Other People's Money

by Emile Gaboriau

  VII

  "Cesarine!" Mme. de Thaller called, in a voice which sounded atonce like a prayer and a threat.

  "I am going to dress myself, mamma," she answered.

  "Come back!"

  "So that you can scold me if I am not ready when you want to go?Thank you, no."

  "I command you to come back, Cesarine."

  No answer. She was far already.

  Mme. de Thaller closed the door of the little parlor, and returningto take a seat by M. de Tregars,

  "What a singular girl!" she said.

  Meantime he was watching in the glass what was going on in theother room. The suspicious-looking man was there still, and alone.A servant had brought him pen, ink and paper; and he was writingrapidly.

  "How is it that they leave him there alone?" wondered Marius.

  And he endeavored to find upon the features of the baroness ananswer to the confused presentiments which agitated his brain. Butthere was no longer any trace of the emotion which she had manifestedwhen taken unawares. Having had time for reflection, she hadcomposed for herself an impenetrable countenance. Somewhat surprisedat M. de Tregars' silence,

  "I was saying," she repeated, "that Cesarine is a strange girl."

  Still absorbed by the scene in the grand parlor,

  "Strange, indeed!" he answered.

  "And such is," said the baroness with a sigh, "the result of M. deThaller's weakness, and above all of my own.

  "We have no child but Cesarine; and it was natural that we shouldspoil her. Her fancy has been, and is still, our only law. Shehas never had time to express a wish: she is obeyed before she hasspoken."

  She sighed again, and deeper than the first time. "You have justseen," she went on, "the results of that insane education. And yetit would not do to trust appearances. Cesarine, believe me, is notas extravagant as she seems. She possesses solid qualities,--ofthose which a man expects of the woman who is to be his wife."

  Without taking his eyes off the glass,

  "I believe you madame," said M. de Tregars.

  "With her father, with me especially, she is capricious, wilful,and violent; but, in the hands of the husband of her choice, shewould be like wax in the hands of the modeler."

  The man in the parlor had finished his letter, and, with anequivocal smile, was reading it over.

  "Believe me, madame," replied M. de Tregars, "I have perfectlyunderstood how much naive boasting there was in all that Mlle.Cesarine told me."

  "Then, really, you do not judge her too severely?"

  "Your heart has not more indulgence for her than my own."

  "And yet it is from you that her first real sorrow comes."

  "From me?"

  The baroness shook her head in a melancholy way, to convey an ideaof her maternal affection and anxiety.

  "Yes, from you, my dear marquis," she replied, "from you alone.On the very day you entered this house, Cesarine's whole naturechanged."

  Having read his letter over, the man in the grand parlor had foldedit, and slipped it into his pocket, and, having left his seat,seemed to be waiting for something. M. de Tregars was following,in the glass, his every motion, with the most eager curiosity. Andnevertheless, as he felt the absolute necessity of saying something,were it only to avoid attracting the attention of the baroness,

  "What!" he said, "Mlle. Cesarine's nature did change, then?"

  "In one night. Had she not met the hero of whom every girl dreams?--a man of thirty, bearing one of the oldest names in France."

  She stopped, expecting an answer, a word, an exclamation. But, asM. de Tregars said nothing,

  "Did you never notice any thing then?" she asked.

  "Nothing."

  "And suppose I were to tell you myself, that my poor Cesarine, alas!--loves you?"

  M. de Tregars started. Had he been less occupied with the personagein the grand parlor, he would certainly not have allowed theconversation to drift in this channel. He understood his mistake;and, in an icy tone,

  "Permit me, madame," he said, "to believe that you are jesting."

  "And suppose it were the truth."

  "It would make me unhappy in the extreme."

  "Sir!"

  "For the reason which I have already told you, that I love Mlle.Gilberte Favoral with the deepest and the purest love, and thatfor the past three years she has been, before God, my affiancedbride."

  Something like a flash of anger passed over Mme. de Thaller's eyes.

  "And I," she exclaimed,--"I tell you that this marriage is senseless."

  "I wish it were still more so, that I might the better show toGilberte how dear she is to me."

  Calm in appearance, the baroness was scratching with her nails thesatin of the chair on which she was sitting.

  "Then," she went on, "your resolution is settled."

  "Irrevocably."

  "Still, now, come, between us who are no longer children, supposeM. de Thaller were to double Cesarine's dowry, to treble it?"

  An expression of intense disgust contracted the manly features ofMarius de Tregars.

