"WHEN ROGUES FALL OUT"
The night seemed long to Madame Desvarennes. Agitated and feverish, she
listened through the silence, expecting every moment to hear some fearful
news. In fancy she saw Cayrol entering his wife's room like a madman,
unawares. She seemed to hear a cry of rage, answered by a sigh of
terror; then a double shot resounded, the room filled with smoke, and,
struck down in their guilty love, Serge and Jeanne rolled in death,
interlaced in each other's arms, like Paolo and Francesca de Rimini,
those sad lovers of whom Dante tells us.
Hour after hour passed; not a sound disturbed the mansion. The Prince
had not come in. Madame Desvarennes, unable to lie in bed, arose, and
now and again, to pass the time, stole on tiptoe to her daughter's room.
Micheline, thoroughly exhausted with fatigue and emotion, had fallen
asleep on her pillow, which was wet with tears.
Bending over her, by the light of the lamp, the mistress gazed at
Micheline's pale face, and a sigh rose to her lips.
"She is still young," she thought; "she may begin life afresh. The
remembrance of these sad days will be wiped out, and I shall see her
revive and smile again. That wretch was nearly the death of her."
And the image of Serge and Jeanne stretched beside each other in the room
full of smoke came before her eyes again. She shook her head to chase
the importunate vision away, and noiselessly regained her own apartment.
The day dawned pale and bleak. Madame Desvarennes opened her window and
cooled her burning brow in the fresh morning air. The birds were awake,
and were singing on the trees in the garden.
Little by little, the distant sound of wheels rolling by was heard. The
city was awakening from its sleep.
Madame Desvarennes rang and asked for Marechal. The secretary appeared
instantly. He, too, had shared the anxieties and fears of the mistress,
and had risen early. Madame Desvarennes greeted him with a grateful
smile. She felt that she was really loved by this good fellow, who
understood her so thoroughly. She begged him to go to Cayrol's, and gain
some information, without giving him further details, and she waited,
walking up and down the room to calm the fever of her mind.
On leaving the house in the Rue Taitbout, Serge felt bewildered, not
daring to go home, and unable to decide on any plan; yet feeling that it
was necessary to fix on something without delay, he reached the club.
The walk did him good, and restored his physical equilibrium. He was
thankful to be alive after such a narrow escape. He went upstairs with a
comparatively light step, and tossed his overcoat to a very sleepy
footman who had risen to receive him. He went into the card-room.
Baccarat was just finishing. It was three o'clock in the morning. The
appearance of the Prince lent the game a little fresh animation. Serge
plunged into it as if it were a battle. Luck was on his side. In a
short time he cleared the bank: a thousand louis. One by one the players
retired. Panine, left alone, threw himself on a couch and slept for a
few hours, but it was not a refreshing sleep. On the contrary, it made
him feel more tired.
The day servants disturbed him when they came in to sweep the rooms and
open the windows. He went into the lavatory, and there bathed his face.
When his ablutions were over he wrote a note to Jeanne, saying that he
had reflected, and could not possibly let her go away with him. He
implored her to do all in her power to forget him. He gave this letter
to one of the messengers, and told him to give it into the hands of
Madame Cayrol's maid, and to none other.
The care of a woman and the worry of another household seemed unbearable
to him. Besides, what could he do with Jeanne? The presence of his
mistress would prevent his being able to go back to Micheline. And now
he felt that his only hope of safety was in Micheline's love for him.
But first of all he must go and see if Herzog had returned, and ascertain
the real facts of the position in regard to the Universal Credit Company.
Herzog occupied a little house on the Boulevard Haussmann, which he had
hired furnished from some Americans. The loud luxury of the Yankees had
not frightened him. On the contrary, he held that the gay colors of the
furniture and the glitter of the gilded cornices were bound to have a
fascination for prospective shareholders. Suzanne had reserved a little
corner for herself, modestly hung with muslin and furnished with simple
taste, which was a great contrast to the loud appearance of the other
part of the house.
On arriving, Serge found a stableman washing a victoria. Herzog had
returned. The Prince quietly went up the steps, and had himself
announced.
