The Count's Millions

by Emile Gaboriau

  XII.

  On hearing M. de Valorsay's name, Mademoiselle Marguerite and themagistrate exchanged glances full of wondering conjecture. The girl wasundecided what course to pursue; but the magistrate put an end to herperplexity. "Ask the marquis to come up," he said to the servant.

  The footman left the room; and, as soon as he had disappeared,Mademoiselle Marguerite exclaimed: "What, monsieur! after all I havetold you, you still wish me to receive him?"

  "It is absolutely necessary that you should do so. You must know whathe wishes and what hope brings him here. Calm yourself, and submit tonecessity."

  In a sort of bewilderment, the girl hastily arranged her disordereddress, and caught up her wavy hair which had fallen over her shoulders."Ah! monsieur," she remarked, "don't you understand that he stillbelieves me to be the count's heiress? In his eyes, I am stillsurrounded by the glamor of the millions which are mine no longer."

  "Hush! here he comes!"

  The Marquis de Valorsay was indeed upon the threshold, and a momentlater he entered the room. He was clad with the exquisite taste ofthose intelligent gentlemen to whom the color of a pair of trousers isa momentous matter, and whose ambition is satisfied if they are regardedas a sovereign authority respecting the cut of a waistcoat. As a rule,his expression of face merely denoted supreme contentment with himselfand indifference as to others, but now, strange to say, he looked graveand almost solemn. His right leg--the unfortunate limb which had beenbroken when he fell from his horse in Ireland--seemed stiff, and draggeda trifle more than usual, but this was probably solely due to theinfluence of the atmosphere. He bowed to Mademoiselle Marguerite withevery mark of profound respect, and without seeming to notice themagistrate's presence.

  "You will excuse me, I trust, mademoiselle," said he, "in havinginsisted upon seeing you, so that I might express my deep sympathy. Ihave just heard of the terrible misfortune which has befallen you--thesudden death of your father."

  She drew back as if she were terrified, and repeated: "My father!"

  The marquis did not evince the slightest surprise. "I know," said he, ina voice which he tried to make as feeling as possible, "I know thatM. de Chalusse kept this fact concealed from you; but he confided hissecret to me."

  "To you?" interrupted the magistrate, who was unable to restrain himselfany longer.

  The marquis turned haughtily to this old man dressed in black, and inthe dry tone one uses in speaking to an indiscreet inferior, he replied:"To me, yes, monsieur; and he acquainted me not only by word of mouth,but in writing also, with the motives which influenced him, expressinghis fixed intention, not only of recognizing Mademoiselle Marguerite ashis daughter, but also of adopting her in order to insure her undisputedright to his fortune and his name."

  "Ah!" said the magistrate as if suddenly enlightened; "ah! ah!"

  But without noticing this exclamation which was, at least, remarkablein tone, M. de Valorsay again turned to Mademoiselle Marguerite, andcontinued: "Your ignorance on this subject, mademoiselle, convincesme that your servants have not deceived me in telling me that M. deChalusse was struck down without the slightest warning. But they havetold me one thing which I cannot believe. They have told me that thecount made no provision for you, that he left no will, and that--excusea liberty which is prompted only by the most respectful interest--andthat, the result of this incomprehensible and culpable neglect is thatyou are ruined and almost without means. Can this be possible?"

  "It is the exact truth, monsieur," replied Mademoiselle Marguerite. "Iam reduced to the necessity of working for my daily bread."

  She spoke these words with a sort of satisfaction, expecting that themarquis would betray his disappointed covetousness by some significantgesture or exclamation, and she was already prepared to rejoice at hisconfusion. But her expectations were not realized. Instead of evincingthe slightest dismay or even regret, M. de Valorsay drew a long breath,as if a great burden had been lifted from his heart, and his eyessparkled with apparent delight. "Then I may venture to speak," heexclaimed, with unconcealed satisfaction, "I will speak, mademoiselle,if you will deign to allow me."

  She looked at him with anxious curiosity, wondering what was to come."Speak, monsieur," she faltered.

  "I will obey you, mademoiselle," he said, bowing again. "But first,allow me to tell you how great my hopes have been. M. de Chalusse'sdeath is an irreparable misfortune for me as for yourself. He hadallowed me, mademoiselle, to aspire to the honor of becoming a suitorfor your hand. If he did not speak to you on the subject, it was onlybecause he wished to leave you absolutely free, and impose upon methe difficult task of winning your consent. But between him and meeverything had been arranged in principle, and he was to give a dowryof three millions of francs to Mademoiselle Marguerite de Chalusse, hisdaughter."

