For more than an hour after Raoul’s departure, Mme. Fauvel remained in a
state of stupor bordering upon unconsciousness.
Gradually, however, she recovered her senses sufficiently to comprehend
the horrors of her present situation; and, with the faculty of thought,
that of suffering returned.
The dreadful scene in which she had taken part was still before her
affrighted vision; all the attending circumstances, unnoticed at the
time, now struck her forcibly.
She saw that she had been the dupe of a shameful conspiracy: that Raoul
had tortured her with cold-blooded cruelty, had taken advantage of her
tenderness, and had speculated upon her fright.
But had Prosper anything to do with the robbery? This Mme. Fauvel had
no way of finding out. Ah, Raoul knew how the blow would strike when he
accused Prosper. He knew that Mme. Fauvel would end by believing in the
cashier’s complicity.
The unhappy woman sat and thought over every possible way in which Raoul
could find out the secret word without Prosper’s knowledge. She rejected
with horror the idea that the cashier was the instigator of the crime;
but, in spite of herself, it constantly recurred. And finally she felt
convinced that what Raoul said must be true; for who but Prosper could
have betrayed the word? And who but Prosper could have left so large an
amount of money in the safe, which, by order of the banker, was to be
always left empty at night?
Knowing that Prosper was leading a life of extravagance and dissipation,
she thought it very likely that he had, from sheer desperation, resorted
to this bold step to pay his debts; her blind affection, moreover, made
her anxious to attribute the crime to anyone, rather than to her darling
son.
She had heard that Prosper was supporting one of those worthless
creatures whose extravagance impoverishes men, and whose evil influence
perverts their natures. When a young man is thus degraded, will he
stop at any sin or crime? Alas! Mme. Fauvel knew, from her own sad
experience, to what depths even one fault can lead. Although she
believed Prosper guilty, she did not blame him, but considered herself
responsible for his sins.
Had she not herself banished the poor young man from the fireside which
he had begun to regard as his own? Had she not destroyed his hopes of
happiness, by crushing his pure love for a noble girl, whom he looked
upon as his future wife, and thus driven him into a life of dissipation
and sin?
She was undecided whether to confide in Madeleine, or bury the secret in
her own breast.
Fatally inspired, she decided to keep silent.
When Madeleine returned home at eleven o’clock, Mme. Fauvel not only was
silent as to what had occurred, but even succeeded in so concealing all
traces of her agitation, that she escaped any questions from her niece.
Her calmness never left her when M. Fauvel and Lucien returned, although
she was in terror lest her husband should go down to the cash-room to
see that everything was safely locked up. It was not his habit to open
the money-safe at night, but he sometimes did.
As fate would have it, the banker, as soon as he entered the room, began
to speak of Prosper, saying how distressing it was that so interesting a
young man should be thus throwing himself away, and wondering what could
have happened to make him suddenly cease his visits at the house, and
resort to bad company.
If M. Fauvel had looked at the faces of his wife and niece while he
harshly blamed the cashier, he would have been puzzled at their strange
expressions.
All night long Mme. Fauvel suffered the most intolerable agony. She
counted each stroke of the town-clock, as the hours dragged on.
“In six hours,” she said to herself, “in five hours--in four hours--in
three hours--in one hour--all will be discovered; and then what will
happen? Heaven help me!”
At sunrise she heard the servants moving about the house. Then the
office-shutters opened; then, later, she heard the clerks going into the
bank.
She attempted to get up, but felt so ill and weak that she sank back
on her pillow; and lying there, trembling like a leaf, bathed in cold
perspiration, she awaited the discovery of the robbery.
She was leaning over the side of the bed, straining her ear to catch a
sound from the cash-room, when Madeleine, who had just left her, rushed
into the room.
The white face and wild eyes of the poor girl told Mme. Fauvel that the
crime was discovered.
“Do you know what has happened, aunt?” cried Madeleine, in a shrill,
horrified tone. “Prosper is accused of robbery, and the police have come
to take him to prison!”
A groan was Mme. Fauvel’s only answer.
“Raoul or the marquis is at the bottom of this,” continued Madeleine
excitedly.
“How can they be concerned in it, my child?”
“I can’t tell yet; but I only know that Prosper is innocent. I have just
seen him, spoken to him. He would never have looked me in the face had
he been guilty.”
Mme. Fauvel opened her lips to confess all: fear kept her silent.
“What can these wretches want?” said Madeleine: “what new sacrifice do
they demand? Dishonor Prosper! Good heavens! Why did they not kill him
at once? He would rather be dead than disgraced!”
Here the entrance of M. Fauvel interrupted Madeleine. The banker was so
angry that he could scarcely speak.