The financier was sitting in his study by the window, looking through the
newspapers. When Serge entered he rose. The two men stood facing each
other for a moment. The Prince was the first to speak.
"How is it that you have kept me without news during your absence?"
asked he, harshly.
"Because," replied Herzog, calmly, "the only news I had was not good
news."
"At least I should have known it."
"Would the result of the operation have been different?"
"You have led me like a child in this affair," Serge continued, becoming
animated. "I did not know where I was going. You made me promises, how
have you kept them?"
"As I was able," quietly answered Herzog. "Play has its chances. One
seeks Austerlitz and finds Waterloo."
"But," cried the Prince, angrily, "the shares which you sold ought not to
have gone out of your hands."
"You believed that?" retorted the financier, ironically. "If they ought
not to have gone out of my hands it was hardly worth while putting them
into them."
"In short," said Panine, eager to find some responsible party on whom he
could pour out all the bitterness of his misfortune, "you took a mean
advantage of me."
"Good! I expected you to say that!" returned Herzog, smiling. "If the
business had succeeded, you would have accepted your share of the spoil
without any scruples, and would have felt ready to crown me. It has
failed; you are trying to get out of the responsibility, and are on the
point of treating me as if I were a swindler. Still, the affair would
not have been more honest in the first instance than in the second, but
success embellishes everything."
Serge looked hard at Herzog.
"What is there to prove," replied he, "that this speculation, which
brings ruin and loss to me, does not enrich you?"
"Ungrateful fellow!" observed the financier, ironically, "you suspect
me!"
"Of having robbed me!" cried Serge, in a rage. "Why not?"
Herzog, for a moment, lost his temper and turned red in the face. He
seized Panine violently by the arm, and said:
"Gently, Prince; whatever insults you heap upon me must be shared by you.
You are my partner."
"Scoundrel!" yelled Panine, exasperated at being held by Herzog.
"Personalities," said the financier, in a jesting tone. "Then I take my
leave!"
And loosing his hold of the Prince, he went toward the door.
Serge sprang after him, exclaiming:
"You shall not leave this room until you have given me the means of
rectifying this disaster."
"Then let us talk sensibly, as boon companions," said Herzog. "I know of
a marvellous move by which we can get out of the difficulty. Let us
boldly call a general meeting. I will explain the thing, and amaze
everybody. We shall get a vote of confidence for the past, with funds
for the future. We shall be as white as snow, and the game is played.
Are you in with me?"
"Enough," replied the Prince, intensely disgusted. "It does not suit me
to do a yet more shameful thing in order to get out of this trouble. It
is no use arguing further; we are lost."
"Only the weak allow themselves to be lost!" exclaimed the financier.
"The strong defend themselves. You may give in if you like; I won't.
Three times have I been ruined and three times have I risen again. My
head is good! I am down now. I shall rise again, and when I am well
off, and have a few millions to spare, I will settle old debts.
Everybody will be astonished because they won't expect it, and I shall be
more thought of than if I had paid up at the time."
"And if you are not allowed to go free?" asked Serge. "What if they
arrest you?"
"I shall be in Aix-la-Chapelle to-night," said Herzog. "From there I
shall treat with the shareholders of the Universal Credit. People judge
things better at a distance. Are you coming with me?"
"No," replied Serge, in a low voice.
"You are wrong. Fortune is capricious, and in six months we may be
richer than we ever have been. But as you have decided, let me give you
a piece of advice which will be worth the money you have lost. Confess
all to your wife; she can get you out of this difficulty."
The financier held out a hand to Serge which he did not take.
"Ah! pride!" murmured Herzog. "After all it is your right--It is you
who pay!"
Without answering a word the Prince went out.
At that same hour, Madame Desvarennes, tired by long waiting, was pacing
up and down her little drawing-room. A door opened and Marechal, the
long-looked for messenger, appeared. He had been to Cayrol's, but could
not see him. The banker, who had shut himself up in his private office
where he had worked all night, had given orders that no one should
interrupt him. And as Madame Desvarennes seemed to have a question on
her lips which she dared not utter, Marechal added that nothing unusual
seemed to have happened at the house.