  "I am no longer Mademoiselle de Chalusse, Monsieur le Marquis, and I amno longer the possessor of a fortune."

  He felt the sharp sting of this retort, for the blood rose to hischeeks, still he did not lose his composure. "If you were still rich,mademoiselle," he replied, in the reproachful tone of an honest man whofeels that he is misunderstood, "I should, perhaps, have strength tokeep the sentiments with which you have inspired me a secret in my ownheart; but--" He rose, and with a gesture which was not devoid ofgrace, and in a full ringing voice he added: "But you are no longer thepossessor of millions; and so I may tell you, Mademoiselle Marguerite,that I love you. Will you be my wife?"

  The poor girl was obliged to exercise all her powers of self-control torestrain an exclamation of dismay. It was indeed more than dismay;she was absolutely terrified by the Marquis de Valorsay's unexpecteddeclaration, and she could only falter: "Monsieur! monsieur!"

  But with an air of winning frankness he continued: "Need I tell you whoI am, mademoiselle? No; that is unnecessary. The fact that my suit wasapproved of by M. de Chalusse is the best recommendation I can offeryou. The pure and stainless name I bear is one of the proudest inFrance; and though my fortune may have been somewhat impaired byyouthful folly, it is still more than sufficient to maintain anestablishment in keeping with my rank."

  Mademoiselle Marguerite was still powerless to reply. Her presence ofmind had entirely deserted her, and her tongue seemed to cleave to herpalate. She glanced entreatingly at the old magistrate, as if imploringhis intervention, but he was so absorbed in contemplating his wonderfulring, that one might have imagined he was oblivious of all that wasgoing on around him.

  "I am aware that I have so far not been fortunate enough to please you,mademoiselle," continued the marquis. "M. de Chalusse did not conceal itfrom me--I remember, alas! that I advocated in your presence a numberof stupid theories, which must have given you a very poor opinion of me.But you will forgive me, I trust. My ideas have entirely changed sinceI have learned to understand and appreciate your vigorous intellect andnobility of soul. I thoughtlessly spoke to you in the language whichis usually addressed to young ladies of our rank of life--frivolousbeauties, who are spoiled by vanity and luxury, and who look uponmarriage only as a means of enfranchisement."

  His words were disjointed as if emotion choked his utterance. At times,it seemed as if he could scarcely command his feelings; and then hisvoice became so faint and trembling that it was scarcely intelligible.

  However, by allowing him to continue, by listening to what he said,Mademoiselle Marguerite was encouraging him, even more--virtuallybinding herself. She understood that this was the case, and making apowerful effort, she interrupted him, saying: "I assure you, Monsieurle Marquis, that I am deeply touched--and grateful--but I am no longerfree."

  "Pray, mademoiselle, pray do not reply to-day. Grant me a little time toovercome your prejudices."

  She shook her head, and in a firmer voice, replied: "I have noprejudices; but for some time past already, my future has been decided,irrevocably decided."

  He seemed thunderstruck, and his manner apparently indicated that thepossibility of a repulse had never entered his mind. His eyes wandered
restlessly from Mademoiselle Marguerite to the countenance of the oldmagistrate, who remained as impassive as a sphinx, and at last theylighted on a newspaper which was lying on the floor at the young girl'sfeet. "Do not deprive me of all hope," he murmured.

  She made no answer, and understanding her silence, he was about toretire when the door suddenly opened and a servant announced: "Monsieurde Fondege."

  Mademoiselle Marguerite touched the magistrate on the shoulder toattract his attention. "This gentleman is M. de Chalusse's friend whom Isent for this morning."

  At the same moment a man who looked some sixty years of age entered theroom. He was very tall, and as straight as the letter I, being arrayedin a long blue frock-coat, while his neck, which was as red and aswrinkled as that of a turkey-cock, was encased in a very high and stiffsatin cravat. On seeing his ruddy face, his closely cropped hair, hislittle eyes twinkling under his bushy eyebrows, and his formidablemustaches a la Victor Emmanuel, you would have immediately exclaimed:"That man is an old soldier!"