“The worthless scoundrel!” he cried; “to think of his daring to accuse
me! To insinuate that I robbed my own safe! And that Marquis de Clameran
must needs doubt my good faith in keeping my engagement to pay his
money!”
Then, without noticing the effect of his story upon the two women, he
proceeded to relate all that had occurred downstairs.
“I was afraid this extravagance would lead to something terrible,” he
said in conclusion; “you know I told you last night that Prosper was
growing worse in his conduct, and that he would get into trouble.”
Throughout the day Madeleine’s devotion to her aunt was severely tried.
The generous girl saw disgrace heaped upon the man she loved. She had
perfect faith in his innocence; she felt sure she knew who had laid the
trap to ruin him; and yet she could not say a word in his defence.
Fearing that Madeleine would suspect her of complicity in the theft, if
she remained in bed and betrayed so much agitation, Mme. Fauvel arose
and dressed for breakfast.
It was a dreary meal. No one tasted a morsel. The servants moved about
on their tiptoes, as silently as if a death had occurred in the family.
About two o’clock, a servant came to M. Fauvel’s study, and said that
the Marquis de Clameran desired to see him.
“What!” cried the banker; “does he dare----”
Then, after a moment’s reflection, he added:
“Ask him to walk up.”
The very name of Clameran had sufficed to arouse all the slumbering
wrath of M. Fauvel. The victim of a robbery, finding his safe empty at
the moment that he was called upon to make a heavy payment, he had been
constrained to conceal his anger and resentment; but now he determined
to have his revenge upon his insolent visitor.
But the marquis declined to come upstairs. The messenger returned with
the answer that the gentleman had a particular reason for seeing M.
Fauvel in the office below, where the clerks were.
“What does this fresh impertinence mean?” cried the banker, as he
angrily jumped up and hastened downstairs.
M. de Clameran was standing in the middle of the room adjoining the
cash-room; M. Fauvel walked up to him, and said bluntly:
“What do you want now, monsieur? You have been paid your money, and I
have your receipt.”
To the surprise of all the clerks, and the banker himself, the marquis
seemed not in the least offended at this rude greeting, but answered in
a deferential but not at all humble manner:
“You are hard upon me, monsieur; but I deserve it, and that is why I am
here. A gentleman always acknowledges when he is in the wrong: in this
instance I am the offender; and I flatter myself that my past will
permit me to say so without being accused of cowardice or lack of
self-respect. I insisted upon seeing you here instead of in your study,
because, having been rude to you in the presence of your clerks, I
wished them to hear me apologize for my behavior of this morning.”
Clameran’s speech was so different from his usual overbearing, haughty
conduct, that surprise almost stupefied the banker, and he could only
answer:
“I must say that I was hurt by your doubts, insinuations, suspicions of
my honor----”
“This morning,” continued the marquis, “I was irritated, and
thoughtlessly gave way to my temper. Although I am gray-headed, my
disposition is as excitable as that of a fiery young man of twenty
years; and I hope you will forget words uttered in a moment of
excitement, and now deeply regretted.”
M. Fauvel, being a kind-hearted though quick-tempered man, could
appreciate Clameran’s feelings; and, knowing that his own high
reputation for scrupulous honesty could not be affected by any hasty or
abusive language uttered by a creditor, at once calmed down before so
frank an apology; and, holding out his hand to Clameran, said:
“Let us forget what happened, monsieur.”
They conversed in a friendly manner for some minutes; and, after
Clameran had explained why he had such pressing need of the money at
that particular hour of the morning, turned to leave, saying that he
would do himself the honor of calling upon Mme. Fauvel during the day.
“That is, if a visit from me would not be considered intrusive,” he said
with a shade of hesitation. “Perhaps, after the trouble of this morning,
she does not wish to be disturbed.”
“Oh, no!” said the banker; “come, by all means; I think a visit from you
would cheer her mind. I shall be from home all day, trying to trace this
unfortunate affair.”
Mme. Fauvel was in the same room where Raoul had threatened to kill
himself the night previous; she looked very pale and ill as she lay on a
sofa. Madeleine was bathing her forehead.
When M. de Clameran was announced, they both started up as if a phantom
had appeared before them.
Although Louis had been gay and smiling when he parted from M. Fauvel
downstairs, he now wore a melancholy aspect, as he gravely bowed, and
refused to seat himself in the chair which Mme. Fauvel motioned him to
take.
“You will excuse me, ladies, for intruding at this time of your
affliction; but I have a duty to fulfil.”
The two women were silent; they seemed to be waiting for him to explain.
He added in an undertone:
“I know all.”
