Baron Trigault's Vengeance

by Emile Gaboriau

  X.

  The old legend of Achilles's heel will be eternally true. A man may behumble or powerful, feeble or strong, but there are none of us withoutsome weak spot in our armor, a spot vulnerable beyond all others, acertain place where wounds prove most dangerous and painful. M. IsidoreFortunat's weak place was his cash-box. To attack him there was toendanger his life--to wound him at a point where all his sensibilitycentred. For it was in this cash-box and not in his breast that hisheart really throbbed. His safe made him happy or dejected. Happy whenit was filled to overflowing by some brilliant operation, and dejectedwhen he saw it become empty as some imprudent transaction failed.

  This then explains his frenzy on that ill-fated Sunday, when, afterbeing brutally dismissed by M. Wilkie, he returned to his rooms in thecompany of his clerk, Victor Chupin. This explains, too, the intensityof the hatred he now felt for the Marquis de Valorsay and the Viscountde Coralth. The former, the marquis, had defrauded him of forty thousandfrancs in glittering gold. The other, the viscount, had suddenly sprungup out of the ground, and carried off from under his very nose thatmagnificent prize, the Chalusse inheritance, which he had considered asgood as won. And he had not only been defrauded and swindled--suchwere his own expressions--but he had been tricked, deceived, duped, andoutwitted, and by whom? By people who did not make it their professionto be shrewd, like he did himself. Just fancy, his business was tooutwit others, and a couple of mere amateurs had outgeneraled him. Hehad not only suffered in pocket, he had been humiliated as well, and sohe indulged in threats of such terrible import.

  However, at the very moment when he was dreaming of wreaking vengeanceon the Marquis de Valorsay and the Viscount de Coralth, his housekeeper,austere Madame Dodelin, handed him Mademoiselle Marguerite's letter.He read it with intense astonishment, rubbing his eyes as if to assurehimself that he were really awake. "Tuesday," he repeated, "the dayafter to-morrow--at your house--between three and four o'clock--I mustspeak with you."

  His manner was so strange, and his usually impassive face so disturbedby conflicting feelings, that Madame Dodelin's curiosity overcame herprudence, and she remained standing in front of him with open mouth,staring with all her eyes and listening with all her ears. He perceivedthis, and angrily exclaimed: "What are you doing here? You are watchingme, I do believe. Get back to your kitchen, or----"

  She fled in alarm, and he then entered his private office. His heartwas leaping with joy, and he laughed wickedly at the hope of a speedyrevenge. "She's on the scent," he muttered; "and she has luck inher favor. She has chanced to apply to me on the very day that I hadresolved to defend and rehabilitate her lover, the honest fool whoallowed himself to be dishonored by those unscrupulous blackguards. Justas I was thinking of going in search of her, she comes to me. As I wasabout to write to her, she writes to me. Who can deny the existenceof Providence after this?" Like many other people, M. Fortunat piouslybelieved in Providence when things went to his liking, but it is sad toadd that in the contrary case he denied its existence. "If she has anycourage," he resumed, "and she seems to have plenty of it, Valorsayand Coralth will be in a tight place soon. And if it takes ten thousandfrancs to put them there, and if neither Mademoiselle Marguerite nor M.Ferailleur has the amount--ah, well! I'll advance--well, at leastfive thousand--without charging them any commission. I'll even pay theexpenses out of my own pocket, if necessary. Ah, my fine fellows, you'velaughed too soon. In a week's time we'll see who laughs last."

  He paused, for Victor Chupin, who had lingered behind to pay the driver,had just entered the room. "You gave me twenty francs, m'sieur," heremarked to his employer. "I paid the driver four francs and five sous,here's the change."

  "Keep it yourself, Victor," said M. Fortunat.

  What! keep fifteen francs and fifteen sous? Under any othercircumstances such unusual generosity would have drawn a grimace ofsatisfaction from young Chupin. But to-day he did not even smile; heslipped the money carelessly into his pocket, and scarcely deigned tosay "thanks," in the coldest possible tone.

  Absorbed in thought, M. Fortunat did not remark this littlecircumstance. "We have them, Victor," he resumed. "I told you thatValorsay and Coralth should pay me for their treason. Vengeance is near.Read this letter." Victor read it slowly, and as soon as he had finishedhis employer ejaculated, "Well?"

