GASTON’S DILEMMA.
Yes, Sabine might yet be his, but between the lovers stood the forms of
Croisenois and his associates. But now he felt strong enough to contend
with them all.
“To work!” said he, “to work!”
Just then, however, he heard a sound of ringing laughter outside his
door. He could distinguish a woman’s voice, and also a man’s, speaking
in high, shrill tones. All at once his door burst open, and a hurricane
of silks, velvets, feathers, and lace whirled in. With extreme surprise,
the young artist recognized the beautiful features of Rose, _alias_ Zora
de Chantemille. Gaston de Gandelu followed her, and at once began,--
“Here we are,” said he, “all right again. Did you expect to see us?”
“Not in the least.”
“Ah! well, it is a little surprise of the governor’s. On my word, I
really will be a dutiful son for the future. To-day, the good old boy
came into my room, and said, ‘This morning I took the necessary steps to
release the person in whom you are interested. Go and meet her.’ What do
you think of that? So off I ran to find Zora, and here we are.”
Andre did not pay much attention to Gaston, but was engaged in watching
Zora, who was looking round the studio. She went up to Sabine’s
portrait, and was about to draw the curtain, when Andre exclaimed,--
“Excuse me,” said he; “I must put this picture to dry.” And as the
portrait stood on a moveable easel, he wheeled it into the adjoining
room.
“And now,” said Gaston, “I want you to come and breakfast with us to
celebrate Zora’s happy release.”
“I am much obliged to you, but it is impossible. I must get on with my
work.”
“Yes, yes; work is an excellent thing, but just now you must go and
dress.”
“I assure you that it is quite out of the question. I cannot leave the
studio yet.”
Gaston paused for a moment in deep thought.
“I have it,” said he triumphantly. “You will not come to breakfast; then
breakfast shall come to you. I am off to order it.”
Andre ran after him, but Gaston was too quick, and he returned to the
studio in anything but an amiable temper. Zora noticed his evident
annoyance.
“He always goes on in this absurd way,” said she, with a shrug of her
pretty shoulders, “and thinks himself so clever and witty, bah!”
Her tone disclosed such contempt for Gaston that Andre looked at her in
perplexed surprise.
“What do you look so astonished at? It is easy to see you do not know
much of him. All his friends are just like him; if you listen to them
for half an hour at a stretch, you get regularly sick. When I think of
the terrible evenings that I have spent in their company, I feel ready
to die with yawning;” and as she spoke, she suited the action to the
word. “Ah! if he really loved me!” added she.
“Love you! Why, he adores you.”
Zora made a little gesture of contempt which Toto Chupin might have
envied.
“Do you think so?” said she. “Do you know what it is he loves in me?
When people pass me they cry out, ‘Isn’t she good style?’ and then the
idiot is as pleased as Punch; but if I had on a cotton gown, he would
think nothing of me.”
Rose had evidently learned a good ideal, as her beauty had never been so
radiant. She was one glow of health and strength.
“Then my name was not good enough for him,” she went on. “His
aristocratic lips could not bring themselves to utter such a common name
as Rose, so he christened me Zora, a regular puppy dog’s name. He has
plenty of money, but money is not everything after all. Paul had no
money, and yet I loved him a thousand times better. On my word, I have
almost forgotten how to laugh, and yet I used to be as merry as the day
was long.”
“Why did you leave Paul then?”
“Well, you see, I wanted to experience what a woman feels when she has
a Cashmere shawl on, so one fine morning I took wing. But there, who
knows? Paul would very likely have left me one day. There was some
one who was doing his best to separate us, an old blackguard called
Tantaine, who lived in the same house.”
“Ah!” answered he cautiously. “What interest could he have had in
separating you?”
“I don’t know,” answered the girl, assuming a serious air; “but I am
sure he was trying it on. A fellow doesn’t hand over banknotes for
nothing, and I saw him give one for five hundred francs to Paul; and
more than that, he promised him that he should make a great fortune
through a friend of his called Mascarin.”
Andre started. He remembered the visit that Paul had made him, on the
pretext of restoring the twenty francs he had borrowed, and at which
he had boasted that he had an income of a thousand francs a month, and
might make more, though he had not said how this was to be done. “I
think that Paul has forgotten me. I saw him once at Van Klopen’s, and he
never attempted to say a word to me. He was certainly with that Mascarin
at the time.”
Andre could only draw one conclusion from this, either that Paul was
protected by the band of conspirators, or else that he formed one of it.
