Nathalie had written a hasty line to her father before leaving Poissy.
He received it with an outbreak of temper, such as of late had become
frequent with him. He had almost given up going to the cafe, or
frequenting the streets; mostly he sat in his own room, gloomy,
unapproachable. His appetite was unaffected, but to Fanchon's
mortification he was indifferent what he ate, and his favourite dish of
cold beef en vinaigrette, however carefully prepared, failed to elicit
so much as a grunt of satisfaction. His fellow-townsmen found his
conduct inexplicable, not a word of Poissy crossing his lips; and as for
the photographer's window, he would have walked a mile to avoid passing
it. One or two of his intimates declared that they breathed more
freely; but, on the whole, Tours had been proud of his indomitable
energy, his weaknesses, his blunt manners, and his great fortune, and
regarded his depression with uneasiness.
"For at his age, when a man suddenly loses interest in what he most
cares about, it is a bad sign," said Dr Mathorin, taking off his hat,
and rubbing his bald head with a large coloured handkerchief. He was
walking across the long bridge with M. Georges. "Poor old fellow!"
"He has not called you in!"
"Not he. But if this talk of making him mayor comes to anything, I'll
go and sound him on the matter, and perhaps get a chance of a word, and
of having my head snapped off."
"Quite between ourselves," remarked M. Georges, cautiously, "I
understand that the opposition is led by Leroux."
"Little wasp! Though with such a liver, one ought not to be hard on
him, and by all that is yellow, here he comes! Good-day, Monsieur
Leroux. Where are you off to?"
"Have you seen the paper? Have you heard the news?"
"Not we."
"Ah, this explains it all! Now we know why old Bourget has sulked like
a bear with a sore head! A fine end for Poissy and its grandeur indeed!
Shameful! Absolutely disgraceful!"
"Monsieur Leroux," interrupted M. Georges, gravely, "be good enough to
explain yourself."
For the little lawyer was positively dancing with excitement.
"Not a son-in-law to be so proud of, and to fling at all our heads,
after all!" he cried. "And to have kept it so secret! When I opened
the paper, I thought I must be dreaming. Monsieur de Beaudrillart is in
prison for stealing."
The doctor ejaculated an amazed oath. M. Georges turned crimson and
then white, and made a threatening step towards Leroux. He had never
fought with any one in his peaceable life, but at this moment he felt as
if he must kill the miserable little slanderer. Leroux hastily stepped
back, and with triumphant fingers unfolded the newspaper and pointed to
a paragraph.
"See for yourselves, then, if you do not believe; it is no invention of
mine. There. Read the sentence aloud, Monsieur Georges. `Yesterday
the Baron de Beaudrillart was arrested in Paris on a charge of stealing
the sum of two hundred thousand francs, the property of Monsieur
Lemaire, nephew by marriage to the defunct Comte de Cadanet.' Oh, I
know it by heart already. Read, read, doctor. This explains, eh? Was
there ever anything so disgraceful? This comes of your barons, your old
families, your blue blood! A thief--the owner of Poissy a thief! Why,
it disgraces us all, the whole arrondissement!" And M. Leroux spat on
the ground to express his sense of personal pollution.
Meanwhile, with a heart wrung with distress, M. Georges read the
terrible words, and the doctor, spectacles on the point of his nose,
devoured them over his shoulder. When he had gone twice through them,
M. Georges dropped his hand and the newspaper by his side, and stared
at the ground, speechless.
"Well, what do you say now?" said Leroux, sidling up. "A pretty black
business, isn't it? A common thief!"
"The poor women!" muttered the doctor.
"Oh, come, they've had their day, and it's our turn now. This will
bring down their starch a bit. And as for old Bourget, with his eternal
Poissy this and Poissy that, as if the whole world had been made on
purpose to carry Poissy, we sha'n't be choked with his talk any more.
This puts an end to a good deal, for I should like to know why he should
be picked out to be mayor, except because he was father-in-law to this
fine gentleman at Poissy? Not such a desirable connection now, not one
to--Sacree! help! murder!"
For, to his infinite amazement, the little lawyer found himself swung
off the pavement by the collar of his coat, and, after a shake which
seemed to loosen all the teeth in his head, left staggering in the
middle of the road, his newspaper flying after him. So unexpected and
so prompt had been the action of M. Georges that the doctor had not had
time to interfere, nor, indeed, had he much desire to do so. No one
else was very near at the time, and Leroux pulled himself together,
vowing vengeance and actions as he sullenly edged away.
"Be off," said M. Georges, calmly, "for if I hear any more of this vile
talk you may find yourself with something worse than a shake. Doctor,
this news has completely upset me."
"So it appears," said Dr Mathurin, chuckling. "I should rather say it
had led to the upsetting of other people. Monsieur Georges, you are a
man of force, but I am afraid you have laid yourself open to an action
for assault."
The other waved his hand indifferently.