  But Chupin was not a person to give advice lightly. "Excuse me,m'sieur," said he, "but in order to answer you, I must have someknowledge of the affair. I only know what you've told me--which islittle enough--and what I've guessed. In fact, I know nothing at all."

  M. Fortunat reflected for a moment. "You are right, Victor," he said, atlast. "So far the explanation I gave you was all that was necessary; butnow that I expect more important services from you, I ought to tellyou the whole truth, or at least all I know about the affair. This willprove my great confidence in you." Whereupon, he acquainted Chupin witheverything he knew concerning the history of M. de Chalusse, the Marquisde Valorsay, and Mademoiselle Marguerite.

  However, if he expected these disclosures to elevate him in hissubordinate's estimation he was greatly mistaken. Chupin had sufficientexperience and common sense to read his master's character and discernhis motives. He saw plainly enough that this honest impulse on M.Fortunat's part came from disappointed avarice and wounded vanity, andthat the agent would have allowed the Marquis de Valorsay to carry outhis infamous scheme without any compunctions of conscience, providinghe, himself, had not been injured by it. Still, the young fellow didnot allow his real feelings to appear on his face. First, it was nothis business to tell M. Fortunat his opinion of him; and in the secondplace, he did not deem it an opportune moment for a declaration of hissentiments. So, when his employer paused, he exclaimed: "Well, we mustoutwit these scoundrels--for I'll join you, m'sieur; and I flattermyself that I can be very useful to you. Do you want the particulars ofthe viscount's past life? If so, I can furnish them. I know the brigand.He's married, as I told you before, and I'll find his wife for you in afew days. I don't know exactly where she lives, but she keeps a tobaccostore, somewhere, and that's enough. She'll tell you how much he's aviscount. Ha! ha! Viscount just as much as I am--and no more. I can tellyou the scrapes he has been in."

  "No doubt; but the most important thing is to know how he's living now,and on what!"

  "Not by honest work, I can tell you. But give me a little time, andI'll find out for sure. As soon as I can go home, change my clothes,and disguise myself, I'll start after him; and may I be hung, if I don'treturn with a complete report before Tuesday."

  A smile of satisfaction appeared on M. Fortunat's face. "Good, Victor!"he said, approvingly, "very good! I see that you will serve me with yourusual zeal and intelligence. Rest assured that you will be rewarded asyou have never been rewarded before. As long as you are engaged in thisaffair, you shall have ten francs a day; and I'll pay your board, yourcab-hire, and all your expenses."

  This was a most liberal offer, and yet, far from seeming delighted,Chupin gravely shook his head. "You know how I value money, m'sieur," hebegan.

  "Too much, Victor, my boy, too much----"

  "Excuse me, it's because I have responsibilities, m'sieur. You know myestablishment"--he spoke this word with a grandiloquent air--"you haveseen my good mother--my expenses are heavy----"

  "In short, you don't think I offer you enough?"

  "On the contrary, sir--but you don't allow me to finish. I love money,don't I? But no matter, I don't want to be paid for this business. Idon't want either my board or my expenses, not a penny--nothing. I'llserve you, but for my own sake, for my own pleasure--gratis."

  M. Fortunat could not restrain an exclamation of astonishment. Chupin,who was as eager for gain as an old usurer--Chupin, as grasping asavarice itself, refuse money! This was something which he had never seenbefore, and which he would no doubt never see again.

  Victor had become very much excited; his usually pale cheeks werecrimson, and in a harsh voice, he continued: "It's a fancy ofmine--that's all
. I have eight hundred francs hidden in my room, thefruit of years of work. I'll spend the last penny of it if need be; andif I can see Coralth in the mire, I shall say, 'My money has been wellexpended.' I'd rather see that day dawn than be the possessor of ahundred thousand francs. If a horrible vision haunted you every night,and prevented you from sleeping, wouldn't you give something to get ridof it? Very well! that brigand's my nightmare. There must be an end toit."

