CHAPTER IV.
When Noel and old Tabaret were seated face to face in Noel's study, andthe door had been carefully shut, the old fellow felt uneasy, and said:"What if your mother should require anything."
"If Madame Gerdy rings," replied the young man drily, "the servant willattend to her."
This indifference, this cold disdain, amazed old Tabaret, accustomed ashe was to the affectionate relations always existing between mother andson.
"For heaven's sake, Noel," said he, "calm yourself. Do not allowyourself to be overcome by a feeling of irritation. You have, I see,some little pique against your mother, which you will have forgottento-morrow. Don't speak of her in this icy tone; but tell me what youmean by calling her Madame Gerdy?"
"What I mean?" rejoined the advocate in a hollow tone,--"what I mean?"
Then rising from his arm-chair, he took several strides about the room,and, returning to his place near the old fellow, said,--
"Because, M. Tabaret, Madame Gerdy is not my mother!"
This sentence fell like a heavy blow on the head of the amateurdetective.
"Oh!" he said, in the tone one assumes when rejecting an absurdproposition, "do you really know what you are saying, Noel? Is itcredible? Is it probable?"
"It is improbable," replied Noel with a peculiar emphasis which washabitual to him: "it is incredible, if you will; but yet it is true.That is to say, for thirty-three years, ever since my birth, this womanhas played a most marvellous and unworthy comedy, to ennoble and enrichher son,--for she has a son,--at my expense!"
"My friend," commenced old Tabaret, who in the background of the picturepresented by this singular revelation saw again the phantom of themurdered Widow Lerouge.
But Noel heard not, and seemed hardly in a state to hear. The young man,usually so cold, so self-contained, could no longer control his anger.At the sound of his own voice, he became more and more animated, as agood horse might at the jingling of his harness.
"Was ever man," continued he, "more cruelly deceived, more miserablyduped, than I have been! I, who loved this woman, who knew not how toshow my affection for her, who, for her sake, sacrificed my youth! Howshe must have laughed at me! Her infamy dates from the moment when forthe first time she took me on her knees; and, until these few days past,she has sustained without faltering her execrable role. Her love for mewas nothing but hypocrisy! her devotion, falsehood! her caresses,lies! And I adored her! Ah! why can I not take back all the embraces Ibestowed on her in exchange for her Judas kisses? And for what was allthis heroism of deception, this caution, this duplicity? To betray memore securely, to despoil me, to rob me, to give to her bastard allthat lawfully appertained to me; my name, a noble name, my fortune, aprincely inheritance!"
"We are getting near it!" thought old Tabaret, who was fast relapsinginto the colleague of M. Gevrol; then aloud he said, "This is veryserious, all that you have been saying, my dear Noel, terribly serious.We must believe Madame Gerdy possessed of an amount of audacity andability rarely to be met with in a woman. She must have been assisted,advised, compelled perhaps. Who have been her accomplices? She couldnever have managed this unaided; perhaps her husband himself."
"Her husband!" interrupted the advocate, with a laugh. "Ah! you too havebelieved her a widow. Pshaw! She never had a husband, the defunct Gerdynever existed. I was a bastard, dear M. Tabaret, very much a bastard;Noel, son of the girl Gerdy and an unknown father!"
"Ah!" cried the old fellow; "that then was the reason why your marriagewith Mademoiselle Levernois was broken off four years ago?"
"Yes, my friend, that was the reason. And what misfortunes might havebeen averted by this marriage with a young girl whom I loved! HoweverI did not complain to her whom I then called my mother. She wept, sheaccused herself, she seemed ready to die of grief: and I, poor fool! Iconsoled her as best I could, I dried her tears, and excused her in herown eyes. No, there was no husband. Do such women as she have husbands?She was my father's mistress; and, on the day when he had had enough ofher, he took up his hat and threw her three hundred thousand francs, theprice of the pleasures she had given him."
Noel would probably have continued much longer to pour forth his furiousdenunciations; but M. Tabaret stopped him. The old fellow felt he wason the point of learning a history in every way similar to that which hehad imagined; and his impatience to know whether he had guessed aright,almost caused him to forget to express any sympathy for his friend'smisfortunes.
