The Count's Millions

by Emile Gaboriau

  VI.

  "There are a number of patients waiting for me. I will drop in againabout midnight. I still have several urgent visits to make." Thus hadDr. Jodon spoken to Mademoiselle Marguerite; and yet, when he left theHotel de Chalusse, after assuring himself that Casimir would have somestraw spread over the street, the doctor quietly walked home. The visitshe had spoken of merely existed in his imagination; but it was a part ofhis role to appear to be overrun with patients. To tell the truth,the only patient he had had to attend to that week was a superannuatedporter, living in the Rue de la Pepiniere, and whom he visited twice aday, for want of something better to do. The remainder of his timewas spent in waiting for patients who never came, and in cursing theprofession of medicine, which was ruined, he declared, by excessivecompetition, combined with certain rules of decorum which hampered youngpractitioners beyond endurance.

  However, if Dr. Jodon had devoted one-half of the time he spent incursing and building castles in the air to study, he might have,perhaps, raised his little skill to the height of his immense ambition.But neither work nor patience formed any part of his system. He wasa man of the present age, and wished to rise speedily with as littletrouble as possible. A certain amount of display and assurance, a littleluck, and a good deal of advertising would, in his opinion, suffice tobring about this result. It was with this conviction, indeed, that hehad taken up his abode in the Rue de Courcelles, situated in one of themost aristocratic quarters of Paris. But so far, events had shown histheory to be incorrect. In spite of the greatest economy, very cleverlyconcealed, he had seen the little capital which constituted his entirefortune dwindle away. He had originally possessed but twenty thousandfrancs, a sum which in no wise corresponded with his lofty pretensions.He had paid his rent that very morning; and he could not close his eyesto the fact that the time was near at hand when he would be unable topay it. What should he do then? When he thought of this contingency,and it was a subject that filled his mind to the exclusion of all othermatters, he felt the fires of wrath and hatred kindle in his soul. Heutterly refused to regard himself as the cause of his own misfortunes;on the contrary, following the example of many other disappointedindividuals, he railed at mankind and everything in general--atcircumstances, envious acquaintances, and enemies, whom he certainly didnot possess.

  At times he was capable of doing almost anything to gratify his lust forgold, for the privations which he had endured so long were like oil castupon the flame of covetousness which was ever burning in his breast. Incalmer moments he asked himself at what other door he could knock,in view of hastening the arrival of Fortune. Sometimes he thought ofturning dentist, or of trying to find some capitalist who would join himin manufacturing one of those patent medicines which are warrantedto yield their promoters a hundred thousand francs a year. On otheroccasions he dreamed of establishing a monster pharmacy, or of openinga private hospital. But money was needed to carry out any one of theseplans, and he had no money. There was the rub. However the time was fastapproaching when he must decide upon his course; he could not possiblyhold out much longer.

  His third year of practice in the Rue de Courcelles had not yielded himenough to pay his servant's wages. For he had a servant, of course.He had a valet for the same reason as he had a suite of rooms of asuperficially sumptuous aspect. Faithful to his system, or, rather, tohis master's system, he had sacrificed everything to show. The displayof gilding in his apartments was such as to make a man of taste shuthis eyes to escape the sight of it. There were gorgeous carpets andhangings, frescoed ceilings, spurious objects of virtu, and pier-tablesloaded with ornaments. An unsophisticated youth from the country wouldcertainly have been dazzled; but it would not do to examine these thingstoo closely. There was more cotton than silk in the velvet covering ofthe furniture; and if various statuettes placed on brackets at a certainheight had been closely inspected, it would have been found that theywere of mere plaster, hidden beneath a coating of green paint, sprinkledwith copper filings. This plaster, playing the part of bronze, was inperfect keeping with the man, his system, and the present age.

  When the doctor reached home, his first question to his servant was asusual: "Has any one called?"

  "No one."

