XIX
Baron Trigault still held Madame de Fondege a prisoner in the hall. Whatdid he say to her in justification of the expedient he had improvised?His own agitation was so great that he scarcely knew, and it matteredbut little after all, for the good lady did not even pretend to listento his apologies. Although by no means overshrewd, she suspected somegreat mystery, some bit of scandal, perhaps, and her eyes never oncewandered from the door leading to the boudoir. At last this door openedand Mademoiselle Marguerite reappeared. "Great heavens!" exclaimedMadame de Fondege; "what has happened to my poor child?"
For the unfortunate girl advanced with an automatic tread, her eyesfixed on vacancy, and her hands outstretched, as if feeling her way. Itindeed seemed to her as if the floor swayed to and fro under her feet,as if the walls tottered, as if the ceiling were about to fall and crushher.
Madame de Fondege sprang forward. "What is the matter, my dearest?"
Alas! the poor girl was utterly overcome. "It is but a trifle," shefaltered. But her eyes closed, her hands clutched wildly for somesupport, and she would have fallen to the ground if the baron had notcaught her in his arms and carried her to a sofa. "Help!" cried Madamede Fondege, "help, she is dying!--a physician!"
But there was no need of a physician. One of the maids came withsome fresh water and a bottle of smelling salts, and Marguerite soonrecovered sufficiently to sit up, and cast a frightened glance aroundher, while she mechanically passed her hand again and again over hercold forehead. "Do you feel better my darling?" inquired Madame deFondege at last.
"Yes."
"Ah! you gave me a terrible fright; see how I tremble." But the worthylady's fright was as nothing in comparison with the curiosity thattortured her. It was so powerful, indeed, that she could not control it."What has happened?" she asked.
"Nothing, madame, nothing."
"But----"
"I am subject to such attacks. I was very cold, and the heat of the roommade me feel faint."
Although she could only speak with the greatest difficulty, the baronrealized by her tone that she would never reveal what had taken place,and his attitude and relief knew no bounds. "Don't tire the poor child,"he said to Madame de Fondege. "The best thing you can do would be totake her home and put her to bed."
"I agree with you; but unfortunately, I have sent away my brougham withorders not to return for me until one o'clock."
"Is that the only difficulty? If so, you shall have a carriage atonce, my dear madame." So saying, the baron made a sign to one of theservants, and the man started on his mission at once.
Madame de Fondege was silent but furious. "He is actually putting me outof doors," she thought. "This is a little too much! And why doesn't thebaroness make her appearance--she must certainly have heard my voice?What does it all mean? However, I'm sure Marguerite will tell me when weare alone."
But Madame de Fondege was wrong, for she vainly plied the girl withquestions all the way from the Rue de la Ville l'Eveque to the RuePigalle. She could only obtain this unvarying and obstinate reply:"Nothing has happened. What do you suppose could have happened?"
Never in her whole life had Madame de Fondege been so incensed. "Theblockhead!" she mentally exclaimed. "Who ever saw such obstinacy!Hateful creature!--I could beat her!"
She did not beat her, but on reaching the house she eagerly asked: "Doyou feel strong enough to go up stairs alone?"
"Yes, madame."
"Then I will leave you. You know Van Klopen expects me again at oneo'clock precisely; and I have not breakfasted yet. Remember that myservants are at your disposal, and don't hesitate to call them. You areat home, recollect."
It was not without considerable difficulty--not without being compelledto stop and rest several times on her way up stairs--that MademoiselleMarguerite succeeded in reaching the apartments of the Fondege family."Where is madame?" inquired the servant who opened the door.
"She is still out."
"Will she return to dinner?"
"I don't know."
"M. Gustave has been here three times already; he was very angry when hefound that there was no one at home--he went on terribly. Besides, theworkmen have turned everything topsy-turvy."
However, Marguerite had already reached her own room, and thrown herselfon the bed. She was suffering terribly. Her brave spirit still retainedits energy; but the flesh had succumbed. Every vein and artery throbbedwith violence, and while a chill seemed to come to her heart, her headburned as if it had been on fire. "My Lord," she thought, "am I goingto fall ill at the last moment, just when I have most need of all mystrength?"
She tried to sleep, but was unable to do so. How could she free herselffrom the thought that haunted her? Her mother! To think that such awoman was her mother! Was it not enough to make her die of sorrow andshame? And yet this woman must be saved--the proofs of her crime must beannihilated with her letters. Marguerite asked herself whether theold magistrate would have it in his power to help her in this respect.Perhaps not, and then what could she do? She asked herself if she hadnot been too cruel, too severe. Guilty or not, the baroness was stillher mother. Had she the right to be pitiless, when by stretching outher hand she might, perhaps, have rescued the wretched woman from herterrible life.
Thus thinking, the young girl sat alone and forgotten in her littleroom. The hours went by, and daylight had begun to wane, when suddenly ashrill whistle resounded in the street, under her windows. "Pi-ouit." Itcame upon her like an electric shock, and with a bound she sprang toher feet. For this cry was the signal that had been agreed upon betweenherself and the young man who had so abruptly offered to help her on theoccasion of her visit to M. Fortunat's office. Was she mistaken? No--foron listening she heard the cry resound a second time, even more shrilland prolonged than before.
This was no time for hesitation, and so she went down-stairs at once.Hope sent new blood coursing through her veins and endowed her withinvincible energy. On reaching the street-door, she paused and lookedaround her. At a short distance off she perceived a young fellow clad ina blouse, who was apparently engaged in examining the goods displayed ina shop window. Despite his position, he hurriedly exclaimed: "Follow meat a little; distance in the rear until I stop."
Marguerite, obeyed him in breathless suspense. The young fellow wasour friend Victor Chupin, now somewhat the worse for his encounter withVantrasson that same morning. His face was considerably disfigured, andone of his eyes was black and swollen; nevertheless he was in a stateof ecstatic happiness. Happy, and yet anxious; for, as he precededMademoiselle Marguerite, he said to himself: "How shall I tell herthat I have succeeded? There must be no folly. If I tell her the newssuddenly, she will most likely faint, so I must break the news gently."