But as the mistress was thanking her secretary, the great gate swung on
its hinges, and a carriage rolled into the courtyard. Marechal flew to
the window, and uttered one word,
"Cayrol!"
Madame Desvarennes motioned to him to leave her, and the banker appeared
on the threshold.
At a glance the mistress saw the ravages which the terrible night he had
passed through had caused. Yesterday, the banker was rosy, firm, and
upright as an oak, now he was bent, and withered like an old man. His
hair had become gray about the temples, as if scorched by his burning
thoughts. He was only the shadow of himself.
Madame Desvarennes advanced toward him, and in one word asked a world of
questions.
"Well?" she said.
Cayrol, gloomy and fierce, raised his eyes to the mistress, and answered:
"Nothing!"
"Did he not come?"
"Yes, he came. But I had not the necessary energy to kill him. I
thought it was an easier matter to become a murderer. And you thought so
too, eh?"
"Cayrol!" cried Madame Desvarennes, shuddering, and troubled to find
that she had been so easily understood by him whom she had armed on her
behalf.
"The opportunity was a rare one, though," continued Cayrol, getting
excited. "Fancy; I found them together under my own roof. The law
allowed me, if not the actual right to kill them, at least an excuse if
I did so. Well, at the decisive moment, when I ought to have struck the
blow, my heart failed me. He lives, and Jeanne loves him."
There was a pause.
"What are you going to do?"
"Get rid of him in another way," answered Cayrol. "I had only two ways
of killing him. One was to catch him in my own house, the other to call
him out. My will failed me in the one case; my want of skill would fail
me in the other. I will not fight Serge. Not because I fear death, for
my life is blighted, and I don't value it; but if I were dead, Jeanne
would belong to him, and I could not bear the thought of that even in
death. I must separate them forever."
"And how?"
"By forcing him to disappear."
"And if he refuse?"
Cayrol shook his head menacingly, and exclaimed:
"I defy him! If he resist, I will bring him before the assizes!"
"You?" said Madame Desvarennes, going nearer to Cayrol.
"Yes, I!" answered the banker, with energy.
"Wretched man! And my daughter?" cried the mistress. "Think well what
you are saying! You would disgrace me and mine."
"Am I not dishonored myself?" asked Cayrol. "Your son-in-law is a
robber, who has defiled my home and robbed my safe."
"An honest man does not seek to revenge himself after the manner you
suggest," said the mistress, gravely.
"An honest man defends himself as he can. I am not a knight. I am only
a financier. Money is my weapon. The Prince has stolen from me. I will
have him sentenced as a thief."
Madame Desvarennes frowned.
"Make out your account. I will pay it."
"Will you also pay me for my lost happiness?" cried the banker,
exasperated. "Should I not rather have chosen to be ruined than be
betrayed as I am? You can never repair the wrong he has done me.
And then I am suffering so, I must have my revenge!"
"Ah! fool that you are," replied Madame Desvarennes. "The guilty will
not feel your blows, but the innocent. When my daughter and I are in
despair will you be less unhappy! Oh! Cayrol, take heed that you lose
not in dignity what you gain in revenge. The less one is respected by
others the more one must respect one's self. Contempt and silence
elevate the victim, while rage and hatred make him descend to the level
of those who have outraged him."
"Let people judge me as they please. I care only for myself! I am a
vulgar soul, and have a low mind--anything you like. But the idea that
that woman belongs to another drives me mad. I ought to hate her, but,
notwithstanding everything, I cannot live without her. If she will come
back to me I will forgive her. It is ignoble! I feel it, but it is too
strong for me. I adore her!"
Before that blind love Madame Desvarennes shuddered. She thought of
Micheline who loved Serge as Cayrol loved Jeanne.
"Suppose she chooses to go away with Serge," said the mistress to
herself. In a moment she saw the house abandoned, Micheline and Serge in
foreign lands, and she alone in the midst of her overthrown happiness,
dying of sadness and regrets. She made a last effort to move Cayrol.
