Jean Baptiste Véron, a native, it was understood, of the south of
France, established himself as a merchant at Havre-de-Grâce in 1788,
being then a widower with one child, a young boy. The new-comer's
place of business was on the south quay, about a hundred yards west of
the custom-house. He had brought letters of high recommendation from
several eminent Paris firms; his capital was ascertained to be large;
and soon, moreover, approving him self to be a man of keen mercantile
discernment, and measured, peremptory, unswerving business habits, it
is not surprising that his commercial transactions speedily took a
wide range, or that, at the end of about fifteen years, M. Véron was
pronounced by general consent to be the wealthiest merchant of the
commercial capital of northern France. He was never, albeit, much of a
favourite with any class of society: his manner was too _brusque_,
decided, unbending--his speech too curt, frequently too bitter, for
that; but he managed to steer his course in very difficult times
quite as safely as those who put themselves to great pains and charges
to obtain popularity. He never expressed--publicly at least--any
preference for Royalism, Republicanism, or Imperialism; for
fleur-de-lis, bonnet-rouge, or tricolore: in short, Jean Baptiste
Véron was a stern, taciturn, self-absorbed man of business; and as
nothing else was universally concluded, till the installation of a
_quasi_ legitimacy by Napoleon Bonaparte, when a circumstance, slight
in itself, gave a clearer significance to the cold, haughty, repellent
expression which played habitually about the merchant's gray, deep-set
eyes, and thin, firmly-compressed lips. His newly-engraved private
card read thus:--'J. B. _de_ Véron, _Mon Séjour_, Ingouville.' Mon
Séjour was a charming suburban domicile, situate upon the Côte, as it
is usually termed-a sloping eminence on the north of Le Havre, which
it commands, and now dotted with similar residences, but at the period
we are writing of, very sparsely built upon. Not long after this
assumption of the aristocratic prefix to his name, it was discovered
that he had insinuated himself into the very narrow and exclusive
circle of the De Mérodes, who were an unquestionable fragment of the
old noblesse, damaged, it is true, almost irretrievably in purse, as
their modest establishment on the Côte too plainly testified; but in
pedigree as untainted and resplendent as in the palmiest days of the
Capets. As the Chevalier de Mérode and his daughter Mademoiselle
Henriette-Delphine-Hortense-Marie-Chasse-Loup de Mérode--described as
a tall, fair, and extremely meagre damsel, of about thirty years of
age--were known to be rigidly uncompromising in all matters having
reference to ancestry, it was concluded that Jean Baptiste do Véron
had been able to satisfy his noble friends, that although _de facto_ a
merchant from the sad necessities of the evil time, he was _de jure_
entitled to take rank and precedence with the illustrious though
decayed nobility of France. It might be, too, as envious gossips
whispered, that any slight flaw or break in the chain of De Véron's
patrician descent, had been concealed or overlooked in the glitter of
his wealth, more especially if it was true, as rumour presently began
to circulate, that the immense sum--in French eyes and ears--of
300,000 francs (L.12,000) was to be settled upon Mademoiselle de
Mérode and her heirs on the day which should see her united in holy
wedlock with Eugène de Véron, by this time a fine-looking young man,
of one or two-and-twenty, and, like ninety-nine in every hundred of
the youth of France, strongly prejudiced _against_ the pretensions of
mere birth and hereditary distinction.
Rumour in this instance was correctly informed. 'Eugène,' said M. de
Véron, addressing his son in his usual cold positive manner, and at
the same time locking his private écritoire, the hand of the clock
being just on the stroke of five, the hour for closing--'I have a
matter of importance to inform you of. All differences between me and
the Chevalier de Mérode relative to your marriage with his daughter,
Mademoiselle de Mérode, are'----
'Hein!' ejaculated Eugène, suddenly whirling round upon his stool, and
confronting his father. 'Hein!'
'All differences, I say,' resumed M. de Véron with unruffled calm and
decision, 'between myself and the chevalier are arranged _à
l'aimable_; and the contract of marriage will be ready, for your and
Mademoiselle de Mérode's signature, on Monday next at two precisely.'
'Mine and Mademoiselle de Mérode's!' repeated the astounded son, who
seemed half doubtful whether he saw or heard aright.