"My dear boy," said he, "do not let us digress. You ask me for advice;and I am perhaps the best adviser you could have chosen. Come, then,to the point. How have you learned this? Have you any proofs? where arethey?"
The decided tone in which the old fellow spoke, should no doubt, haveawakened Noel's attention; but he did not notice it. He had not leisureto reflect. He therefore answered,--
"I have known the truth for three weeks past. I made the discovery bychance. I have important moral proofs; but they are mere presumptiveevidence. A word from Widow Lerouge, one single word, would haverendered them decisive. This word she cannot now pronounce, since theyhave killed her; but she had said it to me. Now, Madame Gerdy will denyall. I know her; with her head on the block, she will deny it. My fatherdoubtless will turn against me. I am certain, and I possess proofs; nowthis crime makes my certitude but a vain boast, and renders my proofsnull and void!"
"Explain it all to me," said old Tabaret after a pause--"all, youunderstand. We old ones are sometimes able to give good advice. We willdecide what's to be done afterwards."
"Three weeks ago," commenced Noel, "searching for some old documents,I opened Madame Gerdy's secretary. Accidentally I displaced one of thesmall shelves: some papers tumbled out, and a packet of letters fell infront of my eyes. A mechanical impulse, which I cannot explain, promptedme to untie the string, and, impelled by an invincible curiosity, I readthe first letter which came to my hand."
"You did wrong," remarked M. Tabaret.
"Be it so; anyhow I read. At the end of ten lines, I was convinced thatthese letters were from my father, whose name, Madame Gerdy, in spite ofmy prayers, had always hidden from me. You can understand my emotion.I carried off the packet, shut myself up in this room, and devoured thecorrespondence from beginning to end."
"And you have been cruelly punished my poor boy!"
"It is true; but who in my position could have resisted? These lettershave given me great pain; but they afford the proof of what I just nowtold you."
"You have at least preserved these letters?"
"I have them here, M. Tabaret," replied Noel, "and, that you mayunderstand the case in which I have requested your advice, I am going toread them to you."
The advocate opened one of the drawers of his bureau, pressed aninvisible spring, and from a hidden receptacle constructed in thethick upper shelf, he drew out a bundle of letters. "You understand, myfriend," he resumed, "that I will spare you all insignificant details,which, however, add their own weight to the rest. I am only going todeal with the more important facts, treating directly of the affair."
Old Tabaret nestled in his arm-chair, burning with curiosity; his faceand his eyes expressing the most anxious attention. After a selection,which he was some time in making, the advocate opened a letter, andcommenced reading in a voice which trembled at times, in spite of hisefforts to render it calm.
"'My dearly loved Valerie,'--
"Valerie," said he, "is Madame Gerdy."
"I know, I know. Do not interrupt yourself."
Noel then resumed.
"'My dearly loved Valerie,
"'This is a happy day. This morning I received your darling letter, Ihave covered it with kisses, I have re-read it a hundred times; and nowit has gone to join the others here upon my heart. This letter, oh, mylove! has nearly killed me with joy. You were not deceived, then; it wastrue! Heaven has blessed our love. We shall have a son.
"'I shall have a son, the living image of my adored Valerie! Oh! why arewe separated by such an imm
ense distance? Why have I not wings that Imight fly to your feet and fall into your arms, full of the sweetestvoluptuousness! No! never as at this moment have I cursed the fatalunion imposed upon me by an inexorable family, whom my tears could notmove. I cannot help hating this woman, who, in spite of me bears myname, innocent victim though she is of the barbarity of our parents.And, to complete my misery, she too will soon render me a father.Who can describe my sorrow when I compare the fortunes of these twochildren?
"'The one, the son of the object of my tenderest love, will have neitherfather nor family, nor even a name, since a law framed to make loversunhappy prevents my acknowledging him. While the other, the son ofmy detested wife, by the sole fact of his birth, will be rich, noble,surrounded by devotion and homage, with a great position in the world.I cannot bear the thought of this terrible injustice! How it is to beprevented, I do not know: but rest assured I shall find a way. It is tohim who is the most desired, the most cherished, the most beloved, thatthe greater fortune should come; and come to him it shall, for I so willit.'"