  The doctor sighed, and passing through his superb waiting-room, heentered his consulting sanctum, and seated himself in the chimney cornerbeside an infinitesimal fire. He was even more thoughtful than usual.The scene which he had just witnessed at the Count de Chalusse's houserecurred to his mind, and he turned it over and over again in his brain,striving to find some way by which he might derive an advantage from themystery. For he was more than ever convinced that there was a mystery.He had been engrossed in these thoughts for some time, when hismeditations were disturbed by a ring at the bell. Who could be callingat this hour?

  The question was answered by his servant, who appeared and informedhim that a lady, who was in a great hurry, was waiting in thereception-room. "Very well," was his reply; "but it is best to let herwait a few moments." For he had at least this merit: he never deviatedfrom his system. Under no circumstances whatever would he have admitteda patient immediately; he wished him to wait so that he might have anopportunity of reflecting on the advantages of consulting a physicianwhose time was constantly occupied.

  However, when ten minutes or so had elapsed, he opened the door, anda tall lady came quickly forward, throwing back the veil which hadconcealed her face. She must have been over forty-five; and if she hadever been handsome, there was nothing to indicate it now. She had brownhair, thickly sprinkled with gray, but very coarse and abundant, andgrowing low over her forehead; her nose was broad and flat; her lipswere thick, and her eyes were dull and expressionless. However, hermanners were gentle and rather melancholy; and one would have judged herto be somewhat of a devotee. Still for the time being she seemed greatlyagitated. She seated herself at the doctor's invitation; and withoutwaiting for him to ask any questions: "I ought to tell you at once,monsieur," she began, "that I am the Count de Chalusse's house-keeper."

  In spite of his self-control, the doctor bounded from his chair. "MadameLeon?" he asked, in a tone of intense surprise.

  She bowed, compressing her thick lips. "I am known by that name--yes,monsieur. But it is only my Christian name. The one I have a right tobear would not accord with my present position. Reverses of fortune arenot rare in these days; and were it not for the consoling influences ofreligion, one would not have strength to endure them."

  The physician was greatly puzzled. "What can she want of me?" hethought.

  Meanwhile, she had resumed speaking: "I was much reduced incircumstances--at the end of my resources, indeed--when M. deChalusse--a family friend--requested me to act as companion to a younggirl in whom he was interested--Mademoiselle Marguerite. I accepted theposition; and I thank God every day that I did so, for I feel a mother'saffection for this young girl, and she loves me as fondly as if she weremy own daughter." In support of her assertion, she drew a handkerchieffrom her pocket, and succeeded in forcing a few tears to her eyes."Under these circumstances, doctor," she continued, "you cannot fail tounderstand that the interests of my dearly beloved Marguerite bring meto you. I was shut up in my own room when M. de Chalusse was broughthome, and I did not hear of his illness until after your departure.Perhaps you might say that I ought to have waited until your next visit;but I had not sufficient patience to do so. One cannot submit withouta struggle to the torture of suspense, when the future of a beloveddaughter is at stake. So here I am." She paused to take breath, and thenadded, "I have come, monsieur, to ask you to tell me the exact truthrespecting the count's condition."

  The doctor was expecting something very different, but nevertheless hereplied with all due gravity and self-possession. "It is my painful dutyto tell you, madame, that there is scarcely any hope, and that I expecta fatal termination within twenty-four hours, unless the patient shouldregain consciousness."

  The housekeeper turned pale. "Then all is lost," she faltered, "allis l
ost!" And unable to articulate another word she rose to her feet,bowed, and abruptly left the room.

  Before the grate, with his mouth half open, and his right arm extendedin an interrupted gesture, the doctor stood speechless and disconcerted.It was only when the outer door closed with a bang that he seemedrestored to consciousness. And as he heard the noise he sprang forwardas if to recall his visitor. "Ah!" he exclaimed, with an oath, "themiserable old woman was mocking me!" And urged on by a wild, irrationalimpulse, he caught up his hat and darted out in pursuit. Madame Leon wasconsiderably in advance of him, and was walking very quickly; still, byquickening his pace, he might have overtaken her. However, he did notjoin her, for he scarcely knew what excuse to offer for such a strangeproceeding; he contented himself by cautiously following her at a littledistance. Suddenly she stopped short. It was in front of a tobacconist'sshop, where there was a post-office letter-box. The shop was closed, butthe box was there with its little slit for letters to be dropped intoit. Madame Leon evidently hesitated. She paused, as one always doesbefore venturing upon a decisive act, from which there will be noreturn, whatever may be the consequences. An observer never remainstwenty minutes before a letter-box without witnessing this pantomime soexpressive of irresolution. At last, however, she shrugged hershoulders with a gesture which eloquently expressed the result of herdeliberations; and drawing a letter from her bosom, she dropped it intothe box, and then hastened on more quickly than before.