On reaching the Rue Boursault, he turned the corner, and paused,waiting for Mademoiselle Marguerite to join him. "What is the news?" sheanxiously asked.
"Everything is progressing finely--slowly, but finely."
"You know something, monsieur! Speak! Don't you see how anxious I am?"
He did see it only too well; and his embarrassment increased to such apitch that he began to scratch his head furiously. At last he decidedon a plan. "First of all, mademoiselle, brace yourself against the wall,and now stand firm. Yes, like that. Now, are you all right? Well, I havefound M. Ferailleur!"
Chupin's precaution was a wise one, for Marguerite tottered. Such asuccess, so quickly gained, was indeed astounding. "Is it possible?" shemurmured.
"So possible that I have a letter for you from M. Ferailleur in mypocket mademoiselle. Here it is--I am to wait for an answer."
She took the note he handed her, broke the seal with trembling hand, andread as follows:
"We are approaching the end, my dearest. One step more and we shalltriumph. But I must see you to-day at any risk. Leave the house thisevening at eight o'clock. My mother will be waiting for you in a cab,at the corner of the Rue Pigalle and the Rue Boursault. Come, and letno fear of arousing suspicions of the Fondeges deter
you. They arehenceforth powerless to injure you."
"PASCAL"
"I will go!" replied Marguerite at once, careless of the obstacles thatmight impede the fulfilment of her promise. For it was quite possiblethat serious difficulties might arise. Madame Leon, who had beeninvisible since the morning, might suddenly reappear, or the Generaland his wife might return to dinner. And what could Marguerite answer ifthey asked her where she wanted to go alone, and at such an hour ofthe evening? And if they attempted to prevent her from keeping herappointment, how could she resist? All these were weighty questions andyet she did not hesitate. Pascal had spoken, that sufficed, and she wasdetermined to obey him implicitly, cost what it might. If he advisedsuch a step, it was because he deemed it best and necessary; and shewillingly submitted to the instructions of the man in whom she felt suchunbounded confidence.
Having told Chupin that she might be relied upon for the evening, shewas retracing her way home, when suddenly the thought occurred to herthat she ought not to neglect this opportunity to place a decisiveweapon in Pascal's hands. She was close to the Rue Notre Dame de Loretteand so without more ado she hurried to the establishment of Carjat thephotographer. He was fortunately disengaged, and she at once obtainedfrom him a proof of the compromising letter written by the Marquis deValorsay to Madame Leon. She placed it carefully in her pocket, thankedthe photographer, and then hurried back to the Rue Pigalle to waitfor the hour appointed in Pascal's letter. Fortunately none of herunpleasant apprehensions were realized. The dinner-hour came and passed,and still the house remained deserted. The workmen had gone off and thelaughter and chatter of the servants in the kitchen were the only soundsthat broke the stillness. Faint for want of food--for she had taken nonourishment during the day--Marguerite had considerable difficulty inobtaining something to eat from the servants. At last, however, theygave her some soup and cold meat, served on a corner of the bare tablein the dining-room. It was half-past seven when she finished thisfrugal meal. She waited a moment, and then fearing she might keep MadameFerailleur waiting, she went down into the street.
A cab was waiting at the corner of the Rue Boursault, as indicated. Itswindows were lowered, and in the shade one could discern the face andwhite hair of an elderly lady. Glancing behind her to assure herselfthat she had not been followed, Marguerite eagerly approached thevehicle, whereupon a kindly voice exclaimed: "Jump in quickly,mademoiselle."
Marguerite obeyed, and the door was scarcely closed behind her beforethe driver had urged his horse into a gallop. He had evidently receivedhis instructions in advance, as well as the promise of a magnificentgratuity.
Sitting side by side on the back seat, the old lady and the young girlremained silent, but this did not prevent them from casting stealthyglances at each other, and striving to distinguish one another'sfeatures whenever the vehicle passed in front of some brilliantlylighted shop. They had never met before, and their anxiety to becomeacquainted was intense, for they each felt that the other would exerta decisive influence upon her life. All of Madame Ferailleur's friendswould undoubtedly have been surprised at the step she had taken, andyet it was quite in accordance with her character. As long as she hadentertained any hope of preventing this marriage she had not hesitatedto express and even exaggerate her objections and repugnance. But herpoint of view was entirely changed when conquered by the strength of herson's passion, she at last yielded a reluctant consent. The young girlwho was destined to be her daughter-in-law at once became sacred in hereyes; and it seemed to her an act of duty to watch over Marguerite, andshield her reputation. Having considered the subject, she had decidedthat it was not proper for her son's betrothed to run about the streetsalone in the evening. Might it not compromise her honor? and later onmight it not furnish venomous Madame de Fondege with an opportunity toexercise her slanderous tongue? Thus the puritanical old lady had cometo fetch Marguerite, so that whenever occasion required she might beable to say: "I was there!"
As for Marguerite, after the trials of the day, she yielded withoutreserve to the feeling of rest and happiness that now filled her heart.Again and again had Pascal spoken of his mother's prejudices and theinflexibility of her principles. But he had also spoken of her dauntlessenergy, the nobility of her nature, and of her love and devotion tohim. With Marguerite, moreover, one consideration--one which shewould scarcely have admitted, perhaps--outweighed all others: MadameFerailleur was Pascal's mother. For that reason alone, if for no other,she was prepared to worship her. How fervently she blessed this noblewoman, who, a widow, and ruined in fortune by an unprincipled scoundrel,had bravely toiled to educate her son, making him the man whomMarguerite had freely chosen from among all others. She would have kneltbefore this grand but simple-hearted mother had she dared; she wouldhave kissed her hands. And a poignant regret came to her heart when sheremembered her own mother, Baroness Trigault, and compared her with thismatchless woman.