In that case he was useful to them; while Rose, who was in their way,
was persecuted by them. Andre’s mind came to this conclusion in
an instant. It seemed to him that if Catenac had been desirous of
imprisoning Rose, it was because she was in the way, and her presence
disturbed certain combinations. Before, however, he could work out his
line of deduction, Gaston’s shrill voice was heard upon the stairs, and
in another moment he made his appearance.
“Place for the banquet,” said he; “make way for the lordly feast.”
Two waiters followed him, bearing a number of covered dishes on trays.
At another time Andre would have been very angry at this invasion, and
at the prospect of a breakfast that would last two or three hours and
utterly change everything; but now he was inclined to bless Gaston for
his happy idea, and, with the assistance of Rose, he speedily cleared a
large table for the reception of the viands.
Gaston did nothing, but talked continually.
“And now I must tell you the joke of the day. Henri de Croisenois, one
of my dearest friends, has absolutely launched a Company.”
Andre nearly let fall a bottle, which he was about to place upon the
table.
“Who told you this?” asked he quickly.
“Who told me? Why, a great big flaming poster. Tafila Copper Mines;
capital, four millions. And my esteemed friend, Henri, has not a
five-franc piece to keep the devil out of his pocket.”
The face of the young artist expressed such blank surprise that Gaston
burst into a loud laugh.
“You look just as I did when I read it. Henri de Croisenois, the
chairman of a Company! Why, if you had been elected Pope, I should not
have been more surprised. Tafila Copper Mines! What a joke! The shares
are five hundred francs.”
The waiters had now retired, and Gaston urged his friends to take their
places at the table, and all seemed merry as a marriage bell; but many a
gay commencement has a stormy ending.
Gaston, whose shallow brain could not stand the copious draughts of wine
with which he washed down his repast, began all at once to overwhelm
Zora with bitter reproaches at her not being able to comprehend how a
man like him, who was destined to play a serious part in society, could
have been led away, as he had been, by a person like her.
Gaston had a tongue which was never at a loss either to praise or blame,
and Zora was equally ready to retort, and defended herself with such
acrimony that the lad, knowing himself to be in fault, entirely lost the
small remnant of temper which he still possessed, and dashed out of the
room, declaring that he never wished to set eyes upon Zora again, and
that she might keep all the presents that he had lavished upon her for
all he cared.
His departure was hailed with delight by Andre, who, now that he was
left alone with Zora, hoped to derive some further information from her,
and especially a distinct description of Paul, whom he felt that he
must now reckon among his adversaries. But his hopes were destined to
be frustrated, for Zora was so filled with anger and excitement that she
refused to listen to another word; and putting on her hat and mantle,
with scarcely a glance at the mirror, rushed out of the studio with
the utmost speed, declaring that she would seek out Paul, and make him
revenge the insults that Gaston had put on her.
All this passed so rapidly that the young painter felt as if a tornado
had passed through his humble dwelling; but as peace and calm returned,
he began to see that Providence had directly interposed in his favor,
and had sent Rose and Gaston to his place to furnish him with fresh and
important facts. All that Rose had said, incomplete as her statement
was, had thrown a ray of light upon an intrigue which, up till now, had
been shaded in the thickest gloom. The relations of Paul with Mascarin
explained why Catenac had been so anxious to have Rose imprisoned, and
also seemed to hint vaguely at the reason for the extraction of the
forged signatures from the simple Gaston. What could be the meaning
of the Company started by De Croisenois at the very moment when he was
about to celebrate his union with Sabine?
Andre desired to see the advertisement of the Company for himself; and
without stopping to change his blouse, ran downstairs to the corner
of the street, where Gaston had told him that the announcement of the
Company was placarded up. He found it there, in a most conspicuous
position, with all its advantages most temptingly set forth. Nothing
was wanting; and there was even a woodcut of Tafila, in Algiers, which
represented the copper mines in full working operation; while at the
top, the name of the chairman, the Marquis de Croisenois, stood out in
letters some six inches in height.
Andre stood gazing at this wonderful production for fully five minutes,
when all at once a gleam of prudence flashed across his mind.
“I am a fool,” said he to himself. “How do I know how many watchful eyes
are now fixed on me, reading on my countenance my designs regarding this
matter and its leading spirit?”
Upon his return to his room, he sat for more than an hour, turning over
the whole affair in his mind, and at length he flattered himself that
he had hit upon an expedient. Behind the house in which he lodged was a
large garden, belonging to some public institution, the front of which
was in the Rue Laval. A wall of about seven feet in height divided these
grounds from the premises in the Rue de la Tour d’Auvergne. Why should
he not go out by the way of these ornamental grounds and so elude the
vigilance of the spies who might be in waiting at the front of the
house?
