“I am saved, Daniel; and I owe my life to the man who will hand you
this. I shall owe to him the pleasure of seeing you again. Confide in
him as you would in your best and most devoted friend; and, I beseech
you, do not hesitate to follow his advice literally.
“Henrietta.”
Daniel turned deadly pale, and tottered. This unexpected, intense
happiness overcame him.
“Then--it is true--she is alive?” he stammered.
“She is at my sister’s house, safe from all danger.”
“And you, sir, you have rescued her?”
“I did!”
Prompt like thought, Daniel seized the man’s hands, and, pressing them
vehemently, exclaimed with a penetrating voice,--
“Never, sir, never, whatever may happen, can I thank you enough. But
remember, I pray you, under all circumstances, and for all times, you
can count upon Lieut. Champcey.”
A strange smile played on the man’s lips; and, shaking his head, he
said, “I shall before long remind you of your promise, lieutenant.”
Standing between the two men, the captain of “The Saint Louis” was
looking alternately at the one and the other with an astonished air,
listening without comprehending, and imagining marvellous things. The
only point he understood was this, that his presence was, to say the
least, not useful.
“If that is so,” he said to Daniel, “we cannot blame this gentleman for
the ugly trick he has played us.”
“Blame him? Oh, certainly not!”
“Then I’ll leave you. I believe I have treated the sailor who brought
him on board a little roughly; but I am going to order him a glass of
brandy, which will set him right again.”
Thereupon the captain discreetly withdrew; while Papa Ravinet
continued,--
“You will tell me, M. Champcey, that it would have been simpler to wait
for you in port, and hand you my letter of introduction there. That
would have been grievous imprudence. If I heard at the navy department
of your arrival, others may have learned it as well. As soon, therefore,
as ‘The Saint Louis’ was telegraphed in town, you may be sure a spy was
sent to the wharf, who is going to follow you, never losing sight of
you, and who will report all your goings and your doings.”
“What does it matter?”
“Ah! do not say so, sir! If our enemies hear of our meeting, you see,
if they only find out that we have conversed together, all is lost. They
would see the danger that threatens them, and they would escape.”
Daniel could hardly trust his ears.
“Our enemies?” he asked, emphasizing the word “our.”
“Yes: I mean _our_ enemies,--Sarah Brandon, Countess Ville-Handry,
Maxime de Brevan, Thomas Elgin, and Mrs. Brian.”
“You hate them?”
“If I hate them! I tell you for five years I have lived only on the hope
of being able to avenge myself on them. Yes, it is five years now, that,
lost in the crowd, I have followed them with the perseverance of an
Indian,--five years that I have patiently, incessantly, inch by inch,
undermined the ground beneath their steps. And they suspect nothing. I
doubt whether they are aware of my existence. No, not even--What would
it be to them, besides? They have pushed me so far down into the mud,
that they cannot imagine my ever rising again up to their level. They
triumph with impunity; they boast of their unpunished wickedness, and
think they are strong, and safe from all attacks, because they have the
prestige and the power of gold. And yet their hour is coming. I, the
wretched man, who have been compelled to hide, and to live on my daily
labor,--I have attained my end. Every thing is ready; and I have only to
touch the proud fabric of their crimes to make it come down upon them,
and crush them all under the ruins. Ah! if I could see them only suffer
one-fourth of what they have made me suffer, I should die content.”
Papa Ravinet seemed to have grown a foot; his hatred convulsed his
placid face; his voice trembled with rage; and his yellow eyes shone
with ill-subdued passion.
Daniel wondered, and asked himself what the people who had sworn to ruin
him and Henrietta could have done to this man, who looked so inoffensive
with his bright-flowered waistcoat and his coat with the high collar.
“But who are you, sir?” he asked.
“Who am I?” exclaimed the man,--“who am I?”
But he paused; and, after waiting a little while, he sunk his head, and
said,--
“I am Anthony Ravinet, dealer in curiosities.”
The clipper was in the meantime making way rapidly. Already the white
country houses appeared on the high bluffs amid the pine-groves; and the
outlines of the Castle of If were clearly penned on the deep blue of the
sky.
“But we are getting near,” exclaimed Papa Ravinet; “and I must get back
into my boat. I did not come out so far, that they might see me enter on
board ‘The Saint Louis.’”
And when Daniel offered him his state-room, where he might remain in
concealment, he replied,--
“No, no! We shall have time enough to come to an understanding about
what is to be done in Paris; and I must go back by rail to-night; I came
down for the sole purpose of telling you this. Miss Henrietta is at my
sister’s house; but you must take care not to come there. Neither
Sarah nor Brevan know what has become of her; they think she has thrown
herself into the river; and this conviction is our safety and our
strength. As they will most assuredly have you watched, the slightest
imprudence might betray us.”
“But I must see Henrietta, sir.”
“Certainly; and I have found the means for it. Instead of going to your
former lodgings, go to the Hotel du Louvre. I will see to it that my
sister and Miss Ville-Handry shall have taken rooms there before you
reach Paris; and you may be sure, that, in less than a quarter of an
hour after your arrival, you will hear news. But, heavens, how near we
are! I must make haste.”
Upon Daniel’s request, the ship lay by long enough to allow Papa Ravinet
and his sailor to get back again into their boat without danger. When
they were safely stowed away in it, and at the moment when they cast off
the man-rope, Papa Ravinet called to Daniel,--
“We shall soon see you! Rely upon me! Tonight Miss Henrietta shall have
a telegram from us.”