  A great mistake! M. de Fondege had never been in the service, and it wasonly in mockery of his somewhat bellicose manners and appearance thatsome twenty years previously his friends had dubbed him "the General."However, the appellation had clung to him. The nickname had been changedto a title, and now M. de Fondege was known as "the General" everywhere.He was invited and announced as "the General." Many people believed thathe had really been one, and perhaps he fancied so himself, for he hadlong been in the habit of inscribing "General A. de Fondege" on hisvisiting cards. The nickname had had a decisive influence on his life.He had endeavored to show himself worthy of it, and the manners he hadat first assumed, eventually became natural ones. He seemed to be theconventional old soldier--irascible and jovial at the same time; bruskand kind; at once frank, sensible and brutal; as simple as a child, andyet as true as steel. He swore the most tremendous oaths in a deep bassvoice, and whenever he talked his arms revolved like the sails of awindmill. However, Madame de Fondege, who was a very angular lady, witha sharp nose and very thin lips, assured people that her husband was notso terrible as he appeared. He was not considered very shrewd, and hepretended to have an intense dislike for business matters. No one knewanything precise about his fortune, but he had a great many friendswho invited him to dinner, and they all declared that he was in verycomfortable circumstances.

  On entering the study this worthy man did not pay the slightestattention to the Marquis de Valorsay, although they were intimatefriends. He walked straight up to Mademoiselle Marguerite, caught her inhis long arms, and pressed her to his heart, brushing her face withhis huge mustaches as he pretended to kiss her. "Courage, my dear," hegrowled; "courage. Don't give way. Follow my example. Look at me!"So saying he stepped back, and it was really amusing to see theextraordinary effort he made to combine a soldier's stoicism with afriend's sorrow. "You must wonder at my delay, my dear," he resumed,"but it was not my fault. I was at Madame de Rochecote's when I wasinformed that your messenger was at home waiting for me. I returned,and heard the frightful news. It was a thunderbolt. A friend of thirtyyears' standing! A thousand thunderclaps! I acted as his second when hefought his first duel. Poor Chalusse! A man as sturdy as an oak, and whoought to have outlived us all. But it is always so; the best soldiersalways file by first at dress-parade."

  The Marquis de Valorsay had beaten a retreat, the magistrate was hiddenin a dark corner, and Mademoiselle Marguerite, who was accustomed to theGeneral's manner, remained silent, being well aware that there was nochance of putting in a word as long as he had possession of the floor."Fortunately, poor Chalusse was a prudent man," continued M. de Fondege."He loved you devotedly, my dear, as his testamentary provisions musthave shown you."

  "His provisions?"

  "Yes, most certainly. Surely you don't mean to try and conceal anythingfrom one who knows all. Ah! you will be one of the greatest catches inEurope, and you will have plenty of suitors."

  Mademoiselle Marguerite sadly shook her head. "You are mistaken,General; the count left no will, and has made no provision whatever forme."

  M. de Fondege trembled, turned a trifle pale, and in a faltering voice,exclaimed: "What! You tell me that? Chalusse! A thousand thunderclaps!It isn't possible."

  "The count was stricken with apoplexy in a cab. He went out aboutfive o'clock, on foot, and a little before seven he was brought homeunconscious. Where he had been we don't know."

  "You don't know? you don't know?"

  "Alas! no; and he was only able to utter a few incoherent words beforehe died." Thereupon the poor girl began a brief account of what hadtaken place during the last four-and-twenty hours. Had she been lessabsorbed in her narrative she would have noticed that the General wasnot listening to her. He was sitting at the count's desk and was toyingwith the letters which Madame Leon had brought into the room a shorttime previously. One of them especially seemed to attract his attention,to exercise a sort of fascination over him as it were. He looked atit with hungry eyes, and whenever he touched it, his hand trembled, orinvoluntarily clinched. His face, moreover, had become livid; his eyestwitched nervously; he seemed to have a difficulty in breathing, and bigdrops of perspiration trickled down his forehead. If the magistrate wereable to see the General's face, he must certainly have been of opinionthat a terrible conflict was raging in his mind. The struggle lastedindeed for fully five minutes, and then suddenly, certain that no onesaw him, he caught up the letter in question and slipped it into hispocket.

  Poor Marguerite was now finishing her story: "You see, monsieur, that,far from being an heiress, as you suppose, I am homeless and penniless,"she said.

  The General had risen from his chair, and was striding up and downthe room with every token of intense agitation. "It's true," he saidapparently unconscious of his words. "She's ruined--lost--the misfortuneis complete!" Then, suddenly pausing with folded arms in front ofMademoiselle Marguerite: "What are you going to do?" he asked.

