redingote, which fell nearly to his heels and was buttoned to the chin;
black trousers and cravat, and a hat cocked over one ear.
“Pardieu!” said Freluchon, “that fellow doesn’t intend that any part of
his costume shall offer a mark to his adversary; not even the slightest
bit of a white collar to be seen! That is very prudent.”
Monsieur Remplumé wore his everyday clothes. Chamoureau was dressed all
in black, and walked as if he were going to a funeral.
They exchanged salutations.
“Mon Dieu! Chamoureau! whom are you wearing mourning for so soon?” asked
Freluchon, with a laugh. “I should say that you were in rather a hurry.”
“I thought--it seemed to me--as it was a serious matter--However,
Freluchon, I hope that you don’t bear me any ill-will, and that you are
convinced that I had no part in all this.”
“Don’t be alarmed; we are perfectly well aware that you don’t count.”
“Messieurs,” said the little, lame man, approaching Edmond’s seconds,
“if Monsieur Edmond Didier chooses to apologize to Monsieur Luminot, he
will agree to acknowledge satisfaction.”
“We shall not communicate that proposition to Monsieur Edmond,” replied
Paul, “because we know that he would reject it with scorn!”
“Still, you might----”
“Enough of this! You have pistols, and we accept them. Allow me to
examine them.”
While Paul examined the weapons, Chamoureau drew his handkerchief, wiped
his brow and held out his arms toward Freluchon, saying:
“Try to adjust this business, in heaven’s name!”
“Let us alone, and go farther away.”
“How many paces?” Paul asked the lame man.
“Twenty-five.”
“That isn’t enough! Forty paces!” cried Chamoureau.
“It is for Monsieur Luminot to decide.”
“Call it thirty paces!” said Monsieur Luminot, with a dignified air.
“Bah!” muttered Freluchon with a smile; “I shall be glad to believe that
they won’t do each other much harm; and I will proceed to measure the
paces accordingly.”
The adversaries took their places; Freluchon had measured thirty paces
which were fully equal to forty.
“Why, this duel is a joke!” said Edmond to his seconds.
“I suppose you are anxious to be killed in order to give Madame
Chamoureau pleasure, eh? How clever that would be!--Come, Monsieur
Luminot, you are to fire first, the third time that I clap my
hands--that is the signal.”
While Freluchon clapped his hands three times, Chamoureau cowered behind
a tree. Monsieur Luminot fired, and his bullet lost itself in space.
When he saw that his opponent was not hit, and that it was his turn to
face the fire, he took a white handkerchief from his pocket and waved it
in the air, to signify that he wished to parley.
“Monsieur,” said Edmond, walking toward the former wine merchant, “are
you willing to admit now that what you said with regard to Madame
Dalmont and Mademoiselle Agathe was calumny pure and simple, and that
those ladies deserve the esteem and respect of everybody?”
“Yes, monsieur, yes, with the greatest pleasure!” cried Luminot. “I
admit it the more readily, as it is my individual opinion.”
“We all admit it--hum! hum!--all!” added Monsieur Remplumé.
“All!” shouted Chamoureau from behind his tree.
“In that case, messieurs,” said Paul, “we consider ourselves fully
satisfied, but on one condition; and that is that at five o’clock this
afternoon you will be at Monsieur de Belleville’s, and will there repeat
what you have just said to us. You will be careful to be accompanied by
all those ladies, who were the first to dare to make hateful remarks
concerning Madame Dalmont and her young friend. The insult was public,
and the reparation must be public as well! I deem it my duty to warn you
that, in case you and your ladies should not keep this appointment, we
shall renew this battle with all of you, messieurs; and that, in that
event, it will be a duel to the death!”
“We will be there! we will be there, messieurs!” stammered Luminot and
Remplumé.
“I am going there now,” said Chamoureau in a strangling voice.
“Until this evening then, messieurs, at five o’clock, at Monsieur de
Belleville’s!”
“You ought to know the age of that tree, Chamoureau!”
“Now, messieurs, let us go,” said Paul. “Let us hasten to the ladies,
for my dog’s behavior troubles me, I am afraid that something has gone
wrong.”
“Perhaps they have been informed of the duel,” said Edmond; “and in that
case they must be terribly anxious; let us make haste to set their
minds at rest.--See, Ami is going on ahead!”