  "Ah! not another word, madame," he interrupted.

  There was no hope left. Mme. de Thaller fully realized it by thetone in which he spoke. She remained pensive for over a minute,and suddenly, like a person who has finally made up her mind, sherang.

  A footman appeared.

  "Do what I told you!" she ordered.

  And as soon as the footman had gone, turning to M. de Tregars,

  "Alas!" she said, "who would have thought that I would curse the daywhen you first entered our house?"

  But, whilst, she spoke, M. de Tregars noticed in the glass theresult of the order she had just given.

  The footman walked into the grand parlor, spoke a few words; and atonce the man with the alarming countenance put on his hat and wentout.

  "This is very strange!" thought M. de Tregars. Meantime, thebaroness was going on,

  "If your intentions are to that point irrevocable, how is it thatyou are here? You have too much experience of the world not tohave understood, this morning, the object of my visit and of myallusions."

  Fortunately, M. de Tregars' attention was no longer drawn by theproceedings in the next room. The decisive moment had come: thesuccess of the game he was playing would, perhaps, depend uponhis coolness and self-command.

  "It is because I did understand, madame, and even better than yousuppose, that I am here."

  "Indeed!"

  "I came, expecting to deal with M. de Thaller alone. I have beencompelled, by what has happened, to alter my intentions. It isto you that I must speak first."

  Mme. de Thaller continued to manifest the same tranquil assurance;but she stood up. Feeling the approach of the storm, she wishedto be up, and ready to meet it.

  "You honor me," she said with an ironical smile.

  There was, henceforth, no human power capable of turning Marius deTregars from the object he had in view.

  "It is to you I shall speak," he repeated, "because, after you haveheard me, you may perhaps judge that it is your interest to join mein endeavoring to obtain from your husband what I ask, what Idemand, what I must have."

  With an air of surprise marvelously well simulated, if it was notreal, the baroness was looking at him.

  "My father," he proceeded to say, "the Marquis de Tregars, was oncerich: he had several millions. And yet when I had the misfortuneof losing him, three years ago, he was so thoroughly ruined, thatto relieve the scruples of his honor, and to make his death easier,I gave up to his creditors all I had in the world. What had becomeof my father's fortune? What filter had been administered to himto induce him to launch into hazardous speculations,--he an oldBreton gentleman, full, even to absurdity, of the most obstinateprejudices of the nobility? That's what I wished to ascertain.

  "And now, madame, I--have ascertained."

  She was a strong-minded woman, the Baroness de Thaller. She hadhad so many adventures in her life, sh
e had walked on the very edgeof so many precipices, concealed so many anxieties, that danger was,as it were, her element, and that, at the decisive moment of analmost desperate game, she could remain smiling like those oldgamblers whose face never betrays their terrible emotion at themoment when they risk their last stake. Not a muscle of her facemoved; and it was with the most imperturbable calm that she said,

  "Go on, I am listening: it must be quite interesting."

  That was not the way to propitiate M. de Tregars.He resumed, in a brief and harsh tone,

  "When my father died, I was young. I did not know then what I havelearned since,--that to contribute to insure the impunity of knavesis almost to make one's self their accomplice. And the victim whosays nothing and submits, does contribute to it. The honest man,on the contrary, should speak, and point out to others the trapinto which he has fallen, that they may avoid it."

  The baroness was listening with the air of a person who is compelledby politeness to hear a tiresome story.

  "That is a rather gloomy preamble," she said. M. de Tregars tookno notice of the interruption.

  "At all times," he went on, "my father seemed careless of hisaffairs: that affectation, he thought, was due to the name he bore.But his negligence was only apparent. I might mention things ofhim that would do honor to the most methodical tradesman. He had,for instance, the habit of preserving all the letters of anyimportance which he received. He left twelve or fifteen boxes fullof such. They were carefully classified; and many bore upon theirmargin a few notes indicating what answer had been made to them."

  Half suppressing a yawn,

  "That is order," said the baroness, "if I know any thing about it."

  "At the first moment, determined not to stir up the past, Iattached no importance to those letters; and they would certainlyhave been burnt, but for an old friend of the family, the Count deVillegre, who had them carried to his own house. But later, actingunder the influence of circumstances which it would be too long toexplain to you, I regretted my apathy; and I thought that I should,perhaps, find in that correspondence something to either dissipateor justify certain suspicions which had occurred to me."

  "So that, like a respectful son, you read it?" M. de Tregars bowedceremoniously.

