Le dossier no. 113. English

by Emile Gaboriau

  XVIII

  After leaving Valentine de la Verberie, Gaston underwent great peril anddifficulty in effecting his escape.

  But for the experienced and faithful Menoul, he never would havesucceeded in embarking.

  Having left his mother's jewels with Valentine, his sole fortuneconsisted of not quite a thousand francs; and with this paltry sum inhis pocket, the murderer of two men, a fugitive from justice, and withno prospect of earning a livelihood, he took passage for Valparaiso.

  But Menoul was a bold and experienced sailor.

  While Gaston remained concealed in a farm-house at Camargue, Menoul wentto Marseilles, and that very evening discovered, from some of his sailorfriends, that a three-masted American vessel was in the roadstead, whosecommander, Captain Warth, a not over-scrupulous Yankee, would be glad towelcome on board an able-bodied man who would be of assistance to him atsea.

  After visiting the vessel, and finding, during a conversation overa glass of rum with the captain, that he was quite willing to take asailor without disturbing himself about his antecedents, Menoul returnedto Gaston.

  "Left to my own choice, monsieur," he said, "I should have settled thismatter on the spot; but you might object to it."

  "What suits you, suits me," interrupted Gaston.

  "You see, the fact is, you will be obliged to work very hard. A sailor'slife is not boy's play. You will not find much pleasure in it. And Imust confess that the ship's company is not the most moral one I eversaw. You never would imagine yourself in a Christian company. And thecaptain is a regular swaggering bully."

  "I have no choice," said Gaston. "Let us go on board at once."

  Old Menoul's suspicions were correct.

  Before Gaston had been on board the Tom Jones forty-eight hours, he sawthat chance had cast him among a collection of the most depraved banditsand cut-throats.

  The vessel, which seemed to have recruited at all points of the compass,possessed a crew composed of every variety of thievish knaves; eachcountry had contributed a specimen.

  But Gaston's mind was undisturbed as to the character of the people withwhom his lot was cast for several months.

  It was only his miserable wounded body, that the vessel was carryingto a new country. His heart and soul rested in the shady park of LaVerberie, beside his lovely Valentine. He took no note of the men aroundhim, but lived over again those precious hours of bliss beneath the oldtree on the banks of the Rhone, where his beloved had confided her heartto his keeping, and sworn to love him forever.

  And what would become of her now, poor child, when he was no longerthere to love, console, and defend her?

  Happily, he had no time for sad reflections.

  His every moment was occupied in learning the rough apprenticeship of asailor's life. All his energies were spent in bearing up under the heavyburden of labor allotted to him. Being totally unaccustomed to manualwork, he found it difficult to keep pace with the other sailors, and forthe first week or two he was often near fainting at his post, from sheerfatigue; but indomitable energy kept him up.

  This was his salvation. Physical suffering calmed and deadened hismental agony. The few hours relaxation granted him were spent in heavysleep; the instant his weary body touched his bunk, his eyes closed, andno moment did he have to mourn over the past.

  At rare intervals, when the weather was calm, and he was relievedfrom his constant occupation of trimming the sails, he would anxiouslyquestion the future, and wonder what he should do when this irksomevoyage was ended.

  He had sworn that he would return before the end of three years, richenough to satisfy the exactions of Mme. de la Verberie. How should he beable to keep this boastful promise? Stern reality had convinced himthat his projects could never be realized, except by hard work andlong waiting. What he hoped to accomplish in three years was likely torequire a lifetime.

  Judging from the conversation of his companions, he was not now on theroad to fortune.

  The Tom Jones set sail for Valparaiso, but certainly went in aroundabout way to reach her destination.

  The real fact was, that Captain Warth proposed visiting the Gulf ofGuinea.

  A friend of his, the "Black Prince," he said, with a loud laugh, waswaiting for him at Badagri, to exchange a cargo of "_ebony_" for somepipes of rum, and a hundred flint-lock muskets which were on board theTom Jones.

  Gaston soon saw that he was serving his apprenticeship on a slaver, oneof the many ships sent yearly by the free and philanthropic Americans,who made immense fortunes by carrying on the slave-trade.

  Although this discovery filled Gaston with indignation and shame, he wasprudent enough to conceal his impressions.

  His remonstrances, no matter how eloquent, would have made no change inthe opinions of Captain Warth regarding a traffic which brought himin more than a hundred per cent, in spite of the French and Englishcruisers, the damages, sometimes entire loss of cargoes, and many otherrisks.

  The crew admired Gaston when they learned that he had cut two men intomince-meat when they were insolent to him; this was the account ofGaston's affair, as reported to the captain by old Menoul.

  Gaston wisely determined to keep on friendly terms with the villains, aslong as he was in their power. To express disapproval of their conductwould have incurred the enmity of the whole crew, without bettering hisown situation.

  He therefore kept quiet, but swore mentally that he would desert on thefirst opportunity.

  This opportunity, like everything impatiently longed for, came not.

  By the end of three months, Gaston had become so useful and popular thatCaptain Warth found him indispensable.

  Seeing him so intelligent and agreeable, he liked to have him at his owntable, and would spend hours at cards with him or consulting abouthis business matters. The mate of the ship dying, Gaston was chosen toreplace him. In this capacity he made two successful voyages to Guinea,bringing back a thousand blacks, whom he superintended during a trip offifteen hundred leagues, and finally landed them on the coast of Brazil.

  When Gaston had been with Captain Warth about three years, the Tom Jonesstopped at Rio Janeiro for a month, to lay in supplies. He now decidedto leave the ship, although he had become somewhat attached to thefriendly captain, who was after all a worthy man, and never would haveengaged in the diabolical traffic of human beings, but for his littleangel daughter's sake. He said that his child was so good and beautiful,that she deserved a large fortune. Each time that he sold a black, hewould quiet any faint qualms of conscience by saying, "It is for littleMary's good."

  Gaston possessed twelve thousand francs, as his share of the profits,when he landed at Brazil.

  As a proof that the slave-trade was repugnant to his nature, he left theslaver the moment he possessed a little capital with which to enter somehonest business.

  But he was no longer the high-minded, pure-hearted Gaston, who hadso devotedly loved and perilled his life for the little fairy of LaVerberie.

  It is useless to deny that evil examples are pernicious to morals.The most upright characters are unconsciously influenced by badsurroundings. As the exposure to rain, sun, and sea-air first darkenedand then hardened his skin, so did wicked associates first shock andthen destroy the refinement and purity of Gaston's mind. His hearthad become as hard and coarse as his sailor hands. He still rememberedValentine, and sighed for her presence; but she was no longer the soleobject of affection, the one woman in the world to him. Contact with sinhad lowered his standard of women.

  The three years, after which he had pledged himself to return, hadpassed; perhaps Valentine was expecting him. Before deciding on anydefinite project, he wrote to an intimate friend at Beaucaire to learnwhat had happened during his long absence. He expressed great anxietyabout his family and neighbors.

  He also wrote to his father, asking why he had never answered the manyletters which he had sent to him by returning sailors, who would havesafely forwarded the replies.

  At the end of a year, he received an
answer from his friend.

  The letter almost drove him mad.

  It told him that his father was dead; that his brother had left France,Valentine was lately married, and that he, Gaston, had been sentenced toten years' imprisonment for murder.

  Henceforth he was alone in the world; with no country, no family, nohome, and disgraced by a public sentence.

  Valentine was married, and he had no object in life! He would hereafterhave faith in no one, since she, Valentine, had cast him off, forgottenhim. What could he expect of others, when she had broken her troth, hadlacked the courage to keep her promise and wait for him?--she, whom hehad so trusted.

  In his despair, he almost regretted the Tom Jones. Yes, he sighed forthe wicked slaver crew, his life of excitement and peril. The dangersand triumphs of those bold pirates whose only care was to heap up moneywould have been preferable to his present wretchedness.

