they form a part of my stock-in-trade. An actor doesn't sell hiscostumes because he's hungry--he goes without food--and when it's timefor the curtain to rise, he dons his satin and velvet garments, and,despite his empty stomach, he chants the praises of a bountiful tableand rare old wine. That is what I am doing--I, Robert Dalbou, Marquisde Valorsay! At the races at Vincennes, about a fortnight ago, I wasbowling along the boulevard behind my four-in-hand, when I heard alaborer say, 'How happy those rich people must be!' Happy, indeed! Why,I envied him his lot. He was sure that the morrow would be like theday that preceded it. On that occasion my entire fortune consisted ofa single louis, which I had won at baccarat the evening before. As Ientered the enclosure, Isabelle, the flower-girl, handed me a rose formy button-hole. I gave her my louis--but I longed to strangle her!"
He paused for a moment, and then, in a frenzy of passion, he advancedtoward M. Fortunat, who instinctively retreated into the protectingembrasure of a window. "And for eight months I have lived this horriblelife!" he resumed. "For eight months each moment has been so muchtorture. Ah! better poverty, prison, and shame! And now, when the prizeis almost won, actuated either by treason or caprice, you try to makeall my toil and all my suffering unavailing. You try to thwart me on thevery threshold of success! No! I swear, by God's sacred name, it shallnot be! I will rather crush you, you miserable scoundrel--crush you likea venomous reptile!"
There was such a ring of fury in his voice that the crystals of thecandelabra vibrated; and Madame Dodelin, in her kitchen, heard it, andshuddered. "Some one will certainly do M. Fortunat an injury one ofthese days," she thought.
It was not by any means the first time that M. Fortunat had foundhimself at variance with clients of a sanguine temperament; but hehad always escaped safe and sound, so that, after all, he was notparticularly alarmed in the present instance, as was proved by the factthat he was still calm enough to reflect and plan. "In forty-eight hoursI shall be certain of the count's fate," he thought; "he will be dead,or he will be in a fair way to recovery--so by promising to give thisfrenzied man what he desires on the day after to-morrow, I shall incurno risk."
Taking advantage of an opportunity which M. de Valorsay furnished,on pausing to draw breath, he hastily exclaimed, "Really, Monsieur leMarquis, I cannot understand your anger."
"What! scoundrel!"
"Excuse me. Before insulting me, permit me to explain----"
"No explanation--five hundred louis!"
"Have the kindness to allow me to finish. Yes, I know that you are inurgent need of money--not by-and-by, but now. To-day I was unableto procure it, nor can I promise it to-morrow; but on the day afterto-morrow, Saturday, I shall certainly have it ready for you."
The marquis seemed to be trying to read his agent's very soul. "Are youin earnest?" he asked. "Show your hand. If you don't intend to help meout of my embarrassment, say so."
"Ah, Monsieur le Marquis, am I not as much interested in your successas you yourself can be? Have you not received abundant proofs of mydevotion?"
"Then I can rely upon you."
"Absolutely." And seeing a lingering doubt in his client's eyes, M.Fortunat added, "You have my word of honor!"
The clock struck three. The marquis took his hat and started towardthe door. But M. Fortunat, in whose heart the word scoundrel was stillrankling, stopped him. "Are you going to that lady's house now? Whatis she called? I've forgotten her name. Ah, yes, I remember now. Madamed'Argeles, isn't she called? It's at her place, I believe, that thereputation of Mademoiselle Marguerite's favored lover is to be ruined."
The marquis turned angrily. "What do you take me for, MasterTwenty-per-cent?" he rudely asked. "That is one of those things nowell-bred gentleman will do himself. But in Paris people can be found todo any kind of dirty work, if you are willing to pay them for it."
"Then how will you know the result?"
"Why, twenty minutes after the affair is over, M. de Coralth will beat my house. He is there even now, perhaps." And as this subject wasanything but pleasant, he hastened away, exclaiming, "Get to bed, mydear extortioner. Au revoir. And, above all, remember your promise."
"My respects, Monsieur le Marquis."
But when the door closed, M. Fortunat's expression immediately changed."Ah! you insult me!" he muttered sullenly. "You rob me, and you callme a scoundrel into the bargain. You shall pay dearly for it, my finefellow, no matter what may happen!"
The Count's Millions Page 3
