Pascal stood a moment dazzled, fascinated.
He beheld Madeleine a thousand times more beautiful, more attractive,
more interesting than the day before. And, although a fine judge, as he
had said to the prince, although he had enjoyed and abused all those
treasures of beauty, grace, and youth which misery renders tributary to
wealth, never in his life had he dreamed of such a creature as
Madeleine; and strange, or rather natural to this brutalised man,
deprived by satiety of all pleasures, he evoked the same moment the
virginal figure of Antonine by the side of the marquise. For him, Venus
Aphrodite was perfected by Hebe.
Madeleine, taking advantage of the involuntary silence of Pascal, said
in a dry, haughty tone, and without making the slightest allusion to the
scene of the day before, notwithstanding the words added to her name on
the card:
"Monsieur, I have a letter of credit on you: here it is. I wished to see
you in order to arrange some business matters."
This short and disdainful accent disconcerted Pascal; he expected some
explanation of the scene of the day before, if not an excuse for it, so
he said, stammering:
"What, madame, you come here--only--to learn about this letter of
credit?"
"For this letter first, then for something else."
"I suspected it," said Pascal to himself, with a light sigh of relief,
"this letter of credit was only a pretext. It is a good sign."
Then he said aloud:
"The letter of credit, madame, is in the hands of my cashier; he has the
order to attend to your demand. As to the other thing which brings you,
is it, as I hope, personal?"
"Yes."
"Before speaking, madame, permit me to ask you one question."
"What is it?"
"On the card which you have just sent me, madame, you wrote that you had
seen me yesterday at the Élysée."
"Well?"
"But you do not seem to recollect our interview."
"I do not comprehend."
"Well," said Pascal, regaining his assurance and thinking that the
dryness of Madeleine's tone was assumed for some purpose he did not
clearly understand, "let us now, madame marquise, confess, at least,
that you treated your humble servant very cruelly yesterday."
"What next?"
"What! you feel no remorse for having been so wicked? You do not regret
your unjust anger against me?"
"No."
"Very well, I understand; it was done for effect on this fine man, the
archduke," Pascal presumed to say with a smile, hoping in some way to
draw Madeleine out of this frozen reserve which had begun to make him
uneasy. "It is always very adroit to pretend to feel an interest in the
dignity of those we govern, because, between us,--beautiful, adorable,
as you are,--you can make of this poor prince all that you wish, but I
defy you ever to do so with a man of spirit or a brave man."
"Continue."
"Wait, madame marquise, I have not seen your letter of credit," and
Pascal opened it. "I wager it is an atrocious meanness. Zounds! I was
sure of it,--forty thousand francs! What would make a woman like you do
with such a beggarly pittance in Paris? Ah! Ah! Oh!--forty thousand
francs. Only a German archduke could be capable of such magnificence."
Madeleine had at first listened to Pascal without comprehending him.
Soon she saw his meaning: he regarded her as the mistress of the prince
and living on his liberality.
A deep blush mounted suddenly to Madeleine's face. Then a moment of
reflection calmed her, and for the sake of her projects she permitted
Pascal to keep his opinion, and replied, with a half-smile:
"Evidently you do not like the prince."
"I detest him!" cried Pascal, audaciously, encouraged by the smile of
the marquise, and thinking to make a master stroke by braving things
out. "I abominate this accursed prince, because he possesses an
inestimable treasure--that I would like to take away from him even at
the cost of all my--"
And Pascal threw an impassioned look on Madeleine, who replied:
"A treasure? I did not think the prince so rich, since he desired to
borrow from you, monsieur."
"Eh, madame," said Pascal, in a low, panting voice, "that treasure is
you."
"Come, you flatter me, monsieur."
"Listen, madame," replied Pascal, after a moment's silence, "let us come
to the point, that is the best method. You are a woman of mind, I am not
a fool, we understand each other."
"About what, monsieur?"
"I am going to tell you. If among foreigners I do not pass for a
schoolgirl in finances, I am supposed to have a little competency, am I
not?"
"You are known to be immensely rich, monsieur."
"I pass then for what I am; I am going to prove it to you; a million of
ready money for the expenses of the establishment, a hundred thousand
pounds annuity, a wedding basket, each as the united archdukes of
Germany could not pay for with all their little savings, and more, I pay
for the house. What do you say to that?"