By an imploring gesture, Mme. Fauvel tried to stop him. She saw that he
was about to reveal her secret to Madeleine.
But Louis would not see this gesture; he turned his whole attention to
Madeleine, who haughtily said:
“Explain yourself, monsieur.”
“Only one hour ago,” he replied, “I discovered that Raoul last night
forced from his mother the key of the money-safe, and stole three
hundred and fifty thousand francs.”
Madeleine crimsoned with shame and indignation; she leaned over the
sofa, and seizing her aunt’s wrist shook it violently, and in a hollow
voice cried:
“It is false, is it not, aunt? speak!”
“Alas! alas!” groaned Mme. Fauvel. “What have I done?”
“You have allowed Prosper to be accused,” cried Madeleine; “you have
suffered him to be arrested, and disgraced for life.”
“Forgive me,” sighed Mme. Fauvel. “He was about to kill himself; I was
so frightened! Then you know--Prosper was to share the money: he gave
Raoul the secret word--”
“Good Heavens! Aunt, how could you believe such a falsehood as that?”
Clameran interrupted them.
“Unfortunately, what your aunt says of M. Bertomy is the truth,” he said
in a sad tone.
“Your proofs, monsieur; where are your proofs?”
“Raoul’s confession.”
“Raoul is false.”
“That is only too true: but how did he find out the word, if M. Bertomy
did not reveal it? And who left the money in the safe but M. Bertomy?”
These arguments had no effect upon Madeleine.
“And now tell me,” she said scornfully, “what became of the money?”
There was no mistaking the significance of these words: they meant:
“You are the instigator of the robbery, and of course you have taken
possession of the money.”
This harsh accusation from a girl whom he so passionately loved, when,
grasping bandit as he was, he gave up for her sake all the money gained
by his crime, so cruelly hurt Clameran that he turned livid. But his
mortification and anger did not prevent him from pursuing the part he
had prepared and studied.
“A day will come, mademoiselle,” he said, “when you will deeply regret
having treated me so cruelly. I understand your insinuation; you need
not attempt to deny it.”
“I have no idea of denying anything, monsieur.”
“Madeleine!” remonstrated Mme. Fauvel, who trembled at the rising anger
of the man who held her fate in his hands, “Madeleine, be careful!”
“Mademoiselle is pitiless,” said Clameran sadly; “she cruelly punishes
an honorable man whose only fault is having obeyed his brother’s
dying injunctions. And I am here now, because I believe in the joint
responsibility of all the members of a family.”
Here he slowly drew from his pocket several bundles of bank-notes, and
laid them on the mantel-piece.
“Raoul stole three hundred and fifty thousand francs,” he said: “I
return the same amount. It is more than half my fortune. Willingly would
I give the rest to insure this being the last crime committed by him.”
Too inexperienced to penetrate this bold, and yet simple plan of
Clameran’s, Madeleine was dumb with astonishment; all her calculations
were upset.
Mme. Fauvel, on the contrary, accepted this restitution as salvation
sent from heaven.
“Oh, thanks, monsieur, thanks!” she cried, gratefully clasping
Clameran’s hand in hers; “you are goodness itself!”
Louis’s eye lit up with pleasure. But he rejoiced too soon. A minute’s
reflection brought back all of Madeleine’s distrust. She thought this
magnanimity and generosity unnatural in a man whom she considered
incapable of a noble sentiment, and at once concluded that it must
conceal some snare beneath.
“What are we to do with the money?” she demanded.
“Restore it to M. Fauvel, mademoiselle.”
“We restore it, monsieur, and how? Restoring the money is denouncing
Raoul, and ruining my aunt. Take back your money, monsieur. We will not
touch it.”
Clameran was too shrewd to insist; he took up the money, and prepared to
leave.
“I comprehend your refusal, mademoiselle, and must find another way
of accomplishing my wish. But, before retiring, let me say that your
injustice pains me deeply. After the promise you made to me, I had
reason to hope for a kinder welcome.”
“I will keep my promise, monsieur; but not until you have furnished
security.”
“Security! And for what? Pray, explain yourself.”
“Something to protect my aunt against the molestations of Raoul after
my--marriage. What is to prevent his coming to extort money from his
mother after he has squandered my dowry? A man who spends a hundred
thousand francs in four months will soon run through my little fortune.
We are making a bargain; I give you my hand in exchange for the honor
and life of my aunt; and of course you must give me some guarantee to
secure the performance of your promise.”
“Oh! I will give you ample securities,” cried Clameran, “such as will
quiet all your suspicious doubts of my good faith. Alas! you will
not believe in my devotion; what shall I do to convince you of its
sincerity? Shall I try to save M. Bertomy?”