'Yes. No wonder you are surprised. So distinguished a connection could
hardly, under the circumstances, have been hoped for; and it would
have been cruel to have given you any intimation on the subject whilst
there was a chance of the negotiation issuing unfavourably. Your wife
and you will, for the present, at all events, take up your abode at
Mon Séjour; and I must consequently look out at once for a smaller, a
more bachelor-suiting residence.'
'My wife and me!' echoed Véron junior with the same air of stupid
amazement as before--'My wife and me!' Recovering a little, he added:
'Confound it, there must be some mistake here. Do you know, _mon
père_, that this Mademoiselle de Mérode is not at all to my taste? I
would as soon marry'----
'No folly, Eugène, if you please,' interrupted M. de Véron. 'The
affair, as I have told you, is decided. You will marry Mademoiselle de
Mérode; or if not, he added with iron inflexibility of tone and
manner--'Eugène de Véron is likely to benefit very little by his
father's wealth, which the said Eugène will do well to remember is of
a kind not very difficult of transference beyond the range of the law
of inheritance which prevails in France. The leprosy of the
Revolution,' continued M. de Véron as he rose and put on his hat, 'may
indeed be said to have polluted our very hearths, when we find
children setting up their opinions, and likings and dislikings,
forsooth! against their fathers' decision, in a matter so entirely
within the parental jurisdiction as that of a son or daughter's
marriage.'
Eugène did not reply; and after assisting his father--who limped a
little in consequence of having severely sprained his ankle some eight
or ten days previously--to a light one-horse carriage in waiting
outside, he returned to the office, and resumed his seat, still in a
maze of confusion, doubt, and dismay. 'How could,' he incoherently
muttered--'how could my father--how could anybody suppose that----How
could he especially be so blind as not to have long ago
perceived----What a contrast!' added Eugène de Véron jumping up,
breaking into passionate speech, and his eyes sparkling as if he was
actually in presence of the dark-eyed divinity whose image filled his
brain and loosed his tongue--'what a contrast! Adéline, young,
roseate, beautiful as Spring, lustrous as Juno, graceful as Hebe! Oh,
_par exemple_, Mademoiselle de Mérode, you, with your high blood and
skinny bones, must excuse me. And poor, too, poor as Adéline!
Decidedly, the old gentleman must be crazed, and--and let me
see----Ay, to be sure, I must confer with Edouard at once.'
Eugène de Véron had only one flight of stairs to ascend in order to
obtain this conference, Edouard le Blanc, the brother of Adéline,
being a principal clerk in the establishment. Edouard le Blanc readily
and sincerely condoled with his friend upon the sudden obscuration of
his and Adéline's hopes, adding that he had always felt a strong
misgiving upon the subject; and after a lugubrious dialogue, during
which the clerk hinted nervously at a circumstance which, looking at
the unpleasant turn matters were taking, might prove of terrible
import--a nervousness but very partially relieved by Eugène's
assurance, that, come what may, he would take the responsibility in
that particular entirely upon himself, as, indeed, he was bound to
do--the friends left the office, and wended their way to Madame le
Blanc's, Ingouville. There the lover forgot, in Adéline's gay
exhilarating presence and conversation, the recent ominous and
exasperating communication from his father; while Edouard proceeded to
take immediate counsel with his mother upon the altered aspect of
affairs, not only as regarded Adéline and Eugène de Véron, but more
particularly himself, Edouard le Blanc.
Ten minutes had hardly passed by ordinary reckoning--barely one by
Eugène de Véron's--when his interview with the charming Adéline was
rudely broken in upon by Madame le Blanc, a shrewd, prudent woman of
the world, albeit that in this affair she had somewhat lost her
balance, tempted by the glittering prize offered for her daughter's
acceptance, and for a time apparently within her reach. The mother's
tone and manner were stern and peremptory. 'Have the kindness,
Monsieur Eugène de Véron, to bid Adéline adieu at once. I have a
serious matter to talk over with you alone. Come!'
Adéline was extremely startled at hearing her rich lover thus
addressed, and the carnation of her glowing cheeks faded at once to
lily paleness, whilst Eugène's features flushed as quickly to deepest
crimson. He stammered out his willingness to attend madame
immediately, and hastily kissing Adéline's hand, followed the
unwelcome intruder to another room.