  M. de Coralth, who was a man of wide experience, would certainly havefelt alarmed if he had seen his unknown enemy at the present moment, forVictor's eyes, usually a pale and undecided blue, were glittering likesteel, and his hands were clinched most threateningly. "For he was thecause of all my trouble," he continued, gloomily. "I've told you, sir,that I was guilty of an infamous deed once upon a time. If it hadn'tbeen for a miracle I should have killed a man--the king of men.Ah, well! if Monsieur Andre had broken his back by falling from afifth-floor window, my Coralth would be the Duc de Champdoce to-day. Andshall he be allowed to ride about in his carriage, and deceive and ruinhonest people? No--there are too many such villains at large for publicsafety. Wait a little, Coralth--I owe you something, and I always paymy debts. When M. Andre saved me, though I richly deserved to havemy throat cut, he made no conditions. He only said, 'If you are notirredeemably bad you will be honest after this.' And he said these wordsas he was lying there as pale as death with his shoulder broken, andhis body mangled from his fall. Great heavens! I felt smallerthan--than nothing before him. But I swore that I would do honor tohis teachings--and when evil thoughts enter my mind, and when I feel athirst for liquor, I say to myself, 'Wait a bit, and--and M. Andre willtake a glass with you.' And that quenches my thirst instantly. I havehis portrait at home, and every night, before going to bed, I tell himthe history of the day--and sometimes I fancy that he smiles at me. Allthis is very absurd, perhaps, but I'm not ashamed of it. M. Andre andmy good mother, they are my supports, my crutches, and with them I'm notafraid of making a false step." Schebel, the German philosopher, who haswritten a treatise on Volition, in four volumes, was no greater a manthan Chupin. "So you may keep your money, sir," he resumed. "I'm anhonest fellow, and honest men ought to ask no reward for the performanceof a duty. Coralth mustn't be allowed to triumph over the innocent chaphe ruined. What did you call him? Ferailleur? It's an odd name. Nevermind--we'll get him out of this scrape; he shall marry his sweetheartafter all; and I'll dance at the wedding."

  As he finished speaking he laughed a shrill, dangerous laugh, whichrevealed his sharp teeth--but such invincible determination was apparenton his face, that M. Fortunat felt no misgivings. He was sure that thisvolunteer would be of more service than the highest-priced hireling. "SoI can count on you, Victor?" he inquired.

  "As upon yourself."

  "And you hope to have some positive information by Tuesday?"

  "Before then, I hope, if nothing goes amiss."

  "Very well; I will devote my attention to Ferailleur then. As toValorsay's affairs, I am better acquainted with them than he is himself.We must be prepared to enter upon the campaign when MademoiselleMarguerite comes, and we will act in accordance with her instructions."

  Chupin had already caught up his hat; but just as he was leaving theroom, he paused abruptly. "How stupid!" he exclaimed. "I had forgottenthe principal thing. Where does Coralth live?"

  "Unfortunately, I don't know."

  According to his habit when things did not go to his liking, Chupinbegan to scratch his head furiously. "That's bad," growled he."Viscounts of his stamp don't parade their addresses in the directory.Still, I shall find him." However, although he expressed this convictionhe went off decidedly out of temper.

  "I shall lose the entire evening hunting up the rascal's address," hegrumbled, as he hastened homeward. "And whom shall I ask for it?--Madamed'Argeles's concierge? Would he know it--M. Wilkie's servant? Thatwould be dangerous." He thought of roaming sound about M. de Valorsay'sresidence, and of bribing one of the valets; but while crossing theboulevard, the sight of Brebant's Restaurant put a new idea into hishead. "I have it!" he muttered; "my man's caught!" And he darted intothe nearest cafe where he ordered some beer and writing materials.

  Under other circumstances, he would have hesitated to employ sohazardous an expedient as the one he was about to resort to, but thecharacter of his adversaries justified any course; besides, time waspassing, and he had no choice of resources. As soon as the waiter servedhim, he drained his glass of beer to give himself an inspiration, andthen, in his finest hand, he wrote:

  "MY DEAR VISCOUNT--Here's the amount--one hundred francs--that I lost to you last evening at piquet. When shall I have my revenge? Your friend, "VALORSAY."

  When he had finished this letter he read it over three or fourtimes, asking himself if this were the style of composition that veryfashionable folks employ in repaying their debts. To tell the truth, hedoubted it. In the rough draft which he penned at first, he had writtenbezique, but in the copy he wrote piquet, which he deemed a morearistocratic game. "However," said he, "no one will examine it closely!"

  Then, as soon as the ink was dry, he folded the letter and slipped itinto an envelope with a hundred franc-note which he drew from an oldpocketbook. He next addressed the envelope as follows: "Monsieur leVicomte de Coralth, En Ville," and having completed his preparations, hepaid his score, and hastened to Brebant's. Two waiters were standing atthe doorway, and, showing them the letter, he politely asked: "Do youhappen to know this name? A gentleman dropped this letter on leavingyour place last evening. I ran after him to return it; but I couldn'tovertake him."