  "There is not the slightest doubt," thought the doctor, "that letter hadbeen prepared in advance, and whether it should be sent or not dependedon the answer I gave."

  We have already said that M. Jodon was not a wealthy man, and yethe would willingly have given a hundred-franc note to have known thecontents of this letter, or even the name of the person to whom it wasaddressed. But his chase was almost ended. Madame Leon had reached theHotel de Chalusse, and now went in. Should he follow her? His curiositywas torturing him to such a degree that he had an idea of doing so;and it required an heroic effort of will to resist the temptationsuccessfully. But a gleam of common sense warned him that this wouldbe a terrible blunder. Once already during the evening his conduct hadattracted attention; and he began to realize that there was a betterway of winning confidence than by intruding almost forcibly into otherpeople's affairs. Accordingly he thoughtfully retraced his steps,feeling intensely disgusted with himself. "What a fool I am!" hegrumbled. "If I had kept the old woman in suspense, instead of blurtingout the truth, I might have learned the real object of her visit; forshe had an object. But what was it?"

  The doctor spent the two hours that remained to him before making hissecond visit in trying to discover it. But, although nothing preventedhim from exploring the boundless fields of improbable possibilities, hecould think of nothing satisfactory. There was only one certain point,that Madame Leon and Mademoiselle Marguerite were equally interested inthe question as to whether the count would regain consciousness or not.As to their interests in the matter, the doctor felt confident thatthey were not identical; he was persuaded that a secret enmityexisted between them, and that the housekeeper had visited him withoutMademoiselle Marguerite's knowledge. For he was not deceived by MadameLeon, or by her pretended devotion to Mademoiselle Marguerite. Hermanner, her smooth words, her tone of pious resignation, and theallusion to the grand name she had the right to bear, were allcalculated to impose upon one; but she had been too much disconcertedtoward the last to remember her part. Dr. Jodon lacked the courage toreturn to his sumptuous rooms, and it was in a little cafe that he thusreflected upon the situation, while drinking some execrable beer brewedin Paris out of a glass manufactured in Bavaria.

  At last midnight sounded--the hour had come. Still the doctor did notmove. Having been obliged to wait himself, he wished, in revenge, tomake the others wait, and it was not until the cafe closed that he againwalked up the Rue de Courcelles. Madame Leon had left the gate ajar, andthe doctor had no difficulty in making his way into the courtyard. Asin the earlier part of the evening, the servants were assembled in theconcierge's lodge; but the careless gayety which shone upon their facesa few hours before had given place to evident anxiety respecting theirfuture prospects. Through the windows of the lodge they could be seenstanding round the two choice spirits of the household, M. Bourigeau,the concierge, and M. Casimir, the valet, who were engaged in earnestconversation. And if the doctor had listened, he would have heardsuch words as "wages," and "legacies," and "remuneration for faithfulservice," and "annuities" repeated over and over again.

  But M. Jodon did not listen. Thinking he should find some servantinside, he entered the house. However, there was nobody to announce hispresence; the door closed noiselessly behind him, the heavy carpet whichcovered the marble steps stifled the sound of his footsteps, and heascended the first flight without seeing any one. The door opening intothe count's room was open, the room itself being brilliantly lighted bya large fire, and a lamp which stood on a corner of the mantel-shelf.Instinctively the doctor paused and looked in. There had been no changesince his first visit. The count was still lying motionless on hispillows; his face was swollen, his eyelids were closed, but he stillbreathed, as was shown by the regular movement of the covering over hischest. Madame Leon and Mademoiselle Marguerite were his only attendants.The housekeeper, who sat back a little in the shade, was half recliningin an arm-chair with her hands clasped in her lap, her lips firmlycompressed, and her eyes fixed upon vacancy. Pale but calm, and moreimposing and more beautiful than ever, Mademoiselle Marguerite waskneeling beside the bed, eagerly watching for some sign of renewed lifeand intelligence on the count's face.