Madeleine, who did not comprehend him at first, looked at Pascal with an
air of astonishment. He continued:
"This liberality amazes you, or perhaps you do not believe it. It
appears to you to be too much, does it? I will show you I can indulge
myself in that folly. Here is a little note-book which looks like
nothing," and he drew it from one of the drawers of his desk. "It is my
balance-sheet, and, without understanding finances, you can see that
this year my income amounted to twenty-seven millions, five hundred and
sixty thousand francs. Now let us suppose that my extravagance costs me
the round sum of three millions, there remain twenty-four little
millions, which, manipulated as I manipulate them, will bring me in
fifteen hundred thousand pounds income, and, as I live admirably well on
fifty or sixty thousand francs a year, I gain in three years, with my
income alone, the three millions which my folly cost me. I tell you
that, marquise, because in these adventures it is well to estimate and
prove that one can do all he promises. Now confess that the good man
Pascal is worth more than an archduke."
"So you make this offer to me, monsieur?"
"What a question! Come, leave your archduke, give me some promise, and I
put in your hand a million in drafts. I will make an act with my notary
for the hundred thousand pounds annuity, and if Father Pascal is
satisfied, he is not at the end of his rolls."
The financier spoke the truth; he had made these offers sincerely. The
increasing admiration he felt at the sight of Madeleine, the pride of
taking the mistress of a prince, the vanity of surrounding her, before
the eyes of all Paris, with a splendour which would excite the envy of
all,--finally, the abominable hope of inducing the marquise, by means of
money, to take Antonine away from Frantz,--all, in his ignominy and in
his magnificence, justified his offer to Madeleine.
Recognising from this offer the degree of influence she exercised over
Pascal, Madeleine rejoiced in it, and, to obtain further proof of his
sincerity, she said, with apparent hesitation:
"Without doubt, monsieur, these propositions are above my poor merit,
but--"
"Fifty thousand pounds more annuity, and a charming country-house,"
cried Pascal. "That is my last word, marquise."
"And this is mine, M. Pascal," said Madeleine, rising and giving the
financier a look which made him recoil.
"Listen to me well. You are basely avaricious; your magnificent offer
proves, then, the impression I have made on you."
"If this offer is not enough," cried Pascal, clasping his hands, "speak,
and--"
"Be silent, I have no need of your money."
"My fortune, if necessary."
"Look at me well, M. Pascal, and if you have ever dared look an honest
woman in the face, and know how to read truth on her brow, you will see
that I speak the truth. You might put all your fortune there at my feet,
and the disdain and disgust you excite in me would be the same."
"Crush me, but let me tell you--"
"Be silent! It has suited me to let you believe a moment that I was the
mistress of the prince; first, because I do not care for the esteem of a
man of your character, and then, because that would encourage you in
your insulting offers."
"But then, why have--"
"Be silent! I had need to know the degree of influence I possessed over
you. I know, and I am going to use it."
"Oh, I ask nothing better, if you wish--"
"I have come here for two reasons; the first, to receive this letter of
credit--"
"Instantly, but--"
"I have come for another reason,--to put an end to the infamous abuse
you have made of an apparent service, a pretended generosity rendered to
the husband of my best friend, M. Charles Dutertre."
"You are acquainted with the Dutertres! ah, I see the trap."
"All means are fair to catch malicious creatures; you are caught."
"Oh, not yet," replied Pascal, gnashing his teeth with rage and despair,
for the imperious beauty of Madeleine, increased by her glowing
animation, excited his passion to frenzy; "perhaps you triumph too soon,
madame."
"You will see."
"We will see," said Pascal, trying to pay off with audacity, in spite of
the torture he endured, "we will see."
"This instant, there on that table, you are going to sign a deed, in
good form, by which you engage yourself to grant to M. Dutertre the time
that you have granted by your verbal promise, to liquidate his debt to
you."
"But--"
"As you are capable of deceiving me, and as I understand nothing of
business, I have ordered a notary to draw up this deed, so that you have
only to sign it."
"This is a pleasantry!"
"The notary has accompanied me, he is waiting in the next room."
"What, have you brought a--"
"One does not come alone into the house of a man like you. You are going
to sign this deed instantly."
"For what return?"
"My disdain and contempt, as always."
"Misery! that is violence!"
"It is so."
"You wish to take from me, gratis, my sweetest morsel,--in the very
moment when, in the rage which possesses me, no reparation but revenge
was left to console me a little! Ah, Madame Dutertre is your best
friend! Ah, her tears will be bitter to you! Ah, the sorrows of this
family will break your heart! Zounds, that is to the point, and I will
have my revenge besides!"