  The waiters examined the address. "Coralth!" they replied. "We scarcelyknow him. He isn't a regular customer, but he comes here occasionally."

  "And where does he live?"

  "Why do you wish to know?"

  "So as to take him this letter, to be sure!"

  The waiters shrugged their shoulders. "Let the letter go; it is notworth while to trouble yourself."

  Chupin had foreseen this objection, and was prepared for it. "Butthere's money in the letter," he remonstrated. And opening the envelope,he showed the bank-note which he had taken from his own pocket-book.

  This changed the matter entirely. "That is quite a different thing,"remarked one of the waiters. "If you find money, you are, of course,responsible for it. But just leave it here at the desk, and the nexttime the viscount comes in, the cashier will give it to him."

  A cold chill crept over Chupin at the thought of losing his bank-note inthis way. "Ah! I don't fancy that idea!" he exclaimed. "Leave it here?Never in life! Who'd get the reward? A viscount is always generous;it is quite likely he would give me twenty francs as a reward for myhonesty. And that's why I want his address."

  The argument was of a nature to touch the waiters; they thought theyoung man quite right; but they did not know M. de Coralth's address,and they saw no way of procuring it. "Unless perhaps the porter knows,"observed one of them.

  The porter, on being called, remembered that he had once been sent toM. de Coralth's house for an overcoat. "I've forgotten his number," hedeclared; "but he lives in the Rue d'Anjou, near the corner of the Ruede la Ville l'Eveque."

  This direction was not remarkable for its precision, but it was morethan sufficient for a pure-blooded Parisian like Victor Chupin. "Manythanks for your kindness," he said to the porter. "A blind man, perhaps,might not be able to go straight to M. de Coralth's house from yourdirections, but I have eyes and a tongue as well. And, believe me, ifthere's any reward, you shall see that I know how to repay a good turn."

  "And if you don't find the viscount," added the waiters, "bring themoney here, and it will be returned to him."

  "Naturally!" replied Chupin. And he strode hurriedly away. "Return!"he muttered; "not I! I thought for a moment they had their hands on myprecious bank-note."

  But he had already recovered from his fright, and as he turned his stepshomeward he con
gratulated himself on the success of his stratagem."For my viscount is caught," he said to himself. "The Rue d'Anjou SaintHonore hasn't a hundred numbers in it, and even if I'm compelled to gofrom door to door, my task will soon be accomplished."

  On reaching home he found his mother engaged in knitting, as usual. Thiswas the only avocation that her almost complete blindness allowed herto pursue; and she followed it constantly. "Ah! here you are, Toto,"she exclaimed, joyously. "I didn't expect you so soon. Don't you scent asavory smell? As you must be greatly tired after being up all night, I'mmaking you a stew."

  As customary when he returned, Chupin embraced the good woman withthe respectful tenderness which had so surprised M. Fortunat. "You arealways kind," said he, "but, unfortunately, I can't remain to dine withyou."

  "But you promised me."

  "That's true, mamma; but business, you see--business."

  The worthy woman shook her head. "Always business!" she exclaimed.

  "Yes--when a fellow hasn't ten thousand francs a year."

  "You have become a worker, Toto, and that makes me very happy; but youare too eager for money, and that frightens me."

  "That's to say, you fear I shall do something dishonest. Ah! mother! doyou think I can forget you and Monsieur Andre?"

  His mother said no more, and he entered the tiny nook which he sopompously styled his chamber, and quickly changed the clothes he waswearing (his Sunday toggery) for an old pair of checked trousers, ablack blouse, and a glazed cap. And when he had finished, and given apeculiar turn to his hair, no one would have recognized him. In place ofM. Fortunat's respectable clerk, there appeared one of those vagabondswho hang about cafes and theatres from six in the evening till midnight,and spend the rest of their time playing cards in the low drinking densnear the barrieres. It was the old Chupin come to life once more--TotoChupin as he had appeared before his conversion. And as he took alast look in the little glass hanging over the table, he was himselfastonished at the transformation. "Ah!" he muttered, "I was a sorrylooking devil in those days."