Meanwhile the cab had passed the outer boulevards, and was now whirlingalong the Route d'Asnieres, as fast as the horse could drag it. "We arealmost there," remarked Madame Ferailleur, speaking for the first time.
Marguerite's response was inaudible, she was so overcome with emotion.The driver had just turned the corner of the Route de la Revolte; and itwas not long before he checked his panting horse. "Look, mademoiselle,"said Madame Ferailleur again, "this is our home."
Upon the threshold, bareheaded, and breathless with impatience and hope,stood a man who was counting the seconds with the violent throbbingsof his heart. He did not wait for the cab to stop, but springing tothe door, he opened it; and then, catching Marguerite in his arms, hecarried her into the house with a cry of joy. She had not even time tolook around her, ere he had placed her in an arm-chair, and fallen onhis knees before her. "At last I see you again, my beloved Marguerite,"he exclaimed. "You are mine--nothing shall part us again!"
They sobbed in each other's arms. They could bear adversity unmoved; buttheir composure deserted them in this excess of happiness; and standingin the door-way, Madame Ferailleur felt the tears come to her eyes asshe stood watching them.
"How can I tell you all that I have suffered!" said Pascal, whose voicewas hoarse with feeling. "The papers have told you all the details, Isuppose. How I was accused of cheating at cards; how the vile epithet'thief' was cast in my face; how they tried to search me; how my mostintimate friends deserted me; how I was virtually expelled from thePalais de Justice. All this is terrible, is it not? Ah, well! itis nothing in comparison with the intense, unendurable anguish Iexperienced in thinking that you believed the infamous calumny whichdisgraced me."
Marguerite rose to her feet. "You thought that!" she exclaimed. "Youbelieved that I doubted you? I! Like you, I have been accused of robberymyself. Do you believe me guilty?"
"Good God! I suspect you!"
"Then why----"
"I was mad, Marguerite, my only love, I was mad! But who would not havelost his senses under such circumstances? It was the very day after thisatrocious conspiracy. I had seen Madame Leon, and had trusted her witha letter for you in which I entreated you to grant me five minutes'Conversation."
"Alas! I never received it."
"I know that now; but then I was deceived. I went to the little gardengate to await your coming, but it was Madame Leon who appeared. Shebrought me a note written in pencil and signed with your name, biddingme an eternal farewell. And, fool that I was, I did not see that thenote was a forgery!"
Mademoiselle Marguerite was amazed. The veil was now torn aside, and thetruth revealed to her. Now she remembered Madame Leon's embarrassmentwhen she met her returning from the garden on the night following thecount's death. "Ah, well! Pascal," she said, "do you know what I wasdoing at almost the same moment? Alarmed at having received no news fromyou, I hastened to the Rue d'Ulm, where I learned that you had sold yourfurniture and started for America. Any other woman might have believedherself deserted under such circumstances, but not I. I felt sure thatyou had not fled in ignominious fashion. I was convi
nced that you hadonly concealed yourself for a time in order to strike your enemies moresurely."
"Do not shame me, Marguerite. It is true that of us two I showed myselfthe weaker."
Lost in the rapture of the present moment, they had forgotten the pastand the future, the agony they had endured, the dangers that stillthreatened them, and even the existence of their enemies.
But Madame Ferailleur was watching. She pointed to the clock, andearnestly exclaimed: "Time is passing, my son. Each moment thatis wasted endangers our success. Should any suspicion bring MadameVantrasson here, all would be lost."
"She cannot come upon us unawares, my dear mother. Chupin has promisednot to lose sight of her. If she stirs from her shop, he will hastenhere and throw a stone against the shutters to warn us."
But even this did not satisfy Madame Ferailleur.
"You forget, Pascal." she insisted, "that Mademoiselle Marguerite mustbe at home again by ten o'clock, if she consents to the ordeal you feelobliged to impose upon her."
This was the voice of duty recalling Pascal to the stern realities oflife. He slowly rose, conquered his emotion, and, after reflecting fora moment, said: "First of all, Marguerite, I owe you the truth and anexact statement of our situation. Circumstances have compelled me to actwithout consulting you. Have I done right or wrong? You shall judge."And without stopping to listen to the girl's protestations, he rapidlyexplained how he had managed to win M. de Valorsay's confidence,discover his plans, and become his trusted accomplice. "This scoundrel'splan is very simple," he continued. "He is determined to marry you.Why? Because, though you are not aware of it, you are rich, and thesole heiress to the fortune of the Count de Chalusse, your father. Thissurprises you, does it not? Very well! listen to me. Deceived by theMarquis de Valorsay, the Count de Chalusse had promised him your hand.These arrangements were nearly completed, though you had not beeninformed of them. In fact, everything had been decided. At the outset,however, a grave difficulty had presented itself. The marquis wishedyour father to acknowledge you before your marriage, but this he refusedto do. 'It would expose me to the most frightful dangers,' he declared.'However, I will recognize Marguerite as my daughter in my will, and, atthe same time, leave all my property to her.' But the marquis would notlisten to this proposal. 'I don't doubt your good intentions, my dearcount,' said he,' but suppose this will should be contested, yourproperty might pass into other hands.' This difficulty put a stop to theproceedings for some time. The marquis asked for guarantees; the otherrefused to give them--until, at last, M. de Chalusse discovered anexpedient which would satisfy both parties. He confided to M. deValorsay's keeping a will in which he recognized you as his daughter,and bequeathed you his entire fortune. This document, the validity ofwhich is unquestionable, has been carefully preserved by the marquis.He has not spoken of its existence; and he would destroy it rather thanrestore it to you at present. But as soon as you became his wife,he intended to produce it and thus obtain possession of the count'smillions."
"Ah! the old justice of the peace was not mistaken," murmuredMademoiselle Marguerite.
Pascal did not hear her. All his faculties were absorbed in the attempthe was making to give a clear and concise explanation, for he had muchto say, and it was growing late. "As for the enormous sum you have beenaccused of taking," he continued, "I know what has become of it; it isin the hands of M. de Fondege."