"From where is that letter dated?" asked old Tabaret. The style in whichit was written had already settled one point in his mind.
"See," replied Noel. He handed the letter to the old fellow, who read,--
"Venice, December, 1828."
"You perceive," resumed the advocate, "all the importance of this firstletter. It is like a brief statement of the facts. My father, married inspite of himself, adores his mistress, and detests his wife. Both findthemselves enceinte at the same time, and his feelings towards the twoinfants about to be born, are not at all concealed. Towards the end onealmost sees peeping forth the germ of the idea which later on he willnot be afraid to put into execution, in defiance of all law human ordivine!"
He was speaking as though pleading the cause, when old Tabaretinterrupted him.
"It is not necessary to explain it," said he. "Thank goodness, what youhave just read is explicit enough. I am not an adept in such matters, Iam as simple as a juryman; however I understand it admirably so far."
"I pass over several letters," continued Noel, "and I come to this onedated Jan. 23, 1829. It is very long, and filled with matters altogetherforeign to the subject which now occupies us. However, it containstwo passages, which attest the slow but steady growth of my father'sproject. 'A destiny, more powerful than my will, chains me to thiscountry; but my soul is with you, my Valerie! Without ceasing, mythoughts rest upon the adored pledge of our love which moves within you.Take care, my darling, take care of yourself, now doubly precious. Itis the lover, the father, who implores you. The last part of your letterwounds my heart. Is it not an insult to me, for you to express anxietyas to the future of our child! Oh heaven! she loves me, she knows me,and yet she doubts!'
"I skip," said Noel, "two pages of passionate rhapsody, and stop atthese few lines at the end. 'The countess's condition causes her tosuffer very much! Unfortunate wife! I hate and at the same time pityher. She seems to divine the reason of my sadness and my coldness. Byher timid submission and unalterable sweetness, one would think shesought pardon for our unhappy union. Poor sacrificed creature! She alsomay have given her heart to another, before being dragged to the altar.Our fates would then be the same. Your good heart will pardon my pityingher.'
"That one was my mother," cried the advocate in a trembling voice. "Asaint! And he asks pardon for the pity she inspires! Poor woman."
He passed his hands over his eyes, as if to force back his tears, andadded,--
"She is dead!"
In spite of his impatience, old Tabaret dared not utter a word. Besideshe felt keenly the profound sorrow of his young friend, and respectedit. After a rather long silence, Noel raised his head, and returned tothe correspondence.
"All the letters which follow," said he, "carry traces of thepreoccupation of my father's mind on the subject of his bastard son. Ilay them, however, aside. But this is what strikes me in the one writtenfrom Rome, on March 5, 1829. 'My son, our son, that is my great, my onlyanxiety. How to secure for him the future position of which I dream?The nobles of former times were not worried in this way. In those daysI would have gone to the king, who, with a word, would have assuredthe child's position in the world. To-day, the king who governs withdifficulty his disaffected subjects can do nothing. The nobility haslost its rights, and the highest in the land are treated the same asthe meanest peasants!' Lower down I find,--'My heart loves to picture toitself the likeness of our son. He will have the spirit, the mind, thebeauty, the grace, all the fascinations of his mother. He will inheritfrom his father, pride, valour, and the sentiments of a noble race. Andthe other, what will he be like? I tremble to think of it. Hatred canonly engender a monster. Heaven reserves strength and beauty for thechildren of love!' The monster, that is I!" said the advocate, withintense rage. "Whilst the other--But let us ignore these preliminariesto an outrageous action. I only desired up to the present to show youthe aberration of my father's reason under the influence of his passion.We shall soon come to the point."
M. Tabaret was astonished at the strength of this passion, of which Noelwas disturbing the ashes. Perhaps, he felt it all the more keenly onaccount of those expressions which recalled his own youth. He understoodhow irresistible must have been the strength of such a love and hetrembled to speculate as to the result.