  Although he had cautiously avoided making any noise in dressing, hismother, with the wonderfully acute hearing of the blind, had followedeach of his movements as surely as if she had been standing nearwatching him. "You have changed your clothes, Toto," she remarked.

  "Yes, mother."

  "But why have you put on your blouse, my son?"

  Although accustomed to his mother's remarkable quickness of perception,he was amazed. Still he did not think of denying it. She would only haveto extend her hand to prove that he was telling a falsehood. The blindwoman's usually placid face had become stern. "So it is necessary todisguise yourself," she said, gravely.

  "But, mother----"

  "Hush, my son! When a man doesn't wish to be recognized, he's evidentlydoing something he's ashamed of. Ever since your employer came here, youhave been concealing something from me. Take care, Toto! Since I heardthat man's voice, I'm sure that he is quite as capable of urging you tocommit a crime as others were in days gone by."

  The blind woman was preaching to a convert; for during the past threedays, M. Fortunat had shown himself in such a light that Chupin hadsecretly resolved to change his employer. "I promise you I'll leave him,mother," he declared, "so you may be quite easy in mind."

  "Very well; but now, at this moment, where are you going?"

  There was only one way of completely reassuring the good woman, and thatwas to tell her all. Chupin did so with absolute frankness. "Ah, well!"she said, when the narrative was finished. "You see now how easy it isto lead you astray! How could you be induced to play the part of a spy,when you know so well what it leads to? It's only God's protecting carethat has saved you again from an act which you would have reproachedyourself for all your life. Your employer's intentions are good now; butthey WERE criminal when he ordered you to follow Madame d'Argeles. Poorwoman! She had sacrificed herself for her son, she had concealed herselffrom him, and you were working to betray her. Poor creature! how shemust have suffered, and how much I pity her! To be what she is, and tosee herself denounced by her own son! I, who am only a poor plebeian,should die of shame under such circumstances."

  Chupin blew his nose so loudly that the window-panes rattled; this washis way of repressing his emotion whenever it threatened to overcomehim. "You speak like the good mother that you are," he exclaimed atlast, "and I'm prouder of you than if you were the handsomest andrichest lady in Paris, for you're certainly the most honest andvirtuous; and I should be a thorough scoundrel if I caused you amoment's sorrow. And if ever I set my foot in such a mess again, I hopesome one will cut it off. But for this once----"

  "For this once, you may go, Toto; I give my consent."

  He went off with a lighter heart; and on reaching the Rue d'Anjou heimmediately began his investigations. They were not successful at first.At every house where he made inquiries nobody had any knowledge of theViscount de Coralth. He had visited half the buildings in the street,when he reached one of the handsomest houses, in front of which stooda cart laden with plants and flowers. An old man, who seemed to be theconcierge, and a valet in a red waistcoat, were removing the plants fromthe vehicle and arranging them in a line under the porte cochere. Assoon as the cart was emptied, it drove away, whereupon Chupin steppedforward, and addressing the concierge, asked: "Does the Viscount deCoralth live here?"

  "Yes. What do you want with him?"

  Having foreseen this question, Chupin had prepared a reply. "I certainlydon't come to call on him," he answered. "My reason for inquiring isthis: just now, as I passed near the Madeleine, a very elegant ladycalled me, and said: 'M. de Coralth lives in the Rue d'Anjou, butI've forgotten the number. I can't go about from door to door makinginquiries, so if you'll go there and ascertain his address for me, I'llgive you five francs for yourself,' so my money's made."

  Profiting by his old Parisian experience, Chupin had chosen such aclever excuse that both his listeners heartily laughed. "Well, FatherMoulinet," cried the servant in the red waistcoat, "what do you sayto that? Are there any elegant ladies who give five francs for YOURaddress?"

  "Is there any lady who's likely to send such flowers as these to YOU?"was the response.

  Chupin was about to retire with a bow, when the concierge stopped him."You accomplish your errands so well that perhaps you'd be willing totake these flower-pots up to the second floor, if we gave you a glass ofwine!"

  No proposal could have suited Chupin better. Although he was prone toexaggerate his own powers and the fecundity of his resources, he had notflattered himself with the hope that he should succeed in crossingthe threshold of M. de Coralth's rooms. For, without any great mentaleffort, he had realized that the servant arrayed in the red waistcoatwas in the viscount's employ, and these flowers were to be carried tohis apartments. However any signs of satisfaction would have seemedsingular under the circumstances, and so he sulkily replied: "A glass ofwine! you had better say two."