  But Gaston was not a man to be long cast down.

  "Money is the cause of it all!" he said with rage. "If the lack of moneycan bring such misery, its possession must bestow intense happiness.Henceforth I will devote all my energies to getting money."

  He set to work with a greedy activity, which increased each day. Hetried all the many speculations open to adventurers. Alternately hetraded in furs, worked in a mine, and cultivated lands.

  Five times he went to bed rich, and waked up ruined; five times, withthe patience of the castor, whose hut is swept away by each returningtide, he recommenced the foundation of his fortune.

  Finally, after long weary years of toil and struggle, he was worth amillion in gold, besides immense tracts of land.

  He had often said that he would never leave Brazil, that he wanted toend his days in Rio. He had forgotten that love for his native landnever dies in the heart of a Frenchman. Now that he was rich, he wishedto die in France.

  He made inquiries, and found that the law of limitations would permithim to return without being disturbed by the authorities. He left hisproperty in charge of an agent, and embarked for France, taking a largeportion of his fortune with him.

  Twenty-three years and four months had elapsed since he fled from home.

  On a bright, crisp day in January, 1866, he once again stepped onFrench soil. With a sad heart, he stood upon the quays at Bordeaux, andcompared the past with the present.

  He had departed a young man, ambitious, hopeful, and beloved; hereturned gray-haired, disappointed, trusting no one.

  Gold could not supply the place of affection. He had said that richeswould bring happiness: his wealth was immense, and he was miserable.

  His health, too, began to suffer from this sudden change of climate.Rheumatism confined him to his bed for several months. As soon ashe could sit up, the physicians sent him to the warm baths, where herecovered his health, but not his spirits. He felt his lonely conditionmore terribly in his own country than when in a foreign land.

  He determined to divert his mind by engaging in some occupation whichwould keep him too busy to think of himself and his disappointment.Charmed with the beauty of the Pyrenees, and the lovely valley of Aspe,he resolved to take up his abode there.

  An iron-mill was for sale near Oloron, on the borders of the Gara; hebought it with the intention of utilizing the immense quantity of wood,which, for want of means of transportation, was being wasted in themountains.

  He was soon settled comfortably in his new home, and enjoying a busy,active life.

  One evening, as he was ruminating over the past, his servant brought hima card, and said the gentleman was waiting to see him.

  He read the name on the card: _Louis de Clameran_.

  Many years had passed since Gaston had experienced such violentagitation. His blood rushed to his face, and he trembled like a leaf.

  The old home affections which he thought dead now sprung up anew in hisheart. A thousand confused memories rushed through his mind. Like onein a dream, he tottered toward the door, gasping, in a smothered, brokenvoice:

  "My brother! oh, my brother!"

  Hurriedly passing by the frightened servant, he ran downstairs.

  In the passage stood a man: it was Louis de Clameran.

  Gaston threw his arms around his neck and held him in a close embracefor some minutes, and then drew him into the room.

  Seated close beside him, with his two hands tightly clasped in those ofLouis, Gaston gazed at his brother as a fond mother would gaze at herson just returned from the battle-field.

  There was scarcely any danger and excitement which the mate of theredoubtable Captain Warth had not experienced; nothing had ever beforecaused him to lose his calm presence of mind, to force him to betraythat he had a heart. The sight of this long unseen brother seemed tohave changed his nature; he was like a woman, weeping and laughing atonce.

  "And is this really Louis?" he cried. "My dear brother! Why, I shouldhave recognized you among a thousand; the expression of your face isjust the same; your smile takes me back twenty-three years."

  Louis did indeed smile, just as he smiled on that fatal night when hishorse stumbled, and prevented Gaston's escape.

  He smiled now as if he was perfectly happy at meeting his brother.

  And he was much more at ease than he had been a few moments before. Hehad exerted all the courage he possessed to venture upon this meeting.Nothing but pressing necessity would have induced him to face thisbrother, who seemed to have risen from the dead to reproach him for hiscrimes.

  His teeth chattered and he trembled in every limb when he rang Gaston'sbell, and handed the servant his card, saying:

  "Take this to your master."

  The few moments before Gaston's appearance seemed to be centuries. Hesaid to himself:

  "Perhaps it is not he; if it is he, does he know? Does he suspectanything? How will he receive me?"

  He was so anxious, that when he saw Gaston running downstairs, he feltlike fleeing from the house without speaking to him.

  Not knowing the nature of Gaston's feelings, whether he was hasteningtoward him in anger or brotherly love, he stood perfectly motionless.But one glance at his brother's face convinced him that he was the sameaffectionate, credulous, trusting Gaston of old; and, now that he wascertain that his brother harbored no suspicions, he smilingly receivedthe demonstrations lavished upon him.

  "After all," continued Gaston, "I am not alone in the world; I shallhave someone to love, someone to care for me."

  Then, as if suddenly struck by a thought, he said:

  "Are you married, Louis?"

  "No."

  "That is a pity, a great pity. It would so add to my happiness to seeyou the husband of a good, affectionate woman, the father of bright,lovely children! It would be a comfort to have a happy family about me.I should look upon them all as my own. To live alone, without a lovingwife to share one's joys and sorrows, is not living at all: it is a sortof living death. There is no joy equal to having the affection of a truewoman whose happiness is in your keeping. Oh the sadness of having onlyone's self to care for! But what am I saying? Louis, forgive me. Ihave you now, and ought not that to be enough? I have a brother, a kindfriend who will be interested in me, and afford me company, instead ofthe weariness of solitude."

  "Yes, Gaston, yes: I am your best friend."

  "Of course you are. Being my brother, you are naturally my true friend.You are not married, you say. Then we will have to do the best wecan, and keep house for ourselves. We will live together like two oldbachelors, as we are, and be as happy as kings; we will lead a gay life,and enjoy everything that can be enjoyed. I feel twenty years youngeralready. The sight of your face renews my youth, and I feel as activeand strong as I did the night I swam across the swollen Rhone. And thatwas long, long ago. The struggles, privations, and anxieties enduredsince, have been enough to age any man. I feel old, older than myyears."

  "What an idea!" interrupted Louis: "why, you look younger than I do."

  "You are jesting."

  "I swear I think you look the
younger."

  "Would you have recognized me?"

  "Instantly. You are very little changed."

  And Louis was right. He himself had an old, worn-out, used-upappearance; while Gaston, in spite of his gray hair and weather-beatenface, was a robust man, in the full maturity of his prime.

  It was a relief to turn from Louis's restless eyes and crafty smile toGaston's frank, honest face.

  "But," said Gaston, "how did you know that I was living? What kindchance guided you to my house?"

  Louis was prepared for this question. During his eighteen hours' ride bythe railway, he had arranged all his answers, and had his story ready.

  "We must thank Providence for this happy meeting," he replied. "Threedays ago, a friend of mine returned from the baths, and mentioned thathe had heard that a Marquis of Clameran was near there, in the Pyrenees.You can imagine my surprise. I instantly supposed that some impostor hadassumed our name. I took the next train, and finally found my way here."

  "Then you did not expect to see me?"

  "My dear brother, how could I hope for that? I thought that you weredrowned twenty-three years ago."

  "Drowned! Mlle. de la Verberie certainly told you of my escape? Shepromised that she would go herself, the next day, and tell my father ofmy safety."

  Louis assumed a distressed look, as if he hesitated to tell a sad truth,and said, in a regretful tone:

  "Alas! she never told us."

  Gaston's eyes flashed with indignation. He thought that perhapsValentine had been glad to get rid of him.

  "She did not tell you?" he exclaimed. "Did she have the cruelty to letyou mourn my death? to let my old father die of a broken heart? Ah, shemust have been very fearful of what the world says. She sacrificed me,then, for the sake of her reputation."

  "But why did you not write to us?" asked Louis.