  "I believe," he said, "that to avenge a father of the imposture ofwhich he was the victim during his life, is to render homage to hismemory. Yes, madame, I read the whole of that correspondence, andwith an interest which you will readily understand. I had already,and without result, examined the contents of several boxes, when inthe package marked 1852, a year which my father spent in Paris,certain letters attracted my attention. They were written uponcoarse paper, in a very primitive handwriting and wretchedly spelt.They were signed sometimes Phrasie, sometimes Marquise de Javelle.Some gave the address, 'Rue des Bergers, No. 3, Paris-Grenelle.'

  "Those letters left me no doubt upon what had taken place. Myfather had met a young working-girl of rare beauty: he had taken afancy to her; and, as he was tormented by the fear of being lovedfor his money alone, he had passed himself off for a poor clerk inone of the departments."

  "Quite a touching little love-romance," remarked the baroness.

  But there was no impertinence that could affect Marius de Tregars'coolness.

  "A romance, perhaps," he said, "but in that case a money-romance,not a love-romance. This Phrasie or Marquise de Javelle, announcesin one of her letters, that in February, 1853, she has given birthto a daughter, whom she has confided to some relatives of hers inthe south, near Toulouse. It was doubtless that event whichinduced my father to acknowledge who he was. He confesses thathe is not a poor clerk, but the Marquis de Tregars, having anincome of over a hundred thousand francs. At once the tone ofthe correspondence changes. The Marquise de Javelle has a stupidtime where she lives; the neighbors reproach her with her fault;work spoils her pretty hands. Result: less than two weeks afterthe birth of her daughter, my father hires for his pretty mistressa lovely apartment, which she occupies under the name of Mme. Devil;she is allowed fifteen hundred francs a month, servants, horses,carriage."

  Mme. de Thaller was giving signs of the utmost impatience. Withoutpaying any attention to them, M. de Tregars proceeded,

  "Henceforth free to see each other daily, my father and his mistresscease to write. But Mme. Devil does not waste her time. During aspace of less than eight months, from February to September, sheinduces my father to dispose--not in her favor, she is toodisinterested for that, but in favor of her daughter--of a sumexceeding five hundred thousand francs. In September, thecorrespondence is resumed. Mme. Devil discovers that she is nothappy, and acknowledges it in a letter, which shows, by its improvedwriting and more correct spelling, that she has been taking lessons.

  "She complains of her precarious situation: the future frightens her:she longs for respectability. Such is, for three months, theconstant burden of her correspondence. She regrets the time whenshe was a working girl: why has she been so weak? Then, at last,in a note which betrays long debates and stormy discussions, sheannounces that she has an unexpected offer of marriage; a finefellow, who, if she only had two hundred thousand francs, wouldgive his name to herself and to her darling little daughter. Fora long time my father hesitates; but she presses her point withsuch rare skill, she demonstrates so conclusively that this marriagewill insure the happiness of their child, that my father yields atlast, and resigns himself to the sacrifice. And in a memorandumon the margin of a last letter, he states that he has just giventwo hundred thousand francs to Mme. Devil; that he will never seeher again; and that he returns to live in Brittany, where he wishes,by the most rigid economy, to repair the breach he has just madein his fortune."

  "Thus end all these love-stories," said Mme. de Thaller in ajesting tone.

  "I beg your pardon: this one is not ended yet. For many years, myfather kept his word, and never left our homestead of Tregars. Butat last he grew tired of his solitude, and returned to Paris. Didhe seek to see his former mistress again? I think not. I supposethat chance brought them together; or else, that, being aware of hisreturn, she managed to put herself in his way. He found her morefascinating than ever, and, according to what she wrote him, richand respected; for her husband had become a personage. She wouldhave been perfectly happy, she added, had it been possible for herto forget the man whom she had once loved so much, and to whom sheowed her position.

  "I have that letter. The elegant hand, the style, and the correctorthography, express better than any thing else the transformationsof the Marquise de Javelle. Only it is not signed. The littleworking-girl has become prudent: she has much to lose, and fears tocompromise herself.

  "A week later, in a laconic note, apparently dictated by anirresistible passion, she begs my father to come to see her at herown house. He does so, and finds there a little girl, whom hebelieves to be his own child, and whom he at once begins to idolize.

  "And that's all. Again he falls under the charm. He ceases tobelong to himself: his former mistress can dispose, at her pleasure,of his fortune and of his fate.

