“Take your money back again, madam. If I were to do what you want me to
do, if I were to betray my duty for money, I should be the meanest of
men. If, on the other hand, I am actuated only by a sincere conviction
and an interest in the truth, I may be looked upon as a fool; but I
shall always be worthy of the esteem of honorable men. Take back that
fortune, madam, which has made an honest man waver for a moment in his
conscience. I will do what you ask, but for nothing.”
If grandpapa was getting tired of walking up and down in the Square, the
sisters of Mechinet found time pass still more slowly in their workroom.
They asked each other,--
“What can Miss Dionysia have to say to brother?”
At the end of ten minutes, their curiosity, stimulated by the most
absurd suppositions, had become such martyrdom to them, that they made
up their minds to knock at the clerk’s door.
“Ah, leave me alone!” he cried out, angry at being thus interrupted. But
then he considered a moment, opened hastily, and said quite gently,--
“Go back to your room, my dear sisters, and, if you wish to spare me a
very serious embarrassment, never tell anybody in this world that Miss
Chandore has had a conversation with me.”
Trained to obey, the two sisters went back, but not so promptly that
they should have not seen the bonds which Dionysia had thrown upon the
table, and which were quite familiar in their appearance to them, as
they had once owned some of them themselves. Their burning desire to
know was thus combined with vague terror; and, when they got back to
their room, the younger asked,--
“Did you see?”
“Yes, those bonds,” replied the other.
“There must have been five or six hundred.”
“Even more, perhaps.”
“That is to say, a very big sum of money.”
“An enormous one.”
“What can that mean, Holy Virgin! And what have we to expect?”
“And brother asking us to keep his secret!”
“He looked as pale as his shirt, and terribly distressed.”
“Miss Dionysia was crying like a Magdalen.”
It was so. Dionysia, as long as she had been uncertain of the result,
had felt in her heart that Jacques’s safety depended on her courage and
her presence of mind. But now, assured of success, she could no longer
control her excitement; and, overcome by the effort, she had sunk down
on a chair and burst out into tears.
The clerk shut the door, and looked at her for some time; then, having
overcome his own emotions, he said to her,--
“Madame.”
But, as she heard his voice, she jumped up, and taking his hands into
hers, she broke out,--
“O sir! How can I thank you! How can I ever make you aware of the depth
of my gratitude!”
“Don’t speak of that,” he said almost rudely, trying to conceal his deep
feeling.
“I will say nothing more,” she replied very gently; “but I must tell you
that none of us will ever forget the debt of gratitude which we owe you
from this day. You say the great service which you are about to render
us is not free from danger. Whatever may happen, you must remember,
that, from this moment, you have in us devoted friends.”
The interruption caused by his sisters had had the good effect of
restoring to Mechinet a good portion of his habitual self-possession. He
said,--
“I hope no harm will come of it; and yet I cannot conceal from you,
madam, that the service which I am going to try to render you presents
more difficulties than I thought.”
“Great God!” murmured Dionysia.
“M. Galpin,” the clerk went on saying, “is, perhaps, not exactly a
superior man; but he understands his profession; he is cunning, and
exceedingly suspicious. Only yesterday he told me that he knew the
Boiscoran family would try every thing in the world to save M. de
Boiscoran from justice. Hence he is all the time on the watch, and takes
all kinds of precautions. If he dared to it, he would have his bed put
across his cell in the prison.”
“That man hates me, M. Mechinet!”
“Oh, no, madam! But he is ambitious: he thinks his success in his
profession depends upon his success in this case; and he is afraid the
accused might escape or be carried off.”
Mechinet was evidently in great perplexity, and scratched his ear. Then
he added,--
“How am I to go about to let M. de Boiscoran have your note? If he knew
beforehand, it would be easy. But he is unprepared. And then he is just
as suspicious as M. Galpin. He is always afraid lest they prepare him a
trap; and he is on the lookout. If I make him a sign, I fear he will
not understand me; and, if I make him a sign, will not M. Galpin see it?
That man is lynx-eyed.”
“Are you never alone with M. de Boiscoran?”
“Never for an instant, madam. I only go in with the magistrate, and
I come out with him. You will say, perhaps, that in leaving, as I am
behind, I might drop the note cleverly. But, when we leave, the jailer
is there, and he has good eyes. I should have to dread, besides, M. de
Boiscoran’s own suspicions. If he saw a letter coming to him in that
way, from me, he is quite capable of handing it at once to M. Galpin.”