  "Well, I'll say a whole bottleful, my boy, if that suits you anybetter," replied the servant, with the charming good-nature so oftendisplayed by people who are giving other folk's property away.

  "Then I'm at your service!" exclaimed Chupin. And, loading himselfwith a host of flower-pots as skilfully as if he had been accustomed tohandling them all his life, he added: "Now, lead the way."

  The valet and the concierge preceded him with empty hands, of course;and, on reaching the second floor, they opened a door, and said: "Thisis the place. Come in."

  Chupin had expected to find that M. de Coralth's apartments werehandsomer than his own in the Faubourg Saint Denis; but he had scarcelyimagined such luxury as pervaded this establishment. The chandeliersseemed marvels in his eyes; and the sumptuous chairs and coucheseclipsed M. Fortunat's wonderful sofa completely. "So he no longeramuses himself with petty rascalities," thought Chupin, as he surveyedthe rooms. "Monsieur's working on a grand scale now. Decidedly thismustn't be allowed to continue."

  Thereupon he busied himself placing
the flowers in the numerousjardinieres scattered about the rooms, as well as in a tinyconservatory, cleverly contrived on the balcony, and adjoining a littleapartment with silk hangings, that was used as a smoking-room. Under thesurveillance of the concierge and the valet he was allowed to visit thewhole apartments. He admired the drawing-room, filled to overflowingwith costly trifles; the dining-room, furnished in old oak; theluxurious bed-room with its bed mounted upon a platform, as if it were athrone, and the library filled with richly bound volumes. Everything wasbeautiful, sumptuous and magnificent, and Chupin admired, though he didnot envy, this luxury. He said to himself that, if ever he became rich,his establishment should be quite different. He would have preferredrather more simplicity, a trifle less satin, velvet, hangings, mirrorsand gilding. Still this did not prevent him from going into ecstasiesover each room he entered; and he expressed his admiration so artlesslythat the valet, feeling as much flattered as if he were the owner of theplace, took a sort of pride in exhibiting everything.

  He showed Chupin the target which the viscount practised at withpistols for an hour every morning; for Monsieur le Vicomte was a capitalmarksman, and could lodge eight balls out of ten in the neck of a bottleat a distance of twenty paces. He also displayed his master's swords;for Monsieur le Vicomte handled side arms as adroitly as pistols. Hetook a lesson every day from one of the best fencing-masters in Paris;and his duels had always terminated fortunately. He also showed theviscount's blue velvet dressing-gown, his fur-trimmed slippers, and evenhis elaborately embroidered night-shirts. But it was the dressing-roomthat most astonished and stupefied Chupin. He stood gazing inopen-mouthed wonder at the immense white marble table, with its waterspigots and its basins, its sponges and boxes, its pots and vials andcups; and he counted the brushes by the dozen--brushes hard and soft,brushes for the hair, for the beard, for the hands, and the applicationof cosmetic to the mustaches and eyebrows. Never had he seen in onecollection such a variety of steel and silver instruments, knives,pincers, scissors, and files. "One might think oneself in achiropodist's, or a dentist's establishment," remarked Chupin to theservant. "Does your master use all these every day?"

  "Certainly, or rather twice a day--morning and evening--at histoilette."

  Chupin expressed his feelings with a grimace and an exclamation ofmocking wonder. "Ah, well! he must have a clean skin," he said.

  His listeners laughed heartily; and the concierge, after exchanging asignificant glance with the valet, said sotto voce, "Zounds! it's hisbusiness to be a handsome fellow!" The mystery was solved.

  While Chupin changed the contents of the jardinieres, and remainedupstairs in the intervals between the nine or ten journeys he madeto the porte-cochere for more flowers, he listened attentively to theconversation between the concierge and the valet, and heard snatchesof sentences that enlightened him wonderfully. Moreover, whenever aquestion arose as to placing a plant in one place rather than another,the valet stated as a conclusive argument that the baroness liked it insuch or such a place, or that she would be better pleased with this orthat arrangement, or that he must comply with the instructions she hadgiven him. Chupin was therefore obliged to conclude that the flowershad been sent here by a baroness who possessed certain rights in theestablishment. But who was she?