The dog had already taken the road leading to Chelles. His master and
the two young men soon reached the village and went in the direction of
Madame Dalmont’s house. But just before they reached it, at a place
where three roads met, Ami, instead of taking the road that ran by
Honorine’s house, darted along a different road.
“Ami! Ami! where are you going? Don’t you recognize the road that leads
to the ladies you are so fond of? How strange! he won’t listen to me!”
“Stay here! Wait for me!” cried Edmond; “we are within two minutes’ walk
of their house. I will run there and inquire.”
The young man disappeared on one road, the dog continued along the
other. Paul and Freluchon anxiously awaited Edmond’s return, for Ami’s
behavior seemed to indicate that something had happened.
In a moment Edmond came running back to his friends.
“They’re not there!” he shouted; “they were told about my duel. They
received a letter this morning, and they left the house in a great
hurry, saying to Poucette: ‘We are going to prevent them from
fighting.’--But what road can they have taken? The one by which we came
is the only one leading to the place of meeting.”
“Do you hear Ami, messieurs? He is barking to call us!”
“Believe me, he is the one to help us find the ladies. Come along!”
“Yes, yes, here we are, Ami! here we are!”
The three men followed the path that the dog had taken. Ami’s barking
guided them, for it was incessant. They soon reached the main road
leading to Gournay; but it also led to Paul’s house, and Freluchon said:
“The dog acts as if he wanted to go home!”
“In that case,” said Edmond, “that is where the ladies have gone, hoping
to find us there.”
“No, there must be something else,” said Paul; “that note that they
received--who could have written it, as no one of us did? Ami’s barking
means anger, yes, frantic passion. Something tells me that that infernal
woman has had a hand in this business too.”
The dog, which was still far in advance, turned to the left toward the
river; when he reached the bridge, his barking became fiercer than ever;
but in a minute he leaped upon the bridge and darted across.
“He certainly is going to your house,” said Edmond.
“No,--see! on leaving the bridge he turned--he is running along the bank
of the river; he no longer hesitates, he is on the scent.”
“Mon Dieu! what can have happened?--Agathe! Honorine!--Poor women! Can
it be that you came in this direction to look for us?”
“If they came here, they must have been lured by wilfully false
information. Let us go on! Ami won’t deceive us!”
“Ah! look! Ami has gone down to the brink of the stream; he is helping
someone to save himself.”
“Why, no, he isn’t; on the contrary, he is preventing a man from coming
ashore; see! he rushes at him, snaps at him, bites him whenever he tries
to leave the water.”
“I know that man!” cried Freluchon: “It’s the _soi-disant_ Baron von
Schtapelmerg; it’s Madame de Belleville’s brother!”
“And it’s the same man whom she once induced me to engage as secretary,
and who would have robbed me in the night if Ami had not attacked him.
His face is easily recognizable.”
“But Agathe--Honorine!”
Suddenly Paul uttered an exclamation. He had caught sight of a boat in
the distance, quite near the obstructions in the river--a boat
containing two frantic women, who, unable to manage it for lack of oars,
were looking wildly about in every direction and shrieking for help, in
vain. The roar of the cascades prevented their voices from making
themselves heard. And they saw that they were in danger of death at any
moment; indeed, they would have perished long before if Croque had
followed his sister’s instructions to the letter. But as he did not care
to run the risk of drowning himself by jumping into the water too near
the rapids, he had not rowed the boat close up to the obstructions, but
had jumped overboard farther up stream, in order to reach the shore more
easily.
The little skiff, left to its own resources, had remained for some time
in the same spot; and that delay enabled Paul and his companions to
arrive before it foundered. But it was high time that assistance should
reach the two persons afloat in that fragile vessel; a fresh breeze was
driving it toward the most dangerous spot.
Paul and Edmond, throwing off their coats, plunged into the stream and
swam with powerful strokes toward the boat. But they were forced to
contend against the current and against the eddies that are concealed
beneath the surface of the Marne. Despite their utmost efforts, they
made but slow progress, and it was clear that they could not arrive in
time to save the two women--when suddenly a boat appeared in their wake.
Freluchon was seated in it, rowing with all his strength.
“This way,” he cried; “jump into my skiff--we shall get there
sooner.--Gad! what luck! there are more oars floating on the water! I
have one of them; push the other this way, Edmond; that’s it!”