'So, Monsieur Eugène,' began Madame le Blanc, 'this ridiculous
wooing--of which, as you know, I never heartily approved--is at an
end. You are, I hear, to marry Mademoiselle de Mérode in the early
part of next week.'
'Madame le Blanc,' exclaimed the young man, 'what is it you are
saying? _I_ marry Mademoiselle de Mérode next or any other week! I
swear to you, by all that is true and sacred, that I will be torn in
pieces by wild horses before I break faith with'----
'Chut! chut!' interrupted Madame Le Blanc; 'you may spare your oaths.
The sentimental bavardage of boys in love will be lost upon me. You
will, as you ought, espouse Mademoiselle de Mérode, who is, I am told,
a very superior and amiable person; and as to Adéline, she will
console herself. A girl with her advantages will always be able to
marry sufficiently well, though not into the family of a millionaire.
But my present business with you, Monsieur Eugène de Véron, relates to
a different and much more important matter. Edouard has just confided
to me a very painful circumstance. You have induced him to commit not
only a weak but a highly criminal act: he has let you have, without
Monsieur de Véron's consent or knowledge, two thousand francs, upon
the assurance that you would either reimburse that sum before his
accounts were balanced, or arrange the matter satisfactorily with your
father.' 'But, Madame le Blanc'----
'Neither of which alternatives,' persisted that lady, 'I very plainly
perceive, you will be able to fulfil, unless you comply with Monsieur
de Véron's wishes; and if you have any real regard for Adéline, you
will signify that acquiescence without delay, for her brother's ruin
would in a moral sense be hers also. Part of the money has, I
understand, been squandered on the presents you have made her: they
shall be returned'----
'Madame le Blanc,' exclaimed the excited young man, 'you will drive me
mad! I cannot, will not give up Adéline; and as for the paltry sum of
money you speak of--_my_ money as it may fairly be considered-_that_
shall be returned to-morrow morning.'
Madame le Blanc did not speak for a few seconds, and then said: 'Very
well, mind you keep your promise. To-morrow is, you are aware, the
Fête Dieu: we have promised Madame Carson of the Grande Rue to pass
the afternoon and evening at her house, where we shall have a good
view of the procession. Do you and Edouard call on us there, as soon
as the affair is arranged. I will not detain you longer at present.
Adieu! Stay, stay--by this door, if you please. I cannot permit you to
see Adéline again, at all events till this money transaction is
definitively settled.'
'As you have now slept upon the proposal I communicated to you
yesterday afternoon,' said M. de Véron, addressing his son on the
following morning at the conclusion of a silent breakfast--'you may
perhaps be prepared with a more fitting answer than you were then?'
Eugène warmly protested his anxiety to obey all his father's
reasonable commands; but in this case compliance was simply
impossible, forasmuch as he, Eugène, had already irrevocably pledged
his word, his heart, his honour, in another quarter, and could not,
therefore, nay, would not, consent to poison his future existence by
uniting himself with Mademoiselle de Mérode, for whom, indeed, he felt
the profoundest esteem, but not the slightest emotion of affection or
regard.
'Your word, your honour, your heart--you should have added your
fortune,' replied M. de Véron with frigid, slowly-distilled, sarcastic
bitterness--'are irrevocably engaged, are they, to Adéline le Blanc,
sister of my collecting clerk--daughter of a deceased sous-lieutenant
of the line'----
'Of the Imperial Guard,' interposed Eugène.
'Who aids her mother to eke out a scanty pension by embroidery'----
'Very superior, artistic embroidery,' again interjected the son.
'Be it so. I have not been quite so unobservant, Eugène, of certain
incidents, as you and your friends appear to have supposed. But time
proves all things, and the De Mérodes and I can wait.'
Nothing further passed till M. de Véron rose to leave the room, when
his son, with heightened colour and trembling speech, although
especially aiming at a careless indifference of tone and manner, said:
Sir--sir--one word, if you please. I have a slight favour to ask.
There are a few debts, to the amount of about two thousand francs,
which I wish to discharge immediately--this morning, in fact.'
'Debts to the amount of about two thousand francs, which you wish to
discharge immediately--this morning, in fact,' slowly repeated De
Véron, fixing on his son a triumphant, mocking glance, admirably
seconded by the curve of his thin white lips. 'Well, let the bills be
sent to me. If correct and fair, they shall be paid.'
'But--but, father, one, the chief item, is a debt of honour!'