“I can,” thought he, “alter my appearance so much that I shall not
be recognized. I need not return here to sleep. I can ask a bed from
Vignol, who will help me in every possible way.”
This Vignol was the friend to whom, at Andre’s request, M. Gandelu had
given the superintendence of the works at his new house in the Champs
Elysees.
“I shall,” continued he, “by this means escape entirely from De
Croisenois and his emissaries, and can watch their game without their
having any suspicion of my doing so. For the time being, of course, I
must give up seeing those who have been helping me,--De Breulh, Gandelu,
Madame de Bois Arden, and M. de Mussidan; that, however, cannot be
avoided. I can use the post, and by it will inform them all of the step
that I have taken.”
It was dark before he had finished his letters, and, of course, it was
too late to try anything that day; consequently he went out, posted his
letters, and dined at the nearest restaurant.
On his return home, he proceeded to arrange his disguise. He had it
ready, among his clothes: a blue blouse, a pair of check trousers,
well-worn shoes, and a shabby cap, were all that he required, and he
then applied himself to the task of altering his face. He first shaved
off his beard. Then he twisted down two locks of hair, which he managed
to make rest on his forehead. Then he commenced applying some coloring
to his face with a paint-brush; but this he found to be an extremely
difficult business, and it was not for a long while that he was
satisfied with the results that he had produced. He then knotted an old
handkerchief round his neck, and clapped his cap on one side, with the
peak slanting over one eye. Then he took a last glance in the glass,
and felt that he had rendered himself absolutely unrecognizable. He was
about to impart a few finishing touches, when a knock came at his door.
He was not expecting any one at such an hour, nine o’clock; for the
waiters from the restaurant had already removed the remains of the
feast.
“Who is there?” cried he.
“It is I,” replied a weak voice; “I, Gaston de Gandelu.”
Andre decided that he had no cause to distrust the lad, and so he opened
his door.
“Has M. Andre gone out?” asked the poor boy faintly. “I though I heard
his voice.”
Gaston had not penetrated his disguise, and this was Andre’s first
triumph; but he saw now that he must alter his voice, as well as his
face.
“Don’t you know me?” asked he.
It was evident that young Gaston had received some terrible shock; for
it could not have been the quarrel in the morning that had reduced him
to this abject state of prostration.
“What has gone wrong with you?” asked Andre kindly.
“I have come to bid you farewell; I am going to shoot myself in half an
hour.”
“Have you gone mad?”
“Not in the least,” answered Gaston, passing his hand across his
forehead in a distracted manner; “but those infernal bills have turned
up. I was just leaving the dining-room, after having treated the
governor to my company, when the butler whispered in my ear that
there was a man outside who wanted to see me. I went out and found a
dirty-looking old scamp, with his coat collar turned up round the nape
of his neck.”
“Did he say that his name was Tantaine?” exclaimed Andre.
“Ah! was that his name? Well, it doesn’t matter. He told me in the most
friendly manner that the holder of my bills had determined to place them
in the hands of the police to-morrow at twelve o’clock, but that there
was still a way for me to escape.”
“And this was to take Rose out of France with you,” said Andre quickly.
Gaston was overwhelmed with surprise.
“Who the deuce told you that?” asked he.
“No one; I guessed it; for it was only the conclusion of the plan
which they had initiated when you were induced to forge Martin Rigal’s
signature. Well, what did you say?”
“That the idea was a ridiculous one, and that I would not stir a yard.
They shall find out that I can be obstinate, too; besides, I can see
their little game. As soon as I am out of the way they will go to the
governor and bleed him.”
But Andre was not listening to him. What was best to be done? To advise
Gaston to go and take Rose with him was to deprive himself of a great
element of success; and to permit him to kill himself was, of course,
out of the question.
“Just attend to me,” said he at last; “I have an idea which I will tell
you as soon as we are out of this house; but for reasons which are too
long to go into at present it is necessary for me to get into the street
without going through the door. You will, therefore, go away, and as the
clock strikes twelve you will ring at the gateway of 29, Rue de Laval.
When it is opened, ask some trivial question of the porter; and when
you leave, take care that you do not close the gate. I shall be in the
garden of the house and will slip out and join you.”
The plan succeeded admirably, and in ten minutes Gaston and Andre were
walking along the boulevards.