"You refuse?"
"If I refuse? Ah, indeed, madame marquise, do you think me an idiot? And
for a woman of mind you have shown yourself very weak in this. You might
have caught me by cajolery--entangled by some promise. I was capable
of--"
"Come, now, who would stoop so low as to pretend to wish to seduce M.
Pascal? You are ordered to repair an injury, you make reparation, and M.
Pascal is despised after as before, to-day as yesterday, and to-morrow
as to-day."
"Misery! this is enough to make one mad!" cried the financier,
astonished, and almost frightened by the tone of conviction with which
Madeleine spoke, and he asked himself if she had not discovered some
secret rottenness in his life which she intended to use as a weapon. But
our hero had been a prudent scoundrel, and soon took heart again after a
rapid examination of conscience, and replied:
"Ah, well, madame, here I am ready to obey when you force me to do so. I
am waiting."
"It will not be long."
"I am waiting."
"I have seen in your street several lodgings to let. That is nothing
extraordinary, I am sure, M. Pascal; but a happy chance has shown me a
very pretty apartment on the first floor, not yet engaged, almost
opposite your house."
Pascal looked at Madeleine stupidly.
"This apartment I shall take, and shall install myself there to-morrow."
A vague foreboding made the financier start; he turned pale.
Madeleine continued, fixing her burning gaze on the man's eyes:
"At every hour of the day and the night you will know that I am there.
You will not be able to go out of your house without passing before my
windows, where I shall be often, very often. I am fond of sitting at the
window. You will not leave your house, I defy you. An irresistible,
fatal charm will draw you back to your punishment every instant. The
sight of me will give you torture, and you will seek that sight. Every
time you meet my glance, and you will meet it often, you will receive a
dagger in your heart, and yet, ambushed behind your curtains, you will
watch my every movement."
As she talked, Madeleine had made a step toward Pascal, holding him
fascinated, panting under her fixed, burning eyes, from which he could
not remove his own.
The marquise continued:
"That is not all. As this lodging is large, Antonine, immediately after
her marriage, and Frantz will come to live with me. I do not know, then,
my poor M. Pascal, what will become of you."
"Oh, this woman is infernal," murmured the financier.
"Judge, then, the tortures of all sorts that you will have to endure.
You must have been deeply smitten with Antonine to wish to marry her;
you must have been deeply smitten with me to put your fortune at my
feet. Ah, well, not only will you suffer an agonising martyrdom in
seeing the two women you have madly desired possessed by others,--for I
am a widow and will remarry,--but you will curse your riches, for every
moment of the day will tell you that they have been impotent, and that
they will always be impotent to satisfy your ardent desires."
"Leave me!" stammered Pascal, recoiling before Madeleine, who kept him
always under her eye. "Leave me! Truly this woman is a demon!"
"Stop, my poor M. Pascal," continued the marquise, "you see I pity you
in spite of myself, when I think of your envious rage, your ferocious
jealousy, exasperated to frenzy by the constant happiness of Antonine,
for you will see us every day, and often in the night. Yes, the season
is beautiful, the bright moon charming, and many times in the evening,
very late, hidden in the shadow with your eyes fixed on our dwelling,
you will see sometimes Antonine and sometimes me with our elbows on the
balcony railing, enjoying the cool of the evening, and smiling often, I
confess, at M. Pascal, then standing behind some window-blind or peeping
from some casement, devouring us with his eyes; often Antonine and
Frantz will talk of love by the light of the moon, often I and my future
husband will be as delightfully occupied under your eyes."
"Curses!" cried Pascal, losing all control of himself, "she tortures me
on burning coals."
"And that is not all," continued the marquise, in a low, almost panting,
voice. "At a late hour of the night you will see our windows closed, our
curtains discreetly drawn on the feeble light of our alabaster lamps, so
sweet and propitious to the voluptuousness of the night." Then the
marquise, bursting into peals of laughter, added: "And, my poor M.
Pascal, I would not be astonished then if, in your rage and despair, you
should become mad and blow your brains out."
"Not without having my revenge, at least," muttered Pascal, wrought to
frenzy, and rushing to his desk where he had a loaded pistol.
But Madeleine, who knew she had everything to fear from this man, had,
as she slowly approached him, kept him under her eye, and, step by step,
had reached the chimney; at the threatening gesture of Pascal she pulled
the bell-cord violently.
