MASTER AND SERVANT.
When the young girl, followed by Madame Ursula, who was choking with
rage, emerged upon the Square, all the peasants lifted their hats.
"There is the carriage!" said Ursula.
A lacquey in livery approached, leading a fine English horse. Irene
arrested the animal.
"Do you intend to mount again? I thought," said Madame Ursula, "that you
had promised to return in the carriage with me."
But Irene was already in her saddle.
The governess continued:
"The Comtesse expected--"
"Never mind that! And now, John, to the Chateau at once," said Irene,
galloping off.
"Who is that lady?" asked Bobichel.
"Mademoiselle de Salves," a peasant replied, "the wealthiest heiress in
the neighborhood."
"A handsome girl!" muttered Bobichel.
"She is too haughty to those beneath her," said some one.
"She is made of Paris stuff," said another. "She's not calculated for
our village."
A new incident now occurred.
A post-chaise, drawn by vigorous horses, now dashed into the Square,
and drew up before Master Schwann's inn.
Before the worthy innkeeper could come down the steps to welcome the new
arrival, another person had dashed past him. This was the man, who,
sheltered by his newspaper, had so closely watched all that was going on
around him.
"Monsieur le Marquis," he said, presenting his arm to the gentleman in
the post-chaise, "I see my letter reached you in time."
The new arrival is not unknown to our readers; it was he who, earlier in
our tale, was known as the Vicomte de Talizac, and who to-day, by the
death of the old Marquis, had been invested with all the titles of the
Fongereues family.
Ten years had elapsed since we last saw him, and though hardly forty, he
seems an old man--his figure is bent and his stern face covered with
wrinkles.
The man who was waiting for him had long been his accomplice; together
they had concocted the criminal plan to which Simon fell a victim, and
as a reward for his villainy, Cyprien had been made intendant instead of
valet.
The Marquis entered the inn and looked around suspiciously, but saw no
one but Schwann, who stood hat in hand; he did not advance, as the frown
of the Marquis was far from encouraging.
"Serve dinner in my room," said Cyprien, and he showed the silent
Marquis up-stairs.
When Schwann had laid the table and placed the dinner upon it, Cyprien
took him aside.
"You need not come up again, unless I call you."
"Very good, sir."
"And this is not all; please do not gossip about my master. If any one
questions you, make no reply."
"What could I say?" asked Schwann. "I know nothing!"
"You might indulge in suppositions, which I advise you to avoid."
"Zounds!" muttered Schwann, as he descended the stairs, "all these airs
displease me! I very much prefer my rope dancers to this great lord!"
Cyprien looked up and down the corridor, and listened at the doors of
the next rooms, to ascertain that they were empty.
The Marquis, in the meantime, had thrown his hat and cloak on the bed.
"We are alone?" he asked impatiently.
"Yes, sir."
"Speak, then. Your letter told me that you have found traces of that
miserable Labarre."
"Yes, sir, and I trust you will be satisfied with what I have done."
"Did you see the man?"
"No, sir. Your instructions were to avoid all contact with him. I know,
however, where to lay my hands on him."
"You have done well. I wish my presence here to be like a thunderclap to
him. And then I expect that in his terror he will make the avowal which
will be my salvation."
"May I ask, sir, if your affairs have in any way ameliorated since my
departure?"
"Ameliorated!" Fongereues repeated with an angry gesture, "no, quite the
contrary. Ruin is approaching with rapid strides, and in a few months I
shall be lost!"
"But the favor of His Majesty--"
Fongereues laughed bitterly. "His Majesty cares little for me. Ever
since I was unfortunate enough to displease his fair friend, the tide
has turned."
"But can nothing be done?"
Fongereues shrugged his shoulders. "What is the use? I am sick of
manoeuvering and intriguing. I have told the king that his faithful
emigres should be his best counsellors, and that it was his duty as well
as his interest to rely on me. But it was of no use.
"They think they have paid us," the Marquis continued, "because they
have thrown us, as food to the dogs, a few louis of indemnity. As if
France were not ours, as if we had no rights over these people who have
assassinated their king and kissed the feet of an adventurer; but they
are afraid, and talk of patience. I told His Majesty, one day, of my
embarrassments. 'Sir,' he said to me, 'a Fongereues never begs!' and the
next day I received four thousand louis. Confound the nonsense!"