"Here is," resumed Noel, holding up a sheet of paper, "not one of thoseinterminable epistles from which I have read you short extracts, but asimple billet. It is dated from Venice at the beginning of May; it isshort but nevertheless decisive; 'Dear Valerie,--Tell me, as near aspossible, the probable date of your confinement. I await your replywith an anxiety you would imagine, could you but guess my projects withregard to our child.'
"I do not know," said Noel, "whether Madame Gerdy understood; anyhowshe must have answered at once, for this is what my father wrote on the14th: 'Your reply, my darling, is what I did not dare expect it to be.The project I had conceived is now practicable. I begin to feel morecalm and secure. Our son shall bear my name; I shall not be obliged toseparate myself from him. He shall be reared by my side, in my mansion,under my eyes, on my knees, in my arms. Shall I have strength enough tobear this excess of happiness? I have a soul for grief, shall I haveone for joy? Oh! my adored one, oh! my precious child, fear nothing, myheart is vast, enough to love you both! I set out to-morrow for Naples,from whence I shall write to you at length. Happen what may, however,though I should have to sacrifice the important interests confided tome, I shall be in Paris for the critical hour. My presence will doubleyour courage; the strength of my love will diminish your sufferings.'"
"I beg your pardon for interrupting you, Noel," said old Tabaret, "doyou know what important affairs detained your father abroad?"
"My father, my old friend," replied the advocate, "was, in spite of hisyouth, one of the friends, one of the confidants, of Charles X.; and hehad been entrusted by him with a secret mission to Italy. My father isCount Rheteau de Commarin."
"Whew!" exclaimed the old fellow; and the better to engrave the nameupon his memory, he repeated several times, between his teeth, "Rheteaude Commarin."
For a few minutes Noel remained silent. After having appeared to doeverything to control his resentment, he seemed utterly dejected, asthough he had formed the determination to attempt nothing to repair theinjury he had sustained.
"In the middle of the month of May, then," he continued, "my father isat Naples. It is whilst there, that he, a man of prudence and sense,a dignified diplomatist, a nobleman, prompted by an insensate passion,dares to confide to paper this most monstrous of projects. Listen!
"'My adored one,--
"'It is Germain, my old valet, who will hand you this letter. I amsending him to Normandy, charged with a commission of the most delicatenature. He is one of those servitors who may be trusted implicitly.
"'The time has come for me to explain to you my projects respecting myson. In three weeks, at the latest, I shall be in Paris.
"'If my previsions are not deceited, the countess and you will beconfined at the same time. An interval of three or four days will notalter my plan. This is what I have resolved.
"'My two children will be entrusted to two nurses of Normandy, where myestates are nearly all situated. One of these women, known to Germain,and to whom I am sending him, will be in our interests. It is to thisperson, Valerie, that our son will be confided. These two women willleave Paris the same day, Germain accompanying her who will have chargeof the son of the countess.
"'An accident, devised beforehand, will compel these two women to passone night on the road. Germain will arrange so they will have to sleepin the same inn, and in the same chamber! During the night, our nursewill change the infants in their cradles.
"'I have foreseen everything, as I will explain to you, and everyprecaution has been taken to prevent our secret from escaping. Germainhas instructions to procure, while in Paris, two sets of baby linenexactly similar. Assist him with your advice.
"'Your maternal heart, my sweet Valerie, may perhaps bleed at thethought of being deprived of the innocent caresses of your child. Youwill console yourself by thinking of the position secured to him by yoursacrifice. What excess of tenderness can serve him as powerfully as thisseparation? As to the other, I know your fond heart, you will cherishhim. Will it not be another proof of your love for me? Besides, he willhave nothing to complain of. Knowing nothing he will have nothing toregret; and all that money can secure in this world he shall have.
"'Do not tell me that this attempt is criminal. No, my well beloved, no.The success of our plan depends upon so many unlikely circumstances, somany coincidences, independent of our will, that, without the evidentprotection of Providence, we cannot succeed. If, then, success crownsour efforts, it will be because heaven decreed it.
