“If you were alone,” he went on, “I would say as you do, ‘What does
it matter?’ But you are no longer alone: you have your mother and
sister to take care of. You must think of food before thinking of
vengeance. How much a month do you earn? Two hundred francs! It
is not much for three persons. I would never suggest that you
should solicit M. de Thaller’s protection; but it would be well,
perhaps, to let him know that he has nothing to fear from you. Why
shouldn’t you do so when you take his fifteen thousand francs back
to him? If, as every thing indicates, he has been your father’s
accomplice, he will certainly be touched by the distress of your
family, and, if he has any heart left, he will manage to make you
find, without appearing to have any thing to do with it, a situation
better suited to your wants. I know that such a step must be very
painful; but I repeat it, my dear child, you can no longer think of
yourself alone; and what one would not do for himself, one does for
a mother and a sister.”
Maxence said nothing. Not that he was in any way affected by the
worthy old lawyer’s speech; but he was asking himself whether or
not he should confide to him the events which in the past twenty-four
hours had so suddenly modified the situation. He did not feel
authorized to do so.
Marius de Tregars had not bound him to secrecy; but an indiscretion
might have fatal consequences. And, after a moment of thought,
“I am obliged to you, sir,” he replied evasively, “for the interest
you have manifested in our welfare; and we shall always greatly
prize your advice. But for the present you must allow me to leave
you with my mother and sister. I have an appointment with--a
friend.”
And, without waiting for an answer, he slipped M. de Thaller’s
fifteen thousand francs in his pocket, and hurried out. It was not
to M. de Tregars that he went first, however, but to the Hotel des
Folies.
“Mlle. Lucienne has just come home with a big bundle,” said Mme.
Fortin to Maxence, with her pleasantest smile, as soon as she had
seen him emerge from the shades of the corridor.
For the past twenty-four hours, the worthy hostess had been watching
for her guest, in the hopes of obtaining some information which she
might communicate to the neighbors. Without even condescending to
answer, a piece of rudeness at which she felt much hurt, he crossed
the narrow court of the hotel at a bound, and started up stairs.
Mlle. Lucienne’s room was open. He walked in, and, still out of
breath from his rapid ascension,
“I am glad to find you in,” he exclaimed. The young girl was busy,
arranging upon her bed a dress of very light colored silk, trimmed
with ruches and lace, an overdress to match, and a bonnet of
wonderful shape, loaded with the most brilliant feathers and flowers.
“You see what brings me here,” she replied. “I came home to dress.
At two o’clock the carriage is coming to take me to the bois, where
I am to exhibit this costume, certainly the most ridiculous that Van
Klopen has yet made me wear.”
A smile flitted upon Maxence’s lips.
“Who knows,” said he, “if this is not the last time you will have
to perform this odious task? Ah, my friend! what events have taken
place since I last saw you!”
“Fortunate ones?”
“You will judge for yourself.”
He closed the door carefully, and, returning to Mlle. Lucienne,
“Do you know the Marquis de Tregars?” he asked.
“No more than you do. It was yesterday, at the commissary of police,
that I first heard his name.”
“Well, before a month, M. de Tregars will be Mlle. Gilberte Favoral’s
husband.”
“Is it possible?” exclaimed Mlle. Lucienne with a look of extreme
surprise.
But, instead of answering,
“You told me,” resumed Maxence, “that once, in a day of supreme
distress, you had applied to Mme. de Thaller for assistance, whereas
you were actually entitled to an indemnity for having been run over
and seriously hurt by her carriage.”
“That is true.”
“Whilst you were in the vestibule, waiting for an answer to your
letter, which a servant had taken up stairs, M. de Thaller came in;
and, when he saw you, he could not repress a gesture of surprise,
almost of terror.”
“That is true too.”
“This behavior of M. de Thaller always remained an enigma to you.”
“An inexplicable one.”
“Well, I think that I can explain it to you now.”
“You?”
Lowering his voice; for he knew that at the Hotel des Folies there
was always to fear some indiscreet ear.