  He was manoeuvering cleverly in the hope of ascertaining this point,when a carriage was heard driving into the courtyard below. "Monsieurmust have returned!" exclaimed the valet, darting to the window.

  Chupin also ran to look out, and saw a very elegant blue-lined brougham,drawn by a superb horse, but he did not perceive the viscount. In pointof fact, M. de Coralth was already climbing the stairs, four at a time,and, a moment later, he entered the room, angrily exclaiming, "Florent,what does this mean? Why have you left all the doors open?"

  Florent was the servant in the red waistcoat. He slightly shrugged hisshoulders like a servant who knows too many of his master's secrets tohave anything to fear, and in the calmest possible tone replied, "Ifthe doors are open, it is only because the baroness has just sent someflowers. On Sunday, too, what a funny idea! And I have been treatingFather Moulinet and this worthy fellow" (pointing to Chupin) "to a glassof wine, to acknowledge their kindness in assisting me."

  Fearing recognition, Chupin hid his face as much as possible; but M.de Coralth did not pay the slightest attention to him. There was a darkfrown on his handsome, usually smiling countenance, and his hair was ingreat disorder. Evidently enough, something had greatly annoyed him. "Iam going out again," he remarked to his valet, "but first of all I mustwrite two letters which you must deliver immediately."

  He passed into the drawing-room as he spoke, and Florent scarcely waitedtill the door was closed before uttering an oath. "May the deviltake him!" he exclaimed. "Here he sets me on the go again. It is fiveo'clock, too, and I have an appointment in half an hour."

  A sudden hope quickened the throbbings of Chupin's heart. He touched thevalet's arm, and in his most persuasive tone remarked: "I've nothingto do, and as your wine was so good, I'll do your errands for you, ifyou'll pay me for the wear and tear of shoe-leather."

  Chupin's appearance must have inspired confidence, for the servantreplied:--"Well--I don't refuse--but we'll see."

  The viscount did not spend much time in writing; he speedily reappearedholding two letters which he flung upon the table, saying: "One of theseis for the baroness. You must deliver it into HER hands or into thehands of her maid--there will be no answer. You will afterward take theother to the person it is addressed to, and you must wait for an answerwhich you will place on my writing-table--and make haste." So saying,the viscount went off as he had entered--on the run--and a moment later,his brougham was heard rolling out of the courtyard.

  Florent was crimson with rage. "There," said he, addressing Chupinrather than the concierge, "what did I tell you? A letter to be placedin madame's own hands or in the hands of her maid, and to be concealedfrom the baron, who is on the watch, of course. Naturally no one canexecute that commission but myself."

  "That's true!" replied Chupin; "but how about the other?"

  The valet had not yet examined the second letter. He now took it fromthe table, and glanced at the address. "Ah," said he, "I can confidethis one to you, my good fellow, and it's very fortunate, for it isto be taken to a place on the other side of the river. Upon my word!masters are strange creatures! You manage your work so as to have alittle leisure, and the moment you think yourself free, pouf!--theysend you anywhere in creation without even asking if it suits yourconvenience. If it hadn't been for you, I should have missed a dinnerwith some very charming ladies. But, above all, don't loiter on the way.I don't mind paying your omnibus fare if you like. And you heard him saythere would be an answer. You can give it to Moulinet, and in exchange,he'll give you fifteen sous for your trouble, and six sous for youromnibus fare. Besides, if you can extract anything from the party theletter's intended for, you are quite welcome to it."

  "Agreed, sir! Grant me time enough to give an answer to the lady who iswaiting at the Madeleine, and I'm on my way. Give me the letter."

  "Here it is," said the valet, handing it to Chupin. But as the latterglanced at the address he turned deadly pale, and his eyes almoststarted from their sockets. For this is what he read: "Madame Paul.Dealer in Tobacco. Quai de la Seine." Great as was his self-control, hisemotion was too evident to escape notice. "What's the matter with you?"asked the concierge and the valet in the same breath. "What has happenedto you?"

  A powerful effort of will restored this young fellow's coolness, andready in an instant with an excuse for his blunder, he replied, "I havechanged my mind. What! you'd only give me fifteen sous to measure such adistance as that! Why, it isn't a walk--it's a journey!"

  His explanation was accepted without demur. His listeners thought hewas only taking advantage of the need they had of his services--aswas perfectly natural under the circumstances. "What! So you aredissatisfied!" cried the valet. "Very well! you shall have thirtysous--but be of
f!"