  A little ashamed of his indiscretion, the doctor retreated seven oreight steps down the stairs, and then ascended them again, coughingslightly, so as to announce his approach. This time he was heard.for Mademoiselle Marguerite came to the door to meet him. "Well?" heinquired.

  "Alas!"

  He advanced toward the bed, but before he had time to examine hispatient Mademoiselle Marguerite handed him a scrap of paper. "Thephysician who usually attends M. de Chalusse has been here in yourabsence, monsieur," said she. "This is his prescription, and we havealready administered a few drops of the potion."

  M. Jodon, who was expecting this blow, bowed coldly.

  "I must add," continued Mademoiselle Marguerite, "that the doctorapproved of all that had been done; and I beg you will unite your skillwith his in treating the case."

  Unfortunately all the medical skill of the faculty would have availednothing here. After another examination, Dr. Jodon declared that itwould be necessary to wait for the action of nature, but that he mustbe informed of the slightest change in the sick man's condition. "And Iwill tell my servant to wake me at once if I am sent for," he added.

  He was already leaving the room, when Madame Leon barred his passage."Isn't it true, doctor, that one attentive person would suffice to watchover the count?" she asked.

  "Most assuredly," he answered.

  The housekeeper turned toward Mademoiselle Marguerite. "Ah, you see, mydear young lady," she said, "what did I tell you? Listen to me; take alittle rest. Watching is not suitable work for one of your age----"

  "It is useless to insist," interrupted the young girl, resolutely. "Ishall remain here. I shall watch over him myself."

  The housekeeper made no reply; but it seemed to the doctor that the twowomen exchanged singular glances. "The devil!" he muttered, as he tookhis departure; "one might think that they distrusted each other!"

  Perhaps he was right; but at all events he had scarcely left the housebefore Madame Leon again urged her dear young lady to take a fewhours' rest. "What can you fear?" she insisted, in her wheedling voice."Sha'n't I be here? Do you suppose your old Leon capable of losingherself in sleep, when your future depends upon a word from that poorman lying there?"

  "Pray, cease."

  "Ah, no! my dear young lady; my love for you compels me."

  "Oh, enough!" interrupted Mademoiselle Marguerite; "
enough, Leon!"

  Her tone was so determined that the housekeeper was compelled to yield;but not without a deep sigh, not without an imploring glance to Heaven,as if calling upon Providence to witness the purity of her motives andthe usefulness of her praiseworthy efforts. "At least, my dear lady,wrap yourself up warmly. Shall I go and bring you your heavy travellingshawl?"

  "Thanks, my dear Leon--Annette will bring it."

  "Then, pray, send for it. But we are not going to watch alone? Whatshould we do if we needed anything?"

  "I will call," replied Marguerite.

  This was unnecessary, for Dr. Jodon's departure from the house had putan abrupt termination to the servants' conference; and they were nowassembled on the landing, anxious and breathless, and peering eagerlyinto the sick-room.

  Mademoiselle Marguerite went toward them. "Madame Leon and myself willremain with the count," she said. "Annette"--this was the woman whomshe liked best of all the servants "Casimir and a footman will spend thenight in the little side salon. The others may retire."

