The archduke, at the unexpected appearance of the Marquise de Miranda,
shared the surprise of M. Pascal, who looked at Madeleine with
amazement, supposing her a guest of the palace, for she had taken off
her hat, and her singular beauty shone in all its splendour. The shadow
thrown by the rim of her hat, which hid a part of her forehead and
cheeks, was no longer there, and the bright light of broad day,
heightening the transparent purity of her dark, pale complexion, gilded
the light curls of her magnificent blond hair, and gave to the azure of
her large eyes, with long black eyebrows, that sparkling clearness that
the rays of the sun give to the blue of a tranquil sea. Madeleine, her
cheek slightly flushed by the indignation which this odious project of
Pascal had aroused, her glance animated, her nostrils dilating, her head
proudly thrown back on her slender, beautiful neck, advanced to the
middle of the parlour, and, addressing the financier, repeated the
words:
"No, the prince will not accept the condition which you have the
audacity to impose upon him, monsieur."
"Madame!" stammered M. Pascal, feeling his usual effrontery forsaking
him, and recoiling, intimidated, pained, and charmed at the same time,
"I do not know who you are, I do not know by what right you--"
"Come, monseigneur," continued the marquise, addressing the archduke,
"resume your dignity, not as a prince, but as a man; receive the
humiliating condition which he imposes on you with the contempt which it
deserves. Great God! at what price would you buy an increase of power?
What! You would have the courage to pick up your sovereign crown at the
feet of this man? It would defile your brow! But a man of courage would
not have endured the thousandth part of the outrages which you have just
brooked, monseigneur. And you a prince! You so proud! You belong to
those who believe themselves of a race superior to the vulgar herd. And
so for your humble courtiers, your base flatterers, your intimidated
followers, you have only haughtiness, and before M. Pascal you abase
your sovereign pride! And this, then, is the power of money!" added
Madeleine, with increasing exaltation, hurling the words at the
financier with a gesture of crushing disdain, "you bow before this man!
God have mercy! This is to-day the king of kings! Think of it, prince,
think then that what makes the power and the insolence of this man is
your ambition. Come, monseigneur, instead of buying by a shameful
degradation the fragile plaything of a sovereign rank, renounce this
poor vanity, retake your rights as a man of courage, and you will be
able to drive this man away ignominiously, who treats you more
insolently than you have ever treated the meanest of your poor vassals."
Pascal, since his accession of fortune, was accustomed to a despotic
domination as well as to the timid deference of those whose fate he held
in his hands; judge, then, of his violent shock, of his rage, in hearing
himself thus addressed by the most attractive, if not the most beautiful
woman he had ever met. Picture his exasperation as he thought he must,
doubtless, renounce the hope of marrying Antonine, and lose besides the
profit of the ducal loan, an excellent investment for him; so he cried,
with a threatening air:
"Madame, take care; this power of money, which you treat so
contemptuously, is able to command many resources for the service of
revenge. Take care!"
"Thank God! the threat is good, and it frightens me very much," said
Madeleine, with a burst of sarcastic laughter, stopping by a gesture the
prince, who took a quick step toward Pascal. "Your power is great, do
you say, Sir Strong-box! It is true money is an immense power. I have
seen at Frankfort a little old man, who said in 1830 to two or three
furious kings, 'You wish to make war on France; it does not suit me or
my family, and I will not give you the money to pay your troops;' and
there was no war. This good old man, a hundred times richer than you, M.
Pascal, occupied the humble house of his father and lived upon little,
while his beneficent name is inscribed on twenty splendid monuments of
public usefulness. He is called the 'king of the people,' and his name
is blessed as much as yours is shamed and hissed, M. Pascal! For your
reputation as a true and honest man is as well known to the foreigner as
in France. Certainly, oh, you are known, M. Pascal, too well known,
because you do not imagine how much your delicacy, your scrupulous
probity, is appreciated! And what is the object of universal
consideration, the honourable course, by which you have made your
immense fortune? All that has given you a very wide-spread reputation,
M. Pascal, and I am happy to declare it under present circumstances."
"Madame," replied Pascal, with an icy calmness more terrible than his
anger, "you know many things, but you do not know the man whom you
provoke. You are ignorant of what this man, this Strong-box as you call
him, can do."