"Let him bring it. My little patrimony can defray the expense, and his
malice is a matter of no consequence. But this sad, this terrible
affair! My friend, I must go at once to Poissy. If there is anything
in which I can serve them, it will be my greatest privilege to be
allowed to be useful. I shudder to think of the effect of such a blow
upon madame and the poor young ladies. I imagine--but it is not
possible for you to imagine--what it must be for those so bound up in
Poissy, and in monsieur le baron, when it shocks even us! It is
horrible, impossible, villainous! He must be the victim of some cursed
plot. I could almost believe that miserable little Leroux had invented
and inserted it for the mere purpose of giving pain, had such a thing
been possible; but I presume--"
"No, no, my friend," said the doctor, wringing his hand, "the thing did
not grow in his brain, and, indeed, there was a whisper yesterday,
although I did not repeat it. This explains Monsieur Bourget's
attitude, poor man! A crushing humiliation for him, a very heavy blow
for all. And the poor wife! Yes, I think you are right to go there,
though it will be a terribly trying visit. Pray present them with my
most respectful sympathy."
M. Georges was informed that Mme. de Beaudrillart was receiving no one,
but that the young ladies would see him presently, if he would kindly go
into the salon. He fancied that the servant admitting him had a
frightened air, and glanced at him as if in hopes of his speaking; but
he dared not trust himself on so delicate a subject. He waited for some
time before the sisters, both dressed in black, came in together.
The alteration in Mlle. Claire shocked him. She had aged ten years;
her face, bloodless and sallow, had grown sharper, her eyes were
tearless, and she carried herself more stiffly upright than ever.
Felicie's grief, on the contrary, was less restrained; her eyes were
scarlet, her face swollen with crying, and as she came in at the door
she stretched out her hand, and exclaimed in a voice of despair:
"Oh, Monsieur Georges, then you at least do not desert us!" He was so
touched by this appeal that he hurried forward and bowed low over her
hand.
"Desert you, mademoiselle, because Monsieur Leon is the victim of a
shameful accusation! No one would be capable of such baseness, least of
all an old servant of your family. I have hurried here to assure you of
my profound sympathy, and to say that no one who knew monsieur le baron
could for a moment believe him capable of such an act. It is a
miserable calumny which will easily be disproved."
"Ah, that is exactly what I say to my sister," said Felicie, cheering
up. "I assure her that if she only will have faith, things _must_ come
right, and our dear Leon be cleared. Claire, do you hear what Monsieur
Georges thinks?"
"Monsieur Georges is very good," said Claire, with quivering voice. "I
am sure he has always wished us well. But whether he is cleared or not,
the disgrace, the dreadful blot on our family remains, for nothing can
remove the fact that a Baron de Beaudrillart has been arrested for--for
stealing." Her voice grew hoarse, and the last words almost choked her.
M. Georges, simple soul as he was, knew enough of the world to be
startled by such an assertion.
"Oh, mademoiselle," he exclaimed, sitting on the edge of his chair, his
hat clasped in front of him, "you are not serious! The best and noblest
person who ever lived might meet with such a misfortune as has overtaken
monsieur le baron, and far from being a blot, it would be no more than
an added reason for our respect. If I might--might presume to say so, I
think you exaggerate the misfortune."
Felicie expected her sister's anger to be raised by this unusual
plain-speaking, but she only sighed.
"Unfortunately, you do not know all; but we are, I assure you, very
grateful for your kindness. I believe you are aware that I have always
been convinced that you were my brother's best adviser."
Monsieur Georges felt his face glow. He had suffered a good deal of
humiliation from Mme. de Beaudrillart, and had never expected to have
his services acknowledged with gratitude by any member of the family.
He hesitated, stammered, and broke into an almost incoherent reply,
staring hard at his hat.
"Oh, mademoiselle--if I could think so! such kindness--impossible to
forget!" Then recovering himself, he added, with more self-composure,
"You will at least permit me to ask whether there is no way in which I
could have the privilege of being of use! Through the kindness of a
grandparent I have succeeded to a small inheritance, which places me in
an independent position. I only venture to trouble you with this
information because it--it might remove any generous scruples from your
mind. Nothing, mesdemoiselles,"--he bowed first to one and then to the
other--"would gratify me so much as to be permitted to serve you and
monsieur le baron. Shall I fly to Paris! Can I take anything off your
hands here? Command me. I am absolutely at your disposal."
On Mlle. Claire's heart, hot and sore, this respectful homage,
unchanged by the circumstances which to her had changed the world, fell
like the very dew of heaven. If her sister had not been there, she
would have offered him her hand to kiss; but as it was, she spoke with a
strangely softened voice.
"Do not think us ungrateful. Believe me, your kindness will be always
remembered. There is nothing to be done at present. Monsieur
Rodoin,"--M. Georges bowed--"and Maitre Barraud,"--he bowed still
lower--"are in charge of the case. I trust they may be successful, but
as I have already said, such a blow cannot be wiped out even by an
acquittal. It has shattered my mother, so that her state causes us the
greatest uneasiness. Will you allow me to offer you some refreshment!"
