La clique dorée. English

by Emile Gaboriau

  X.

  It was a dark, freezing night; the sky was laden with clouds which hungso low, that they nearly touched the roofs of the houses; and a furiouswind was shaking the black branches of the trees in the Champs Elysees,passing through the air like a fine dust of snow.

  Daniel rushed in feverish haste, like an escaped convict, headlong on,without aim or purpose, solely bent upon escaping. But, when he had gonesome distance, the motion, the cold night-air, and the keen wind playingin his hair, restored him to consciousness. Then he became aware that hewas still in evening costume, bareheaded, and that he had left his hatand his overcoat in Miss Brandon's house. Then he remembered that CountVille-Handry was waiting for him in the great reception-room, togetherwith M. Elgin and Mrs. Brian. What would they say and think? Unhappyman, in what a sad predicament he found himself!

  There might have been a way to escape from that hell; and he himself, inhis madness, had closed it forever.

  Like one of those dissipated men who awake from the heavy sleep after adebauch, with dry mouth and weary head, he felt as if he had just beenaroused from a singular and terrible dream. Like the drunkard, who, whenhe is sobered, tries to recall the foolish things he may have done underthe guidance of King Alcohol, Daniel conjured up one by one all hisemotions during the hour which he had just spent by Miss Brandon'sside,--an hour of madness which would weigh heavily upon his futurefate, and which alone contained in its sixty minutes more experiencesthan his whole life so far.

  At no time had he been so near despair.

  What! He had been warned, put on his guard, made fully aware of all ofMiss Brandon's tricks; they had told him of the weird charm of her eyes;he himself had caught her that very evening in the open act of deceivingothers.

  And in spite of all this, feeble and helpless as he was, he had lethimself be caught by the fascinations of this strange girl. Her voicehad made him forget every thing, every thing--even his dear and belovedHenrietta, his sole thought for so many years.

  "Fool!" he said to himself, "what have I done?"

  Unmindful of the blast of the tempest, and of the snow which had begunto fall, he had sat down on the steps of one of the grandest houses inCircus Street, and, with his elbows on his knees, he pressed his browwith his hands, as if hoping that he might thus cause it to suggest tohim some plan of salvation. Conjuring up the whole energy of his will,he tried to retrace his interview with Miss Brandon in order to find outby what marvellous transformation it had begun as a terrible combat, andended as a love-scene. And recalling thus to his memory all she had toldhim in her soft, sweet voice, he asked himself if she had not reallybeen slandered; and, if there was actually something amiss in herpast life, why should it not rather be laid at the door of those twoequivocal personages who watched over her, M. Elgin and Mrs. Brian.

  What boldness this strange girl had displayed in her defence! but alsowhat lofty nobility! How well she had said that she did not love CountVille-Handry with real love, and that, until now, no man had evensucceeded in quickening her pulse! Was she of marble, and susceptibleonly of delight in foolish vanity?

  Oh, no! a thousand times no! The most refined coquetry never achievedthat passionate violence; the most accomplished artist never possessedthat marvellous contagion which is the sublime gift of truth alone. And,whatever he could do, his head and heart remained still filled with MissBrandon; and Daniel trembled as he remembered certain words in which,under almost transparent illusions, the secret of her heart had betrayeditself. Could she have told Daniel more pointedly than she had actuallydone, "He whom I could love is none other but you"? Certainly not!And as he thought of it his heart was filled with a sense of eager andunwholesome desires; for he was a man, no better, no worse, than othermen; and there are but too many men nowadays, who would value a fewhours of happiness with a woman like Miss Brandon more highly than awhole life of chaste love by the side of a pure and noble woman.

  "But what is that to me?" he repeated. "Can I love her, I?"

  Then he began again to revolve in his mind what might have happenedafter his flight from the house.

  How had Miss Brandon explained his escape? How had she accounted for herown excitement?

  And, drawn by an invincible power, Daniel had risen to return to thehouse; and there, half-hid under the shadow of the opposite side, in adeep doorway, he watched anxiously the windows, as if they could havetold him any thing of what was going on inside. The reception-roomwas still brilliantly lighted, and people came and went, casting theirshadows upon the white curtains. A man came and leaned his face againstthe window, then suddenly he drew back; and Daniel distinctly recognizedCount Ville-Handry.