  Her orders were obeyed. Two o'clock sounded from the church-tower nearby, and then the solemn and terrible silence was only broken by thehard breathing of the unconscious man and the implacable ticktack of theclock on the mantel-shelf, numbering the seconds which were left forhim to live. From the streets outside, not a sound reached this princelyabode, which stood between a vast courtyard and a garden as large as apark. Moreover, the straw which had been spread over the paving-stoneseffectually deadened the rumble of the few vehicles that passed.Enveloped in a soft, warm shawl, Madame Leon had again taken possessionof her arm-chair, and while she pretended to be reading a prayer-book,she kept a close watch over her dear young lady, as if she were strivingto discover her in-most thoughts. Mademoiselle Marguerite did notsuspect this affectionate espionage. Besides, what would it havemattered to her? She had rolled a low arm-chair near the bedside, seatedherself in it, and her eyes were fixed upon M. de Chalusse. Two or threetimes she started violently, and once even she said to Madame Leon:"Come--come and see!"

  It seemed to her that there was a faint change in the patient's face;but it was only a fancy--she had been deceived by the shadows thatplayed about the room, caused by the capricious flame in the grate. Thehours were creeping on, and the housekeeper, wearying at last of herfruitless watch, dropped asleep; her head fell forward on to her breast,her prayer-book slipped from her hands, and finally she began to snore.But Mademoiselle Marguerite did not perceive this, absorbed as she wasin thoughts which, by reason of their very profundity, had ceased tobe sorrowful. Perhaps she felt she was keeping a last vigil over herhappiness, and that with the final breath of this dying man all hergirlhood's dreams and all her dearest hopes would take flight forevermore. Undoubtedly her thoughts flew to the man to whom she hadpromised her life--to Pascal, to the unfortunate fellow whose honorwas being stolen from him at that very moment, in a fashionablegaming-house.

  About five o'clock the air became so close that she felt a suddenfaintness, and opened the window to obtain a breath of fresh air. Thenoise aroused Madame Leon from her slumbers. She rose, yawned, andrather sullenly declared that she felt very queer, and would certainlyfall ill if she did not take some refreshment. It became necessary tosummon M. Casimir, who brought her a glass of Madeira and some biscuits."Now I feel better," she murmured, after her repast. "My excessivesensibility will be the death of me." And so saying, she dropped asleepagain.

  Mademoiselle Marguerite had meanwhile returned to her seat; but herthoughts gradually became confused, her eyelids grew heavy, and althoughshe struggled, she at last fell asleep in her turn, with her headresting on the count's bed. It was daylight when a strange and terribleshock awoke her. It seemed to her as if an icy hand, some dead person'shand, was gently stroking her head, and tenderly caressing her hair. Sheat once sprang to her feet. The sick man had regained consciousness;his eyes were open and his right arm was moving. Mademoiselle Margueritedarted to the bell-rope and pulled it violently, and as a servantappeared in answer to the summons, she cried: "Run for the physician wholives near here--quick!--and tell him that the count is conscious."

  In an instant, almost, the sick-room was full of servants, but the girldid not perceive it. She had approached M. de Chalusse, and taking hishand, she tenderly asked: "You hear me, do you not, monsieur? Do youunderstand me?"

  His lips moved; but only a hollow, rattling sound, which was absolutelyunintelligible, came from his throat. Still, he understood her; asit was easy to see by his gestures--despairing and painful ones, forparalysis had not released its hold on its victim, and it was only withgreat difficulty that he could slightly move his right arm. He evidentlydesired something. But what?

  They mentioned the different articles in the room--everything indeedthat they could think of. But in vain, until the housekeeper suddenlyexclaimed: "He wishes to write."

  That was, indeed, what he desired. With the hand that was comparativelyfree, with the hoarse rattle that was his only voice, M. de Chalusseanswered, "Yes, yes!" and his eyes even turned to Madame Leon with anexpression of joy and gratitude. They raised him on his pillows, andbrought him a small writing-desk, with some paper, and a pen thathad been dipped in ink. But like those around him, he had himselfover-estimated his strength; if he could move his hand, he could notCONTROL its movements. After a terrible effort and intense suffering,however, he succeeded in tracing a few words, the meaning of which itwas impossible to understand. It was only with the greatestdifficulty that these words could be deciphered--"My entirefortune--give--friends--against----" This signified nothing.

  In despair, he dropped the pen, and his glance and his hand turned tothat part of the room opposite his bed. "Monsieur means his escritoire,perhaps?"