'Indeed! Then your honour is pledged to others besides Mademoiselle
_la brodeuse_? I have only to say, that in that case I _will not_
assist you.' Having said this, M. de Véron, quite regardless of his
son's angry expostulations, limped out of the apartment, and shortly
after, the sound of carriage-wheels announced his departure to Le
Havre. Eugène, about an hour afterwards followed, vainly striving to
calm his apprehensions by the hope, that before the day for balancing
Edouard's accounts arrived, he should find his father in a more
Christian-like and generous mood, or, at any rate, hit upon some means
of raising the money.
The day, like the gorgeous procession that swept through the crowded
streets, passed slowly and uninterruptedly away in M. de Véron's place
of business, till about half-past four, when that gentleman directed a
porter, who was leaving the private office, to inform M. le Blanc,
that he, M. de Véron, wished to speak with him immediately. On hearing
this order, Eugène looked quickly up from the desk at which he was
engaged, to his father's face; but he discerned nothing on that
impassive tablet either to dissipate or confirm his fear.
'Edouard le Blanc,' said M. de Véron with mild suavity of voice the
instant the summoned clerk presented himself, 'it so chances that I
have no further occasion for your services'----
Sir!--sir!' gasped the terrified young man.
'You are,' continued M. de Véron, 'entitled to a month's salary, in
lieu of that period of notice--one hundred francs, with which you may
credit yourself in the cash account you will please to balance and
bring me as quickly as possible.'
'Sir!--sir!' again bewilderedly iterated the panic-stricken clerk, as
he turned distractedly from father to son--'Sir!'
'My words are plain enough, I think,' observed M. de Véron, coolly
tapping and opening his snuff-box from which he helped himself to a
hearty pinch. 'You are discharged with one hundred francs, a month's
salary in lieu of warning, in your pocket. You have now only to bring
your accounts; they are correct, of course; I, finding them so, sign
your _livret_, and there is an end of the matter.'
Edouard le Blanc made a step or two towards the door, and then, as if
overwhelmed with a sense of the hopelessness of further concealment,
turned round, threw himself with a cry of terror and despair at M. de
Véron's feet, and poured forth a wild, sobbing, scarcely intelligible
confession of the fault or crime of which he had been guilty, through
the solicitations of M. Eugène, who had, he averred, received every
farthing of the amount in which he, Edouard le Blanc, acknowledged
himself to be a defaulter.
'Yes!--yes!' exclaimed the son; 'Edouard gave the money into my hands,
and if there is any blame, it is mine alone.'
M. de Véron listened with a stolid, stony apathy to all this, save for
a slight glimmer of triumph that, spite of himself, shone out at the
corners of his half-closed eyes. When the young man had ceased sobbing
and exclaiming, he said: 'You admit, Edouard le Blanc, that you have
robbed me of nearly two thousand francs, at, you say, the solicitation
of my son--an excuse, you must be aware, of not the slightest legal
weight; no more than if your pretty sister, Mademoiselle Adéline, who,
I must be permitted to observe, is not altogether, I suspect, a
stranger to this affair----Hear me out, Messieurs, if you please: I
say your excuse has no more legal validity, than if your sister had
counselled you to commit this felony. Now, mark me, young man: it is
just upon five o'clock. At half-past seven precisely, I shall go
before a magistrate, and cause a warrant to be issued for your
apprehension. To-morrow morning, consequently, the brother of
Mademoiselle le Blanc will either be an incarcerated felon, or, which
will suit me just as well, a proclaimed fugitive from justice.'
'One moment--one word, for the love of Heaven, before you go!'
exclaimed Eugène. 'Is there any mode, any means whereby Edouard may be
rescued from this frightful, this unmerited calamity--this
irretrievable ruin?'
'Yes,' rejoined M. de Véron, pausing for an instant on the outer
threshold, 'there is one mode, Eugène, and only one. What it is, you
do not require to be told. I shall dine in town to-day; at seven, I
shall look in at the church of Notre Dame, and remain there precisely
twenty minutes. After that, repentance will be too late.'