"'Meanwhile I hope.'"
"Just what I expected," murmured old Tabaret.
"And the wretched man," cried Noel, "dares to invoke the aid ofProvidence! He would make heaven his accomplice!"
"But," asked the old fellow, "how did your mother,--pardon me, I wouldsay, how did Madame Gerdy receive this proposition?"
"She would appear to have rejected it, at first, for here are twentypages of eloquent persuasion from the count, urging her to agree to it,trying to convince her. Oh, that woman!"
"Come my child," said M. Tabaret, softly, "try not to be too unjust. Youseem to direct all your resentment against Madame Gerdy? Really, in myopinion, the count is far more deserving of your anger than she is."
"True," interrupted Noel, with a certain degree of violence,--"true,the count is guilty, very guilty. He is the author of the infamousconspiracy, and yet I feel no hatred against him. He has committed acrime, but he has an excuse, his passion. Moreover, my father has notdeceived me, like this miserable woman, every hour of my life, duringthirty years. Besides, M. de Commarin has been so cruelly punished,that, at this present moment, I can only pardon and pity him."
"Ah! so he has been punished?" interrogated the old fellow.
"Yes, fearfully, as you will admit. But allow me to continue. Towardsthe end of May, or, rather, during the first days of June, the countmust have arrived in Paris, for the correspondence ceases. He saw MadameGerdy, and the final arrangements of the conspiracy were decided on.Here is a note which removes all uncertainty on that point. On the dayit was written, the count was on service at the Tuileries, and unableto leave his post. He has written it even in the king's study, on theking's paper; see the royal arms! The bargain has been concluded, andthe woman who has consented to become the instrument of my father'sprojects is in Paris. He informs his mistress of the fact."
"'Dear Valerie,--Germain informs me of the arrival of your son's, ourson's nurse. She will call at your house during the day. She is to bedepended upon; a magnificent recompense ensures her discretion. Do not,however, mention our plans to her; for she has been given tounderstand that you know nothing. I wish to charge myself with the soleresponsibility of the deed; it is more prudent. This woman is a nativeof Normandy. She was born on our estate, almost in our house. Herhusband is a brave and honest sailor. Her name is Claudine Lerouge.
"'Be of good courage, my dear love I am exacting from you the greatestsacrifice that a lover can hope for from a mother. Heaven, you can nolonger doubt it, protects us. Everything depends now upon our skill andour prudence, so that we are sure to succeed!'"
On one point, at least, M. Tabaret was sufficiently enlightened. Theresearches into the past life of widow Lerouge were no longer difficult.He could not restrain an exclamation of satisfaction, which passedunnoticed by Noel.
"This note," resumed the advocate, "closes the count's correspondencewith Madame Gerdy."
"What!" exclaimed the old fellow, "you are in possession of nothingmore?"
"I have also ten lines, written many years later, which certainly havesome weight, but after all are only a moral proof."
"What a misfortune!" murmured M. Tabaret. Noel laid on the bureau theletters he had held in his hand, and, turning towards his old friend, helooked at him steadily.
"Suppose," said he slowly and emphasising every syllable,--"suppose thatall my information ends here. We will admit, for a moment, that I knownothing more than you do now. What is your opinion?"
Old Tabaret remained some minutes without answering; he was estimatingthe probabilities resulting from M. de Commarin's letters.
"For my own part," said he at length, "I believe on my conscience thatyou are not Madame Gerdy's son."
"And you are right!" answered the advocate forcibly. "You will easilybelieve, will you not, that I went and saw Claudine. She loved me, thispoor woman who had given me her milk, she suffered from the knowledgeof the injustice that had been done me. Must I say it, her complicity inthe matter weighed upon her conscience; it was a remorse too great forher old age. I saw her, I interrogated her, and she told me all. Thecount's scheme, simply and yet ingeniously conceived, succeeded withoutany effort. Three days after my birth, the crime was committed, and I,poor, helpless infant, was betrayed, despoiled and disinherited by mynatural protector, by my own father! Poor Claudine! She promised me hertestimony for the day on which I should reclaim my rights!"