At the moment Pascal, livid and frightful, turned to face Madeleine, the
servant entered hastily, surprised at the loud ringing of the bell.
At the sound of the opening door and the sight of his valet, Pascal came
to himself, quickly thrust the hand which held the pistol behind him,
and let it fall on the carpet.
The marquise had taken advantage of the interruption to approach the
door left open by the servant, and to call in a loud voice to the
notary, who, seated in the next room, had also quickly risen at the
sudden sound of the bell:
"Monsieur, a thousand pardons for having made you wait so long; do me
the favour to enter."
The notary entered.
"Go out," said Pascal, roughly, to his servant.
And the financier wiped his livid brow, which was bathed in a cold
sweat.
Madeleine, alone with Pascal and the notary, said to the latter:
"You have, monsieur, prepared the deed relating to M. Charles Dutertre?"
"Yes, madame, there is nothing to do but to approve the document and
sign."
"Very well," said the marquise; then, while Pascal, wholly overcome, was
leaning on the armchair before his desk, she took a sheet of paper and a
pen, and wrote what follows:
"Sign the deed, and, not only will I not live opposite your house, but
this evening I will leave Paris, and will not return in a long time.
What I promise I will keep."
Having written these lines, she handed the paper to Pascal, and said to
the notary:
"I beg your pardon, sir; it concerned a condition relating to the deed
that I desire to submit to M. Pascal."
"Certainly, madame," replied the notary, while the financier was
reading.
He had hardly concluded his examination of the note, when he said to the
notary, in a changed voice, as if he were eager to escape a great
danger:
"Let us--finish--this--deed."
"I am going, monsieur, to give you a reading of it before signing,"
replied the notary, drawing the deed from his pocketbook, and slowly
unfolding it.
But M. Pascal snatched it rudely from his hands and said, as if his
sight were overcast:
"Where must I sign?"
"Here, monsieur, and approve the document first, but it is customary--"
Pascal wrote the approval of the document with a spasmodic and trembling
hand, signed it, threw the pen on the desk, and inclined his head so as
not to meet the glance of Madeleine.
"There is no flourish here," said the careful notary.
Pascal made the flourish; the notary took the deed with a surprised,
almost frightened look, so sinister and dreadful was the expression of
Pascal's face.
The marquise, perfectly cool, took up her letter of credit lying on the
desk, and said to the financier:
"As I will have need of all my funds for my journey, monsieur, and as I
leave this evening, I am going, if you please, to receive the whole
amount of this letter of credit."
"Pass to the counting-room," replied Pascal, mechanically, his eyes
wandering and bloodshot; his livid pallor had suddenly turned to a
purplish red.
Madeleine preceding the notary, who made a pretext of saluting Pascal in
order to look at him again, still with an air of alarm, went out of the
office, shut the door, and said to the servant:
"Where is the counting-room, please?"
"The first door on the left in the court, madame."
The marquise left the parlour when a loud noise was heard in the office
of M. Pascal.
It sounded like the fall of a body on the floor.
The servant, leaving Madeleine and the notary at once, ran to his
master's room.
The marquise, after having received bank-bills to the amount of her
letter of credit, was just about to enter her carriage, accompanied by
the notary, when she saw the servant rush out of the gateway with a
frightened air.
"What is the matter, my good friend?" asked the notary, "you seem to be
alarmed."
"Ah, monsieur, what a pity! my master has just had an attack of
apoplexy. I am running for the physician."
And he disappeared, running at the top of his speed.
"I thought," said the notary, addressing Madeleine, "this dear gentleman
did not appear to be in his natural condition. Did you not observe the
same thing, madame marquise?"
"I thought, like you, there was something peculiar in the countenance of
M. Pascal."
"God grant this attack may be nothing serious, madame. So rich a man to
die in the vigour of life, that would really be a pity!"
"A great pity indeed! But tell me, monsieur, if you wish, I can take you
home in my carriage, and you can deliver to me the deed relating to M.
Dutertre; I have need of it."
"Here it is, madame, but I shall not permit you to drive out of your way
for me. I am going only two or three steps from here."
"Very well. Have the kindness, then, to take these forty thousand
francs. I wish to have ten thousand for my journey and a letter of
credit on Vienna."
"I will attend to it immediately, madame. And when will you need this
money?"
"This evening before six o'clock, if you please."
"I will be on time, madame."
The notary bowed respectfully, and Madeleine ordered the coachman to
drive directly to the factory of Charles Dutertre.