  "I did write as soon as I had an opportunity; and Lafourcade wrote back,saying that my father was dead, and that you had left the country."

  "I left Clameran because I believed you to be dead."

  After a long silence, Gaston arose, and walked up and down the room asif to shake off a feeling of sadness; then he said, cheerfully:

  "Well, it is of no use to mourn over the past. All the memories in theworld, good or bad, are not worth one slender hope for the future; andthank God, we have a bright future before us. Let us bury the past, andenjoy life together."

  Louis was silent. His footing was not sure enough to risk any questions.

  "But here I have been talking incessantly for an hour," said Gaston,"and I dare say that you have not dined."

  "No, I have not, I confess."

  "Why did you not say so before? I forgot that I had not dined myself.I will not let you starve, the first day of your arrival. I will makeamends by giving you some splendid old Cape wine."

  He pulled the bell, and ordered the servant to hasten dinner, addingthat it must be an excellent one; and within an hour the two brotherswere seated at a sumptuous repast.

  Gaston kept up an uninterrupted stream of questions. He wished to knowall that had happened during his absence.

  "What about Clameran?" he abruptly asked.

  Louis hesitated a moment. Should he tell the truth, or not?

  "I have sold Clameran," he finally said.

  "The chateau too?"

  "Yes."

  "You acted as you thought best," said Gaston sadly; "but it seems to methat, if I had been in your place, I should have kept the old homestead.Our ancestors lived there for many generations, and our father liesburied there."

  Then seeing Louis appear sad and distressed, he quickly added:

  "However, it is just as well; it is in the heart that memory dwells, andnot in a pile of old stones. I myself had not the courage to return toProvence. I could not trust myself to go to Clameran, where I would haveto look into the park of La Verberie. Alas, the only happy moments of mylife were spent there!"

  Louis's countenance immediately cleared. The certainty that Gaston hadnot been to Provence relieved his mind of an immense weight.

  The next day Louis telegraphed to Raoul:

  "Wisdom and prudence. Follow my directions. All goes well. Be sanguine."

  All was going well; and yet Louis, in spite of his skilfully appliedquestions, had obtained none of the information which he had come toobtain.

  Gaston was communicative on every subject except the one in which Louiswas interested. Was this silence premeditated, or simply unconscious?Louis, like all villains, was ever ready to attribute to others the badmotives by which he himself would be influenced.

  Anything was better than this uncertainty; he determined to ask hisbrother plainly what his intentions were in regard to money matters.

  He thought the dinner-table a favorable opportunity, and began bysaying:

  "Do you know, my dear Gaston, that thus far we have discussed everytopic except the most important one?"

  "Why do you look so solemn, Louis? What is the grave subject of whichyou speak?"

  "Our father's estate. Supposing you to be dead, I inherited, and havedisposed of it."

  "Is that what you call a serious matter?" said Gaston with an amusedsmile.

  "It certainly is very serious to me; as you have a right to half of theestate, I must account to you for it. You have--"

  "I have," interrupted Gaston, "a right to ask you never to allude to thesubject again. It is yours by limitation."

  "I cannot accept it upon those terms."

  "But you must. My father only wished to have one of us inherit hisproperty; we will be carrying out his wishes by not dividing it."

  Seeing that Louis's face still remained clouded, he went on:

  "Ah, I see what annoys you, my dear Louis; you are rich, and think thatI am poor, and too proud to accept anything from you. Is it not so?"

  Louis started at this question. How could he reply so as not to commithimself?

  "I am not rich," he finally said.

  "I am delighted to hear it," cried Gaston. "I wish you were as poor asJob, so that I might share what I have with you."

  Dinner over, Gaston rose and said:

  "Come, I want to visit with you, my--that is, our property. You must seeeverything about the place."

  Louis uneasily followed his brother. It seemed to him that Gastonobstinately shunned anything like an explanation.

  Could all this brotherly confidence be assumed to blind him as to hisreal plans? Why did Gaston inquire into his brother's past and future,without revealing his own? Louis's suspicions were aroused, and heregretted his over-hasty seeking of Gaston.

  But his calm, smiling face betrayed none of the anxious thoughts whichfilled his mind.

  He was called upon to praise everything. First he was taken over thehouse and servants' quarters, then to the stable, kennels, and thevast, beautifully laid-out garden. Across a pretty meadow was theiron-foundery in full operation. Gaston, with all the enthusiasm ofa new proprietor, explained everything, down to the smallest file andhammer.

  He detailed all his projects; how he intended substituting wood forcoal, and how, besides having plenty to work the forge, he could makeimmense profits by felling the forest trees, which had hitherto beenconsidered impracticable. He would cut a hundred cords of wood thatyear.

  Louis approved of everything; but only answered in monosyllables, "Ah,indeed! excellent idea; quite a success."

  His mind was tortured by a new pain; he was paying no attention toGaston's remarks, but enviously comparing all this wealth and prosperitywith his own poverty.

  He found Gaston rich, respected, and happy, enjoying the price of hisown labor and industry; whilst he--Never had he so cruelly felt themisery of his own condition; and he had brought it on himself, whichonly made it more aggravating.

  After a lapse of twenty-three years, all the envy and hate he had felttoward Gaston, when they were boys together, revived.

  "What do you think of my purchase?" asked Gaston, when the inspectionwas ove
r.

  "I think you possess, my dear brother, a most splendid piece ofproperty, and on the loveliest spot in the world. It is enough to excitethe envy of any poor Parisian."

  "Do you really think so?"

  "Certainly."

  "Then, my dear Louis," said Gaston joyfully, "this property is yours, aswell as mine. You like this lovely Bearn more than the dusty streets ofParis? I am very glad that you prefer the comforts of living on yourown estate, to the glitter and show of a city life. Everything you canpossibly want is here, at your command. And, to employ our time, thereis the foundery. Does my plan suit you?"

  Louis was silent. A year ago this proposal would have been eagerlywelcomed. How gladly he would have seized this offer of a comfortable,luxurious home, after having been buffeted about the world so long! Howdelightful it would have been to turn over a new leaf, and become anhonest man!

  But he saw with disappointment and rage that he would now be compelledto decline it.

  He was no longer free. He could not leave Paris.

  He had become entangled in one of those hazardous plots which are fatalif neglected, and whose failure generally leads the projector to thegalleys.

  Alone, he could easily remain where he was: but he was trammelled withan accomplice.

  "You do not answer me," said Gaston with surprise; "are there anyobstacles to my plans?"

  "None."

  "What is the matter, then?"

  "The matter is, my dear brother, that the salary of an office which Ihold in Paris is all that I have to support me."

  "Is that your only objection? Yet you just now wanted to pay me backhalf of the family inheritance! Louis, that is unkind; you are notacting as a brother should."

  Louis hung his head. Gaston was unconsciously telling the truth.

  "I should be a burden to you, Gaston."

  "A burden! Why, Louis, you must be mad! Did I not tell you I am veryrich? Do you suppose that you have seen all I possess? This house andthe iron-works do not constitute a fourth of my fortune. Do you thinkthat I would have risked my twenty years' savings in an experiment ofthis sort? The forge may be a failure; and then what would become of me,if I had nothing else?

  "I have invested money which yields me an income of eighty thousandfrancs. Besides, my grants in Brazil have been sold, and my agent hasalready deposited four hundred thousand francs to my credit as partpayment."

  Louis trembled with pleasure. He was, at last, to know the extent of thedanger hanging over him. Gaston had finally broached the subject whichhad caused him so much anxiety, and he determined that it should now beexplained before their conversation ended.

  "Who is your agent?" he asked with assumed indifference.

  "My old partner at Rio. He deposited the money at my Paris banker's."

  "Is this banker a friend of yours?"

  "No; I never heard of him until my banker at Pau recommended him to meas an honest, reliable man; he is immensely wealthy, and stands at thehead of the financiers in Paris. His name is Fauvel, and he lives on theRue de Provence."