  What did that mean? Did it not imply that Miss Brandon had been takensuddenly ill, and that people were anxious about her? These wereDaniel's thoughts when he heard the noise of bolts withdrawn, and doorsopened. It was the great entrance-gate of Miss Brandon's house, whichwas thrown open by some of the servants. A low _coupe_ with a singlehorse left the house, and drove rapidly towards the Champs Elysees.

  But, at the moment when the _coupe_ turned, the light of the lamp fellfull upon the inside, and Daniel thought he recognized, nay, he didrecognize, Miss Brandon. He felt as if he had received a stunning blowon the head.

  "She has deceived me!" he exclaimed, grinding his teeth in his rage;"she has treated me like an imbecile, like an idiot!"

  Then, suddenly conceiving a strange plan, he added,--

  "I must know where she is going at four o'clock in the morning. I willfollow her."

  Unfortunately, Miss Brandon's coachman had, no doubt, received specialorders; for he drove down the avenue as fast as the horse could go,and the animal was a famous trotter, carefully chosen by Sir Thorn, whounderstood horse-flesh better than any one else in Paris. But Danielwas agile; and the hope of being able to avenge himself at once gave himunheard-of strength.

  "If I could only catch a cab!" he thought.

  But no carriage was to be seen. His elbows close to the body, managinghis breath, and steadily measuring his steps, he succeeded in not onlyfollowing the _coupe_, but in actually gaining ground. When Miss Brandonreached Concord Square, he was only a few yards behind the carriage. Butthere the coachman touched the horse, which suddenly increased its pace,crossed the square, and trotted down Royal Street.

  Daniel felt his breath giving out, and a shooting pain, first trifling,but gradually increasing, in his side. He was on the point of givingup the pursuit, when he saw a cab coming down towards him from theMadeleine, the driver fast asleep on the box. He threw himself beforethe horses, and cried out as well as he could,--

  "Driver, a hundred francs for you, if you follow that _coupe_ downthere!"

  But the driver, suddenly aroused by a man who stood in the middle of thestreet, bareheaded, and in evening costume, and who offered him suchan enormous sum, thought it was a practical joke attempted by a drunkenman, and replied furiously,--

  "Look out, rascal! Get out of the way, or I drive over you!"

  And therewith he whipped his horses; and Daniel would have been drivenover, if he had not promptly jumped aside. But all this had takentime; and, when he looked up, the _coupe_ was far off, nearly at theboulevard. To attempt overtaking it now would have been folly indeed;and Daniel remained there, overwhelmed and defeated.

  What could he do? It occurred to him that he might hasten to Maxime, andask him for advice. But fate was against him; he gave up that idea. Hewent slowly back to his lodgings, and threw himself into an arm-chair,determined not to go to bed till he had found a way to extricate himselffrom the effects of his egregious folly.

  But he had now been for two days agitated by the extremest alternatives,like a man out at sea, whom the waves buffet, and throw--now up to theshore, and now back again into open water. He had not closed an eye forforty-eight hours; and, if the heart seems to be able to suffer almostindefinitely, our physical strength is strictly limited. Thus he fellasleep, dreaming even in his sleep that he was hard at work, and justa
bout to discover the means by which he could penetrate the mystery ofMiss Brandon.

  It was bright day when Daniel awoke, chilled and stiffened; for he hadnot changed his clothes when he came home, and his fire had gone out.His first impulse was one of wrath against himself. What! he succumbedso easily?--he, the sailor, who remembered very well having remainedmore than once for forty, and even once for sixty hours on deck,when his vessel was threatened by a hurricane? Had his peaceful andmonotonous life in his office during the last two years weakened him tosuch a point, that all the springs of his system had lost their power?

  Poor fellow! he knew not that the direst fatigue _is_ trifling incomparison with that deep moral excitement which shakes the human systemto its most mysterious depths. Nevertheless, while he hastened to kindlea large fire, in order to warm himself, he felt that the rest had donehim good. The last evil effects of his excitement last night had passedaway; the charm by which he had been fascinated was broken; and he feltonce more master of all his faculties.