Cyprien could not refrain from a smile. Four thousand louis did not seem
to him a trifle, nor nonsense.
"But His Majesty is interested in your son."
"My son! These Puritans have much to say about my son. He gambles and he
does other shocking things. One would think, to hear them talk, that
they were themselves paragons of virtue. As soon as the Vicomte marries
and settles down--by the way, what about Mademoiselle de Salves?"
"I only arrived last night, and have simply learned that their chateau
is not more than two leagues away, and that they must soon leave it to
return to Paris."
"Four millions!" cried the Marquis. "And to think that this fortune may
escape us!"
"The marriage is not yet decided, then?"
"Not precisely; and the smallest incident may ruin my plans. This
Labarre must be made to speak, even if violence be necessary."
"He is an incorruptible old fellow, and these honest people are
sometimes very hard to deal with."
The Marquis looked at him intently for a minute or two in silence, and
then, with an indescribable smile, said:
"I think we can manage him, nevertheless!"
Cyprien smiled.
"You know, beside," continued the Marquis, "that I am not ungrateful.
Let this Labarre surrender this secret and my son become the husband of
young Irene de Salves, and my position becomes stronger than ever. And
you may be certain that I shall not forget you!"
"I hope, sir, that it may be soon in my power to render you a most
important service."
"What may that be?"
"You are aware, I presume, that I take great interest in the
preservation of the present _regime_?"
"I was not aware of that," the Marquis said, with a slight elevation of
the eyebrows. It seemed to him that the opinions of Monsieur Cyprien
were of little importance, and that the government was not likely to
benefit by his sympathy and protection.
"The fact is, sir, your future and that of the monarchy are too nearly
allied for me to separate the two questions."
"You are right."
"And, in addition, I hold relations with persons who condescend to
recognize in me a certain ability in the management of confidential
matters."
"Pshaw! Who are these persons!"
"I will give you the name of one, sir--Monsieur Franchet."
And Cyprien stole a glance at his master, who started in spite of all
his self-control. This Franchet was at the climax of his celebrity, and
exercised the mysterious function of Director-General of the Police. He
owed his elevation solely to the Society of Jesus. This occult power,
whose ramifications extended all over France, was mysterious and
tremendous in its workings. No one could expect any favor if he did not
first render this society most abject homage.
Cyprien now became invested with immense importance in the eyes of the
Marquis. He was now not only an accomplice, but a protector, who might
become a formidable adversary.
A brief silence followed this revelation, and then the Marquis bade
Cyprien go on with what he was saying.
"I was saying, sir, that I have employed all the resources of my weak
mind in the defence of the sacred interests of the society, and that I
had the power to replace you in the position which your imprudence has
forfeited!"
The lacquey was becoming insolent.
"And how will you perform this miracle?" asked the Marquis.
"By including you in the great plan which will prove our zeal for the
monarchy."
The Marquis frowned. He was not pleased at the association!
Cyprien dropped his voice.
"A vast conspiracy," he said, "is forming to overthrow the king!"
The Marquis started.
"Not so--the monarchy is strong."
"There is no chariot so strong that it is not at the mercy of a grain of
sand. I assure you, sir, that the danger is real. A Republican
party----"
Fongereues shrugged his shoulders.
"A _Republican_ party," repeated Cyprien, emphasizing the word, "is
covering the country with its net. In a few months--in a few weeks,
perhaps--a movement will burst out simultaneously all over France, and
it may come to pass that the throne will fall quicker than we think.
Royalty is unpopular in these days. Strength is the only sustaining
force. And is the throne strong enough to resist a general uprising? I
doubt it. And I, poor servant that I am, can arrest this movement, even
now! I can betray the chiefs of this association. But I am an
insignificant person. No matter how great the services may be that I
render, a bone or two will be thrown to me to gnaw, and that will be
deemed sufficient. But let the Marquis de Fongereues, peer of France,
denounce at the Tuileries the formidable association that threatens the
throne and the altar--let him present himself in the cabinet of the king
with his hands full of proofs--let him show the documents and the lists
of the conspirators, and the Marquis de Fongereues will become master of
France. He may exact any recompense he pleases for saving the throne and
the altar!"