“Yes, I,” he answered; “and for the reason that yesterday, when M.
de Tregars appeared in my mother’s parlor, I could not suppress an
exclamation of surprise, for the reason, Lucienne, that, between
Marius de Tregars and yourself, there is a resemblance with which it
is impossible not to be struck.”
Mlle. Lucienne had become very pale.
“What do you suppose, then?” she asked.
“I believe, my friend, that we are very near penetrating at once the
mystery of your birth and the secret of the hatred that has pursued
you since the day when you first set your foot in M. de Thaller’s
house.”
Admirably self-possessed as Mlle. Lucienne usually was, the
quivering of her lips betrayed at this moment the intensity of her
emotion.
After more than a minute of profound meditation,
“The commissary of police,” she said, “has never told me his hopes,
except in vague terms. He has told me enough, however, to make me
think that he has already had suspicions similar to yours.”
“Of course! Would he otherwise have questioned me on the subject
of M. de Tregars?”
Mlle. Lucienne shook her head.
“And yet,” she said, “even after your explanation, it is in vain
that I seek why and how I can so far disturb M. de Thaller’s security
that he wishes to do away with me.”
Maxence made a gesture of superb indifference. “I confess,” he
said, “that I don’t see it either. But what matters it? Without
being able to explain why, I feel that the Baron de Thaller is the
common enemy, yours, mine, my father’s, and M. de Tregars’. And
something tells me, that, with M. de Tregars’ help, we shall triumph.
You would share my confidence, Lucienne, if you knew him. There is
a man! and my sister has made no vulgar choice. If he has told my
mother that he has the means of serving her, it is because he
certainly has.”
He stopped, and, after a moment of silence, “Perhaps,” he went on,
“the commissary of police might readily understand what I only dimly
suspect; but, until further orders, we are forbidden to have recourse
to him. It is not my own secret that I have just told you; and, if
I have confided it to you, it is because I feel that it is a great
piece of good fortune for us; and there is no joy for me, that you
do not share.”
Mlle. Lucienne wanted to ask many more particulars. But, looking at
his watch,
“Half-past ten!” he exclaimed, “and M. de Tregars waiting for me.”
And he started off, repeating once more to the young girl,
“I will see you to-night: until then, good hope and good courage.”
In the court, two ill-looking men were talking with the Fortins.
But it happened often to the Fortins to talk with ill-looking men:
so he took no notice of them, ran out to the Boulevard, and jumping
into a cab,
“Rue Lafitte 70,” he cried to the driver, “I pay the trip,--three
francs.”
When Marius de Tregars had finally determined to compel the bold
rascals who had swindled his father to disgorge, he had taken in
the Rue Lafitte a small, plainly-furnished apartment on the entresol,
a fit dwelling for the man of action, the tent in which he takes
shelter on the eve of battle; and he had to wait upon him an old
family servant, whom he had found out of place, and who had for him
that unquestioning and obstinate devotion peculiar to Breton servants.
It was this excellent man who came at the first stroke of the bell
to open the door. And, as soon as Maxence had told him his name,
“Ah!” he exclaimed, “my master has been expecting you with a
terrible impatience.”
It was so true, that M. de Tregars himself appeared at the same
moment, and, leading Maxence into the little room which he used
as a study,
“Do you know,” he said whilst shaking him cordially by the hand,
“that you are almost an hour behind time?”
Maxence had, among others the detestable fault, sure indication of
a weak nature, of being never willing to be in the wrong, and of
having always an excuse ready. On this occasion, the excuse was
too tempting to allow it to escape; and quick he began telling how
he had been detained by M. Chapelain, and how he had heard from the
old lawyer what had taken place at the Mutual Credit office.
“I know the scene already,” said M. de Tregars. And, fixing upon
Maxence a look of friendly raillery,
“Only,” he added, “I attributed your want of punctuality to another
reason, a very pretty one this time, a brunette.”
A purple cloud spread over Maxence’s cheeks.
“What!” he stammered, “you know?”
“I thought you must have been in haste to go and tell a person of
your acquaintance why, when you saw me yesterday, you uttered an
exclamation of surprise.”
This time Maxence lost all countenance.
“What,” he said, “you know too?”