  "God will not forsake me, General," she replied.

  He turned on his heel and resumed his promenade, wildly gesticulatingand indulging in a furious monologue which was certainly not very easyto follow. "Frightful! terrible!" he growled. "The daughter of an oldcomrade--zounds!--of a friend of thirty years' standing--to be left insuch a plight! Never, a thousand thunderclaps!--never! Poor child!--aheart of gold, and as pretty as an angel! This horrible Paris woulddevour her at a single mouthful! It would be a crime--an abomination! Itsha'n't be!--the old veterans are here, firm as rocks!"

  Thereupon, approaching the poor girl again, he exclaimed in a coarse butseemingly feeling voice: "Mademoiselle Marguerite."

  "General?"

  "You are acquainted with my son, Gustave Fondege, are you not?"

  "I think I have heard you speak of him to M. de Chalusse several times."

  The General tugged furiously at his mustaches as was his wont wheneverhe was perplexed or embarrassed. "My son," he resumed, "is twenty-seven.He's now a lieutenant of hussars, and will soon be promoted to the rankof captain. He's a handsome fellow, sure to make his way in the world,for he's not wanting in spirit. As I never attempt to hide the truth, Imust confess that he's a trifle dissipated; but his heart is all right,and a charming little wife would soon turn him from the error of hisways, and he'd become the pearl of husbands." He paused, passed hisforefinger three or four times between his collar and his neck, andthen, in a half-strangled voice, he added: "Mademoiselle Marguerite, Ihave the honor to ask for your hand in marriage on behalf of LieutenantGustave de Fondege, my son."

  There was a dangerous gleam of anger in Mademoiselle Marguerite's eyes,as she coldly replied: "I am honored by your request, monsieur; but myfuture is already decided."

  Some seconds elapsed before M. de Fondege could recover his powers ofspeech. "This is a piece of foolishness," he faltered, at last withsingular agitation. "Let me hope that you will reconsider the matter.And if Gustave doesn't please you, we will find some one better. Butunder no circumstances will Chalusse's old
comrade ever desert you. Ishall send Madame de Fondege to see you this evening. She's a good womanand you will understand each other. Come, answer me, what do you say toit?"

  His persistence irritated the poor girl beyond endurance, and to putan end to the painful scene, she at last asked: "Would you not like tolook--for the last time--at M. de Chalusse?"

  "Ah! yes, certainly--an old friend of thirty years' standing." So sayinghe advanced toward the door leading into the death-room, but on reachingthe threshold, he cried in sudden terror: "Oh! no, no, I could not." Andwith these words he withdrew or rather he fled from the room down thestairs.

  As long as the General had been there, the magistrate had given no signof life. But seated beyond the circle of light cast by the lamps, hehad remained an attentive spectator of the scene, and now that he foundhimself once more alone with Mademoiselle Marguerite he came forward,and leaning against the mantelpiece and looking her full in the face heexclaimed: "Well, my child?"

  The girl trembled like a culprit awaiting sentence of death, and it wasin a hollow voice that she replied: "I understood--"

  "What?" insisted the pitiless magistrate.

  She raised her beautiful eyes, in which angry tears were stillglittering, and then answered in a voice which quivered with suppressedpassion, "I have fathomed the infamy of those two men who have just leftthe house. I understood the insult their apparent generosity conceals.They had questioned the servants, and had ascertained that two millionswere missing. Ah, the scoundrels! They believe that I have stolen thosemillions; and they came to ask me to share the ill-gotten wealth withthem. What an insult! and to think that I am powerless to avenge it! Ah!the servants' suspicions were nothing in comparison with this. Atleast, they did not ask for a share of the booty as the price of theirsilence!"

  The magistrate shook his head as if this explanation scarcely satisfiedhim. "There is something else, there is certainly something else," herepeated. But the doors were still open, so he closed them carefully,and then returned to the girl he was so desirous of advising. "I wishto tell you," he said, "that you have mistaken the motives which inducedthese gentlemen to ask for your hand in marriage."

  "Do you believe, then, that you have fathomed them?"

  "I could almost swear that I had. Didn't you remark a great differencein their manner? Didn't one of them, the marquis, behave with allthe calmness and composure which are the result of reflection andcalculation? The other, on the contrary, acted most precipitately, asif he had suddenly come to a determination, and formed a plan on theimpulse of the moment."

  Mademoiselle Marguerite reflected.

  "That's true," she said, "that's indeed true. Now I recollect thedifference."