“Thanks for the offer, monsieur,” replied Madeleine disdainfully; “if
Prosper is guilty, let him be punished by the law; if he is innocent,
God will protect him.”
Here Madeleine stood up, to signify that the interview was over.
Clameran bowed, and left the room.
“What pride! What determination! The idea of her demanding securities
of me!” he said to himself as he slowly walked away. “But the proud girl
shall be humbled yet. She is so beautiful! and, if I did not so madly
love her, I would kill her on the spot!”
Never had Clameran been so irritated.
Madeleine’s quiet determination and forethought had unexpectedly thrown
him off his well-laid track; not anticipating any such self assertion on
her part, he was disconcerted, and at a loss how to proceed.
He knew that it would be useless to attempt deceiving a girl of
Madeleine’s character a second time; he saw that she had penetrated his
motives sufficiently to put her on the defensive, and prepare her for
any new surprise. Moreover, she would prevent Mme. Fauvel from being
frightened and forced into submission any longer.
With mortification and rage, Louis saw that after all his plotting, when
success was in his reach, when his hopes were almost crowned, he had
been foiled and scornfully set at defiance by a girl: the whole thing
would have to be gone over again.
Although Madeleine had resigned herself to sacrifice, it was still
evident that she had no idea of doing so blindly, and would not hazard
her aunt’s and her own happiness upon the uncertainty of a verbal
promise.
Clameran racked his brain to furnish guarantees; how could he convince
her that Raoul had no idea or desire of annoying Mme. Fauvel in the
future?
He could not tell Madeleine that her dowry was to be the bribe received
by Raoul for his future good behavior and past crimes.
The knowledge of all the circumstances of this shameful criminal
intrigue would have reassured her upon her aunt’s peace of mind; but
then it would never do to inform her of these details, certainly not
before the marriage.
What securities could he give? Not one could he think of.
But Clameran was not one of those slow-minded men who take weeks to
consider a difficulty. When he could not untie a knot, he would cut it.
Raoul was a stumbling-block to his wishes, and he swore to rid himself
of his troublesome accomplice as soon as possible.
Although it was not an easy matter to dispose of so cunning a knave,
Clameran felt no hesitation in undertaking to accomplish his purpose. He
was incited by one of those passions which age renders terrible.
The more certain he was of Madeleine’s contempt and dislike, the more
determined he was to marry her. His love seemed to be a sort of insane
desire to possess and call his own the one being whom he recognized as
his superior in every way.
But he had sense enough to see that he might ruin his prospects by undue
haste, and that the safest course would be to await the result of the
robbery and its effect upon Prosper.
He waited in anxious expectation of a summons from Mme. Fauvel. At last
he concluded that Madeleine was waiting for him to make the next move in
the direction of yielding.
He was right; Madeleine knew that after the last bold step the
accomplices would remain quiet for a while; she knew resistance could
have no worse results than would cowardly submission; and therefore
assumed the entire responsibility of managing the affair so as to keep
at bay both Raoul and Clameran.
She knew that Mme. Fauvel would be anxious to accept any terms of peace,
but she determined to use all her influence to prevent her doing this,
and to force upon her the necessity of preserving a dignified silence.
This accounted for the silence of the two women, who were quietly
waiting for their adversaries to renew hostilities.
They even succeeded in concealing their anxiety beneath assumed
indifference; never asking any questions about the robbery, or those in
any way connected with it.
M. Fauvel brought them an account of Prosper’s examination, the many
charges brought against him, his obstinate denial of having stolen the
money; and finally how, after great perplexity and close study of the
case by the judge of instruction, the cashier had been discharged for
want of sufficient proof against him.
Since Clameran’s offer to restore the notes, Mme. Fauvel had not doubted
Prosper’s guilt. She said nothing, but inwardly accused him of having
seduced her son from the path of virtue, and enticed him into crime--her
son whom she would never cease to love, no matter how great his faults.
Madeleine had perfect faith in Prosper’s innocence.
She was so confident of his being restored to liberty that she ventured
to ask her uncle, under pretext of some charitable object, to give
her ten thousand francs, which she sent to the unfortunate victim of
circumstantial evidence; who, from what she had heard of his poverty,
must be in need of assistance.
In the letter--cut from her prayer-book to avoid detection by
writing--accompanying the money, she advised Prosper to leave France,
because she knew that it would be impossible for a man of his proud
nature to remain on the scene of his disgrace; the greater his
innocence, the more intolerable his suffering.
Besides, Madeleine, at that time feeling that she would be obliged to
marry Clameran, was anxious to have the man she loved far, far away from
her.