  Now his folly appeared to him so utterly inexplicable, that, if he hadbut tasted a glass of lemonade at Miss Brandon's house, he should havebeen inclined to believe that they had given him one of those drugswhich set the brains on fire, and produce a kind of delirium. But he hadtaken nothing, and, even if he had, was the foolish act less real forthat? The consequences would be fatal, he had no doubt.

  He was thus busy trying to analyze the future, when his servant entered,as he did every morning, bringing his hat and overcoat on his arm.

  "Sir," he said, with a smile which he tried to render malicious, "youhave forgotten these things at the house where you spent the eveningyesterday. A servant--on horseback too--brought them. He handed me atthe same time this letter, and is waiting for an answer."

  Daniel took the letter, and for a minute or more examined the direction.The handwriting was a woman's, small and delicate, but in no wayslike the long, angular hand of an American lady. At last he tore theenvelope; and at once a penetrating but delicate perfume arose, which hehad inhaled, he knew but too well, in Miss Brandon's rooms.

  The letter was indeed from her, and on the top of the page bore hername, Sarah, in small blue Gothic letters. She wrote,--

  "Is it really so, O Daniel! that you are entirely mine, and that Ican count upon you? You told me so tonight. Do you still remember yourpromises?"

  Daniel was petrified. Miss Brandon had told him that she was imprudencepersonified; and here she gave him a positive proof of it.

  Could not these few lines become a terrible weapon against her? Did theynot admit the most extraordinary interpretation? Still, as the bearermight be impatient, the servant asked,--

  "What must I tell the man?"

  "Ah, wait!" answered Daniel angrily.

  And, sitting down at his bureau, he wrote to Miss Brandon,--

  "Certainly, Miss Brandon, I remember the promises you extorted from mewhen I was not master of myself; I remember them but too well."

  Suddenly an idea struck him; and he paused. What! Having been caughtalready in the very first trap she had prepared for his inexperience,was he to risk falling into a second? He tore the letter he hadcommenced into small pieces, and, turning to his servant, said,--

  "Tell the man that I am out; and make haste and get me a carriage!"

  Then, when he was once more alone, he murmured,--

  "Yes, it is better so. It is much better to leave Miss Brandon inuncertainty. She cannot even suspect that her driving out this morninghas enlightened me. She thinks I am still in the dark; let her believeit."

  Still this letter of hers seemed to prepare some new intrigue, whichtroubled Daniel excessively. Miss Brandon was certain of achieving herend; what more did she want? What other mysterious aim could she have inview?

  "Ah! I cannot make it out," sighed Daniel. "I must consult Brevan."

  On his writing-table he found that important and urgent work which theminister had intrusted to his hands still unfinished. But the minister,the department, his position, his preferment,--all these considerationsweighed as nothing in comparison with his passion.

  He went down, therefore; and, while his carriage drove to his friend'shouse, he thought of the surprise he would cause Maxime.

  When he arrived there, he found M. de Brevan standing in his shirt-sleeves before an immense marble table, covered all over with pots andbottles, with brushes, combs, and sponges, with pincers, polishers, andfiles, making his toilet.

  If he expected Daniel, he had not expected him so soon; for his featuresassumed an expression which seemed to prohibit all confidential talk.But Daniel saw nothing. He shook hands with his friend, and, sinkingheavily into a chair, he said,--

  "I went to Miss Brandon. She has made me promise all she wanted. Icannot imagine how it came about!"

  "Let us hear," said M. de Brevan.

  Then, without hesitation, and with all the minutest details, Daniel toldhim how Miss Brandon had taken him into her little boudoir, and how shehad exculpated herself from all complicity with Malgat by showing himthe letters written by that wretched man.

  "Strange letters!" he said, "which, if they are authentic"--

  M. de Brevan shrugged his shoulders.

  "You were forewarned," he said, "and you have promised all she wanted!Do you not think she might have made you sign your own death-sentence?"

  "But Kergrist?" said Daniel. "Kergrist's brother is her friend."