  "But see now what bad luck! The husband takes a notion to becomejealous of my father's visits. In a letter which is a masterpieceof diplomacy, the lady explains her anxiety.

  "'He has suspicions,' she writes; 'and to what extremities might henot resort, were he to discover the truth!' And with infinite artshe insinuates that the best way to justify his constant presenceis to associate himself with that jealous husband.

  "It is with childish haste that my father jumps at the suggestion.But money is needed. He sells his lands, and everywhere announcesthat he has great financial ideas, and that he is going to increasehis fortune tenfold.

  "There he is now, partner of his former mistress's husband, engagedin speculations, director of a company. He thinks that he is doingan excellent business: he is convinced that he is making lots ofmoney. Poor honest man! They prove to him, one morning, that heis ruined, and, what is more, comp
romised. And this is made tolook so much like the truth, that I interfere myself, and pay thecreditors. We were ruined; but honor was safe. A few weeks later,my father died broken-hearted."

  Mme. de Thaller half rose from her seat with a gesture whichindicated the joy of escaping at last a merciless bore. A glancefrom M. de Tregars riveted her to her seat, freezing upon her lipsthe jest she was about to utter.

  "I have not done yet," he said rudely.

  And, without suffering any interruption,

  "From this correspondence," he resumed, "resulted the flagrant,irrefutable proof of a shameful intrigue, long since suspected bymy old friend, General Count de Villegre. It became evident to methat my poor father had been most shamefully imposed upon by thatmistress, so handsome and so dearly loved, and, later, despoiledby the husband of that mistress. But all this availed me nothing.Being ignorant of my father's life and connections, the lettersgiving neither a name nor a precise detail, I knew not whom toaccuse. Besides, in order to accuse, it is necessary to have, atleast, some material proof."

  The baroness had resumed her seat; and every thing about her--herattitude, her gestures, the motion of her lips--seemed to say,

  "You are my guest. Civility has its demands; but really you abuseyour privileges."

  M. de Tregars went on,

  "At this moment I was still a sort of savage, wholly absorbed inmy experiments, and scarcely ever setting foot outside mylaboratory. I was indignant; I ardently wished to find and topunish the villains who had robbed us: but I knew not how to goabout it, nor in what direction to seek information. The wretcheswould, perhaps, have gone unpunished, but for a good and worthy man,now a commissary of police, to whom I once rendered a slight service,one night, in a riot, when he was close pressed by some half-dozenrascals. I explained the situation to him: he took much interestin it, promised his assistance, and marked out my line of conduct."

  Mme. de Thaller seemed restless upon her seat.

  "I must confess," she began, "that I am not wholly mistress of mytime. I am dressed, as you see: I have to go out."

  If she had preserved any hope of adjourning the explanation whichshe felt coming, she must have lost it when she heard the tone inwhich M. de Tregars interrupted her.

  "You can go out to-morrow."

  And, without hurrying,

  "Advised, as I have just told you," he continued, "and assisted bythe experience of a professional man, I went first to No. 3, Ruedes Bergers, in Grenelle. I found there some old people, theforeman of a neighboring factory and his wife, who had been livingin the house for nearly twenty-five years. At my first question,they exchanged a glance, and commenced laughing. They rememberedperfectly the Marquise de Javelle, which was but a nickname for ayoung and pretty laundress, whose real name was Euphrasie Taponnet.She had lived for eighteen months on the same landing as themselves:she had a lover, who passed himself off for a clerk, but who was,in fact, she had told them, a very wealthy nobleman. They addedthat she had given birth to a little girl, and that, two weeks latershe had disappeared, and they had never heard a word from her. WhenI left them, they said to me, 'If you see Phrasie, ask her if sheever knew old Chandour and his wife. I am sure she'll remember us.'"

  For the first time Mme. de Thaller shuddered slightly; but it wasalmost imperceptible.

  "From Grenelle," continued M. de Tregars, "I went to the housewhere my father's mistress had lived under the name of Mme. Devil.I was in luck. I found there the same concierge as in 1853. Assoon as I mentioned Mme. Devil, she answered me that she had not inthe least forgotten her, but, on the contrary, would know her amonga thousand. She was, she said, one of the prettiest little womenshe had ever seen, and the most generous tenant. I understood thehint, handed her a couple of napoleons, and heard from her everything she knew on the subject. It seemed that this pretty Mme.Devil had, not one lover, but two,--the acknowledged one, who wasthe master, and footed the bills; and the other an anonymous one,who went out through the back-stairs, and who did not pay, on thecontrary. The first was called the Marquis de Tregars: of thesecond, she had never known but the first name, Frederic. Itried to ascertain what had become of Mme. Devil; but the worthyconcierge swore to me that she did not know.