  "And this is my explanation of it," resumed the magistrate. "'TheMarquis de Valorsay,' I said to myself, 'must have proofs in hispossession that Mademoiselle Marguerite is the count's daughter--writtenand conclusive proofs, that is certain--probably a voluntary admissionof the fact from the father. Who can prove that M. de Valorsay does notpossess this acknowledgment? In fact, he must possess it. He hinted ithimself.' Accordingly on hearing of the count's sudden death, he said tohimself, 'If Marguerite was my wife, and if I could prove her to be M.de Chalusse's daughter, I should obtain several millions.' Whereupon heconsulted his legal adviser who assured him that it would be the bestcourse he could pursue; and so he came here. You repulsed him, but hewill soon make another assault, you may rest assured of that. And someday or other he will come to you and say, 'Whether we marry or not, letus divide.'"

  Mademoiselle Marguerite was amazed. The magistrate's words seemed todispel the mist which had hitherto hidden the truth from view. "Yes,"she exclaimed, "yes, you are right, monsieur."

  He was silent for a moment, and then he resumed: "I understand M. deFondege's motive less clearly; but still I have some clue. He had notquestioned the servants. That is evident from the fact that on hisarrival here he believed you to be the sole legatee. He was also awarethat M. de Chalusse had taken certain precautions we are ignorant of,but which he is no doubt fully acquainted with. What you told him aboutyour poverty amazed him, and he immediately evinced a desire to atonefor the count's neglect with as much eagerness as if he were the causeof this negligence himself. And, indeed, judging by the agitation hedisplayed when he was imploring you to become his son's wife, one mightalmost imagine that the sight of your misery awakened a remorse which hewas endeavoring to quiet. Now, draw your own conclusions."

  The wretched girl looked questioningly at the magistrate as if shehesitated to trust the thoughts which his words had awakened in hermind. "Then you think, monsieur," she said, with evident reluctance,"you think, you suppose, that the General is acquainted with thewhereabouts of the missing millions?"

  "Quite correct," answered the magistrate, and then as if he feared thathe had gone too far, he added: "but draw your own conclusions respectingthe matter. You have the whole night before you. We will talk it overagain to-morrow, and if I can be of service to you in any way, I shallbe only too glad."

  "But, monsieur--"

  "Oh--to-morrow, to-morrow--I must go to dinner now; besides, my clerkmust be getting terribly impatient."

  The clerk was, indeed, out of temper. Not that he had finished takingan inventory of the appurtenances of this immense house, but because heconsidered that he had done quite enough work for one day. And yet hisdiscontent was sensibly diminished when he calculated the amount hewould receive for his pains. During the nine years he had held thisoffice he had never made such an extensive inventory before. He seemedsomewhat dazzled, and as he followed his superior out of the house, heremarked: "Do you know, monsieur, that as nearly as I can discover thedeceased's fortune must amount to more than twenty millions--an incomeof a million a year! And to think that the poor young lady shouldn'thave a penny of it. I suspect she's crying her eyes out."

  But the clerk was mistaken. Mademoiselle Marguerite was then questioningM. Casimir respecting the arrangements which he had made for thefuneral, and when this sad duty was concluded, she consented to take alittle food standing in front of the sideboard in the dining-room.Then she went to kneel in the count's room, where four members of theparochial clergy were reciting the prayers for the dead.

  She was so exhausted with fatigue that she could scarcely speak, andher eyelids were heavy with sleep. But she had another task to fulfil, atask which she deemed a sacred duty. She sent a servant for a cab, threwa shawl over her shoulders, and left the house accompanied by MadameLeon. The cabman drove as fast as possible to the house where Pascal andhis mother resided in the Rue d'Ulm; but on arriving there, thefront door was found to be closed, and the light in the vestibule wasextinguished. Marguerite was obliged to ring five or six times beforethe concierge made his appearance.

  "I wish to see Monsieur Ferailleur," she quietly said.

  The man glanced at her scornfully, and then replied: "He no longer liveshere. The landlord doesn't want any thieves in his house. He's sold hisrubbish and started for America, with his old witch of a mother."

  So saying he closed the door again, and Marguerite was so overwhelmed bythis last and unexpected misfortune, that she could hardly stagger backto the vehicle. "Gone!" she murmured; "gone! without a thought of me! Ordoes he believe me to be like all the rest? But I will find him again.That man Fortunat, who ascertained addresses for M. de Chalusse, willfind Pascal for me."