Eugène was in despair, for it was quite clear that Adéline must be
given up--Adéline, whose myriad charms and graces rose upon his
imagination in tenfold greater lustre than before, now that he was
about to lose her for ever! But there was plainly no help for it; and
after a brief, agitated consultation, the young men left the office to
join Madame and Mademoiselle le Blanc at the Widow Carson's, in the
Grande Rue, or Rue de Paris, as the only decent street in
Havre-de-Grâce was at that time indifferently named, both for the
purpose of communicating the untoward state of affairs, and that
Eugène might take a lingering, last farewell of Adéline.
Before accompanying them thither, it is necessary to say a few words
of this Madame Carson, who is about to play a very singular part in
this little drama. She was a gay, well-looking, symmetrically-shaped
young widow, who kept a confectioner's shop in the said Grande Rue,
and officiated as her own _dame du comptoir_. Her good-looks,
coquettishly-gracious smiles, and unvarying good temper, rendered her
establishment much more attractive--it was by no means a brilliant
affair in itself--than it would otherwise have been. Madame Carson
was, in a tacit, quiet kind of way, engaged to Edouard le Blanc--that
is to say, she intended marrying him as soon as their mutual savings
should justify such a step; and provided, also, that no more eligible
offer wooed her acceptance in the meantime. M. de Véron himself was
frequently in the habit of calling, on his way to or from Mon Séjour,
for a pâté and a little lively badinage with the comely widow; and so
frequently, at one time, that Edouard le Blanc was half-inclined--to
Madame Carson's infinite amusement--to be jealous of the rich, though
elderly merchant's formal and elaborate courtesies. It was on leaving
her shop that he had slipped and sprained his ankle. M. de Véron
fainted with the extreme pain, was carried in that state into the
little parlour behind the shop, and had not yet recovered
consciousness when the apothecary, whom Madame Carson had despatched
her little waiting-maid-of-all-work in quest of, entered to tender his
assistance. This is all, I think, that needs be said, in a preliminary
way, of Madame Carson.
Of course, the tidings brought by Eugène and Edouard very painfully
affected Mademoiselle le Blanc; but being a very sensible, as well as
remarkably handsome young person, she soon rallied, and insisted,
quite as warmly as her mother did, that the sacrifice necessary to
relieve Edouard from the peril which environed him--painful,
heartbreaking as that sacrifice might be--must be submitted to without
reserve or delay. In other words, that M. de Véron, junior, must
consent to espouse Mademoiselle de Mérode, and forthwith inform his
father that he was ready to sign the nuptial-contract that moment if
necessary. Poor Eugène, who was really over head and ears in love, and
more so just then than ever, piteously lamented his own cruel fate,
and passionately denounced the tiger-heartedness of his barbarian
father; but as tears and reproaches could avail nothing in such a
strait, he finally submitted to the general award, and agreed to
announce his submission to M. de Véron at the church of Notre Dame,
not a moment later, both ladies insisted, than five minutes past
seven.
Madame Carson was not at home all this while. She had gone to church,
and after devotions, called on her way back on one or two friends for
a little gossip, so that it wanted only about a quarter to seven when
she reappeared. Of course the lamentable story had to be told over
again, with all its dismal accompaniments of tears, sighs, and
plaintive ejaculations; and it was curious to observe, as the
narrative proceeded, how the widow's charming eyes flashed and
sparkled, and her cheeks glowed with indignation, till she looked, to
use Edouard le Blanc's expression, 'ferociously' handsome. 'Le
monstre!' she exclaimed, as Eugène terminated the sad history,
gathering up as she spoke the shawl and gloves she had just before put
off; 'but I shall see him at once: I have influence with this Monsieur
de Véron.'
'Nonsense, Emilie,' said Madame le Blanc. '_You_ possess influence
over Monsieur de Véron!'
'Certainly I do. And is that such a miracle?' replied Madame Carson
with a demure glance at Edouard le Blanc. Edouard looked somewhat
scared, but managed to say: 'Not at all, certainly not; but this man's
heart is iron--steel.'
'We shall see,' said the fair widow, as she finished drawing on her
gloves. '_La grande passion_ is sometimes stronger than iron or steel:
is it not Monsieur Eugène? At all events, I shall try. He is in the
church, you say. Very well, if I fail--but I am sure I shall _not_
fail--I return in ten minutes, and that will leave Mademoiselle
Adéline's despairing lover plenty of time to make his submission, if
better may not be; and so _au revoir_, Mesdames et Messieurs.'