  "I dare say. But do you imagine that brother is any cleverer than youare?"

  Although he was by no means fully satisfied, Daniel went on, describinghis amazement when Miss Brandon told him that she did not love CountVille-Handry.

  But Maxime burst out laughing, and interrupted him, saying with bitterirony,--

  "Of course! And then she went on, telling you that she had never yetloved anybody, having vainly looked in the world for the man of whom shedreamed. She painted to you the phoenix in such colors, that you had tosay to yourself, 'What does she mean? That phoenix! Why, she means me!'That has tickled you prodigiously. She has thrown herself at yourfeet; you have raised her up; she has fainted; she has sobbed like adistressed dove in your arms; you have lost your head."

  Daniel was overcome. He stammered,--

  "How did you know?"

  Maxime could not look him in the face; but his voice was as steady asever when he replied, in a tone of bitterest sarcasm,--

  "I guess it. Did I not tell you I knew Miss Brandon? She has only onecard in her hand; but that is enough; it always makes a trick."

  To have been deceived, and even to have been rendered ridiculous, is oneof those misfortunes which we confess to ourselves, however painfulthe process may be; but to hear another person laugh at us after such athing has happened is more than we can readily bear. Daniel, therefore,did not conceal his impatience, and said rather dryly,--

  "If I have been the dupe of Miss Brandon, my dear Maxime, you see, atlast, that I am so no longer."

  "Ah, ah!"

  "No, not in the least. And that, thanks to her; for she herself hasdestroyed my illusions."

  "Pshaw!"

  "Unconsciously, of course, having ran away from her like a fool, I waswandering about in the streets near her house, when I saw her come outin her _coupe_."

  "Oh, come!"

  "I saw her as distinctly as I see you. It was four o'clock in themorning, mind!"

  "Is it possible? And what did you do?"

  "I followed her."

  M. de Brevan nearly let the brush fall, with which he was polishing hisfinger-nails; but he mastered his confusion so promptly, that Daniel didnot perceive it.

  "Ah! you followed her," he said in a voice which all his efforts couldnot steady entirely. "Then, of course, you know where she went."

  "Alas, no! She drove so fast, that, quick as I am, I could not followher, and lost sight of her."

  Certainly M. de Brevan was breathing more freely, and said in an easytone,--

  "That is provoking, and you have lost
a fine opportunity. I am, however,by no means astonished that you are at last enlightened."

  "Oh! I am so; you may believe me. And yet"--

  "Well, yet?"

  Daniel hesitated, for fear of seeing another sardonic smile appear onMaxime's lips. Still making an effort, he replied,--

  "Well, I am asking myself whether all that Miss Brandon states about herchildhood, her family, and her fortune, might not, after all, be true."

  Maxime looked like a sensible man who is forced to listen to the absurdnonsense of an insane person.

  "You think I am absurd," said Daniel. "Perhaps I am; but, then, do methe favor to explain to me how Miss Brandon, anxious as she must be toconceal her past, could herself point out to me the means to ascertainevery thing about her, and even to learn the precise amount of herincome? America is not so far off!"

  M. de Brevan's face no longer expressed astonishment; he lookedabsolutely bewildered.

  "What!" he cried out, "could you seriously think of undertaking a tripto America?"

  "Why not?"

  "To be sure, my dear friend, you are, in all sincerity, too naive forour age. What! have you not yet been able to divine Miss Brandon'splan? And yet it is patent enough. When she saw you, and had taken yourmeasure, she said to herself, 'Here is an excellent young man who is inmy way, excessively in my way; he must go and breathe a better air a fewthousand miles off.' And thereupon she suggested to you that pleasanttrip to America."

  After what Daniel had learned about Miss Brandon's character, thisexplanation sounded by no means improbable. Nevertheless, he was notquite satisfied. He objected to it thus:--

  "Whether I go or stay, the wedding will still take place. Consequently,she has no interest in my being abroad. Believe me, Maxime, there issomething else underneath. Outside of this marriage, Miss Brandon mustbe pursuing some other plan."

  "What plan?"

  "Ah! That is what I cannot find out, to save my life. But you may besure that I am not mistaken. I want no better evidence of it than thefact that she wrote to me this morning."