"I know that, Pascal--I'm sure of it; but the proof, the proof!"
"The proof exists, and, like the will, it is in the hands of the Marquisde Valorsay."
"Is it possible! Great Heavens! You are sure you are not deceived?"
"I have seen the proof, and it is overpowering, irrefutable! I havetouched it--I have held it in my hands. And it explains everything whichmay have seemed strange and incomprehensible to you. The letter which M.de Chalusse received on the day of his death was written by his sister.She asked in it for her share of the family estate, threatening him witha terrible scandal if he refused to comply with her request. Had thecount decided to brave this scandal rather than yield? We have goodreason to suppose so. However, this much is certain: he had a terriblehatred, not so much for his sister, perhaps, as for the man who hadseduced her, and afterward married her, actuated by avaricious motivesalone. He had sworn thousands of times that neither husband nor wifeshould ever have a penny of the large fortune which really belongedto them. Believing that a lawsuit was now inevitable, and wishing toconceal his wealth, he was greatly embarrassed by the large amount ofmoney he had on hand. What should he do with it? Where could he hide it?He finally decided to intrust it to the keeping of M. de Fondege, whowas known as an eccentric man, but whose honesty seemed to be abovesuspicion. So, when he left home, on the afternoon of his illness, hetook the package of bank-notes and bonds, which you had noticed in theescritoire that morning, away with him. We shall never know what passedbetween your father and the General--we can only surmise. But what I doknow, and what I shall be able to prove, is that M. de Fondege acceptedthe trust, and that he gave an acknowledgment of it in the form of aletter, which read as follows:
"'MY DEAR COUNT DE CHALUSSE--I hereby acknowledge the receipt, on Thursday, October 15, 186-, of the sum of two millions, two hundred and fifty thousand francs, which I shall deposit, in my name, at the Bank of France, subject to the orders of Mademoiselle Marguerite, your daughter, on the day she presents this letter. And believe, my dear count, in the absolute devotion of your old comrade,
"GENERAL DE FONDEGE.'"
Mademoiselle Marguerite was thunderstruck. "Who can have furnished youwith these particulars?" she inquired.
"The Marquis de Valorsay, my dearest; and I will explain how he wasenabled to do so. M. de Fondege wrote the address of his 'old comrade'on this letter, which was folded and sealed, but not enclosed in anenvelope. M. de Chalusse proposed to post it himself, so that theofficial stamp might authenticate its date. But on reflection, he becameuneasy. He felt that this tiny, perishable scrap of paper would bethe only proof of the deposit which he had confided to M. de Fondege'shonor. This scrap might be lost, burned, or stolen. Then what wouldhappen? He had so often seen trustees betray the confidence of whichthey had seemed worthy. So M. de Chalusse racked his brains to discovera means of protection from an improbable but possible misfortune. Hefound it. Passing a stationer's shop, he went in, purchased one of thoseletter-presses which merchants use in their correspondence, and, underpretext of trying it, took a copy of M. de Fondege's letter. Havingdone this, he placed the copy in an envelope addressed to the Marquis deValorsay, and, with his heart relieved of all anxiety, posted it at thesame time as the original letter. A few moments later he got into thecab in which he was stricken down with apoplexy."
Extraordinary as Pascal's explanations must have seemed to her,Marguerite did not doubt their accuracy in the least. "Then it is thecopy of this letter which you saw in the possession of the Marquis deValorsay?"
"Yes."
"And the original?"
"M. de Fondege alone can tell what has become of that. It is evidentthat he has somehow succeeded in obtaining possession of it. Would hehave dared to squander money as he has done if he had not been convincedthat there was no proof of his guilt in existence? Perhaps on hearingof the count's sudden death he bribed the concierge at the Hotel deChalusse to watch for this letter and return it to him. But on thissubject I have only conjectures to offer. If they wish you to marrytheir son, it is probably because it seems too hard that you should beleft in abject poverty while they are enjoying the fortune they havestolen from you. The vilest scoundrels have their scruples. Besides,a marriage with their son would protect them against any possiblemischance in the future."
He was silent for a moment, and then more slowly resumed: "You see,Marguerite, we have clear, palpable, and irrefutable proofs of YOURinnocence; but in my efforts to clear my own name of disgrace, I havebeen far less fortunate. I have tried in vain to collect material proofsof the conspirac
y against me. It is only by proving the guilt of theMarquis de Valorsay and the Viscount de Coralth that I can establish myinnocence, and so far I am powerless to do so."
Mademoiselle Marguerite's face brightened with supreme joy. "Then I canserve you, in my turn, my only love," she exclaimed. "Ah! blessed be Godwho inspired me, and who thus rewards me for an hour of courage. Mypoor father's plan also occurred to me, Pascal. Was it not strange? Thematerial proof of your innocence which you have sought for in vain, isin my possession, written and signed by the Marquis de Valorsay. LikeM. de Fondege, he believes that the letter which proves his guilt isannihilated. He burned it himself, and yet it exists." So saying, shedrew from her bosom one of the copies which she had received from Carjatthe photographer, and handed it to Pascal, adding, "Look!"
Pascal eagerly perused the marvellous facsimile of the letter which themarquis had written to Madame Leon. "Ah! this is the scoundrel's deathwarrant." he exclaimed, exultantly. And approaching Madame Ferailleur,who still stood leaning against the door, silent and motionless: "Look,mother," he repeated, "look!"
And he pointed to this paragraph which was so convincing and soexplicit, that the most exacting jury would have asked for no furtherevidence. "I have formed a plan which will completely efface allremembrance of that cursed P. F., in case any one could condescend tothink of him, after the disgrace we fastened upon him the other eveningat the house of Madame d'A----."
"Nor is this all," resumed Mademoiselle Marguerite. "There are otherletters which will prove that this plot was the marquis's work and whichgive the name of his accomplice, Coralth. And these letters are in thepossession of a man of dubious integrity, who was once the marquis'sally, but who has now become his enemy. He is known as Isidore Fortunat,and lives in the Place de la Bourse."