"And she is gone, carrying her secret with her!" murmured the old fellowin a tone of regret.
"Perhaps!" replied Noel, "for I have yet one hope. Claudine had in herpossession several letters which had been written to her a long timeago, some by the count, some by Madame Gerdy, letters both imprudentand explicit. They will be found, no doubt, and their evidence willbe decisive. I have held these letters in my hands, I have read them;Claudine particularly wished me to keep them, why did I not do so?"
No! there was no hope on that side, and old Tabaret knew so better thanany one. It was these very letters, no doubt, that the assassin of LaJonchere wanted. He had found them and had burnt them with the otherpapers, in the little stove. The old amateur detective was beginning tounderstand.
"All the same," said he, "from what I know of your affairs, which Ithink I know as well as my own, it appears to me that the count has notoverwell kept the dazzling promises of fortune he made Madame Gerdy onyour behalf."
"He never even kept them in the least degree, my old friend."
"That now," cried the old fellow indignantly, "is even more infamousthan all the rest."
"Do not accuse my father," answered Noel gravely; "his connection withMadame Gerdy lasted a long time. I remember a haughty-looking man whoused sometimes to come and see me at school, and who could be no otherthan the count. But the rupture came."
"Naturally," sneered M. Tabaret, "a great nobleman--"
"Wait before judging," interrupted the advocate. "M. de Commarin had hisreasons. His mistress was false to him, he learnt it, and cast heroff with just indignation. The ten lines which I mentioned to you werewritten then."
Noel searched a considerable time among the papers scattered upon thetable, and at length selected a letter more faded and creased than
theothers. Judging from the number of folds in the paper one could guessthat it had been read and re-read many times. The writing even was hereand there partly obliterated.
"In this," said he in a bitter tone, "Madame Gerdy is no longer theadored Valerie: 'A friend, cruel as all true friends, has opened myeyes. I doubted. You have been watched, and today, unhappily, I candoubt no more. You, Valerie, you to whom I have given more than my life,you deceive me and have been deceiving me for a long time past. Unhappyman that I am! I am no longer certain that I am the father of yourchild.'"
"But this note is a proof," cried old Tabaret, "an overwhelming proof.Of what importance to the count would be a doubt of his paternity, hadhe not sacrificed his legitimate son to his bastard? Yes, you have saidtruly, his punishment has been severe."
"Madame Gerdy," resumed Noel, "wished to justify herself. She wrote tothe count; but he returned her letters unopened. She called on him,but he would not receive her. At length she grew tired of her uselessattempts to see him. She knew that all was well over when the count'ssteward brought her for me a legal settlement of fifteen thousand francsa year. The son had taken my place, and the mother had ruined me!"
Three or four light knocks at the door of the study interrupted Noel.
"Who is there?" he asked, without stirring.
"Sir," answered the servant from the other side of the door, "madamewishes to speak to you."
The advocate appeared to hesitate.
"Go, my son," advised M. Tabaret; "do not be merciless, only bigots havethat right."
Noel arose with visible reluctance, and passed into Madame Gerdy'ssleeping apartment.
"Poor boy!" thought M. Tabaret when left alone. "What a fatal discovery!and how he must feel it. Such a noble young man! such a brave heart!In his candid honesty he does not even suspect from whence the blow hasfallen. Fortunately I am shrewd enough for two, and it is just when hedespairs of justice, I am confident of obtaining it for him. Thanks tohis information, I am now on the track. A child might now divine whosehand struck the blow. But how has it happened? He will tell me withoutknowing it. Ah! if I had one of those letters for four and twenty hours.He has probably counted them. If I ask for one, I must acknowledge myconnection with the police. I had better take one, no matter which, justto verify the handwriting."
Old Tabaret had just thrust one of the letters into the depths of hiscapacious pocket, when the advocate returned.
He was one of those men of strongly formed character, who never losetheir self-control. He was very cunning and had long accustomed himselfto dissimulation, that indispensable armour of the ambitious.