  M. de Brevan jumped up, and said,--

  "What! She has written to you?"

  "Yes; it is that accursed letter, more than any thing else, that bringsme here. Here it is, just read it; and, if you can understand it, youare more fortunate than I am."

  At one glance M. de Brevan had read the five lines which Miss Brandonhad written; and, turning deadly pale, he said,--

  "This is incomprehensible. A note, and such an indiscreet note, from herwho never writes!"

  He looked upon Daniel as if he wished to penetrate his innermostthoughts, and then asked him, weighing his words with the utmost care,--

  "If she should really love you, what would you say?"

  Daniel looked disgusted. He replied,--"It is hardly generous in you tomake sport of me, Maxime. I may be a fool; but I am not an idiot, to beconceited to that degree."

  "That is no answer to my question," said Brevan; "and I repeat myquestion. What would you say?"

  "I would say that I execrate her!"

  "Oh! if you hate her so bitterly, you are very near loving her."

  "I despise her; and without esteem"--

  "That is an old story. That is no impediment."

  "Finally, you know how dearly, how ardently, I love Miss Ville-Handry."

  "Of course; but that is not the same thing."

  M. de Brevan had at last finished his careful toilet. He put on adressing-gown; and, carrying Daniel with him into the small room whichhe used as a dressing-room, he asked,--

  "And what have you said in reply to that note?"

  "Nothing."

  M. de Brevan had thrown himself into a comfortable chair, and assumedthe careful air of a physician who has been consulted. He nodded, andsaid,--

  "You have done well, and for the future I advise you to pursue the sameplan. Don't say a word. Can you do any thing to prevent Miss Brandonfrom carrying out her purposes? No! Let her go on, then."

  "But"--

  "Let me finish. It is not only your own interest to act thus, but alsoMiss Henrietta's interest. The day on which they part you, you will beinconsolable; but you will also be free to act. She, on the other hand,will be forced to live under the same roof with Miss Brandon; and you donot know what a stepmother can do to torture the child of her husband!"

  Daniel trembled. He had already thought of that; and the idea had madehim shudder. Brevan continued,--

  "For the present, the most important thing is to find out how yourflight has been explained. We may be able to draw our conclusions fromwhat has been said on the subject."

  "I'll go at once and try to find out," said Daniel.

  And, after having affectionately shaken hands with Maxime, he hurrieddown to his carriage and drove as fast as he could to Count Ville-Handry's palace. The count was at home and alone, walking up and downin the most excited manner. And certainly he had enough to excite andpreoccupy him just now. It was nearly noon; and he had not yet been inthe hands of his valet. When he saw Daniel, he paused for a moment, and,crossing his arms on his breast, he said, in a terrible tone,--

  "Ah! here you are, M. Champcey. Well, you are doing nice things!"

  "I, count? How so?"

  "How so? Who else has overwhelmed poor Miss Sarah with insults at thevery time when she was trying to explain every thing to you? Whoelse, ashamed of his scandalous conduct, has run away, never daring toreappear at her house?"

  What had the count been told? Certainly not the truth. He went on,--

  "And do you know, M. Champcey, what has been the effect of yourbrutality? Miss Brandon has been seized with such a terrible nervousattack, that they had to send the carriage for a doctor. You unluckyman, you might have killed her! They would, of course, never haveallowed me to enter her own room; but from the reception-room I could attimes hear her painful cries and sobs. It was only after eight o'clockthis morning that she could get any rest; and then Mrs. Brian, takingpity on _my_ great grief, granted me the favor to see her, sleeping likean infant."

  Daniel listened, stupefied by amazement, utterly confounded by theimpudence of Sir Thorn and Mrs. Brian, and hardly able to understand thecount's astonishing credulity. He thought to himself,--

  "This is abominable! Here I am an accomplice of this Miss Brandon. MustI actually aid her in obtaining possession of this unlucky man?"

  But what could he do? Should he speak? Should he tell Count Ville-Handry, that if he really heard cries of pain, and sobs, they werecertainly not uttered by Miss Brandon? Should he tell him, that, whilehe was dying with anxiety, his beloved was driving about Paris, Heavenknows where and with whom.