The prince made a threatening gesture which Madeleine again checked,
then, shrugging her shoulders, she continued:
"What I do know, M. Pascal, is that, notwithstanding your audacity, your
impudence, or your strong-box, you will never marry Mlle. Antonine
Hubert, who will be betrothed to-morrow to Count Frantz de Neuberg, as
monseigneur can assure you."
And the marquise, without waiting for the reply of Pascal, made a
half-mocking bow and returned to the adjoining chamber. Excited by the
generous indignation of Madeleine's words, more and more subjugated by
her beauty, which had just appeared to him under a new light, the
archduke, feeling all the bitterness, all the anger accumulated by the
many insolences of Pascal, revive in his heart, experienced the joy of
the slave at last freed from a detested yoke. At the impassioned voice
of the young woman the wicked soul of this prince, hardened by the pride
of race, frozen by the atmosphere of mute adulation in which he had
always lived, had at least some noble impulses, and the blush of shame
covered the brow of this haughty man as he realised to what a state of
abjection he had descended to gain the favour of M. Pascal.
The financier, no longer intimidated or handicapped by the presence of
the marquise, felt his audacity spring up again, and, turning abruptly
to the prince, he said, with the habitual brutal sarcasm in which was
mingled a jealous hatred to see the archduke in possession of so
beautiful a mistress,--for such at least was Pascal's belief:
"Zounds! I am no longer astonished, monseigneur, at having stood so long
like a crane on one foot in your antechamber. You were, I see, occupied
with fine company. I am a fine judge and I compliment your taste; but
men like us are not under petticoat government, and I think you know
your interests too well to renounce my loan and take seriously the words
you have just heard, and which I shall not forget, because I--I am sorry
for you, monseigneur," added Pascal, whose rage redoubled his
effrontery,--"in spite of her beautiful eyes, I must have revenge for
the outrages of this too adorable person."
"M. Pascal," said the prince, triumphant at the thought of avenging
himself, "M. Pascal!" and with a significant gesture he showed him the
door; "leave this room, and never set your foot here again!"
"Monseigneur, these words--"
"M. Pascal," repeated the prince, in a louder voice, reaching his hand
to the bell-cord, "go out of this room instantly, or I will have you put
out."
There is ordinarily so much cowardice in insolence, so much baseness in
avarice, that M. Pascal, overwhelmed at the prospect of the destruction
of his hopes as well as the loss of his profit on the loan, repented too
late his brutality, and, becoming as abject as he had been arrogant,
said to the prince, in a pitiful voice:
"Monseigneur, I was jesting. I thought your Highness, in deigning to
allow me to talk frankly, would be amused at my whims; that is why I
permitted myself to say such improper things. Can your Highness suppose
that I would dare cherish the least resentment for the pleasantries this
charming lady addressed to me? I am too gallant, too much of a French
knight for that I will even ask your Highness, in case, as I hope, the
loan takes place, to offer to this respectable lady what we men of the
strong-box, as she so amusingly called us just now, call pin-money for
her toilet,--a few rolls of a thousand louis. Ladies always have some
little purchases to make, and--"
"M. Pascal," said the prince, who enjoyed this humiliation which he had
not the courage to inflict on Pascal, "you are a miserable scoundrel. Go
out!"
"Ah, so, monseigneur! Do you mean seriously to treat me in this way?"
cried Pascal.
The prince without replying rang vigorously; an officer entered.
"You see that man," said the archduke, indicating Pascal by a gesture;
"look at him."
"Yes, monseigneur."
"Do you know his name?"
"Yes, monseigneur; it is M. Pascal."
"Would you recognise him again?"
"Perfectly, monseigneur."
"Very well. Conduct this man to the door of the vestibule, and if he
ever has the impudence to present himself here, drive him away in
disgrace."
"We will not fail to do it, monseigneur," replied the officer, who with
his comrades had endured the insolence of M. Pascal.