On the day that this anonymous present was sent, in opposition to the
wishes of Mme. Fauvel, the two poor women were entangled fearfully in
pecuniary difficulties.
The tradesmen whose money had been squandered by Raoul refused to give
credit any longer, and insisted upon their bills being paid at once;
saying they could not understand how a man of M. Fauvel’s wealth and
position could keep them waiting for such insignificant sums.
The butcher, grocer, and wine-merchant had bills of one, two, and five
hundred francs only; but, not having even that small amount, Mme. Fauvel
had difficulty in prevailing upon them to receive a part on account, and
wait a little longer for the residue.
Some of the store-keepers threatened to ask the banker for their money,
if everything was not settled before the end of the week.
Alas! Mme. Fauvel’s indebtedness amounted to fifteen thousand francs.
Madeleine and her aunt had declined all invitations during the winter,
to avoid purchasing evening dresses; having always been remarkable for
their superb toilets, seldom appearing in the same ball-dress twice,
they dared not give rise to comment by wearing their old dresses, and
knowing that M. Fauvel would be the first to ask the cause of this
sudden change, as he liked to see them always the best-dressed women in
the room.
But at last they were obliged to appear in public. M. Fauvel’s most
intimate friends, the Messrs. Jandidier, were about to give a splendid
ball, and, as fate would have it, a fancy ball, which would require the
purchasing of costumes.
Where would the money come from?
They had been owing a large bill to their dressmaker for over a year.
Would she consent to furnish them dresses on credit? They were ashamed
to ask her.
Madeleine’s new maid, Palmyre Chocareille, extricated them from this
difficulty.
This girl, who seemed to have suffered all the minor ills of
life--which, after all, are the hardest to bear--seemed to have divined
her mistress’s anxiety.
At any rate, she voluntarily informed Madeleine that a friend of hers,
a first-class dressmaker, had just set up for herself, and would be glad
to furnish materials and make the dresses on credit, for the sake of
obtaining the patronage of Mme. Fauvel and her niece, which would at
once bring her plenty of fashionable customers.
But, after this dilemma was settled, a still greater one presented
itself.
Mme. Fauvel and her niece could not appear at a ball without jewelry;
and every jewel they owned had been taken by Raoul, and pawned.
After thinking the matter over, Madeleine decided to ask Raoul to take
some of the stolen money, and redeem the last set of jewels he had
forced from his mother. She informed her aunt of her intention, and
said, in a tone that admitted of no contradiction:
“Appoint an interview with Raoul: he will not dare to refuse you; and I
will go in your stead.”
The next day, the courageous girl took a cab, and, regardless of the
inclement weather, went to Vesinet.
She would have been filled with consternation had she known that M.
Verduret and Prosper were following close behind, and witnessed her
interview from the top of a ladder.
Her bold step was fruitless. Raoul swore that he had divided with
Prosper; that his own half of the money was spent, and that he had not a
napoleon wherewith to redeem anything.
He even refused to give up the pledges; and Madeleine had to resort
to threats of exposure, before she could induce him to surrender the
tickets of four or five trifling articles that were indispensable to
their toilet.
Clameran had ordered him to refuse positively to give up a single
ticket, because he hoped that in their distress they would call upon him
for relief.
The violent altercation witnessed by Clameran’s new valet, Joseph
Dubois, had been caused by the exaction of this promise.
The accomplices were at that time on very bad terms. Clameran was
seeking a safe means of getting rid of Raoul; and the young scamp,
having a presentiment of his uncle’s intentions, was determined to
outwit him.
Nothing but the certainty of impending danger could reconcile them. The
danger was revealed to them both at the Jandidier ball.
Who was the mysterious mountebank that indulged in such transparent
allusions to Mme. Fauvel’s private troubles, and then said, with
threatening significance to Louis: “I was the best friend of your
brother Gaston?”
Who he was, where he came from, they could not imagine; but they
clearly saw that he was a dangerous enemy, and forthwith attempted to
assassinate him upon his leaving the ball.
Having been followed and watched by their would-be victim, they became
alarmed--especially when he suddenly disappeared--and wisely decided
that the safest thing they then could do was to return quietly to their
hotel.
“We cannot be too guarded in our conduct,” whispered Clameran; “we must
discover who he is before taking any further steps in this matter.”
Once more, Raoul tried to induce him to give up his project of marrying
Madeleine.
“Never!” he exclaimed fiercely, “I will marry her or perish in the
attempt!”
He thought that, now they were warned, the danger of being caught was
lessened; when on his guard, few people could entrap so experienced and
skilful a rogue.
Little did Clameran know that a man who was a hundred-fold more skilful
than he was closely pursuing him.