  The thought of doing so occurred to Daniel. But what would have been thegood of it? Would the count believe him? Most probably not. And thushe would only add new difficulties to his position, which was alreadycomplicated enough. Finally, he saw very, clearly that he would neverdare tell the whole truth, or show that letter which he had in hispocket. Still he tried to excuse himself, and began,--

  "I am too much of a gentleman to insult a woman."

  The count interrupted him rudely, saying,--

  "Spare me, I pray, a rigmarole which cannot affect me. Besides, I do notblame you particularly. I know the heart of man too well not to be sure,that, in acting thus, you have followed much less the inspirations ofyour own heart than the suggestions made by my daughter."

  It might have been very dangerous for Henrietta to allow the count tocherish such thoughts. Daniel, therefore, tried once more to explain.

  "I assure you, count"--

  But the count interrupted him fiercely, stamping with his foot.

  "No more! I mean to make an end to this absurd opposition, and to breakit forever. Do they not know that I am master in my own house? and dothey propose to treat me like a servant, and to laugh at me, into thebargain? I shall make you aware who is master."

  He checked himself for an instant, and then continued,--

  "Ah, M. Champcey! I d
id not expect that from you. Poor Sarah! To thinkthat I could not spare her such a humiliation! But it is the last; andthis very morning, as soon as she wakes, she shall know that all isended. I have just sent for my daughter to tell her that the day forthe wedding is fixed. All the formalities are fulfilled. We have thenecessary papers"--

  He paused, for Henrietta came in.

  "You wish to speak to me, papa?" she said as she entered the room.

  "Yes."

  Greeting Daniel with a sweet glance of her eyes, Henrietta walked up tothe count, and offered him her forehead to kiss; but he pushed her backrudely, and said, assuming an air of supreme solemnity,--

  "I have sent for you, my daughter, to inform you that to-morrowfortnight I shall marry Miss Brandon."

  Henrietta must have been prepared for something of the kind, for shedid not move. She turned slightly pale; and a ray of wrath shot from hereyes. The count went on,--

  "Under these circumstances, it is not proper, it is hardly decent, thatyou should not know her who is to be your mother hereafter. I shalltherefore present you to her this very day, in the afternoon."

  The young girl shook her head gently, and then she said,--

  "No!"

  Count Ville-Handry had become very red. He exclaimed,--

  "What! You dare! What would you say if I threatened to carry youforcibly to Miss Brandon's house?"

  "I, should say, father, that that is the only way to make me go there."

  Her attitude was firm, though not defiant. She spoke in a calm, gentlevoice, but betrayed in every thing a resolution firmly formed, and notto be shaken by any thing. The count seemed to be perfectly amazed atthis audacity shown by a girl who was usually so timid. He said,--

  "Then you detest, you envy, this Miss Brandon?"

  "I, father? Why should I? Great God! I only know that she cannot becomethe Countess Ville-Handry,--she who has filled all Paris with evilreports."

  "Who has told you so? No doubt, M. Champcey."

  "Everybody has told me, father."

  "So, because she has been slandered, the poor girl"--

  "I am willing to think she is innocent; but the Countess Ville-Handrymust not be a slandered woman."

  She raised herself to her full height, and added in a higher voice,--

  "You are master here, father; you can do as you choose. But I--I owe itto myself and to the sacred memory of my mother, to protest by all themeans in my power; and I shall protest."

  The count stammered and stared. The blood rose to his head. He criedout,--

  "At last I know you, Henrietta, and I understand you. _I_ was notmistaken. It was you who sent M. Daniel Champcey to Miss Brandon, toinsult her at her own house."

  "Sir!" interrupted M. Daniel in a threatening tone.

  But the count could not be restrained; and, with his eyes almoststarting from their sockets, he continued,--

  "Yes, I read your innermost heart, Henrietta. You are afraid of losing apart of your inheritance."

  Stung by this insult, Henrietta had stepped up close to her father,--

  "But don't you see, father, that it is this woman who wants yourfortune, and that she does not like us, and cannot like us?"

  "Why, if you please?"