  Although prepared for hearing almost anything, and determined to betrayno agitation, Louis turned deadly pale.

  "Do you know this banker?" asked Gaston.

  "Only by reputation."

  "Then we can make his acquaintance together; for I intend accompanyingyou to Paris, when you return there to settle up your affairs beforeestablishing yourself here to superintend the forge."

  At this unexpected announcement of a step which would prove his utterruin, Louis was stupefied. In answer to his brother's questioning look,he gasped out.

  "You are going to Paris?"

  "Certainly I am. Why should I not go?"

  "There is no reason why."

  "I hate Paris, although I have never been there. But I am called thereby interest, by sacred duties," he hesitatingly said. "The truth is, Iunderstand that Mlle. de la Verberie lives in Paris, and I wish to seeher."

  "Ah!"

  Gaston was silent and thoughtful for some moments, and then said,nervously:

  "I will tell you, Louis, why I wish to see her. I left our family jewelsin her charge, and I wish to recover them."

  "Do you intend, after a lapse of twenty-three years, to claim thesejewels?"

  "Yes--or rather no. I only make the jewels an excuse for seeing her.I must see her because--because--she is the only woman I ever reallyloved!"

  "But how will you find her?"

  "Oh! that is easy enough. Anyone can tell me the name of her husband,and then I will go to see her. Perhaps the shortest way to find out,would be to write to Beaucaire. I will do so to-morrow."

  Louis made no reply.

  Men of his character, when brought face to face with imminent danger,always weigh their words, and say as little as possible, for fear ofcommitting themselves by some indiscreet remark.

  Above all things, Louis was careful to avoid raising any objectionsto his brother's proposed trip to Paris. To oppose the wishes of adetermined man has the effect of making him adhere more closely to them.Each argument is like striking a nail with a hammer. Knowing this, Louischanged the conversation, and nothing more during the day was said ofValentine or Paris.

  At night, alone in his room, he brought his cunning mind to bear uponthe difficulties of his situation, and wondered by what means he couldextricate himself.

  At first the case seemed hopeless, desperate. During twenty years, Louishad been at war with society, trusted by none, living upon his wits,and the credulity of foolish men enabling him to gain an income withoutlabor; and, though he generally attained his ends, it was not withoutgreat danger and constant dread of detection.

  He had been caught at the gaming-table with his hands full of duplicatecards; he had been tracked all over Europe by the police, and obliged tofly from city to city under an assumed name; he had sold to cowards hisskilful handling of the sword and pistol; he had been repeatedly throwninto prison, and always made his escape. He had braved everything, andfeared nothing. He had often conceived and carried out the most criminalplans, without the slightest hesitation or remorse. And now here he sat,utterly bewildered, unable to think clearly; his usual impudence andready cunning seemed to have deserted him.

  Thus driven to the wall, he saw no means of escape, and was almosttempted to confess all, and throw himself upon his brother's clemency.Then he thought that it would be wiser to borrow a large sum fromGaston, and fly the country.

  Vainly did he think over the wicked experiences of the past: none of theformer successful stratagems could be resorted to in the present case.

  Fatally, inevitably, he was about to be caught in a trap laid byhimself.

  The future was fraught with danger, worse than danger--ruin anddisgrace.

  He had to fear the wrath of M. Fauvel, his wife and niece. Gaston wouldhave speedy vengeance the moment he discovered the truth; and Raoul,his accomplice, would certainly turn against him, and become his mostimplacable enemy.

  Was there no possible way of preventing a meeting between Valentine andGaston?

  None that he could think of.

  Their meeting would be his destruction.

  Lost in reflection, he paid no attention to the flight of time. Daybreakstill found him sitting at the window with his face buried in his hands,trying to come to some definite conclusion what he should say and do tokeep Gaston away from Paris.

  "It is vain for me to think," he muttered. "The more I rack my brain,the more confused it becomes. There is nothing to be done but gain time,and wait for an opportunity."

  The fall of the horse at Clameran was what Louis called "anopportunity."

  He closed the window, and, throwing himself upon the bed, was soon in asound sleep; being accustomed to danger, it never kept him awake.

  At the breakfast-table, his calm, smiling face bore no traces of awakeful, anxious night.

  He was in a gayer, more talkative mood than usual, and said he wouldlike to ride over the country, and visit the neighboring towns. Before
leaving the table, he had planned several excursions which were to takeplace during the week.

  He hoped to keep Gaston so amused and occupied, that he would forget allabout going to Paris in search of Valentine.

  He thought that with time, and skilfully put objections, he coulddissuade his brother from seeking out his former love. He relied uponbeing able to convince him that this absolutely unnecessary interviewwould be painful to both, embarrassing to him, and dangerous to her.

  As to the jewels, if Gaston persisted in claiming them, Louis couldsafely offer to go and get them for him, as he had only to redeem themfrom the pawnbroker.

  But his hopes and plans were soon scattered to the winds.

  "You know," said Gaston, "I have written."

  Louis knew well enough to what he alluded, but pretended to be very muchsurprised, and said:

  "Written? To whom? Where? For what?"

  "To Beaucaire, to ask Lafourcade the name of Valentine's husband."

  "You are still thinking of her?"

  "She is never absent from my thoughts."

  "You have not given up your idea of going to see her?"

  "Of course not."

  "Alas, Gaston! you forget that she whom you once loved is now the wifeof another, and possibly the mother of a large family. How do you knowthat she will consent to see you? Why run the risk of destroying herdomestic happiness, and planting seeds of remorse in your own bosom?"

  "I know I am a fool; but my folly is dear to me, and I would not cure itif I could."

  The quiet determination of Gaston's tone convinced Louis that allremonstrances would be unavailing.

  Yet he remained the same in his manner and behavior, apparentlyengrossed in pleasure parties; but, in reality, his only thought was themail. He always managed to be at the door when the postman came, so thathe was the first to receive his brother's letters.

  When he and Gaston were out together at the time of the postman's visit,he would hurry into the house first, so as to look over the letterswhich were always laid in a card-basket on the hall table.

  His watchfulness was at last rewarded.

  The following Sunday, among the letters handed to him by the postman,was one bearing the postmark of Beaucaire.

  He quickly slipped it into his pocket; and, although he was on the pointof mounting his horse to ride with Gaston, he said that he must run upto his room to get something he had forgotten; this was to gratify hisimpatient desire to read the letter.

  He tore it open, and, seeing "Lafourcade" signed at the bottom of threeclosely written pages, hastily devoured the contents.

  After reading a detailed account of events entirely uninteresting tohim, Louis came to the following passage relating to Valentine:

  "Mlle. de la Verberie's husband is an eminent banker named Andre Fauvel.I have not the honor of his acquaintance, but I intend going to see himshortly. I am anxious to submit to him a project that I have conceivedfor the benefit of this part of the country. If he approves of it, Ishall ask him to invest in it, as his name will be of great assistanceto the scheme. I suppose you have no objections to my referring him toyou, should he ask for my indorsers."

  Louis trembled like a man who had just made a narrow escape from death.He well knew that he would have to fly the country if Gaston receivedthis letter.

  But though the danger was warded off for the while, it might return anddestroy him at any moment.

  Gaston would wait a week for an answer, then he would write again;Lafourcade would instantly reply to express surprise that his firstletter had not been received; all of this correspondence would occupyabout twelve days. In those twelve days Louis would have to think oversome plan for preventing Lafourcade's visit to Paris; since, the instanthe mentioned the name of Clameran to the banker, everything would bediscovered.

  Louis's meditations were interrupted by Gaston, who called from thelower passage:

  "What are you doing, Louis? I am waiting for you."

  "I am coming now," he replied.

  Hastily thrusting Lafourcade's letter into his trunk, Louis ran down tohis brother.

  He had made up his mind to borrow a large sum from Gaston, and go off toAmerica; and Raoul might get out of the scrape as best he could.