Edmond and Paul climbed into the boat; having two pairs of oars they
overhauled the little boat much more rapidly and reached it at last, as
it was on the point of foundering.
Agathe and Honorine leaped on board; they were with their friends--they
were saved! They embraced and shook hands; they looked up toward heaven;
but for some minutes no one could utter a word.
But the danger past, their emotion finally subsided.
“What were you doing here?” cried Edmond. “Why did you come here?”
Honorine showed the letter they had received. Edmond instantly
recognized Thélénie’s handwriting; she had not even tried to disguise
it, feeling sure that her victims would carry the letter with them to
the bottom of the river.
“Oh! that woman is a monster!” said Paul. “But for my good Ami, we
should never have looked for you in this direction.”
“We had no sooner received the note,” continued Honorine, “than Agathe
and I left the house in haste. When we reached the bank of the river, we
saw a man sitting beside a boat; we thanked heaven for the chance, we
ran to the man and offered him whatever he chose, to take us to the
first island above the mill. He agreed. We got into the boat and he
rowed for some time in the direction we had indicated; then, all of a
sudden, we saw him take his oars out of the rowlocks, throw them
overboard, and jump over after them. We were utterly unable to
understand such behavior, but we soon saw that we had stepped into a
trap. The man swam ashore; but we, abandoned in our boat, without oars,
and driven constantly nearer and nearer to a place where the danger was
extreme, were at the point of death when you came to our assistance.”
“But without Freluchon all our efforts would have gone for nothing.--By
what miracle did you find this boat?”
“The miracle is easily explained: while you were swimming, I searched
the bank, saying to myself that it wasn’t possible that there was not a
boat to be found on the banks of a river; that it would be like finding
no cabs at a cabstand. At last I saw one; there was no driver, but I
didn’t care for that. It was fastened to a stake by a chain and padlock,
but I said to myself: ‘We’ll see about this; now’s the time to be
strong!’--Faith, I broke everything, chain and padlock and stake--but I
got the boat!”
Edmond and Paul embraced Freluchon. The young women kissed him,
whereupon he exclaimed:
“My word! it’s very pleasant to be strong!--But I no longer hear Ami’s
voice. Look, there he is on the other bank; he is pointing at something
in front of him.”
“Yes, something that doesn’t move. It is your pretended boatman,
mesdames, whom Ami has compelled to drown himself; then I presume he
went into the water for him and took him ashore. Let us spare the ladies
that shocking sight; let us put them ashore on this side; then I will go
across and identify the fellow.”
The boat grounded near the bridge.
Honorine and Agathe stepped ashore and started for home under the escort
of Edmond, Paul advising him to take them by the least frequented roads,
so that they might not be seen, and to enter by the small gate at the
foot of the garden.
Then, with Freluchon, he rowed to the other bank, where honest Ami
awaited them, still holding his enemy under his feet.
Croque was quite dead. After trying vainly to reach the shore, which Ami
prevented him from doing by throwing himself upon him at every attempt,
Thélénie’s brother had felt his strength abandon him. Afraid to give
battle to the dog, whom he recognized perfectly as the one which long
before had inflicted the wound of which he still bore the mark, Croque
lost courage; he tried to call for help, but his voice failed him, and
he soon disappeared under the surface. Then Ami plunged in after him and
dragged him to land, as a trophy of his victory, which he desired to
exhibit to his master.
“It is the Baron von Schtapelmerg and no mistake!” said Freluchon.
“Yes,” said Paul, “it is Thélénie’s brother, the man who robbed me long
ago.”
“The villain won’t rob anybody else; he has well earned what has
happened to him. Bravo, Ami! embrace me, good dog! Ah! but for you, many
disasters would have happened!”
While Freluchon embraced Ami, who made no resistance, like one who
receives what is his due, Paul searched Croque’s pockets, in which he
hoped to find some new proof of the crime Thélénie had plotted.
But he found nothing on the drowned man save the roll of gold,
containing a thousand francs, which he had carefully bestowed in his
belt.
“A thousand francs on a boatman! the fellow was in comfortable case!”
said Freluchon.
“This gold was to pay for his crime!” cried Paul; “this gold condemned
to death Honorine and Agathe--two women who have never injured that
Thélénie!--I will take it from him to give it back to her.--And now,
come, my dear Monsieur Freluchon; let us leave this wretch’s body here,
and join those who love us.”