  Once before, Count Ville-Handry had asked this question of his daughterin almost the same words. Then she had not dared answer him; but now,carried away by her bitterness at being insulted by a woman whom shedespised, she forgot every thing. She seized her father's hand, and,carrying him to a mirror, she said in a hoarse voice,--

  "'Why?'--you ask. Well, look there! look at yourself!"

  If Count Ville-Handry had trusted nature, he would have looked like aman of barely sixty, still quite robust and active. But he had allowedart to spoil every thing. And this morning, with his few hairs, halfwhite, half dyed, with the rouge and the white paint of yesterdaycracked, and fallen away in places, he looked as if he had lived a fewthousand years.

  Did he see himself as he really was,--hideous?

  He certainly became livid; and coldly, for his excessive rage gave himthe appearance of composure, he said,--

  "You are a wretch, Henrietta!"

  And as she broke out in sobs, terrified by his words, he said,--

  "Oh, don't play comedy! Presently, at four o'clock precisely, I shallcall for you. If I find you dressed, and ready to accompany me to MissBrandon's house, all right. If not M. Champcey has been here for thelast time in his life; and you will never--do you hear?--never be hiswife. Now I leave you alone; you can reflect!"

  And he went out, closing the door so violently, that the whole houseseemed to shake.

  "All is over!"

  Both Henrietta and Daniel were crushed by this certain conviction.

  The crisis could no longer be postponed. A few hours more, and themischief would be done. Daniel was the first to shake off the stupor ofdespair; and, taking Henrietta's hand, he asked her,--

  "You have heard what your father said. What will you do?"

  "What I said I would do, whatever it may cost me."

  "But could you yield?"

  "Yield?" exclaimed the young girl.

  And, looking at Daniel with grieved surprise, she added,--

  "Would you really dare give me that advice,--you who had only to look atMiss Brandon to lose your self-control so far as to overwhelm her withinsults?"

  "Henrietta, I swear"--

  "And this to such an extent, that father accused you of having done soat my bidding. Ah, you have been very imprudent, Daniel!"

  The unhappy man wrung his hands with despair. What punishment he hadto endure for a moment's forgetfulness! He felt as if he had renderedhimself guilty already by not revealing the mean conduct of M. Elgin andMrs. Brian while Miss Brandon was driving about Paris. And now, at thisvery hour, he was put into a still more difficult position, because hecould not even give a glimpse of the true state of things.

  He said nothing; and Henrietta gloried in his silence.

  "You see," she said, "that if your heart condemns me, your reason andyour conscience approve of my decision."

  He made no reply, but, rising suddenly, he began to walk up and down inthe room like a wild beast searching for some outlet from the cage inwhich it has been imprisoned. He felt he was caught, hemmed in on allsides, and he could do nothing, nothing at all.

  "Ah, we must surrender!" he exclaimed at last, overcome with grief; "wemust do it; we are almost helpless. Let us give up the struggle; reasondemands it. We have done enough; we have done our duty."

  All trembling with passion, he spoke on for some time, bringing up themost conclusive arguments, one by one; while his love lent him all itspersuasive power. And at last it looked as if Henrietta's determinationwere giving way, and she began to hesitate. It was so; but she wasstill struggling against her own emotion, and said in a half-suppressedtone,--

  "No doubt, Daniel, you think I am not yet wretched enough."

  And then, fixing upon him a long, anxious glance, she added,--

  "Say no more, or I shall begin to fear that you are dreading the timewhich has still to elapse till we can be united, and that you doubtme--or yourself."

  He blushed, finding himself thus half detected; but, given up entirelyto sinister presentiments, he insisted,--

  "No, I do not doubt; but I cannot reconcile myself to the idea that youare going to live under the same roof with Miss Brandon, M. Elgin, andMrs. Brian. Since this abominable adventuress must triumph, let us flee.I have in Anjou an old respectable kinswoman, who will be very proud tooffer you her hospitality."

  Henrietta stopped him by a gesture. Then she said,--

  "In other words, I who risk my happiness in order to avoid a blot uponthe name of Ville-Handry, I should tarnish it in an almost ineffaceablemanner. That cannot be."