  "Yes, yes," the sick man hoarsely answered.

  "Perhaps the count wishes that it should be opened?"

  "Yes, yes!" was the reply again.

  "My God!" exclaimed Mademoiselle Marguerite, with a gesture of despair;"what have I done? I have broken the key. I feared the responsibilitywhich would fall upon us all."

  The expression of the count's face had become absolutely frightful.It indicated utter discouragement, the most bitter suffering, the mosthorrible despair. His soul was writhing in a body from which life hadfled. Intelligence, mind, and will were fast bound in a corpse whichthey could not electrify. The consciousness of his own powerlessnesscaused him a paroxysm of frantic rage; his hands clinched, the veins inhis throat swelled, his eyes almost started from their sockets, and ina harsh, shrill voice that had nothing human in it, he exclaimed:"Marguerite!--despoiled!--take care!--your mother!" And this was all--itwas the supreme effort that broke the last link that bound the soul toearth.

  "A priest!" cried Madame Leon! "A priest! In the name of Heaven, go fora priest!"

  "Rather for a notary," suggested M. Casimir. "You see he wishes to makea will."

  But at that moment the physician entered, pale and breathless. He walkedstraight to the bedside, glanced at the motionless form, and solemnlyexclaimed: "The Count de Chalusse is dead!"

  There was a moment's stupor--the stupor which always follows death,especially when death comes suddenly and unexpectedly. A feeling ofmingled wonder, selfishness, and fear pervaded the group of servants."Yes, it is over!" muttered the doctor; "it is all over!"

  And as he was familiar with these painful scenes, and had lost noneof his self-possession, he furtively studied Mademoiselle Marguerite'sfeatures and attitude. She seemed thunderstruck. With dry, fixed eyesand contracted features, she stood rooted to her place, gazing at thelifeless form as if she were expecting some miracle--as if she stillhoped to hear those rigid lips reveal the secret which he had tried invain to disclose, and which he had carried with him to the grave.

  The physician was the only person who observed this. The other occupantsof the room were exchanging looks of distress. Some of the women hadfallen upon their knees, and were sobbing and praying in the samebreath. But Madame Leon's sobs could be
heard above the rest. They wereat first inarticulate moans, but suddenly she sprang toward MademoiselleMarguerite, and clasping her in her arms, she cried: "What a misfortune!My dearest child, what a loss!" Utterly incapable of uttering a word,the poor girl tried to free herself from this close embrace, but thehousekeeper would not be repulsed, and continued: "Weep, my dear younglady, weep! Do not refuse to give vent to your sorrow."

  She herself displayed so little self-control that the physicianreprimanded her with considerable severity, whereat her emotionincreased, and with her handkerchief pressed to her eyes, she sobbed:"Yes, doctor, yes; you are right; I ought to moderate my grief. Butpray, doctor, remove my beloved Marguerite from this scene, which is tooterrible for her young and tender heart. Persuade her to retire to herown room, so that she may ask God for strength to bear the misfortunewhich has befallen her."

  The poor girl had certainly no intention of leaving the room, butbefore she could say so, M. Casimir stepped forward. "I think," he drylyobserved, "that mademoiselle had better remain here."

  "Eh?" said Madame Leon, looking up suddenly. "And why, if you please?"

  "Because--because----"

  Anger had dried the housekeeper's tears. "What do you mean?" she asked."Do you pretend to prevent mademoiselle from doing as she chooses in herown house?"

  M. Casimir gave vent to a contemptuous whistle, which, twenty-four hoursearlier, would have been punished with a heavy blow from the man whowas now lying there--dead. "Her own house!" he answered; "her own house!Yesterday I shouldn't have denied it; but to-day it's quite anotherthing. Is she a relative? No, she isn't. What are you talking about,then? We are all equals here."

  He spoke so impudently that even the doctor felt indignant. "Scoundrel!"said he.