"Come, must I appeal in vain? Can you forget that I was a sure and
devoted friend to you, and that you owe your fortune to me? You are a
good man and will not forget the past. You have been outraged and have
the right of seeking revenge, but think that in carrying it out you will
hurt two women who have never done you any harm. Be generous! Be just!
Spare us!"
Cayrol remained silent; his face did not relax. After a moment he said:
"You see how low I have fallen, by not yielding at once to your
supplications! Friendship, gratitude, generosity, all the good feelings
I had, have been consumed by this execrable love. There is nothing left
but love for her. For her, I forget everything. I degrade and debase
myself. And what is worse than all, is that I know all this and yet I
cannot help myself."
"Miserable man!" murmured the mistress.
"Oh! most miserable," sobbed Cayrol, falling into an armchair.
Madame Desvarennes approached him, and quietly placed her hand on his
shoulder.
"Cayrol, you are weeping? Then, forgive."
The banker arose and, with lowering brow, said:
"No! my resolution is irrevocable. I wish to place a world between
Jeanne and Serge. If he has not gone away by tonight my complaint will
be lodged in the courts of justice."
Madame Desvarennes no longer persisted. She saw that the husband's heart
was permanently closed.
"It is well. I thank you for having warned me. You might have taken
action without doing so. Good-by, Cayrol. I leave your conscience to
judge between you and me."
The banker bowed, and murmured:
"Good-by!"
And with a heavy step, almost tottering, he went out.
The sun had risen, and lit up the trees in the garden. Nature seemed to
be making holiday. The flowers perfumed the air, and in the deep blue
sky swallows were flying to and fro. This earthly joy exasperated Madame
Desvarennes. She would have liked the world to be in mourning. She
closed the window hastily, and remained lost in her own reflections.
So everything was over! The great prosperity, the honor of the house,
everything was foundering in a moment. Even her daughter might escape
from her, and follow the infamous husband whom she adored in spite of his
faults--perhaps because of his very faults--and might drag on a weary
existence in a strange land, which would terminate in death.
For that sweet and delicate child could not live without material
comforts and mental ease, and her husband was doomed to go on from bad to
worse, and would drag her down with him! The mistress pictured her
daughter, that child whom she had brought up with the tenderest care,
dying on a pallet, and the husband, odious to the last, refusing her
admission to the room where Micheline was in agony.
A fearful feeling of anger overcame her. Her motherly love gained the
mastery, and in the silence of the room she roared out these words:
"That shall not be!"
The opening of the door recalled her to her senses, and she rose. It was
Marechal, greatly agitated. After Cayrol's arrival, not knowing what to
do, he had gone to the Universal Credit Company, and there, to his
astonishment, had found the offices closed. He had heard from the
porter, one of those superb personages dressed in blue and red cloth,
who were so important in the eyes of the shareholders, that the evening
before, owing to the complaint of a director, the police had entered the
offices, and taken the books away, and that the official seal had been
placed on the doors. Marechal, much alarmed, had hastened back to Madame
Desvarennes to apprise her of the fact. It was evidently necessary to
take immediate steps to meet this new complication. Was this indeed the
beginning of legal proceedings? And if so how would the Prince come out
of it?
Madame Desvarennes listened to Marechal, without uttering a word. Events
were hurrying on even quicker than she had dreaded. The fears of the
interested shareholders outran even the hatred of Cayrol. What would the
judges call Herzog's underhand dealings? Would it be embezzlement?
Or forgery? Would they come and arrest the Prince at her house?
The house of Desvarennes, which had never received a visit from a
sheriff's officer, was it to be disgraced now by the presence of the
police?
The mistress, in that fatal hour, became herself again. The strong-
minded woman of old reappeared. Marechal was more alarmed at this sudden
vigor than he had been at her late depression. When he saw Madame
Desvarennes going toward the door, he made an effort to detain her.
"Where are you going, Madame?" he inquired, with anxiety.
The mistress gave him a look that terrified him, and answered:
"I am going to square accounts with the Prince."
And, passing through the door leading to the little staircase, Madame
Desvarennes went up to her son-in-law's rooms.