  "Henrietta!"

  "No more. I stand upon a post of honor which I shall not abandon. Themore formidable Miss Brandon is, the more it becomes my duty to remainhere in order to watch over my fa
ther."

  Daniel trembled.

  He remembered suddenly what M. de Brevan had told him of the meansemployed by Miss Brandon for the purpose of getting rid of troublesomepeople. Did Henrietta's instincts make her anticipate a crime? No, notsuch a crime, at least.

  "You will understand my decision all the better," she continued, "if Itell you what a strange discovery I have made. This morning a gentlemancalled here, who said he was a business-man, and had an appointment withCount Ville-Handry which was of the utmost importance.

  "The servants had told him that their master was out. He became angry,and began to talk so loud, that I came to see what was the matter. Whenhe saw me, and found out who I was, he at once became very quiet, andbegged me to take charge of a rough copy of a legal paper, which he hadbeen directed to prepare secretly, and which he desired me to hand to myfather.

  "I promised to do so; but, as I was carrying the paper up stairs to putit upon my father's bureau, I happened to look at it. Do you knowwhat it was? The statutes of a new society, of which father was to bepresident."

  "Great God! Is it possible?"

  "Most assuredly, unfortunately. I saw on the top of the paper, 'CountVille-Handry, director in chief' and after the name followed all histitles, the high offices he has filled, and the French and foreigndecorations which he has received."

  Daniel could no longer doubt. He said,--

  "We knew that they would try to obtain possession of your father'sfortune, and now we have the proof of it. But what can we ever do,Henrietta, against the cunning manoeuvres of people like these?"

  She bowed her head, and answered in a tone of resignation,--

  "I have heard it said that often the mere presence of an inoffensivechild is sufficient to intimidate and frighten away the boldestcriminals. If God wills it so, I will be that child."

  Daniel tried once more to insist; but she cut him short, saying,--

  "You forget, my dear friend, that this is, perhaps for many years, thelast time we shall ever be alone together. Let us think of the future.I have secured the confidence of one of my waiting-women, and to her youmust direct your letters. Her name is Clarissa Pontois. If any grave andunforeseen necessity should arise, and it becomes absolutely necessaryfor me to see you, Clarissa will bring you the key of the littlegarden-gate, and you will come."

  Both of them had their eyes filled with tears; and their hearts feltincreasing anguish as the hand on the dial advanced. They knew theywould have to part. Could they hope ever to meet again?

  It struck four o'clock. Count Ville-Handry reappeared. Stung to thequick by what he called the insulting remarks of his daughter, hehad stimulated the zeal of his valet; and that artist had evidentlysurpassed himself in the arrangement of the hair, and especially in thecomplexion.

  "Well, Henrietta?" he asked.

  "My decision remains unchanged, father."

  The count was probably prepared for this answer; for he succeeded incontrolling his fury.

  "Once more, Henrietta," he said, "consider! Do not decide rashly,relying simply upon odious slanders."

  He drew from his pocket a photograph, looked at it lovingly, and,handing it to his daughter, he added,--

  "Here is Miss Brandon's portrait. Look at it, and see if she to whomGod has given such a charming face, such sublime eyes, can have a badheart."

  For more than a minute Henrietta examined the likeness; and then,returning it to her father, she said coldly,--

  "This woman is beautiful beyond all conception. Now I can explain tomyself that new society of which you are going to be director-general."

  Count Ville-Handry turned pale under this "juncture," and cried in aterrible voice,--

  "Unhappy child! Unhappy child! You dare insult an angel?"

  Maddened with rage, he had lifted up his hand, and was about to strikehis daughter, when Daniel seized his wrist in his iron grasp, andthreateningly, as if he himself was about to strike, he said,--

  "Ah, sir, have a care! have a care!"

  The count cast upon him a look of concentrated hatred; but, regaininghis self-control, he freed himself, and, pointing at the door, he saidslowly,--

  "M. Champcey, I order you to leave this house instantly; and I forbidyour ever coming back to it again. My servants will be informed, that,if any one of them ever allows you to cross the threshold of this house,he will be instantly dismissed. Go, sir!"