  But the valet turned toward him with an air which proved that he waswell acquainted with the doctor's servant, and, consequently, with allthe secrets of the master's life. "Call your own valet a scoundrel, ifyou choose," he retorted, "but not me. Your duties here are over, aren'tthey? So leave us to manage our own affairs. Thank heaven, I know whatI'm talking about. Everybody knows that caution must be exercised in adead man's house, especially when that house is full of money, and when,instead of relatives, there are--persons who--who are there nobody knowshow or why. In case any valuables were missed, who would be accusedof taking them? Why, the poor servants, of course. Ah, they have broadshoulders! Their trunks would be searched; and even if nothing werefound, they would be sent to prison all the same. In the meantime otherpeople would escape with the booty. No, Lisette! No one will stir fromthis room until the arrival of the justice----"

  Madame Leon was bursting with rage. "All right!" she interrupted; "I'mgoing to send for the count's particular friend, General----"

  "I don't care a fig for your general."

  "Wretch!"

  It was Mademoiselle Marguerite who put an end to this indecent dispute.Its increasing violence had aroused her from her stupor. Casimir'simpudence brought a flush to her forehead, and stepping forward withhaughty resolution, she exclaimed: "You forget that one never raisesone's voice in the chamber of death." Her words were so true, and hermanner so majestic, that M. Casimir was silenced. Then, pointing to thedoor, she coldly added: "Go for the justice of the peace, and don't setfoot here again, except in his company."

  He bowed, stammered an unintelligible apology, and left the room. "Shealways gets the best of me," he growled, as he went downstairs. "Butseals shall be put on everything."

  When he entered the porter's lodge, M. Bourigeau was just getting up,having slept all night, while his wife watched. "Quick," ordered M.Casimir; "make haste and finish dressing, and run for the justice of thepeace--we must have him here at once. Everything must be done regularlyand in order, upstairs."

  The concierge was in despair. "Heavens!" he exclaimed; "so the master'sdead! What a misfortune!"

  "You may well say so; and this is the second time such a thing hashappened to me. I remember now what a shrewd fellow named Chupin oncesaid to me. 'If I were a servant,' he remarked, 'before entering a man'sservice, I'd make him insure his life for my benefit in one of thosenew-fangled companies, so that I might step into a handsome fortune ifhe took it into his head to die.' But make haste, Bourigeau."

  "That's a famous idea, but scarcely practicable," growled the concierge.

  "I don't know whether it is or not. But at all events I'm terriblyannoyed. The count was giving me enormous wages, and I had got himnicely into my ways. Well, after all, I shall only have to begin again!"

  M. Bourigeau had not yet attained to the heights of such serenephilosophy, and as he buttoned his overcoat, he groaned: "Ah! you're notsituated as I am, Casimir. You've only yourself to look out for. I havemy furniture; and if I don't succeed in finding a position where I canhave two rooms, I shall be obliged to sell part of it. What a blessednuisance!"

  As soon as he was dressed he started off on his mission; and M. Casimir,who dared not return to the house, began walking slowly to and froin front of the lodge. He had made some thirty turns or so, and wasbeginning to feel impatient, when he saw Victor Chupin approaching. "Youare always on hand at the right moment," remarked M. Casimir. "It's allover!"

  Chupin turned eagerly. "Then our bargain holds?" he exclaimed. "Youunderstand what I mean--the funeral, you know."

  "It isn't certain that I shall have anything to do with it; but callagain in three hours from now."

  "All right, I'll be here."

  "And M. Fortunat?" asked Casimir.

  "He received what he called a 'violent shock' last evening, but he'sbetter this morning. He instructed me to tell you that he should lookfor you between twelve and one--you know where."

  "I'll endeavor to be there, although it may be difficult for me to getaway. If I go, however, I'll show him the letter that caused the count'sillness; for the count threw it away, after tearing it into severalpieces, and I found some of the bits which escaped his notice as well asmademoiselle's. It's a strange letter, upon my word!"

  Chupin gazed at the valet with a look of mingled wonder and admiration."By Jove!" he exclaimed, "how fortunate a man must be to secure a valetlike you!"

  His companion smiled complacently, but all of a sudden he remarked:"Make haste and go. I see Bourigeau in the distance, bringing thejustice of the peace."