  The only thing which now disturbed him was the sudden failure of themost skilful combination he had ever conceived; but he was not a man tofight against destiny, and determined to make the best of the emergency,and hope for better fortune in his next scheme.

  The next day about dusk, while walking along the pretty road leadingfrom the foundery to Oloron, he commenced a little story which was toconclude by asking Gaston to lend him two hundred thousand francs.

  As they slowly went along arm in arm, about half a mile from thefoundery they met a young laborer who bowed as he passed them.

  Louis dropped his brother's arm, and started back as if he had seen aghost.

  "What is the matter?" asked Gaston, with astonishment.

  "Nothing, except I struck my foot against a stone, and it is verypainful."

  Gaston might have known by the tremulous tones of Louis's voice thatthis was a lie. Louis de Clameran had reason to tremble; in this workmanhe recognized Raoul de Lagors.

  Instinctive fear paralyzed and overwhelmed him.

  The story he had planned for the purpose of obtaining the two hundredthousand francs was forgotten; his volubility was gone; and he silentlywalked along by his brother's side, like an automaton, totally incapableof thinking or acting for himself.

  He seemed to listen, he did listen; but the words fell upon his earunmeaningly; he could not understand what Gaston was saying, andmechanically answered "yes" or "no," like one in a dream.

  Whilst necessity, absolute necessity, kept him here at Gaston's side,his thoughts were all with the young man who had just passed by.

  What had brought Raoul to Oloron? What plot was he hatching? Why was hedisguised as a laborer? Why had he not answered the many letters whichLouis had written him from Oloron? He had ascribed this silence toRaoul's carelessness, but now he saw it was premeditated. Somethingdisastrous must have happened at Paris; and Raoul, afraid to commithimself by writing, had come himself to bring the bad news. Had he cometo say that the game was up, and they must fly?

  But, after all, perhaps he was mistaken in supposing this to be hisaccomplice. It might be some honest workman bearing a strong resemblanceto Raoul.

  If he could only run after this stranger, and speak to him! But no, hemust walk on up to the house with Gaston, quietly, as if nothing hadhappened to arouse his anxiety. He felt as if he would go mad if hisbrother did not move faster; the uncertainty was becoming intolerable.

  His mind filled with these perplexing thoughts, Louis at last reachedthe house; and Gaston, to his great relief, said that he was so tiredthat he was going directly to bed.

  At last he was free!

  He lit a cigar, and, telling the servant not to sit up for him, wentout.

  He knew that Raoul, if it was Raoul, would be prowling near the house,waiting for him.

  His suspicions were well founded.

  He had barely proceeded thirty yards, when a man suddenly sprang frombehind a tree, and stood before him.

  The night was clear, and Louis recognized Raoul.

  "What is the matter?" he impatiently demanded; "what has happened?"

  "Nothing."

  "What! Do you mean to say that nothing has gone wrong in Paris--that noone is on our track?"

  "Not the slightest danger of any sort. And moreover, but for yourinordinate greed of gain, everything would have succeeded admirably; allwas going on well when I left Paris."

  "Then why have you come here?" cried Louis fiercely. "Who gave youpermission to desert your post, when your absence might bring ruin uponus? What brought you here?"

  "That is my business," said Raoul with cool impertinence.

  Louis seized the young man's wrists, and almost crushed them in hisvicelike grasp.

  "Explain this
strange conduct of yours," he said, in a tone ofsuppressed rage. "What do you mean by it?"

  Without apparent effort Raoul released his hands from theirimprisonment, and jeeringly said:

  "Hein! Gently, my friend! I don't like being roughly treated; and, ifyou don't know how to behave yourself, I have the means of teachingyou."

  At the same time he drew a revolver from his pocket.

  "You must and shall explain yourself," insisted Louis: "if youdon't----"

  "Well, if I don't? Now, you might just as well spare yourself thetrouble of trying to frighten me. I intend to answer your questions whenI choose; but it certainly won't be here, in the middle of the road,with the bright moonlight showing us off to advantage. How do you knowpeople are not watching us this very minute? Come this way."

  They strode through the fields, regardless of Gaston's plants, whichwere trampled under foot in order to take a short cut.

  "Now," began Raoul, when they were at a safe distance from the road,"now, my dear uncle, I will tell you what brings me here. I havereceived and carefully read your letters. I read them over again. Youwished to be prudent; and the consequence was, that your letters wereunintelligible. Only one thing did I understand clearly: we are indanger."

  "Only the more reason for your watchfulness and obedience."

  "Very well put: only, before braving danger, my venerable and beloveduncle, I want to know its extent. I am not a man to retreat in the hourof peril, but I want to know exactly how much risk I am running."

  "I told you to keep quiet, and follow my directions."

  "But to do this would imply that I have perfect confidence in you, mydear uncle," said Raoul, sneeringly.

  "And why should you not? What reasons for distrust have you after allthat I have done for you? Who went to London, and rescued you from astate of privation and ignominy? I did. Who gave you a name and positionwhen you had neither? I did. And who is working now to maintain yourpresent life of ease, and insure you a splendid future? I am. And how doyou repay me?"

  "Superb, magnificent, inimitable!" said Raoul, with mocking derision."But, while on the subject, why don't you prove that you have sacrificedyourself for my sake? You did not need me as a tool for carrying outplans for your own benefit; did you? oh no, not at all! Dear, kind,generous, disinterested uncle! You ought to have the Montyon prize;I think I must recommend you as the most deserving person I have evermet!"

  Clameran was so angry at these jeering words that he feared to trusthimself to speak.

  "Now, my good uncle," continued Raoul more seriously, "we had better endthis child's play, and come to a clear understanding. I follow you here,because I thoroughly understand your character, and have just as muchconfidence in you as you deserve, and not a particle more. If it werefor your advantage to ruin me, you would not hesitate one instant. Ifdanger threatened us, you would fly alone, and leave your dutiful nephewto make his escape the best way he could. Oh! don't look shocked, andpretend to deny it; your conduct is perfectly natural, and in your placeI would act the same way. Only remember this, that I am not a man tobe trifled with. Now let us cease these unnecessary recriminations, andcome to the point: what is your present plan?"

  Louis saw that his accomplice was too shrewd to be deceived, and thatthe safest course was to trust all to him, and to pretend that he hadintended doing so all along.

  Without any show of anger, he briefly and clearly related all that hadoccurred at his brother's.

  He told the truth about everything except the amount of his brother'sfortune, the importance of which he lessened as much as possible.

  "Well," said Raoul, when the report was ended, "we are in a nice fix.And do you expect to get out of it?"

  "Yes, if you don't betray me."

  "I wish you to understand, marquis, that I have never betrayed anyoneyet; don't judge me by yourself, I beg. What steps will you take to getfree of this entanglement?"

  "I don't know; but something will turn up. Oh, don't be alarmed; I'llfind some means of escape: so you can return home with your mind atrest. You run no risk in Paris, and 'tis the best place for you. I willstay here to watch Gaston."

  Raoul reflected for some moments, and then said:

  "Are you sure I am not in danger at Paris?"

  "What are you afraid of? We have Mme. Fauvel so completely in our powerthat she would not dare speak a word against you; even if she knew thewhole truth, what no one but you and I know, she would not open herlips, but be only too glad to hush up matters so as to escape punishmentfor her fault from her deceived husband and a censuring world."

  "I know we have a secure hold on her," said Raoul. "I am not afraid ofher giving any trouble."

  "Who, then?"

  "An enemy of your own making, my respected uncle; a most implacableenemy--Madeleine."

  "Fiddlesticks!" replied Clameran, disdainfully.