The Marquis rose hastily. His eyes flashed.
"And you say that this formidable secret is yours Cyprien?"
"I hold the threads of the plot in my hand!"
"And yet, you are ready to abandon the benefits which would assuredly be
yours should you decide to make the revelation?"
"I am, first of all, your servant, sir!"
"Throw your cards on the table, Cyprien! What do you want me to do in
exchange for this great service?"
"I impose no condition. I have faith in the generosity of my master."
"And you are right!" the Marquis replied. "If I succeed, I will make you
rich, and place you so high on the social ladder that the greatest names
in France will bow before you!"
"Thank you, honored sir. When the hour arrives, I will remind you of
your words. But now we must think of Pierre Labarre. Time presses!"
"I am ready. Where are we to find him?"
"Two leagues from here, near the little town of Vagney."
"It is now three o'clock," said the Marquis. "We can surely return here
to-night. You had best order the horses at once."
When the Marquis was alone, he bowed his face in his hands.
"If I could believe him!" he murmured. "But I am afraid!"
A few brief words of explanation are here necessary. The Fongereues
family re-entered France with the allied armies, and immediately
obtained the favor of the king. The old Marquis was elevated to the
peerage, and Magdalena felt that her ambitious projects were on the eve
of fulfilment. The Vicomte de Talizac easily obtained proof of the death
of Simon Fougere; his wife and children had disappeared, and probably
perished. The Vicomte, therefore, did not hesitate to claim as sole heir
the estate on the death of the Marquis in 1817. But this estate, though
considerable, was far less important than he and Magdalena had hoped.
The Vicomte was deeply in debt, and his creditors became impatient. If
he and the Vicomtesse had not been madly extravagant, all the more so
from the restrictions they had so long endured, their revenues would
have been more than sufficient. But these two persons, who had not
recoiled from a terrible crime to ensure their undisputed possession of
the Fongereues fortune, were now carried away by a wild thirst for
excitement and gayety. The hotel they occupied became the scene of
perpetual fetes and the rendezvous of the aristocracy.
Magdalena's son, who now bore the title of the Vicomte de Talizac,
brought up amid this mad prodigality, developed early the faults of his
nature, which were increased by the foolish indulgence of his mother.
His father read his character at a glance, and cautioned Magdalena, who
at the first syllable he uttered silenced him in the most peremptory
manner.
"Do you think," said Magdalena, "that my son is to conduct himself as if
he were to earn his bread by the sweat of his brow? I am happy to say
that he knows nothing of your petty economies."
As her husband protested, she lowered her voice and looked him full in
the face. "Do you think," she said, "that it was to make a beggar of my
son, that I told you to kill the other?"
The two guilty creatures gazed at each other; the Marquis was the first
to turn his uneasy eyes away. From this moment the struggle began, and
the Marquis led a most terrible life.
Before long the alliance with Mademoiselle de Salves was projected. This
marriage was to the Marquis de Fongereues the last plank between himself
and destruction. Unless this plan was carried to a happy termination, he
was ruined. Already there were rumors floating about the court of spots
on the hitherto untarnished shield of the Marquis de Fongereues. People
were beginning to desert the hotel as rats fly from a falling house. The
haughty manners of the Marquis and of Magdalena had conciliated no one.
The insolence of Talizac had become proverbial; he had fought several
duels from which he had come off unharmed. The approaching fall of this
detested family was hailed with delight. It is therefore easy to
understand why the Marquis was so eager to find Pierre Labarre.
He was interrupted in his reflections by Cyprien, who now returned with
the innkeeper.
"I am sorry, sir," said the latter, "to be the bearer of annoyances. You
know that we at this season are liable to inundations, and we have just
learned that the torrent that crosses the road at Vagney is rising
rapidly, and makes it dangerous to travel."
"But is there no other road?"
"None which is not equally flooded. Every where the danger would be just
as great."
"I am willing to pay any price to get on this afternoon."
The innkeeper did everything to place obstacles in the path of the
Marquis, who, however, insisted on going.
"Well!" said Schwann, to himself, "I shall not be easy until they
return, for I fear that the inundation has only just begun."