  "So I will, at once," replied Chupin. And, imitating the whistle of alocomotive with wonderful perfection, he darted away at a pace whichaugured a speedy return.

  However, when he was some twenty yards from the house he stopped short,glanced around him, and espying a dark corner slipped into it. "Thatfool in the red waistcoat will be coming out to take the letter to thatfamous baroness," he thought. "I'm here, and I'll watch him and seewhere he goes. I should like to find out the name of the kind andcharitable lady who watches over his brigand of a master with suchtender care."

  The day and the hour were in his favor. Night was coming on, hastened bya thick fog; the street lamps were not yet lighted, and as it was Sundaymost of the shops were closed. It grew dark so rapidly that Chupin wasscarcely able to recognize Florent when he at last emerged from thehouse. It is true that he looked altogether unlike the servant inthe red waist-coat. As he had the key to the wardrobe containinghis master's clothes, he did not hesitate to use them whenever anopportunity offered. On this occasion he had appropriated a pair ofthose delicately tinted trousers which were M. de Coralth's specialty,with a handsome overcoat, a trifle too small for him, and a very eleganthat.

  "Fine doings, indeed!" growled Chupin as he started in pursuit. "Myservants sha'n't serve me in that way if I ever have any."

  But he paused in his soliloquy, and prudently hid himself under aneighboring gateway. The gorgeous Florent was ringing at the door of oneof the most magnificent mansions in the Rue de la Ville l'Eveque. Thedoor was opened, and he went in. "Ah! ah!" thought Chupin, "he hadn'tfar to go. The viscount and the baroness are shrewd. When you haveflowers to send to anybody it's convenient to be neighbors!"

  He glanced round, and seeing an old man smoking his pipe on thethreshold of a shop, he approached him and asked politely "Can you tellme whom that big house belongs to?"

  "To Baron Trigault," replied the man, without releasing his hold on hispipe.

  "Thank you, monsieur," replied Chupin, gravely. "I inquired, becauseI think of buying a house." And repeating the name of Trigault severaltimes to impress it upon his memory he darted off on his errand.

  It might be supposed that his unexpected success had delighted him,but, on the contrary, it rendered him even more exacting. The letterhe carried burned his pocket like a red-hot iron. "Madame Paul," hemuttered, "that must be the rascal's wife. First, Paul is his Christianname; secondly, I've been told that his wife keeps a tobacco shop--sothe case is plain. But the strangest thing about it is that this husbandand wife should write to each other, when I fancied them at dagger'sends." Chupin would have given a pint of his own blood to know thecontents of the missive. The idea of opening it occurred to him, and itmust be confessed that it was not a feeling of delicacy that preventedhim. He was deterred by a large seal which had been carefully affixed,and which would plainly furnish evidence if the letter were tamperedwith. Thus Chupin was punished for Florent's faults, for this sealwas the viscount's' invariable precaution against his servant's pryingcuriosity. So our enterprising youth could only read and re-read thesuperscription and smell the paper, which was strongly scented withverbena. He fancied that there was some mysterious connection betweenthis letter intended for M. de Coralth's wife and the missive sentto the baroness. And why should it not be so? Had they not both beenwritten under the influence of anger? Still he failed to perceive anypossible connection between the rich baroness and the poor tobaccodealer, and his cogitations only made him more perplexed than ever.However, his efforts to solve the mystery did not interfere with thefree use of his limbs, and he soon found himself on the Quai de laSeine. "Here I am," he muttered. "I've come more quickly than anomnibus."

  The Quai de la Seine is a broad road, connecting the Rue de Flandreswith the canal de l'Ourcq. On the left-hand side it is bordered withmiserable shanties interspersed with some tiny shops, and several hugecoal depots. On the right-hand side--that next to the canal--there arealso a few provision stores. In the daytime there is no noisier norlivelier place than this same Quai; but nothing could be more gloomyat night-time when the shops are closed, when the few gas-lamps onlyincrease the grimness of the shadows, and when the only sound thatbreaks the silence is the rippling of the water as its smooth surface isruffled by some boatman propelling his skiff through the canal.

  "The Viscount must certainly have made a mistake," thought Chupin;"there is no such shop on the Quai." He was wrong, however; for afterpassing the Rue de Soissons he espied the red lantern of a tobacco-shop,glimmering through the fog.