He stood up, held his hat to his chest, and bowed profoundly.
"On no account, mademoiselle. I am deeply sensible of your goodness,
and with your permission shall venture to walk out another day from
Tours, unless--unless, mademoiselle, you would allow me the great
happiness of once more occupying my old room--for a few days, I should
explain, merely until this unfortunate affair is arranged, and monsieur
le baron returns. Under your directions it is possible I could be of
some trifling use, and leave you more free to console Madame de
Beaudrillart. At all events, I might serve as a companion for Monsieur
Raoul."
Claire was looking at him uncertainly, when, to her amazement, before
she could speak, Felicie interposed with dignity.
"You are very good, monsieur, and we accept your offer gratefully. Yes,
Claire, I am Mademoiselle de Beaudrillart, and I take it upon myself in
Leon's absence. Raoul is terribly in the way; only this morning he has
cut a whole skein of silk into little bits, and if Monsieur Georges can
come to-morrow we will send in for him at twelve o'clock."
M. Georges was frightened, amazed, delighted. Never before had he seen
Mlle. Felicie so assert herself, and he could hardly believe that her
younger sister would admit the intrusion. But whatever Claire felt, she
said nothing in opposition; she even smiled at him for the first time in
the interview. "We have no right to ask it," she said, "but if you
will--" If he would! He walked home on air. Such urbanity! Such
graciousness! Such appreciation! Without proof, the interview had more
than ever convinced him of M. de Beaudrillart's innocence, and of the
fact of a conspiracy against him. So enthusiastic were his feelings
that he felt himself capable of rushing upon anything, even death
itself, in defence of the honour of Poissy; and when the remembrance of
his assault upon Leroux came to him he laughed aloud, and was conscious
of a ferocious desire that he had gone to the extreme length of kicking
him, or even of dropping him into the river. He wished with all his
heart that he might meet M. Bourget, and pour some of his feelings into
his ear; but, if he had known it, there was small chance of this
encounter, since the ex-builder avoided the road to Poissy as if it were
infected with the plague.
His gloom had in no degree lightened, and, although he had returned to
the cafe and to his usual routine of action, he remained unsociable and
morose. Far from fastening upon unwilling listeners, and obliging them
to give ear to his laying down the law upon whatever subject happened to
be uppermost in his mind, he offered no sign of acquaintanceship, beyond
a surly nod. At the cafe he sat with his broad back turned to its other
frequenters, and on one or two minor points of municipal government,
when he was expected to have thundered against the opposition, he had
remained mute and apparently uninterested. This change of nature had
caused much perplexity among his friends--for, in spite of his feelings
and irascibility, M. Bourget had friends--until the riddle was solved
by the extraordinary news respecting M. de Beaudrillart. That, it was
felt, explained everything, and a very kindly feeling of pity shot up on
every side. Nathalie had been universally liked, although such an
advancement as hers could not but create jealousy; now that downfall had
followed, her charms were frankly acknowledged, and if M. Bourget would
have accepted them, condolences would have reached him from every side.
But he was not the man to whom condolences were acceptable. On the
afternoon of the day in which the startling intelligence had been read
in the _Tours Independent_, he marched along the streets, head erect,
chain and seals dangling, and stick grasped with a vigour which boded
ill for impertinent comments. The account of M. Leroux's punishment on
the bridge had reached him through Fanchon, who rushed into his room to
announce that M. Georges had sprung upon the lawyer, thrashed him black
and blue, and left him for dead in the middle of the road. M. Bourget
had no difficulty in guessing what had been the little lawyer's offence.
He broke into a hoarse laugh, the first he had been heard to utter
since his memorable visit to Poissy, and scandalised Fanchon by rubbing
his hands, and declaring that it served the little reptile right. He
added an ardent wish that he had been there to kick him.
"The saints forbid!" cried Fanchon, piously. "You have always quarrels
enough of your own on your shoulders without taking up other people's.
And a pretty fanfara Monsieur Leroux will make about this business!"
"Hold your tongue, imbecile!" growled her master, still chuckling.
"That little Georges is an honest fellow after all!"
It is possible that this event it was which took M. Bourget to the
cafe. It was not likely that Leroux would venture to show himself, with
the fear of encountering M. Georges before his eyes. Besides, one
excitement would balance another; tongues would not wag so persistently
on the Poissy topic; at any rate, the ex-builder was resolved that they
should not wag in his hearing, and when he sat down at his solitary
table, with his stick reposing on a chair by his side, his figure did
not present an inviting object of attack. Nevertheless, to the
astonishment of the lookers-on, one individual walked deliberately up to
the table, drawing a chair after him, and sat down opposite M. Bourget
as soon as he had effected an elaborate sweep of his hat. This was M.
Georges himself, and certain it is that M. Bourget would have tolerated
no other companion. As it was, at the sight of him he broke out again
into the grim chuckle which had amazed Fanchon, and which now amazed M.
Georges.
"While you were about it, you should have given him a ducking," he
grunted. "He would have been the better for it, and it would not have
cost you more."