  "It is very well for you to treat her with contempt," said Raoul,gravely; "but I can tell you, you are much mistaken in your estimate ofher character. I have studied her lately, and see that she is devoted toher aunt, and ready to make any sacrifice to insure her happiness. Butshe has no idea of doing anything blindly, of throwing herself awayif she can avoid it. She has promised to marry you. Prosper isbroken-hearted at being discarded, it is true; but he has not given uphope. You imagine her to be weak and yielding, easily frightened? It's agreat mistake. She is self-reliant and fearless. More than that, she isin love, my good uncle; and a woman will defend her lover as a tigressdefends her young. She will fight to the bitter end before marryinganyone save Prosper."

  "She is worth five hundred thousand francs."

  "So she is; and at five per cent we would each have an income of twelvethousand five hundred francs. But, for all that, you had better take myadvice, and give up Madeleine."

  "Never; I swear by Heaven!" exclaimed Clameran. "Rich or poor, she shallbe mine! I first wanted her money, but now I want her; I love her forherself, Raoul!"

  Raoul seemed to be amazed at this declaration of his uncle.

  He raised his hands, and started back with astonishment.

  "Is it possible," he said, "that you are in love with Madeleine?--you!"

  "Yes," replied Louis, sullenly. "Is there anything so very extraordinaryin it?"

  "Oh, no, certainly not! only this sentimental view of the matterexplains your strange behavior. Alas, you love Madeleine! Then, myvenerable uncle, we might as well surrender at once."

  "Why so?"

  "Because you know the axiom, 'When the heart is interested the head islost.' Generals in love always lose their battles. The day is not faroff when your infatuation of Madeleine will make you sell us both fora smile. And, mark my words, she is shrewd, and watching us as only anenemy can watch."

  With a forced laugh Clameran interrupted his nephew.

  "Just see how you fire up for no cause," he said; "you must dislike thecharming Madeleine very much, if you abuse her in this way."

  "She will prove to be our ruin: that is all."

  "You might as well be frank, and say you are in love with her yourself."

  "I am only in love with her money," replied Raoul, with an angry frown.

  "Then what are you complaining of? I shall give you half her fortune.You will have the money without being troubled with the wife; the profitwithout the burden."

  "I am not over fifty years old," said Raoul conceitedly. "I canappreciate a pretty woman better than you."

  "Enough of that," interrupted Louis angrily. "The day I relieved yourpressing wants, and brought you to Paris, you promised to follow mydirections, to help me carry out my plan; did you not?"

  "Yes; but not the plot you are hatching now! You forget that my liberty,perhaps my life, is at stake. You may hold the cards, but I must havethe right of advising you."

  It was midnight before the accomplices separated.

  "I won't stand idle," said Louis. "I agree with you that something mustbe done at once. But I can't decide what it shall be on the spur of the
moment. Meet me here at this hour to-morrow night, and I will have someplan ready for you."

  "Very good. I will be here."

  "And remember, don't be imprudent!"

  "My costume ought to convince you that I am not anxious to be recognizedby anyone. I left such an ingenious alibi, that I defy anybody toprove that I have been absent from my house at Vesinet. I even took theprecaution to travel in a third-class car. Well, good-night. I am goingto the inn."

  Raoul went off after these words, apparently unconscious of havingaroused suspicion in the breast of his accomplice.

  During his adventurous life, Clameran had transacted "business" with toomany scamps not to know the precise amount of confidence to place in aman like Raoul.

  The old adage, "Honor among thieves," seldom holds good after the"stroke." There is always a quarrel over the division of the spoils.

  This distrustful Clameran foresaw a thousand difficulties andcounter-plots to be guarded against in his dealings with Raoul.

  "Why," he pondered, "did the villain assume this disguise? Why thisalibi at Paris? Can he be laying a trap for me? It is true that I havea hold upon him; but then I am completely at his mercy. Those accursedletters which I have written to him, while here, are so many proofsagainst me. Can he be thinking of cutting loose from me, and making offwith all the profits of our enterprise?"

  Louis never once during the night closed his eyes; but by daybreak hehad fully made up his mind how to act, and with feverish impatiencewaited for evening to come, to communicate his views with Raoul.

  His anxiety made him so restless that the unobserving Gaston finallynoticed it, and asked him what the matter was; if he was sick, ortroubled about anything.

  At last evening came, and, at the appointed hour, Louis went to thefield where they had met the night previous, and found Raoul lying onthe grass smoking a fragrant cigar, as if he had no other object in lifeexcept to blow little clouds of smoke in the air, and count the stars inthe clear sky above him.

  "Well?" he carelessly said, as Louis approached, "have you decided uponanything?"

  "Yes. I have two projects, either of which would probably accomplish ourobject."

  "I am listening."

  Louis was silently thoughtful for a minute, as if arranging his thoughtsso as to present them as clearly and briefly as possible.

  "My first plan," he began, "depends upon your approval. What would yousay, if I proposed to you to renounce the affair altogether?"

  "What!"

  "Would you consent to disappear, leave France, and return to London, ifI paid you a good round sum?"

  "What do you call a good round sum?"

  "I will give you a hundred and fifty thousand francs."

  "My respected uncle," said Raoul with a contemptuous shrug, "I amdistressed to see how little you know me! You try to deceive me, tooutwit me, which is ungenerous and foolish on your part; ungenerous,because it fails to carry out our agreement; foolish, because as youknow well enough, my power equals yours."

  "I don't understand you."

  "I am sorry for it. I understand myself, and that is sufficient. Oh!I understand you, my dear uncle. I have watched you with careful eyes,which are not to be deceived; I see through you clearly. If you offer meone hundred and fifty thousand francs, it is because you intend to walkoff with half a million for yourself."

  "You are talking like a fool," said Clameran with virtuous indignation.

  "Not at all; I only judge the future by the past. Of all the large sumsextorted from Mme. Fauvel, often against my wishes, I never received atenth part."

  "But you know we have a reserve fund."

  "All very good; but you have the keeping of it, my good uncle. It isvery nice for you, but not so funny for me. If our little plot wereto be discovered to-morrow, you would walk off with the money-box, andleave your devoted nephew to be sent to prison."

  "Ingrate!" muttered Louis, as if distressed at these undeservedreproaches of his protege.

  "You have hit on the very word I was trying to remember," cried Raoul:"'ingrate' is the name that just suits you. But we have not time forthis nonsense. I will end the matter by proving how you have been tryingto deceive me."

  "I would like to hear you do so if you can."

  "Very good. In the first place, you told me that your brother onlypossessed a modest competency. Now, I learn that Gaston has an incomeof at least sixty thousand francs. It is useless for you to deny it; andhow much is this property worth? A hundred thousand crowns. He had fourhundred thousand francs deposited in M. Fauvel's bank. Total, sevenhundred thousand francs. And, besides all this, the broker in Oloronhas orders to buy up a large amount of stocks and railroad shares, whichwill require large cash payments. I have not wasted my day, you see, andhave obtained all the information I came for."

  Raoul's information was too concise and exact for Louis to deny it.

  "You might have sense enough," Raoul went on, "to know how to manageyour forces if you undertake to be a commander. We had a splendid gamein our hands; and you, who held the cards, have made a perfect muddle ofit."

  "I think--"

  "That the game is lost? That is my opinion too, and all through you. Youhave no one to blame but yourself."

  "I could not control events."

  "Yes, you could, if you had been shrewd. Fools sit down and wait for anopportunity; sensible men make one. What did we agree upon in London?We were to implore my good mother to assist us a little, and, if shecomplied with our wishes, we were to be flattering and affectionate inour devotion to her. And what was the result? At the risk of killingthe golden goose, you have made me torment the poor woman until she isalmost crazy."

  "It was prudent to hasten matters."

  "You think so, do you? Was it also to hasten matters that you took itinto your head to marry Madeleine? That made it necessary to let herinto the secret; and, ever since, she has advised and set her auntagainst us. I would not be surprised if she makes her confess everythingto M. Fauvel, or even inform against us at the police-office."