  "One morning, like a person who is going abroad, or who wishes tocover up her tracks, Mme. Devil had sent for a furniture-dealer,and a dealer in second-hand clothes, and had sold them every thingshe had, going away with nothing but a little leather satchel, inwhich were her jewels and her money."

  The Baroness de Thaller still kept a good countenance. Afterexamining her for a moment, with a sort of eager curiosity, Mariusde Tregars went on,

  "When I communicated this information to my friend, the commissaryof police, he shook his head. 'Two years ago,' he told me, 'Iwould have said, that's more than we want to find those people; forthe public records would have given us at once the key of thisenigma. But we have had the war and the Commune; and the books ofrecord have been burnt up. Still we must not give up. A lasthope remains; and I know the man who is capable of realizing it.'

  "Two days after, he brought me an excellent fellow, named VictorChupin, in whom I could have entire confidence; for he wasrecommended to me by one of the men whom I like and esteem the most,the Duke de Champdoce. Giving up all idea of applying at thevarious mayors' offices, Victor Chupin, with the patience and thetenacity of an Indian following a scent, began beating about thedistricts of Grenelle, Vargirard, and the Invalids. And not invain; for, after a week of investigations he brought me a nurse,residing Rue de l'Universite, who remembered perfectly having onceattended, on the occasion of her confinement, a remarkably prettyyoung woman, living in the Rue des Bergers, and nicknamed theMarquise de Javelle. And as she was a very orderly woman, who atall times had kept a very exact account of her receipts, she broughtme a little book in which I read this entry: 'For attending EuphrasieTaponnet, alias the Marquise de Javelle (a girl), one hundred francs.'And this is not all. This woman informed me, moreover, that she hadbeen requested to present the child at the mayor's office, and thatshe had been duly registered there under the names of EuphrasieCesarine Taponnet, born of Euphrasie Taponnet, laundress, and anunknown father. Finally she placed at my disposal her account-bookand her testimony."

  Taxed beyond measure, the energy of the baroness was beginning tofail her; she was turning livid under her rice-powder. Still inthe same icy tone,

  "You can understand, madame," said Marius de Tregars, "that thiswoman's testimony, together with the letters which are in mypossession, enables me to establish before the courts the exactdate of the birth of a daughter whom my father had of his mistress.But that's nothing yet. With renewed zeal, Victor Chupin hadresumed his investigations. He had undertaken the examination ofthe marriage-registers in all the parishes of Paris, and, as earlyas the following week, he discovered at Notre Dame des Lorettes theentry of the marriage of Euphrasie Taponnet with Frederic deThaller."

  Though she must have expected that name, the baroness started upviolently and livid, and with a haggard look.

  "It's false!" she began in a choking voice.

  A smile of ironical pity passed over Marius' lips.

  "Five minutes' reflection will prove to you that it is useless todeny," he interrupted. "But wait. In the books of that same church,Victor Chupin has found registered the baptism of a daughter of M.and Mme de Thaller, bearing the same names as the first one,--Euphrasie Cesarine."

  With a convulsive motion the baroness shrugged her shoulder.

  "What does all that prove?" she said.

  "That proves, madame, the well-settled intention of substitutingone child for another; that proves that my father was imprudentlydeceived when he was made to believe that the second Cesarine washis daughter, the daughter in whose favor he had formerly disposedof over five hundred thousand francs; that proves that there issomewhere in the world a poor girl who has been basely forsaken byher mother, the Marquise de Javelle, now become the Baroness deThaller."


  Beside herself with terror and anger,

  "That is an infamous lie!" exclaimed the baroness. M. de Tregarsbowed.

  "The evidence of the truth of my statements," he said, "I shallfind at Louveciennes, and at the Hotel des Folies, Boulevard duTemple, Paris."

  Night had come. A footman came in carrying lamps, which he placedupon the mantelpiece. He was not all together one minute in thelittle parlor; but that one minute was enough to enable the Marquisede Thaller to recover her coolness, and to collect her ideas. Whenthe footman retired, she had made up her mind, with the resolutepromptness of a person accustomed to perilous situations. She gaveup the discussion, and, drawing near to M. de Tregars,

  "Enough allusions," she said: "let us speak frankly, and face toface now. What do you want?"