'What can she mean?' said Madame le Blanc as the door closed. 'I have
noticed, once or twice during the last fortnight, that she has made
use of strange half-hints relative to Monsieur de Véron.'
'I don't know what she can mean,' said Edouard le Blanc, seizing his
hat and hurrying off; 'but I shall follow, and strive to ascertain.'
He was just in time to catch a glimpse of Madame Carson's skirts as
they whisked round the corner of the Rue St Jacques, and by
quickening his speed, he saw her enter the church from that street.
Notre Dame was crowded; but Edouard le Blanc had no difficulty in
singling out M. de Véron, who was sitting in his accustomed chair,
somewhat removed from the mass of worshippers, on the left of the high
altar; and presently he discerned Madame Carson gently and adroitly
making her way through the crowd towards him. The instant she was near
enough, she tapped him slightly on the shoulder. He turned quickly,
and stared with a haughty, questioning glance at the smiling
confectioner. There was no _grande passion_ in that look, Edouard felt
quite satisfied, and Madame Carson's conduct seemed more than ever
unintelligible. She appeared to say something, which was replied to by
an impatient gesture of refusal, and M. de Véron turned again towards
the altar. Madame Carson next approached close to his chair, and
bending down, whispered in his ear, for perhaps a minute. As she did
so, M. de Véron's body rose slowly up, involuntarily as it were, and
stiffened into rigidity, as if under the influence of some frightful
spell. Forcing himself at last, it seemed, to confront the whisperer,
he no sooner caught her eye than he reeled, like one struck by a heavy
blow, against the pedestal of a saint, whose stony features looked
less white and bloodless than his own. Madame Carson contemplated the
effect she had produced with a kind of pride for a few moments, and
then, with a slight but peremptory wave of her hand, motioned him to
follow her out of the sacred edifice. M. de Véron hastily, though with
staggering steps, obeyed; Edouard le Blanc crossing the church and
reaching the street just soon enough to see them both driven off in M.
de Véron's carriage.
Edouard hurried back to the Grande Rue to report what he had
witnessed; and what could be the interpretation of the inexplicable
scene, engrossed the inventive faculties of all there, till they were
thoroughly tired of their wild and aimless guesses. Eight o'clock
chimed--nine--ten--and they were all, Edouard especially, working
themselves into a complete panic of undefinable apprehension, when, to
their great relief, M. de Véron's carriage drew up before the door.
The first person to alight was M. Bourdon, a notary of eminence; next
M. de Véron, who handed out Madame Carson; and all three walked
through the shop into the back-apartment. The notary wore his usual
business aspect, and had in his hands two rolls of thickly-written
parchment, which he placed upon the table, and at once began to spread
out. M. de Véron had the air of a man walking in a dream, and subdued,
mastered by some overpowering, nameless terror; while Madame Carson,
though pale with excitement, was evidently highly elated, and, to use
a French phrase, completely 'mistress of the situation.' She was the
first to break silence.
'Monsieur de Véron has been kind enough, Edouard, to explain, in the
presence of Monsieur Bourdon, the mistake in the accounts he was
disposed to charge you with to-day. He quite remembers, now, having
received two thousand francs from you, for which, in his hurry at the
time, he gave you no voucher. Is not that so, Monsieur de Véron?' she
added, again fixing on the merchant the same menacing look that Le
Blanc had noticed in the church.
'Yes, yes,' was the quick reply of M. de Véron, who vainly attempted
to look the astounded clerk in the face. 'The mistake was mine. Your
accounts are quite correct, Monsieur le Blanc; and--and I shall be
glad, of course, to see you at the office as usual.'
'That is well,' said Madame Carson; 'and now, Monsieur Bourdon, to
business, if you please. Those documents will not take so long to read
as they did to write.'
The notary smiled, and immediately began reading a marriage-contract
between Eugène de Véron and Adéline le Blanc, by which it appeared
that the union of those young persons was joyfully acceded to by Jean
Baptiste de Véron and Marie le Blanc, their parents--the said Jean
Baptiste de Véron binding himself formally to endow the bride and
bridegroom jointly, on the day of marriage, with the sum of 300,000
francs, and, moreover, to admit his son as a partner in the business,
thenceforth to be carried on under the name of De Véron & Son.