  "I love Madeleine!"

  "You told me that before. And suppose you do love her. You led me intothis piece of business without having studied its various bearings,without knowing what you were about. No one but an idiot, my beloveduncle, would go and put his foot into a trap, and then say, 'If I hadonly known about it!' You should have made it your business to knoweverything. You came to me, and said, 'Your father is dead,' which wasa lie to start with; perhaps you call it a mistake. He is living; and,after what we have done, I dare not appear before him. He would haveleft me a million, and now I shall not get a sou. He will find hisValentine, and then good-by."

  "Enough!" angrily interrupted Louis. "If I have made a mistake, I knowhow to redeem it. I can save everything yet."

  "You can? How so?"

  "That is my secret," said Louis gloomily.

  Louis and Raoul were silent for a minute. And this silence between them,in this lonely spot, at dead of night, was so horribly significant thatboth of them shuddered.

  An abominable thought had flashed across their evil minds, and without aword or look they understood each other.

  Louis broke the ominous silence, by abruptly saying:

  "Then you refuse to disappear if I pay you a hundred and fifty thousandfrancs? Think it over before deciding: it is not too late yet."

  "I have fully thought it over. I know you will not attempt to deceiveme any more. Between certain ease, and the probability of an immensefortune, I choose the latter at all risks. I will share your success oryour failure. We will swim or sink together."

  "And you will follow my instructions?"

  "Blindly."

  Raoul must have been very certain of Louis's intentions of resorting tothe most dangerous extremities, must have known exactly what he intendedto do; for he did not ask him a single question. Perhaps he dared not.Perhaps he preferred doubt to shocking certainty, as if he could thusescape the remorse attendant upon criminal complicity.
<
br />   "In the first place," said Louis, "you must at once return to Paris."

  "I will be there in forty-eight hours."

  "You must be very intimate at Mme. Fauvel's, and keep me informed ofeverything that takes place in the family."

  "I understand."

  Louis laid his hand upon Raoul's shoulder, as if to impress upon hismind what he was about to say.

  "You have a sure means of being restored to your mother's confidence andaffection, by blaming me for everything that has happened to distressher. Abuse me constantly. The more odious you render me in her eyes andthose of Madeleine, the better you will serve me. Nothing would pleaseme more than to be denied admittance to the house when I return toParis. You must say that you have quarrelled with me, and that, if Istill come to see you, it is because you cannot prevent it, and you willnever voluntarily have any intercourse with me. That is the scheme; youcan develop it."

  Raoul listened to these strange instructions with astonishment.

  "What!" he cried: "you adore Madeleine, and take this means of showingit? An odd way of carrying on a courtship, I must confess. I will beshot if I can comprehend."

  "There is no necessity for your comprehending."

  "All right," said Raoul submissively; "if you say so."

  Then Louis reflected that no one could properly execute a commissionwithout having at least an idea of its nature.

  "Did you ever hear," he asked Raoul, "of the man who burnt down hislady-love's house so as to have the bliss of carrying her out in hisarms?"

  "Yes: what of it?"

  "At the proper time, I will charge you to set fire, morally, to Mme.Fauvel's house; and I will rush in, and save her and her niece. Now,in the eyes of those women my conduct will appear more magnanimous andnoble in proportion to the contempt and abuse they have heaped upon me.I gain nothing by patient devotion: I have everything to hope from asudden change of tactics. A well-managed stroke will transform a demoninto an angel."

  "Very well, a good idea!" said Raoul approvingly, when his uncle hadfinished.

  "Then you understand what is to be done?"

  "Yes, but will you write to me?"

  "Of course; and if anything should happen at Paris----"

  "I will telegraph to you."

  "And never lose sight of my rival, the cashier."

  "Prosper? not much danger of our being troubled by him, poor boy! He isjust now my most devoted friend. Trouble has driven him into a path oflife which will soon prove his destruction. Every now and then I pityhim from the bottom of my soul."

  "Pity him as much as you like; but don't interfere with hisdissipation."

  The two men shook hands, and separated apparently the best friends inthe world; in reality the bitterest enemies.

  Raoul would not forgive Louis for having attempted to appropriate allthe booty, and leave him in the lurch, when it was he who had risked thegreatest dangers.

  Louis, on his part, was alarmed at the attitude taken by Raoul. Thus farhe had found his nephew tractable, and even blindly obedient; and nowhe had suddenly become rebellious and threatening. Instead of orderingRaoul, he was forced to consult and bargain with him.

  What could be more wounding to his vanity and self-conceit than thereproaches, well founded though they were, to which he had been obligedto listen, from a mere youth?

  As he walked back to his brother's house, thinking over what had justoccurred, Louis swore that sooner or later he would be revenged, andthat, as soon as he could get rid of Raoul he would do so, and would dohim some great injury.

  But, for the present, he was so afraid lest the young villain shouldbetray him, or thwart his plans in some way, that he wrote to him thenext day, and every succeeding day, full particulars of everything thathappened. Seeing how important it was to restore his shaken confidence,Louis entered into the most minute details of his plans, and askedRaoul's advice about every step he took.

  The situation remained the same. The dark cloud remained threateninglynear, but grew no larger.

  Gaston seemed to have forgotten that he had written to Beaucaire, andnever mentioned Valentine's name once.

  Like all men accustomed to a busy life, Gaston was miserable exceptwhen occupied, and spent his whole time in the foundery, which seemed toabsorb him entirely.

  When he began the experiment of felling the woods, his losses had beenheavy; but he determined to continue the work until it should be equallybeneficial to himself and the neighboring land-owners.

  He engaged the services of an intelligent engineer, and thanks tountiring energy, and the new improvements in machinery, his profits soonmore than equalled his expenses.

  "Now that we are doing so well," said Gaston joyously, "we shallcertainly make twenty-five thousand francs next year."

  Next year! Alas, poor Gaston!

  Five days after Raoul's departure, one Saturday afternoon, Gaston wassuddenly taken ill.

  He had a sort of vertigo, and was so dizzy that he was forced to liedown.

  "I know what is the matter," he said. "I have often been ill in this wayat Rio. A couple of hours' sleep will cure me. I will go to bed, and youcan send someone to awaken me when dinner is ready, Louis; I shall beall right by that time."

  But, when the servant came to announce dinner, he found Gaston muchworse. He had a violent headache, a choking sensation in his throat, anddimness of vision. But his worst symptom was dysphonia; he would tryto articulate one word, and find himself using another. His jaw-bonesbecame so stiff that it was with the greatest difficulty that he openedhis mouth.

  Louis came up to his brother's room, and urged him to send for thephysician.

  "No," said Gaston, "I won't have any doctor to make me ill withall sorts of medicines; I know what is the matter with me, and myindisposition will be cured by a simple remedy which I have alwaysused."

  At the same time he ordered Manuel, his old Spanish servant, who hadlived with him for ten years, to prepare him some lemonade.

  The next day Gaston appeared to be much better. He ate his breakfast,and was about to take a walk, when the pains of the previous daysuddenly returned, in a more violent form.

  Without consulting his brother, Louis sent to Oloron for Dr. C----,whose wonderful cures at Eaux Bonnes had won him a wide reputation.

  The doctor declared that there was no danger, and merely prescribed adose of valerian, and a blister with some grains of morphine sprinkledon it.

  But in the middle of the night, all the symptoms suddenly changed forthe worse. The pain in the head was succeeded by a fearful oppression,and the sick man suffered torture in trying to get his breath; daybreakfound him still tossing restlessly from pillow to pillow.

  When Dr. C---- came early in the morning, he appeared very muchsurprised at this change for the worse. He inquired if they had notadministered an overdose of morphine. Manuel said that he had put theblister on his master, and the doctor's directions had been accuratelyfollowed.

  The doctor, after having examined Gaston, and found his breathing heavyand irregular, prescribed a heavy dose of sulphate of quinine; he thenretired, saying he would return the next day.