Marguerite felt that Madame Ferailleur's keen glance was rivetedupon her. She intuitively divined what was passing in the mind ofthe puritanical old lady, and realized that her whole future, and thehappiness of her entire wedded life, depended upon her conduct at thatmoment. So, desirous of making a full confession, she hastily exclaimed:"My conduct may have seemed strange in a young girl, Pascal. A timid,inexperienced girl, who had been carefully kept from all knowledge oflife and evil, would have been crushed by such a burden of disgrace,and could only have wept and prayed. I did weep and pray; but I alsostruggled and fought. In the hour of peril I found myself endowed withsome of the courage and energy which distinguished the poor women of thepeople among whom I formerly earned my bread. The teachings and miseriesof the past were not lost to me!" And as simply as if she were tellingthe most natural thing in the world, she described the struggle she hadundertaken against the world, strong in her faith in Pascal and in hislove.
"Ah, you are a noble and courageous girl!" exclaimed Madame Ferailleur."You are worthy of my son, and you will proudly guard our honest name!"
For some little time already the obstinate old lady had been strugglingagainst the sympathetic emotion that filled her heart, and big tearswere coursing down her wrinkled cheeks.
Unable to restrain herself any longer, she now threw both arms aroundMarguerite's neck, and drew her toward her in a long embrace, murmuring:"Marguerite, my daughter! Ah! how unjust my prejudices were!"
It might be thought that Pascal was transported with joy on hearingthis, but no: the lines of care on his forehead deepened, as he said:"Happiness is so near! Why must a final test, another humiliation,separate us from it?"
But Marguerite now felt strong enough to meet even martyrdom with asmile. "Speak, Pascal!" said she, "don't you see that it is almost teno'clock?"
He hesitated; there was grief in his eyes and his breath came quick andhard, as he resumed: "For your sake and mine, we must conquer, at anyprice. This is the only reason that can justify the horrible expedientI have to suggest. M. de Valorsay, as you know, has boasted of his powerto overcome your resistance, and he really believes that he possessesthis power. Why I have not killed him again and again when he has beenat my mercy, I can scarcely understand. The only thing that gave mepower to restrain myself was my desire for as sure, as terrible, andas public a revenge as the humiliation he inflicted on me. His plan foryour ruin is such as only a scoundrel like himself could conceive.With the assistance of his vile tool, Coralth, he has formed a league,offensive and defensive, with the son of the Count de Chalusse's sister,who is the only acknowledged heir at this moment--a young man destituteof heart and intelligence, and inordinately vain, but neither better norworse than many others who figure respectably in society. His name isWilkie Gordon. The marquis has acquired great influence over him,and has persuaded him that it is his duty to denounce you to theauthorities. He has, in short, accused you of defrauding the heirs ofthe Chalusse estate of two millions of francs and also of poisoning thecount."
The girl shrugged her shoulders disdainfully. "As for the robbery,we have an answer to that," she answered, "and as regards thepoisoning--really the accusation is too absurd!"
But Pascal still looked gloomy. "The matter is more serious than yousuppose," he replied. "They have found a physician--a vile, cowardlyscoundrel--who for a certain sum has consented to appear in support ofthe accusation."
"Dr. Jodon, I presume!"
"Yes; and this is not all. The count's escritoire contains the vialof medicine of which he drank a portion on the day of his death. Well,to-morrow night, Madame Leon will open the garden gate of the Hotel deChalusse and admit a rascal who will abstract the vial."
Marguerite shuddered. Now she understood the fiendish cunning of theplot. "It might ruin me!" she murmured.
Pascal nodded affirmatively. "M. de Valorsay wishes you to consideryourself as irretrievably lost, and then he intends to offer to save youon condition that you consent to marry him. I should say, however, thatM. Wilkie is ignorant of the atrocious projects he is abetting. They areknown only to the marquis and M. de Coralth; and it is I who, under thename of Maumejan, act as their adviser. It was to me that the marquissent M. Wilkie for assistance in drawing up this accusation. I myselfwrote out the denunciation, which was as terrible and as formidable asour bitterest enemy could possibly desire, combining, as it did, withperfidious art, the reports of the valets and the suspicions of thephysician, and establishing the connection between the robbery and themurder. It finished by demanding a thorough investigation. And M. Wilkiecopied and signed this document, and carried it to the prosecutionoffice himself."
Mademoiselle Marguerite sank half-fainting into an arm-chair. "You havedone this!" she faltered.
"It was necessary, my daughter," whispered Madame Ferailleur.
"Yes, it was necessary, absolutely necessary," repeated Pascal, "asyou will see. Justice, which is a human institution, and limited in itspowers, cannot fathom motives, read thoughts, or interfere with plans,however abominable they may be, or however near realization. Before itcan interfere, the law must have material, tangible proof, convincingto the senses. Until you are arrested, the crimes committed by M. deValorsay, and those associated with him, do not come within the reachof human justice; but as soon as you are in prison, I can hasten toour friend the justice of the peace, and we shall go at once tothe investigating magistrate and explain everything. Now, when yourinnocence and the guilt of your accusers have been established, whatdo you fancy the authorities will do? They will wait until your enemiesdeclare themselves, in order to capture them all at once, and preventthe escape of a single one. To-morrow night some clever detectives willwatch the Hotel de Chalusse, and just as Madame Leon and the wretch withher think themselves sure of success, they will be caught in thevery act and arrested. When they are examined by a magistrate, whois conversant with the whole affair, can they deny their guilt? No;certainly not. Acting upon their confession, the authorities will forcean entrance into Valorsay's house, where they will find your father'swill and the receipt given by M. de Fondege--in a word, all the proofsof their guilt. And while this search is going on, all your enemies,reassured by your arrest, will be at a grand
soiree given by BaronTrigault. I shall be there as well."
