XXXII.

It struck two when Daniel jumped out of a carriage before No. 79 in

Peletier Street, where the offices of the Pennsylvania Petroleum Company

were now, and where Count Ville-Handry lived at present.

Never in his life had he felt so embarrassed, or so dissatisfied with

himself. In vain had Papa Ravinet and Mrs. Bertolle brought up all

possible arguments to convince him, that, with a woman like Sarah

Brandon, all reprisals were fair; he would not be convinced.

Unfortunately, he could not refuse to go without risking the peace of

his Henrietta, her confidence, and her whole happiness; so he went as

bravely as he could.

A clerk whom he asked told him that the president was in his rooms,--in

the third story on the left. He went up. The maid who came to open the

door recognized him. It was the same Clarissa who had betrayed him.

When he asked for the count she invited him in. She took him through

an anteroom, dark, and fragrant with odors from the kitchen; and then,

opening a door, she said;--

“Please walk in!”

Before an immense table, covered with papers, sat Count Ville-Handry.

He had grown sadly old. His lower lip hung down, giving him a painful

expression of weakness of mind; and his watery eyes looked almost

senile. Still his efforts to look young had not been abandoned. He was

rouged and dyed as carefully as ever. When he recognized Daniel, he

pushed back his papers; and offering him his hand, as if they had parted

the day before, he said,--

“Ah, here you are back again among us! Upon my word, I am very glad to

see you! We know what you have been doing out there; for my wife sent me

again and again to the navy department to see if there were any news of

you. And you have become an officer of the Legion of Honor! You ought to

be pleased.”

“Fortune has favored, me, count.”

“Alas! I am sorry I cannot say as much for myself,” replied the latter

with a sigh.

“You must be surprised,” he continued, “to find me living in such a

dog’s kennel, I who formerly--But so it goes. ‘The ups and downs of

speculations,’ says Sir Thorn. Look here, my dear Daniel, let me give

you a piece of advice: never speculate in industrial enterprises!

Nowadays it is mere gambling, furious gambling; and everybody cheats. If

you stake a dollar, you are in for everything. That is my story, and I

thought I would enrich my country by a new source of revenue. From the

first day on which I emitted shares, speculators have gotten hold of

them, and have crushed me, till my whole fortune has been spent in

useless efforts to keep them up. And yet Sir Thorn says I have fought as

bravely on this slippery ground as my ancestors did in the lists.”

Every now and then the poor old man passed his hand over his face as

if trying to drive away painful thoughts; and then he went on in a

different tone of voice,--

“And yet I am far from complaining. My misfortunes have been the source

of the purest and highest happiness for me. It is to them I owe the

knowledge of the boundless devotion of a beloved wife; they have taught

me how dearly Sarah loves me. I alone can tell what treasures are hid

in that angelic heart, which they dared to calumniate. Ah! I think I can

hear her now, when I told her one evening how embarrassed I had become

in my finances.

“‘To have concealed that from me!’ she exclaimed,--‘from me, your wife:

that was wrong!’ And the very next day she showed her sublime courage.

She sold her diamonds to bring me the proceeds, and gave up to me her

whole fortune. And, since we are living here, she goes out on foot, like

a simple citizen’s wife; and more than once I have caught her preparing

our modest meals with her own hands.”

Tears were flowing down the furrowed cheeks, leaving ghastly lines on

the rouged and whitened surface.

“And I,” he resumed in an accent of deepest despair,--“I could not

reward her for such love and so many sacrifices. How did I compensate

her for being my only consolation, my joy, my sole happiness in life! I

ruined her; I impoverished her! If I were to die to-morrow, she would be

penniless.”

Daniel trembled.

“Ah, count,” he exclaimed, “don’t speak of dying! People like you live a

hundred years.”

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