  As soon as the doctor had gone, Gaston sent for a friend of his, alawyer, to come to him as soon as possible.

  "For Heaven's sake, what do you want with a lawyer?" inquired Louis.

  "I want his advice, brother. It is useless to try and deceive ourselves;I know I am extremely ill. Only timid fools are superstitious aboutmaking their wills; if I defer it any longer, I may be suddenly takenwithout having arranged my affairs. I would rather have the lawyer atonce, and then my mind will be at rest."

  Gaston did not think he was about to die, but, knowing the uncertaintyof life, determined to be prepared for the worst; he had too oftenimperilled his life, and been face to face with death, to feel any fearnow.

  He had made his will while ill at Bordeaux; but, now that he hadfound Louis, he wished to leave him all his property, and sent for hisbusiness man to advise as to the best means
of disposing of his wealthfor his benefit.

  The lawyer was a shrewd, wiry little man, very popular because he hada faculty for always gaining suits which other attorneys had lost,or declined to try, because of their groundlessness. Being perfectlyfamiliar with all the intricacies of the law, nothing delighted him morethan to succeed in eluding some stringent article of the code; and oftenhe sacrificed large fees for the sake of outwitting his opponent, andcontroverting the justness of a decision.

  Once aware of his client's wishes and intentions, he had but oneidea: and that was, to carry them out as inexpensively as possible,by skilfully evading the heavy costs to be paid by the inheritor of anestate.

  He explained to Gaston that he could, by an act of partnership,associate Louis in his business enterprises, by signing anacknowledgment that half of the money invested in these variousconcerns, belonged to and had been advanced by his brother; so that, inthe event of Gaston's death, Louis would only have to pay taxes on halfthe fortune.

  Gaston eagerly took advantage of this fiction; not that he thoughtof the money saved by the transaction if he died, but this would bea favorable opportunity for sharing his riches with Louis, withoutwounding his delicate sensibility.

  A deed of partnership between Gaston and Louis de Clameran, for theworking of a cast-iron mill, was drawn up; this deed acknowledgedLouis to have invested five hundred thousand francs as his share of thecapital; therefore half of the iron-works was his in his own right.

  When Louis was called in to sign the paper, he violently opposed hisbrother's project.

  "Why do you distress me by making these preparations for death, merelybecause you are suffering from a slight indisposition? Do you think thatI would consent to accept your wealth during your lifetime? If you die,I am your heir; if you live, I enjoy your property as if it were myown. What more can you wish? Pray do not draw up any papers; let thingsremain as they are, and turn all your attention to getting well."

  Vain remonstrances. Gaston was not a man to be persuaded fromaccomplishing a purpose upon which he had fully set his heart. When,after mature deliberation, he made a resolution, he always carried itout in spite of all opposition.

  After a long and heroic resistance, which betrayed great nobleness ofcharacter and rare disinterestedness, Louis, urged by the physician,finally yielded, and signed his name to the papers drawn up by thelawyer.

  It was done. Now he was legally Gaston's partner, and possessor of halfhis fortune. No court of law could deprive him of what had been deededwith all the legal formalities, even if his brother should change hismind and try to get back his property.

  The strangest sensations now filled Louis's breast.

  He was in a state of delirious excitement often felt by persons suddenlyraised from poverty to affluence.

  Whether Gaston lived or died, Louis was the lawful possessor of anincome of twenty-five thousand francs, without counting the eventualprofits of the iron-works.

  At no time in his life had he hoped for or dreamed of such wealth. Hiswildest wishes were surpassed. What more could he want?

  Alas! he wanted the power of enjoying these riches; they had come toolate.

  This fortune, fallen from the skies, should have filled his heart withjoy; whereas it only made him melancholy and angry.

  This unlooked-for happiness seemed to have been sent by cruel fate asa punishment for his past sins. What could be more terrible than seeingthis haven of rest open to him, and to be prevented from enjoying itbecause of his own vile plottings?

  Although his conscience told him that he deserved this misery, he blamedGaston entirely for his present torture. Yes, he held Gaston responsiblefor the horrible situation in which he found himself.

  His letters to Raoul for several days expressed all the fluctuations ofhis mind, and revealed glimpses of coming evil.

  "I have twenty-five thousand livres a year," he wrote to him, a fewhours after signing the agreement of partnership; "and I possess in myown right five hundred thousand francs. One-fourth of this sum wouldhave made me the happiest of men a year ago. Now it is of no use to me.All the gold on earth could not remove one of the difficulties of oursituation. Yes, you were right. I have been imprudent; but I pay dearfor my precipitation. We are now going down hill so rapidly that nothingcan save us; we must fall to the very bottom. To attempt stopping halfway would be madness. Rich or poor, I have cause to tremble as long asthere is any risk of a meeting between Gaston and Valentine. How canthey be kept apart? Will my brother renounce his plan of discovering thewhereabouts of this woman whom he so loved?"

  No; Gaston would never be turned from his search for his first love, ashe proved by calling for her in the most beseeching tones when he wassuffering his worst paroxysms of pain.

  He grew no better. In spite of the most careful nursing his symptomschanged, but showed no improvement.

  Each attack was more violent than the preceding.

  Toward the end of the week the pains left his head, and he felt wellenough to get up and partake of a slight nourishment.

  But poor Gaston was a mere shadow of his former self. In one week he hadaged ten years. His strong constitution was broken. He, who ten days agowas boasting of his vigorous health, was now weak and bent like an oldman. He could hardly drag himself along, and shivered in the warm sun asif he were bloodless.

  Leaning on Louis's arm, he slowly walked down to look at the forge, and,seating himself before a furnace at full blast, he declared that he feltvery much better, that this intense heat revived him.

  His pains were all gone, and he could breathe without difficulty.

  His spirits rose, and he turned to the workmen gathered around, and saidcheerfully:

  "I was not blessed with a good constitution for nothing, my friends, andI shall soon be well again."

  When the neighbors called to see him, and insisted that this illnesswas entirely owing to change of climate, Gaston replied that he supposedthey were right, and that he would return to Rio as soon as he was wellenough to travel.

  What hope this answer roused in Louis's breast!

  "Yes," he eagerly said, "I will go with you; a trip to Brazil would becharming! Let us start at once."

  But the next day Gaston had changed his mind.

  He told Louis that he felt almost well, and was determined not to leaveFrance. He proposed going to Paris to consult the best physicians; andthen he would see Valentine.

  That night he grew worse.

  As his illness increased, he became more surprised and troubled at nothearing from Beaucaire.

  He wrote again in the most pressing terms, and sent the letter by acourier who was to wait for the answer.

  This letter was never received by Lafourcade.

  At midnight, Gaston's sufferings returned with renewed violence, and forthe first time Dr. C---- was uneasy.

  A fatal termination seemed inevitable. Gaston's pain left him in ameasure, but he was growing weaker every moment. His mind wandered,and his feet were as cold as ice. On the fourteenth day of his illness,after lying in a stupor for several hours, he revived sufficientlyto ask for a priest, saying that he would follow the example of hisancestors, and die like a Christian.

  The priest left him after half an hour's interview, and all the workmenwere summoned to receive the farewell greeting of their master.

  Gaston spoke a few kind words to them all, saying that he had providedfor them in his will.

  After they had gone, he made Louis promise to carry on the iron-works,embraced him for the last time, and sank back on his pillow in a dyingstate.

  As the bell tolled for noon he quietly breathed his last, murmuring,softly, "In three years, Valentine; wait for me."

  Now Louis was in reality Marquis of Clameran, and besides he was amillionaire.

  Two weeks later, having made arrangements with the engineer in charge ofthe iron-works to attend to everything during his absence, he took hisseat in the train for Paris.

  He had sent the following significant tel
egram to Raoul the nightprevious: "I will see you to-morrow."