“Even so; and we will think of nothing but breakfast; it makes one
hollow to row, and I put all my strength into it.”
“Yes, and after that, I have still another duty to perform, and I shall
not fail to perform it.”
“Come; see, Ami will be there before us.”
When Chamoureau reached home after the duel, he found Thélénie pacing
the floor of her apartment in great agitation. She was counting the
hours and minutes. It was not the result of the duel that preoccupied
her so, but the result of the plan she had formed to destroy Honorine
and Agathe.
Her messenger, after delivering the note with which she had entrusted
him, had, in accordance with her orders, lain in ambush a short distance
from the house, and had seen the two ladies rush out and hasten in the
direction indicated by the note; then he had returned to Madame de
Belleville and made his report.
She therefore had no doubt as to the result of her villainy, and yet she
felt some inquietude, a vague terror which increased with every moment.
The slightest noise, the approach of some person, the sound of a voice,
made her start, and stop abruptly to look about her. Despite her
perversity, she found that a crime so detestable as that which she had
committed, brings in its train,--if not remorse, when the criminal is
too hardened,--at least a terror which is an incessant, never-ending
torment.
And so, when her husband appeared before her, Thélénie glared at him in
dismay, crying:
“What is it? What do you want of me, monsieur? What have you learned?”
“Be calm, my dear love, pull yourself together. You are very anxious, I
see; you are very pale. I thank you for your deep interest in me, but
there are as many killed as wounded, and no one is dead.”
“No one dead? What are you talking about, monsieur? Explain yourself,
pray.”
“Why, I should think that you might guess. Don’t you know, madame, that
I have just had a duel--that is to say, I have been a second in a
duel--in fact, I have had a duel all the same----”
“Oh, yes! to be sure, it was this morning. Well?”
“Well, we fought with pistols, and we fired first; that was our right.
But we missed our adversary; thereupon he agreed not to fire if we would
admit that we did wrong to speak ill of his fiancée and her friend; and
we admitted it.”
“Cowards! I recognize you there.”
“That is to say, it was not I, it was Luminot, who----”
“All right! I know enough! leave me.”
And Thélénie turned on her heel, leaving Chamoureau alone.
“That woman is never satisfied,” he said to himself; “for heaven’s sake,
was she anxious for the death of one of us? O Eléonore! you never longed
for anybody’s death!--All the same, I won’t say anything to my wife
about the appointment those men made to meet us here at five o’clock.
She would be capable of giving orders not to let them in. And those men,
especially the owner of the dog, didn’t seem inclined to joke. He
threatened us with a duel to the death; so that I am determined that he
shall be satisfied; and if madame doesn’t like it, why, _fichtre_! I’ll
show my teeth!”
The day seemed endless to Thélénie, who longed for six o’clock to come.
She shut herself up in her bedroom, and kept her eyes fixed upon a
clock, waiting impatiently for the moment when she was to see Croque.
But, a few minutes before five, a servant informed her that several
callers had arrived, and that her husband desired her to come down to
the salon.
“Callers at this time of day!” thought Thélénie; “why, we have invited
nobody to dinner to-day, unless monsieur has taken the liberty; but that
is not probable.--Can it be that people know already of the accident
that must have happened to those two women?--But no matter; I must not
act as if I were afraid of anybody!--Let us find out what all these
people want.”
Messieurs Luminot and Remplumé, who were no more anxious than Chamoureau
for a duel to the death, had carried out Paul Duronceray’s wishes to the
letter.
On leaving him, they went first to Madame Droguet, whom they found
bathing her husband’s jaw. To her they said:
“You are requested to be at Madame de Belleville’s at five o’clock
to-day.”
“Are we invited to dinner again?”
“No, it is not a matter of dinner, but of an important meeting;
something very interesting is going to happen; we don’t know yet what it
is, but it’s something of very grave importance. Be sure to come; you
are expected.”
With such words they could have made the ex-vivandière travel a hundred
leagues.
In a small village, curiosity would make the very stones walk. With the
same harangue Monsieur Luminot and his second set the whole neighborhood
in a ferment.
That is why the salon of Goldfish Villa, at five o’clock that afternoon,
contained almost as many people as on the day of the fête; only the
guests from Paris were lacking.