  But the change was too sudden not to arouse Marius's suspicions.

  "I want a great many things," he replied.

  "Still you must specify."

  "Well, I claim first the five hundred thousand francs which myfather had settled upon his daughter,--the daughter whom you castoff."

  "And what next?"

  "I want besides, my own and my father's fortune, of which we havebeen robbed by M. de Thaller, with your assistance, madame."

  "Is that all, at least?"

  M. de Tregars shook his head.

  "That's nothing yet," he replied.

  "Oh!"

  "We have now to say something of Vincent Favoral's affairs."

  An attorney who is defending the interests of a client is neithercalmer nor cooler than Mme. de Thaller at this moment.

  "Do the affairs of my husband's cashier concern me, then?" she saidwith a shade of irony.

  "Yes, madame, very much."

  "I am glad to hear it."

  "I know it from excellent sources, because, on my return fromLouveciennes, I called in the Rue du Cirque, where I saw one ZelieCadelle."

  He thought that the baroness would at least start on hearing thatname. Not at all. With a look of profound astonishment,

  "Rue du Cirque," she repeated, like a person who is making aprodigious effort of memory,--"Rue du Cirque! Zelie Cadelle!Really, I do not understand."

  But, from the glance which M. de Tregars cast upon her, she musthave understood that she would not easily draw from him theparticulars which he had resolved not to tell.

  "I believe, on the contrary," he uttered, "that you understandperfectly."

  "Be it so, if you insist upon it. What do you ask for Favoral?"

  "I demand, not for Favoral, but for the stockholders who have beenimpudently defrauded, the twelve millions which are missing fromthe funds of the Mutual Credit."

  Mme. de Thaller burst out laughing.

  "Only that?" she said.

  "Yes, only that!"

  "Well, then, it seems to me that you should present your reclamationsto M. Favoral himself. You have the right to run after him."

  "It is useless, for the reason that it is not he, the poor fool!who has carried off the twelve millions."

  "Who is it, then?"

  "M. le Baron de Thaller, no doubt."

  With that accent of pity which one takes to reply to an absurdproposition,--"You are mad, my poor marquis," said Mme. de Thaller.

  "You do not think so."

  "But suppose I should refuse to do any thing more?"

  He fixed upon her a glance in which she could read an irrevocabledetermination; and slowly,

  "I have a perfect horror of scandal," he replied, "and, as youperceive, I am trying to arrange every thing quietly between us.But, if I do not succeed thus, I must appeal to the courts."

  "Where are your proofs?"

  "Don't be afraid: I have proofs to sustain all my allegations."

  The baroness had stretched herself comfortably in her arm-chair.

  "May we know them?" she inquired.

  Marius was getting somewhat uneasy in presence of Mme. de Thaller'simperturbable assurance. What hope had she? Could she see somemeans of escape from a situation apparently so desperate? Determinedto prove to her that all was lost, and that she had nothing to dobut to surrender,

  "Oh! I know, madame," he replied, "that you have taken yourprecautions. But, when Providence interferes, you see, humanforesight does not amount to much. See, rather, what happens inregard to your first daughter,--the one you had when you werestill only Marquise de Javelle."

  And briefly he called to her mind the principal incidents of Mlle.Lucienne's life from the time that she had left her with the poorgardeners at Louveciennes, without giving either her name or heraddress,--the injury she had received by being run over by Mme. deThaller's carriage; the long letter she had written from thehospital, begging for assistance; her visit to the house, and hermeeting with the Baron de Thaller; the effort to induce her toemigrate to America; her arrest by means of false information, andher escape, thanks to the kind peace-officer; the attempt upon heras she was going home late one night; and, finally, her imprisonmentafter the Commune, among the _petroleuses_, and her release throughthe interference of the same honest friend.

  And, charging her with the responsibility of all theseinfamous acts, he paused for an answer or a protest.

  And, as Mme. de Thaller said nothing,

  "You are looking at me, madame, and wondering how I have discoveredall that. A single word will explain it all. The peace-officerwho saved your daughter is precisely the same to whom it was oncemy good fortune to render a service. By comparing notes, we havegradually reached the truth,--reached you, madame. Will youacknowledge now that I have more proofs than are necessary to applyto the courts?"

  Whether she acknowledged it or not, she did not condescend to discuss.

  "What then?" she said coldly.

  But M. de Tregars was too much on his guard to expose himself, bycontinuing to speak thus, to reveal the secret of his designs.