Mademoiselle Marguerite had mastered her momentary weakness. She rose toher feet, and in a firm voice exclaimed: "You have acted rightly."
"Ah! there was no other way. And yet I wished to see you, to learn ifthis course were too repugnant to you."
She interrupted him with a gesture. "When shall I be arrested?" sheasked, quietly.
"This evening or to-morrow." was his answer.
"Very well! I have only one request to make. The Fondeges have a son whohas no hand in the affair, but who will be more severely punished thanhis parents, if we do not spare them. Could you not----"
"I can do nothing, Marguerite. I am powerless now."
Everything was soon arranged. Marguerite raised her forehead to Pascalfor his parting kiss, and went away accompanied by Madame Ferailleur,who escorted her to the corner of the Rue Boursault. The General and hiswife had returned home in advance of Marguerite. She found them sittingin the drawing-room, with distorted faces and teeth chattering withfear. With them was a bearded man who, as soon as she appeared,exclaimed:
"You are Mademoiselle Marguerite, are you not? I arrest you in the nameof the law. There is my warrant." And without more ado he led her away.
XX.
Money, which nowadays has taken the place of the good fairies of formertimes, had gratified M. Wilkie's every longing in a single night.Without any period of transition, dreamlike as it were, he had passedfrom what he called "straitened circumstances" to the splendid enjoymentof a princely fortune. Madame d'Argeles's renunciation had beenso correctly drawn up, that as soon as he presented his claims anddisplayed his credentials he was placed in possession of the Chalusseestate. It is true that a few trifling difficulties presentedthemselves. For instance, the old justice of the peace who had affixedthe seals refused to remove them from certain articles of furniture,especially from the late count's escritoire, without an order from thecourt, and several days were needed to obtain this. But what did thatmatter to M. Wilkie? The house, with its splendid reception-rooms,pictures, statuary and gardens, was at his disposal, and he installedhimself therein at once. Twenty horses neighed and stamped in hisstables; there were at least a dozen carriages in the coach-house. Hedevoted his attention exclusively to the horses and vehicles; but actingupon the advice of Casimir, who had become his valet and oracle, heretained all the former servants of the house, from Bourigeau theconcierge down to the humblest scullery maid. Still, he gave themto understand that this was only a temporary arrangement. A man likehimself, living in this progressive age, could scarcely be expected tocontent himself with what had satisfied the Count de Chalusse. "For Ihave my plans," he remarked to Casimir, "but let Paris wait awhile."
He repudiated his former friends. Costard and Serpillon, pretendedviscounts though they were, were quite beneath the notice of aGordon-Chalusse, as M. Wilkie styled himself on his visiting cards.However, he purchased their share of Pompier de Nanterre, feelingconvinced that this remarkable steeplechaser had a brilliant futurebefore him. He did not trouble himself to any great extent about hismother. Like every one else, he knew that she had disappeared, butnothing further. On the other hand, the thought of his father, theterrible chevalier d'industrie, hung over his joy like a pall; and eachtime the great entrance bell announced a visitor, he trembled, turnedpale, and muttered: "Perhaps it's he!"
Tortured by this fear, he clung closely to the Marquis de Valorsay as ifhe felt that this distinguished friend was a powerful support. Besides,people of rank and distinction naturally exercised a powerful attractionover him, and he fancied he grew several inches taller when, in somepublic place, in the street, or a restaurant, he was able to call out,"I say, Valorsay, my good friend," or, "Upon my word! my dear marquis!"
M. de Valorsay received these effusions graciously enough, although,in point of fact, he was terribly bored by the platitudes of his newacquaintance. He intended to send him to Coventry later on, but just nowM. Wilkie was too useful to be ignored. So he had introduced him to hisclub, and was seen with him everywhere--in the Bois, at the restaurants,and the theatres. At times, some of his friends inquired: "Who is thatqueer little fellow?" with a touch of irony in their tone, but whenthe marquis carelessly answered: "A poor devil who has just come intopossession of a property worth twenty millions!" they became serious,and requested the pleasure and honor of an introduction to thisfortunate young man.
So M. de Valorsay had invited Gordon-Chalusse to accompany him to BaronTrigault's approaching fete. It was to be an entertainment for gentlemenonly, a monster card-party; but every one knew the wealthy baron, andno doubt with a view of stimulating curiosity he had declared, andthe Figaro had repeated, that he had a great surprise in store for hisguests. Oh! such a surprise! They could have no idea what it was! Thisfete was to take place on the second day after Mademoiselle Marguerite'sarrest; and on the appointed evening, between nine and ten o'clock,M. de Valorsay and his friend Coralth sat together in the former'ssmoking-room waiting for Wilkie to call for them, as had beenagreed upon. They were both in the best of spirits. The viscount'sapprehensions had been entirely dispelled; and the marquis had quiteforgotten the twinges of pain in his injured limb. "Marguerite will onlyleave prison to marry me," said M. de Valorsay, triumphantly; and headded: "What a willing tool this Wilkie is! A single word sufficed tomake him give all his servants leave of absence. The Hotel de Chalussewill be deserted, and Madame Leon and Vantrasson can operate at theirleisure."
It was ten o'clock when M. Wilkie made his appearance. "Come, my goodfriends!" said he, "my carriage is below."
They started off at once, and five minutes later they were ushered intothe presence of Baron Trigault, who received M. Wilkie as if he hadnever seen him before. There was quite a crowd already. At least threeor four hundred people had assembled in the Baron's reception-rooms, andamong them were several former habitues of Madame d'Argeles's house;one could also espy M. de Fondege ferociously twirling his mustachesas usual, together with Kami-Bey, who was conspicuous by reason ofhis portly form and eternal red fez. However, among these men, allnoticeable for their studied elegance of attire and manner, and allof them known to M. de Valorsay, there moved numerous others of verydifferent appearance. Their waistcoats were less open, and their clothesdid not fit them as perfectly; on the other hand, there was somethingelse than a look of idiotic self-complacency on their faces. "Who canthese people be?" whispered the marquis to M. de Coralth. "They looklike lawyers or magistrates." But although he said this he did notreally believe it, and it was without the slightest feeling of anxietythat he strolled from group to group, shaking hands with his friends andintroducing M. Wilkie.