This contract was written in duplicate, and as soon as the notary had
finished reading, Madame Carson handed a pen to M. de Véron, saying in
the same light, coquettish, but peremptory tone as before: 'Now,
Monsieur, quick, if you please: yours is the most important
signature.' The merchant signed and sealed both parchments, and the
other interested parties did the same, in silent, dumb bewilderment,
broken only by the scratching of the pens and the legal words repeated
after the notary. 'We need not detain you longer, Messieurs, I
believe,' said Madame Carson. '_Bon soir_, Monsieur de Véron,' she
added, extending an ungloved hand to that gentleman, who faintly
touched it with his lips; 'you will hear from me to-morrow.'
'What is the meaning of all this?' exclaimed Eugène de Véron, the
instant his father and the notary disappeared. 'I positively feel as
if standing upon my head!' A chorus of like interrogatories from the
Le Blancs assailed Madame Carson, whose ringing bursts of mirth mocked
for a time their impatience.
'Meaning, _parbleu_!' she at last replied, after pausing to catch
breath. 'That is plain enough, surely. Did you not all see with what
_empressement_ the poor man kissed my hand? There, don't look so
wretched, Edouard,' she added with a renewed outburst; 'perhaps I
may have the caprice to prefer you after all to an elderly
millionaire--who knows? But come, let us try to be a little calm and
sensible. What I have done, good folks, I can as easily undo; and that
being the case, Monsieur Eugène must sign me a bond to-morrow morning
for fifty thousand francs, payable three days after his marriage. Is
it agreed? Very well: then I keep these two parchments till the said
bond is executed; and now, my friends; good-night, for I, as you may
believe, am completely tired after all this benevolent fairy-work.'
The wedding took place on the next day but one, to the great
astonishment of every one acquainted with the two families. It was
also positively rumoured that M. de Véron had proposed marriage to
Madame Carson, and been refused! Be this true or not, it was soon
apparent that, from some cause or other, M. de Véron's health and
spirits were irretrievably broken down, and after lingering out a
mopish, secluded life of scarcely a twelvemonth's duration, that
gentleman died suddenly at Mon Séjour. A clause in his will bequeathed
20,000 francs to Madame Carson, with an intimated hope, that it would
be accepted as a pledge by that lady to respect, as she hitherto had
done, the honour of an ancient family.
This pledge to secrecy would no doubt have been kept, but that rumours
of poisoning and suicide, in connection with De Véron's death, having
got abroad, the Procureur--Général ordered an investigation to take
place. The suspicion proved groundless; but the _procès-verbal_ set
forth, that on examining the body of the deceased, there were
discovered the letters 'I. de B.,' 'T. F.,' branded on the front of
the left shoulder; the two last, initials of '_Travaux Forces_'
(forced labour), being large and very distinct. There could be no
doubt, therefore, that the proud M. de Véron was an escaped _forçat_;
and subsequent investigation, which was not, however, very strongly
pressed, sufficiently proved that Jean Baptiste de Véron, the younger
son of a high family, had in very early youth been addicted to wild
courses; that he had gone to the colonies under a feigned name, to
escape difficulties at home; and whilst at the Isle de Bourbon, had
been convicted of premeditated homicide at a gaming-house, and
sentenced to perpetual imprisonment with hard labour. Contriving to
escape, he had returned to France, and by the aid of a considerable
legacy, commenced a prosperous mercantile career; how terminated, we
have just seen. It was by pure accident, or what passes for such in
the world, that Madame Carson had arrived at a knowledge of the
terrible secret. When M. de Véron, after spraining his ankle, was
carried in a state of insensibility into the room behind her shop, she
had immediately busied herself in removing his neckcloth, unfastening
his shirt, then a flannel one which fitted tightly round the neck, and
thus obtained a glimpse of the branded letters 'T. F.' With her
customary quickness of wit, she instantly replaced the shirts,
neckcloth, &c., and carefully concealed the fatal knowledge she had
acquired, till an opportunity of using it advantageously should
present itself.
The foregoing are, I believe, all the reliable particulars known of a
story of which there used to be half-a-hundred different versions
flying about Le Havre. Edouard le Blanc married Madame Carson, and
subsequently became a partner of Eugène de Véron. It was not long,
however, before the business was removed to another and distant French
seaport, where, for aught I know to the contrary, the firm of 'De
Véron and Le Blanc' flourishes to this day.