  Besides, whilst he was thoroughly satisfied as to the manoeuvresused to defraud his father he had, as yet, but presumptions on whatconcerned Vincent Favoral.

  "Permit me not to say another word, madame," he replied. "I havetold you enough to enable you to judge of the value of my weapons."

  She must have felt that she could not make him change his mind, forshe rose to go.

  "That is sufficient," she uttered. "I shall reflect; and to-morrowI shall give you an answer."

  She started to go; but M. de Tregars threw himself quickly betweenher and the door.

  "Excuse me," he said; "but it is not to-morrow that I want an answer:it is to-night, this instant!"

  Ah, if she could have annihilated him with a look.

  "Why, this is violence," she said in a voice which betrayed theincredible effort she was making to control herself.

  "It is imposed upon me by circumstances, madame."

  "You would be less exacting, if my husband were here."

  He must have been within hearing; for suddenly the door opened, andhe appeared upon the threshold. There are people for whom theunforeseen does not exist, and whom no event can disconcert. Havingventured every thing, they expect every thing. Such was the Baronde Thaller. With a sagacious glance he examined his wife and M. deTregars; and in a cordial tone,

  "We are quarreling here?" he said.

  "I am glad you have come!" exclaimed the baroness.

  "What is the matter?"

  "The matter is, that M. de Tregars is endeavoring to take an odiousadvantage of some incidents of our past life."

  "There's woman's exaggeration for you!" he said laughing.

  And, holding out his hand to Marius,

  "Let me make your peace--for you, my dear marquis," he said: "that'swithin the province of the husband." But, instead of taking hisextended hand, M. de Tregars stepped back.

  "There is no more peace possible, sir, I am an enemy."

  "An enemy!" he repeated in a tone of surprise which was wonderfullywell assumed, if it was not real.

  "Yes," interrupted the baroness
; "and I must speak to you at once,Frederic. Come: M. de Tregars will wait for you."

  And she led her husband into the adjoining room, not without firstcasting upon Marius a look of burning and triumphant hatred.

  Left alone, M. de Tregars sat down. Far from annoying him, thissudden intervention of the manager of the Mutual Credit seemed tohim a stroke of fortune. It spared him an explanation more painfulstill than the first, and the unpleasant necessity of having toconfound a villain by proving his infamy to him.

  "And besides," he thought, "when the husband and the wife haveconsulted with each other, they will acknowledge that they cannotresist, and that it is best to surrender." The deliberation wasbrief. In less than ten minutes, M. de Thaller returned alone. He waspale; and his face expressed well the grief of an honest man whodiscovers too late that he has misplaced his confidence.

  "My wife has told me all, sir," he began.

  M. de Tregars had risen. "Well?" he asked.

  "You see me distressed. Ah, M. le Marquis! how could I ever expectsuch a thing from you?--you, whom I thought I had the right to lookupon as a friend. And it is you, who, when a great misfortunebefalls me, attempts to give me the finishing stroke. It is you whowould crush me under the weight of slanders gathered in the gutter."

  M. de Tregars stopped him with a gesture.

  "Mme. de Thaller cannot have correctly repeated my words to you,else you would not utter that word 'slander.'"

  "She has repeated them to me without the least change."

  "Then she cannot have told you the importance of the proofs I havein my hands."

  But the Baron persisted, as Mlle. Cesarine would have said, to "doit up in the tender style."

  "There is scarcely a family," he resumed, "in which there is notsome one of those painful secrets which they try to withhold fromthe wickedness of the world. There is one in mine. Yes, it istrue, that before our marriage, my wife had had a child, whompoverty had compelled her to abandon. We have since done everythingthat was humanly possible to find that child, but without success.It is a great misfortune, which has weighed upon our life; but it isnot a crime. If, however, you deem it your interest to divulge oursecret, and to disgrace a woman, you are free to do so: I cannotprevent you. But I declare it to you, that fact is the only thingreal in your accusations. You say that your father has been dupedand defrauded. From whom did you get such an idea?

  "From Marcolet, doubtless, a man without character, who has becomemy mortal enemy since the day when he tried a sharp game on me, andcame out second best. Or from Costeclar, perhaps, who does notforgive me for having refused him my daughter's hand, and who hatesme because I know that he committed forgery once, and that he wouldbe in prison but for your father's extreme indulgence. Well,Costeclar and Marcolet have deceived you. If the Marquis de Tregarsruined himself, it is because he undertook a business that he knewnothing about, and speculated right and left. It does not takelong to sink a fortune, even without the assistance of thieves.