Our hero, realising the ruin of his hopes, and having no longer a point
to gain, recovered his audacity, held up his head and said to the
prince, who, sufficiently avenged, was eager to join Madeleine in the
adjoining chamber:
"Wait, M. archduke, the courage and baseness of both of us are of the
same feather,--the other day I was strong for reason of your cowardice,
as now you are strong for reason of mine. The only brave person here is
that damned woman with the black eyebrows and blond hair; but I will
have my revenge on her and on you!"
The prince, angered at being thus addressed in the presence of one of
his subordinates, became purple, and stamped his foot in fury.
"Will you go out, sir?" cried the officer, putting his hand on the hilt
of his sword, as a threat to M. Pascal. "Out of here, or, if not--"
"Softly, M. fighter," replied Pascal, coolly, as he retired, "softly,
sir, they do not cut up people with a sword here, you see! And we are in
France, you see! And we have, you see, some good little commissaries of
police who receive the complaints of an honest citizen who is
maltreated."
M. Pascal went out of the palace steeped in rancour, devoured with hate,
bursting with rage. He thought of his thwarted scheme for usury, his
disappointed love, and he could not banish from his thoughts the pale
and glowing face of Madeleine, who, far from making him forget the
virginal purity of Antonine's beauty, seemed to recall her more
forcibly to his memory,--the two perfect, yet dissimilar, types
heightening the charms of each by contrast.
"Man is a strange animal. I feel within me all the instincts of the
tiger," said Pascal to himself, as he slowly walked down the street of
the Faubourg St. Honoré, with both hands plunged in the pockets of his
trousers. "No," added he, continuing to walk with his head down, and his
eyes fixed mechanically on the pavement, "it is not necessary to say
that for fear of rendering the envy they bear us millionaires less
cruel, less bitter to those who feel it, because, fortunately, those who
envy us suffer the torments of the damned for every joy they suppose we
have. Yet, indeed, it is a fact,--here I am at this hour, with a purse
which can provide me with every pleasure permitted or forbidden that
ever a man was allowed to dream! I am still young, I am not a fool, I am
full of strength and health, free as a bird, the earth is open to me. I
can obtain the most exquisite of all the country offers. I can lead the
life of a sybarite in Paris, London, Vienna, Naples, or Constantinople;
I can be a prince, duke, or marquis, and covered with insignia; I can
have this evening the most beautiful and coveted actresses in Paris; I
can have every day a feast of Lucullus, and have myself drawn by the
finest horses in Paris; I could even in one month, by taking a splendid
hôtel, as many knaves and imbeciles do, surround myself with the élite
of Paris and of Europe,--even this so-called king, whom I failed to
consecrate with the holy vial of the Bank of France, this archduke whom
I have just left, has licked my feet. Ah, well, my word of honour!"
added M. Pascal, mentally, gnashing his teeth, "I wager there is not a
person in the world who suffers as I do this moment. I was in paradise
when, as a drudge, I cleaned the shoes of my old rascal usurer in the
province. Fortunately, not to masticate empty, I can always, while
waiting for better morsels, chew a little on Dutertre. Let us run to
the house of my bailiff."
* * * * *
The archduke, after the departure of the financier, hastened, as we have
said, to find the Marquise de Miranda, but, to his great astonishment,
she was not in the next room.
As this chamber had no other egress than through the study, the prince
asked the officers if they had seen the person to whom he had given
audience pass. They replied that the lady had come out of the parlour,
and had left the palace a little while before the departure of M.
Pascal.
Madeleine had really gone away, although it was her first intention to
wait for the prince after the conclusion of his interview with M.
Pascal.
This is why the marquise did not keep her first resolution.
She reëntered the parlour, after having treated M. Pascal as he well
deserved, when, looking into the garden by chance, she saw Frantz, who
had asked the favour of a turn in the park, accompanied by Major Butler.
At the sight of Frantz, Madeleine stood petrified with astonishment. She
recognised her blond archangel, the object of that ideal and only
passion which she had confessed to Sophie Dutertre.