A strange rumor was in circulation among the guests. Many of themdeclared--where could they have heard such a thing?--that in consequenceof a quarrel with her husband, Madame Trigault had left Paris theevening before. They even went so far as to repeat her parting words tothe Baron: "You will never see me again," she had said. "You are amplyavenged. Farewell!" However, the best informed among the guests, thefolks who were thoroughly acquainted with all the scandals of the day,declared the story false, and said that if the baroness had really fled,handsome Viscount de Coralth would not appear so calm and smiling.
The report WAS true, however. But M. de Coralth did not trouble himselfmuch about the baroness now. Had he not got in his pocket M. Wilkie'ssignature insuring him upward of half a million? Standing near one ofthe windows in the main reception-room, between the Marquis de Valorsayand M. Wilkie, the brilliant viscount was gayly chatting with them,when a footman, in a voice loud enough to interrupt all conversation,suddenly announced: "M. Maumejan!"
It seemed such a perfectly natural thing to M. de Valorsay thatMaumejan, as one of the baron's business agents, should be received athis house, that he was not in the least disturbed. But M. de Coralth,having heard the name, wished to see the man who had aided and advisedthe marquius so effectually. He abruptly turned, and as he did so thewords he would have spo
ken died upon his lips. He became livid, his eyesseemed to start from their sockets, and it was with difficulty that heejaculated: "He!"
"Who?" inquired the astonished marquis.
"Look!"
M. de Valorsay did so, and to his utter amazement he perceived anumerous party in the rear of the man announced under the name ofMaumejan. First came Mademoiselle Marguerite, leaning on the arm of thewhite-haired magistrate, and then Madame Ferailleur; next M. IsidoreFortunat, and finally Chupin--Victor Chupin, resplendent in a handsome,bran-new, black dress-suit.
The marquis could no longer fail to understand the truth. He realizedwho Maumejan really was, and the audacious comedy he had been duped by.He was so frightfully agitated that five or six persons sprang forwardexclaiming: "What is the matter, marquis? Are you ill?" But he madeno reply. He felt that he was caught in a trap, and he glanced wildlyaround him seeking for some loophole of escape.
However, the word of command had evidently been given. Suddenly all theguests scattered about the various drawing-rooms poured into the mainhall, and the doors were closed. Then, with a solemnity of mannerwhich no one had ever seen him display before, Baron Trigault tookthe so-called Maumejan by the hand and led him into the centre of theapartment opposite the lofty chimney-piece. "Gentlemen," he began, ina commanding tone, "this is M. Pascal Ferailleur, the honorable man whowas falsely accused of cheating at cards at Madame d'Argeles's house.You owe him a hearing."
Pascal was greatly agitated. The strangeness of the situation, thecertainty of speedy and startling rehabilitation, perhaps the joy ofvengeance, the silence, which was so profound that he could hear hisown panting breath, and the many eyes riveted upon him, all combined tounnerve him. But only for a moment. He swiftly conquered his weakness,and surveying his audience with flashing eyes, he explained, in a clearand ringing voice, the shameful conspiracy to obtain possession of thecount's millions, and the abominable machinations by which MademoiselleMarguerite and himself had been victimized. Then when he had finishedhis explanations he added, in a still more commanding voice, "Now look;you can read the culprits' guilt on their faces. One is the scoundrelknown to you as the Viscount de Coralth, but Paul Violaine is his truename. He was formerly an accomplice of the notorious Mascarot; he is acowardly villain, for he is married, and leaves his wife and children todie of starvation!" The Viscount de Coralth fairly bellowed with rage.But Pascal did not heed him. "The other criminal is the Marquis deValorsay," he added, in the same ringing tone. There was, moreover, athird culprit who would have inspired mingled pity and disgust if anyone had noticed him shrinking into a corner, terrified and muttering:"It wasn't my fault, my wife compelled me to do it!" This was General deFondege.
Pascal did not mention his name. But it was not absolutely necessaryhe should do so, and besides, he remembered Marguerite's entreatyrespecting the son.
However, while the young lawyer was speaking, the marquis had summonedall his energy and assurance to his aid. Desperate as his plightmight be, he would not surrender. "This is an infamous conspiracy," heexclaimed. "Baron, you shall atone for this. The man's an impostor!--helies!--all that he says is false!"
"Yes, it is false!" echoed M. de Coralth.
But a clamor arose, drowning these protestations, and the mostopprobrious epithets could be heard on every side.
"How will you prove your assertion?" cried M. de Valorsay.
"Don't try that dodge on us!" shouted Chupin. "Vantrasson and motherLeon have confessed everything."
"Who defrauded us all with Domingo?" cried several people; and, loudabove all the others, Kami-Bey bawled out: "To say nothing of the factthat the sale of your racing stud was a complete swindle!"
Meanwhile, Pascal's former friends and associates, his brother advocatesand the magistrates who had listened to his first efforts at thebar, crowded round him, pressing his hands, embracing him almost tosuffocation, censuring themselves for having suspected him, the verysoul of honor, and pleading in self-justification the degenerate age inwhich we live--an age in which we daily see those whom we had consideredimmaculate suddenly yield to temptation. And a murmur of respectfuladmiration rose from the throng when the excitement had subsided alittle, and the guests had an opportunity to observe MademoiselleMarguerite, whose eyes sparkled more brightly than ever through herhappy tears; and whose beauty acquired an almost sublime expression fromher deep emotion.