  "As to pretend that I have benefitted by the embezzlements of mycashier that is simply stupid; and there can be no one to suggestsuch a thing, except Jottras and Saint Pavin, two scoundrels whomI have had ten times the opportunity to send to prison and who werethe accomplices of Favoral. Besides, the matter is in the hands ofjustice; and I shall prove in the broad daylight of the court-room,as I have already done in the office of the examining judge, that,to save the Mutual Credit, I have sacrificed more than half myprivate fortune."

  Tired of this speech, the evident object of which was to lead himto discuss, and to betray himself,

  "Conclude, sir," M. de Tregars interrupted harshly. Still in thesame placid tone,

  "To conclude is easy enough," replied the baron. "My wife has toldme that you were about to marry the daughter of my old cashier,--avery handsome girl, but without a sou. She ought to have a dowry."

  "Sir!"

  "Let us show our hands. I am in a critical position: you know it,and you are trying to take advantage of it. Very well: we can stillcome to an understanding. What would you say, if I were to give toMlle. Gilberte the dowry I intended for my daughter?"

  All M. de Tregars' blood rushed to his face.

  "Ah, not another word!" he exclaimed with a gesture of unprecedentedviolence. But, controlling himself almost at once,

  "I demand," he added, "my father's fortune. I demand that youshould restore to the Mutual Credit Company the twelve millionswhich have been abstracted."

  "And if not?"

  "Then I shall apply to the courts."

  They remained for a moment face to face, looking into each other'seyes. Then,

  "What have you decided?" asked M. de Tregars.

  Without perhaps, suspecting that his offer was a new insult,

  "I will go as far as fifteen hundred thousand francs," replied M.de Thaller, "and I pay cash."

  "Is that your last word?"

  "It is."

  "If I enter a complaint, with the proofs in my hands,you are lost."

  "We'll see about that."

  To insist further would have been puerile.

  "Very well, we'll see, then," said M. de Tregars. But as hewalked out and got into his cab, which had been waiting for him atthe door, he could not help wondering what gave the Baron deThaller so much assurance, and whether he was not mistaken in hisconjectures.

  It was nearly eight o'clock, and Maxence, Mme. Favoral and Mlle.Gilberte must have been waiting for him with a feverish impatience;but he had eaten nothing since morning, and he stopped in front ofone of the restaurants of the Boulevard.

  He had just ordered his dinner, when a gentleman of a certain age,but active and vigorous still, of military bearing, wearing amustache, and a tan-colored ribbon at his buttonhole, came to takea seat at the adjoining table.

  In less than fifteen minutes M. de Tregars had despatched a bowlof soup and a slice of beef, and was hastening out, when his footstruck his neighbor's foot, without his being able to understandhow it had happened.

  Though fully convinced that it was not his fault, he hastened toexcuse himself. But the other began to talk angrily, and so loud,that everybody turned around.

  Vexed as he was, Marius renewed his apologies.

  But the other, like those cowards who think they have found agreater coward than themselves, was pouring forth a torrent ofthe grossest insults.

  M. de Tregars was lifting his hand to administer a well-deservedcorrection, when suddenly the scene in the grand parlor of theThaller mansion came back vividly to his mind. He saw again, asin the glass, the ill-looking man listening, with an anxious look,to Mme. de Thaller's propositions, and afterwards sitting down towrite.

  "That's it!" he exclaimed, a multitude of circumstances occurringto his mind, which had escaped him at the moment.

  And, without further reflection, seizing his adversary by thethroat, he threw him over on the table, holding him down with hisknee.

  "I am sure he must have the letter about him," he said to thepeople who surrounded him.

  And in fact he did take from the side-pocket of the villain a letter,which he unfolded, and commenced reading aloud,

  "I am waiting for you, my dear major, come quick, for the thing ispressing,--a troublesome gentleman who is to be made to keep quiet.It will be for you the matter of a sword-thrust, and for us theoccasion to divide a round amount."

  "And, that's why he picked a quarrel with me," added M. de Tregars.

  Two waiters had taken hold of the villain, who was strugglingfuriously, and wanted to surrender him to the police.

  "What's the use?" said Marius. "I have his letter: that's enough.The police will find him when they want him."

  And, getting back into his cab,

  "Rue St. Gilles," he ordered, "and lively, if possible."