“And in the mean time,” he said, “I shall have to pay. Do you know
what your creditors threaten to do?--to commence a suit against me.
They would lose it, of course, they know it; but they hope that I
would yield before a scandal. And this is not all: they talk of
entering a criminal complaint. They pretend that you have
audaciously swindled them; that the articles you purchased of them
were not at all for your own use, but that you sold them as fast as
you got them, at any price you could obtain, to raise ready money.
The jeweler has proofs, he says, that you went straight from his
shop to the pawnbroker’s, and pledged a watch and chain which he
had just sold you. It is a police matter. They said all that in
presence of my superior officer--in presence of M. de Thaller. I
had to get the janitor to put them out. But, after they had left,
M. de Thaller gave me to understand that he wished me very much to
settle everything. And he is right. My consideration could not
resist another such scene. What confidence can be placed in a
cashier whose son behaves in this manner? How can a key of a safe
containing millions be left with a man whose son would have been
dragged into the police-courts? In a word, I am at your mercy.
In a word, my honor, my position, my fortune, rest upon you. As
often as it may please you to make debts, you can make them, and
I shall be compelled to pay.”
Gathering all his courage:
“You have been sometimes very harsh with me, father,” commenced
Maxence; “and yet I will not try to justify my conduct. I swear to
you, that hereafter you shall have nothing to fear from me.”
“I fear nothing,” uttered M. Favoral with a sinister smile. “I
know the means of placing myself beyond the reach of your follies
--and I shall use them.”
“I assure you, father, that I have taken a firm resolution.”
“Oh! you may dispense with your periodical repentance.”
Mlle. Gilberte stepped forward.
“I’ll stand warrant,” she said, “for Maxence’s resolutions.”
Her father did not permit her to proceed.
“Enough,” he interrupted somewhat harshly. “Mind your own business,
Gilberte! I have to speak to you too.”
“To me, father?”
“Yes.”
He walked up and down three or four times through the parlor, as if
to calm his irritation. Then planting himself straight before his
daughter, his arms folded across his breast:
“You are eighteen years of age,” he said; “that is to say, it is
time to think of your marriage. An excellent match offers itself.”
She shuddered, stepped back, and, redder than a peony:
“A match!” she repeated in a tone of immense surprise.
“Yes, and which suits me.”
“But I do not wish to marry, father.”
“All young girls say the same thing; and, as soon as a pretender
offers himself, they are delighted. Mine is a fellow of twenty-six,
quite good looking, amiable, witty, and who has had the greatest
success in society.”
“Father, I assure you that I do not wish to leave mother.”
“Of course not. He is an intelligent, hard-working man, destined,
everybody says, to make an immense fortune. Although he is rich
already, for he holds a controlling interest in a stock-broker’s
firm, he works as hard as any poor devil. I would not be surprised
to hear that he makes half a million of francs a year. His wife
will have her carriage, her box at the opera, diamonds, and dresses
as handsome as Mlle. de Thaller’s.”
“Eh! What do I care for such things?”
“It’s understood. I’ll present him to you on Saturday.”
But Mlle. Gilberte was not one of those young girls who allow
themselves, through weakness or timidity, to become engaged, and so
far engaged, that later, they can no longer withdraw. A discussion
being unavoidable, she preferred to have it out at once.
“A presentation is absolutely useless, father,” she declared
resolutely.
“Because?”
“I have told you that I did not wish to marry.”
“But if it is my will?”
“I am ready to obey you in every thing except that.”
“In that as in every thing else,” interrupted the cashier of the
Mutual Credit in a thundering voice.
And, casting upon his wife and children a glance full of defiance
and threats:
“In that, as in every thing else,” he repeated, “because I am the
master; and I shall prove it. Yes, I will prove it; for I am tired
to see my family leagued against my authority.”
And out he went, slamming the door so violently, that the partitions
shook.
“You are wrong to resist your father thus,” murmured the weak Mme.
Favoral.
The fact is, that the poor woman could not understand why her
daughter refused the only means at her command to break off with
her miserable existence.
“Let him present you this young man,” she said. “You might like
him.”
“I am sure I shall not like him.”
She said this in such a tone, that the light suddenly flashed upon
Mme. Favoral’s mind.
“Heavens!” she murmured. “Gilberte, my darling child, have you then
a secret which your mother does not know?”