Thélénie could not overcome a secret feeling of uneasiness when she saw
all those people assembled under her roof. She observed, moreover, a
certain embarrassment and constraint on those faces which were
accustomed to smile upon her; for Luminot had already said to his
intimate friends:
“Madame de Belleville involved me in a wretched piece of business. I
extricated myself from my duel with honor, but I must admit that I was
in the wrong. The ladies at the Courtivaux house are as white as milk; I
consider them most honorable persons.”
The little, lame man had spoken in the same strain. As for Chamoureau,
he wandered about his salon with a dismayed expression, answering at
random the remarks that were addressed to him.
“May I know to what I am indebted for the presence of such a delightful
assemblage in my salon this afternoon?” said Thélénie, as she saluted
the company.
“Why, did not you invite us, _belle dame_?” said Madame Droguet.
“I! indeed, no; although I congratulate myself upon your presence. I
confess that I did not expect this pleasure to-day.--So it was you,
Monsieur de Belleville, who chose to give me this delightful surprise?”
Chamoureau tried to assume an impressive manner, and stammered:
“No, madame.”
“What! neither you, nor I! This is strange, to say the least.--I
believe, monsieur, that you are concealing something from me.”
“Well, madame, we had a duel this morning.”
“I had a duel!” exclaimed Luminot.
“Well, yes, it was you who fought, that is true; but we were told that
we would all have to fight if we did not to-day, and here, publicly
retract the remarks that were made concerning Madame Dalmont and her
young friend.”
“And who dared to demand that?” cried Thélénie, pale with wrath.
“Paul and his dog--that is, the dog didn’t say anything, but he looked
at us pretty hard. However, madame, those gentlemen are coming here, and
they will explain themselves more fully.”
“Who are coming here, monsieur?”
“The owner of the Tower, with----”
“I don’t propose that that man shall put his foot inside my door. Ah!
this is carrying his contempt too far, and I am going to forbid----”
Thélénie had not had time to finish her sentence, when Paul Duronceray
entered the salon, attended by Edmond and Freluchon.
No longer in the guise of the hunter who shuns the world, no longer with
an untrimmed beard and with his head covered by an otter cap the vizor
of which concealed his eyes, did the owner of the Tower present himself;
he appeared before the notables of Chelles in the costume of a man of
the world, which he wore with as much ease as distinction of manner.
Paul walked straight to Thélénie; his glance was terrifying to behold,
and despite her usual audacity, despite all her efforts to overcome her
terror, Thélénie shuddered, trembled and lowered her eyes before him.
“You propose to forbid my entering this house, madame,” exclaimed Paul
in a powerful voice; “I can well believe it; you divine, doubtless, that
I know your crimes, and you are afraid that I might reveal them to your
numerous acquaintances.”
“My crimes, monsieur! You dare----”
“To accuse you of an infamous plot! It was not enough to have tried by
calumny to ruin two honorable women, one of whom, Madame Dalmont, does
me the honor to accept my hand; while the other, Mademoiselle Agathe,
daughter of Comte Adhémar de Hautmont--for I am very glad to inform you
that that young lady is the daughter of a man for whose death you are
responsible. Yes, Mademoiselle Agathe de Hautmont is to marry Monsieur
Edmond Didier, who stands beside me;--it was not enough, I say, to have
uttered calumny against those ladies, which always finds echoes among
fools and evil-minded persons----”
At this point all of Madame Droguet’s social circle made wry faces.
“No,” continued Paul, “this woman, impelled by the most criminal
passions, determined to contrive the death by drowning in the Marne of
those two persons, whom she detests because they possess virtues which
she never understood.”
A low murmur bore witness to the impression produced by these words.
Thélénie summoned all her energy and cried:
“You lie, monsieur; your accusations are false.”
“Very well, madame; deny this letter, sent by you to those ladies. It is
in your handwriting; there are several of us here who are perfectly
familiar with it. In this letter you announce that Monsieur Edmond is to
fight at eight o’clock--on an island above the mill; which was
equivalent to telling them to go to that place. And in fact, immediately
on receipt of your letter, they started and hurried to the bank of the
Marne, where a miserable villain, in your pay, was waiting for them with
a boat. They entered the boat unsuspectingly; and when they were near
the obstructions in the river, the pretended boatman threw his oars
overboard, jumped after them and swam ashore, abandoning to almost
certain death the two victims you had sent him!”
“Monsieur!”