The wretched Valorsay felt that all was over--that he was irretrievablylost. Seized by a blind fury like that which impels a hunted animalto turn and face the hounds that pursue him, and bid them defiance, heconfronted the throng with his face distorted with passion, his eyesbloodshot, and foam upon his lips; he was absolutely frightful in hiscynicism, hatred, and scorn. "Ah! well, yes!" he exclaimed--"yes, allthat you have just heard is true. I was sinking, and I tried to savemyself as best I could. Beggars cannot be choosers; I staked my all upona single die. If I had won, you would have been at my feet; but I havelost and you spurn me. Cowards! hypocrites! that you are, insult me ifyou like, but tell me how many among you all are sufficiently pure andupright to have a right to despise me! Are there a hundred among you?are there even fifty?"
A tempest of hisses momentarily drowned his voice, but as soon as theuproar had ceased, he resumed, sneeringly: "Ah! the truth wounds you, mydear friends. Pray, don't pretend to be so distressingly virtuous! Iwas ruined--that is the long and short of it. But what man of you is notembarrassed? Who among you finds his income sufficient? Which one of youis not encroaching upon his capital? And when you have come to your lastlouis, you will do what I have done, or something worse. Do not deny it,for not one among you has a more uncompromising conscience, more moralfirmness, or more generous aspirations than I once possessed. You arepursuing what I pursued. You desire what I desired--a life of luxury,brief if it must be, but happy--a life of gayety, wild excitement,and dissipation. You, too, have a passion for pleasure and gambling,race-horses, and notorious women, a table always bountifully spread,glasses ever overflowing with wine, all the delights of luxury, andeverything that gratifies your vanity! But an abyss of shame awaits youat the end of it all. I am in it now. I await you there, for there youwill surely, necessarily, inevitably come. Ah, ha! you will not thenthink my downfall so very strange. Let me pass! make way! if youplease."
He advanced with his head haughtily erect, and would actually havemade his escape if a frightened servant had not at that moment appearedcrying: "Monsieur--Monsieur le Baron! a commissary of police isdownstairs. He is coming up. He has a warrant!"
The marquis's frenzied assurance deserted him. He turned even palerthan he already was if that were possible, and reeled like an oxbut partially stunned by the butcher's hammer. Suddenly a desperateresolution could be read in his eyes, the resolution of the condemnedcriminal, who, knowing that he cannot escape the scaffold, ascends itwith a firm step.
He hastily approached Baron Trigault, and asked in a husky voice: "Willyou allow me to be arrested in your house, baron? me--a Valorsay!"
It might have been supposed that the baron had expected this reproach,for without a word he led the marquis and M. de Coralth to a little roomat the end of the hall, pushed them inside, and closed the door again.
It was time he did so, for the commissary of police was already uponthe threshold. "Which of you gentlemen is the Marquis de Valorsay?" heasked. "Which of you is Paul Violaine, alias the Viscount de----"
The sharp report of firearms suddenly interrupted him. Every one at oncerushed to the little room, where the wretched men had been conducted.There extended, face upward, on the floor, lay the Marquis de Valorsay,with his brains oozing from his fractured skull, and his right handstill clutching a revolver. He was dead. "And the other!" cried thethrong; "the other!"
The open window, and a curtain rudely torn from its fastenings andsecured to the balustrade, told how M. de Coralth had made his escape.It was not till later that people learned what precautions the baronhad taken. On the table in that room he had laid two revolve
rs, andtwo packages containing ten thousand francs each. The viscount had nothesitated.
* * * * *
Pascal Ferailleur and Mademoiselle Marguerite de Chalusse were marriedat the church of Saint Etienne du Mont, only a few steps from the Rued'Ulm. Those who knew the mystery connected with the bride's parentagewere greatly astonished when they saw Baron Trigault act as a witness onthis occasion, in company with the venerable justice of the peace. Butsuch was the fact, nevertheless. Treated more and more outrageously byhis daughter and her husband, separated from his wife, who had nearlylost her reason, although her letters were saved, the baron has nowadaysfound affection and a home with Pascal and his wife. He plays cards butseldom now--only an occasional game of piquet with Madame Ferailleur,and he amuses himself by making her start when she is too long indiscarding, by ejaculating, in a stentorian voice: "We are wastingprecious time!" Sometimes they go out together, to the greatastonishment of such as chance to meet the puritanical old lady leaningon the baron's arm. She often goes to visit and console the widowGordon, formerly known as Lia d'Argeles, who now keeps an establishmentnear Montrouge, where she provides poor, betrayed and forsaken girlswith a home and employment. She has yet to receive any token ofremembrance from her son. As for her husband, she supposes he is dead orincarcerated in some prison.
It is to Madame Gordon that the Fondeges are often indebted for bread.Obliged to disgorge their plunder, and left with no resources save thefifty francs a month allowed them by their son, who has been promotedto the rank of captain, their poverty is necessarily extreme. Oh! thoseFondeges! M. Fortunat only speaks of them with horror. But he is loudin his praises of Madame Marguerite, who repaid him the forty thousandfrancs he had advanced to M. de Valorsay. He speaks in the highest termsof Chupin also; but in this, he is scarcely sincere, for Victor, whohas been set up in business by Pascal, told him very plainly that hewas determined not to put his hand to any more dirty work, and thatexpression, "dirty work," rankles in M. Fortunat's heart.
Chupin's resolution did not, however, prevent him from attending thetrial of Vantrasson and Madame Leon--the former of whom was sentenced tohard labor for life, and the latter to ten years' imprisonment. Nothingis known concerning M. de Coralth; but his wife has disappeared, tothe great disappointment of M. Mouchon. As a dentist, Dr. Jodon issuccessful. As for M. Wilkie, you can learn anything you wish toknow concerning him in the newspapers, for his sayings, doings, andmovements, are constantly being chronicled. The reporters exhaust allthe resources of their vocabulary in describing his horses, carriages,and stables, and the gorgeous liveries of his servants. His changes ofresidence are always mentioned; his brilliant sayings are quoted. Heis a social success; he is admired, fondled, and flattered. He makes agreat stir in the fashionable world--in fact, he reigns over it like aking. After all, assurance is the winning card in the game of life!
Baron Trigault's Vengeance Page 19