As he entered the room nothing in his manner betrayed what had takenplace between Madame Gerdy and himself. He was absolutely as calm as,when seated in his arm-chair, he listened to the interminable stories ofhis clients.
"Well," asked old Tabaret, "how is she now?"
"Worse," answered Noel. "She is now delirious, and no longer knowswhat she says. She has just assailed me with the most atrocious abuse,upbraiding me as the vilest of mankind! I really believe she is goingout of her mind."
"One might do so with less cause," murmured M. Tabaret; "and I think youought to send for the doctor."
"I have just done so."
The advocate had resumed his seat before his bureau, and was rearrangingthe scattered letters according to their dates. He seemed to haveforgotten that he had asked his old friend's advice; nor did he appearin any way desirous of renewing the interrupted conversation. This wasnot at all what old Tabaret wanted.
"The more I ponder over your history, my dear Noel," he observed, "themore I am bewildered. I really do not know what resolution I shouldadopt, were I in your situation."
"Yes, my old friend," replied the advocate sadly, "it is a situationthat might well perplex even more profound experiences than yours."
The old amateur detective repressed with difficulty the sly smile, whichfor an instant hovered about his lips.
"I confess it humbly," he said, taking pleasure in assuming an air ofintense simplicity, "but you, what have you done? Your first impulsemust have been to ask Madame Gerdy for an explanation."
Noel made a startled movement, which passed unnoticed by old Tabaret,preoccupied as he was in trying to give the turn he desired to theconversation.
"It was by that," answered Noel, "that I began."
"And what did she say?"
"What could she say! Was she not overwhelmed by the discovery?"
"What! did she not attempt to exculpate herself?" inquired the detectivegreatly surprised.
"Yes! she attempted the impossible. She pretended she could explainthe correspondence. She told me . . . But can I remember what she said?Lies, absurd, infamous lies."
The advocate had finished gathering up his letters, without noticing theabstraction. He tied them together carefully, and replaced them in thesecret drawer of his bureau.
"Yes," continued he, rising and walking backwards and forward acrosshis study, as if the constant movement could calm his anger, "yes, shepretended she could show me I was wrong. It was easy, was it not, withthe proofs I held against her? The fact is she adores her son, and herheart is breaking at the idea that he may be obliged to restitute whathe has stolen from me. And I, idiot, fool, coward, almost wished not tomention the matter to her. I said to myself, I will forgive, for afterall she has loved me! Loved? no. She would see me suffer the mosthorrible tortures, without shedding a tear, to prevent a single hairfalling from her son's head."
"She has probably warned the count," observed old Tabaret, stillpursuing his idea.
"She may have tried, but cannot have succeeded, for the count has beenabsent from Paris for more than a month and is not expected to returnuntil the end of the week."
"How do you know that?"
"I wished to see the count my father, to speak with him."
"You?"
"Yes, I. Do you think that I shall not reclaim my own? Do you imaginethat I shall not raise my voice. On what account should I keep silent,who have I to consider? I have rights, and I will make them good. Whatdo you find surprising in that?"
"Nothing, certainly, my friend. So then you called at M. de Commarin'shouse?"
"Oh! I did not decide on doing so all at once," continued Noel. "Atfirst my discovery almost drove me mad. Then I required time to reflect.A thousand opposing sentiments agitated me. At one moment, my furyblinded me; the next, my courage deserted me. I would, and I would not.I was undecided, uncertain, wild. The scandal that must arise from thepublicity of such an affair terrified me. I desired, I still desire torecover my name, that much is certain. But on the eve of recovering it,I wish to preserve it from stain. I was seeking a means of arrangingeverything, without noise, without scandal."
"At length, however, you made up your mind?"
"Yes, after a struggle of fifteen days, fifteen days of torture, ofanguish! Ah! what I suffered in that time! I neglected my business,being totally unfit for work. During the day, I tried by incessantaction to fatigue my body, that at night I might find forgetfulnessin sleep. Vain hope! since I found these letters, I have not slept anhour."
From time to time, old Tabaret slyly consulted his watch. "M. Daburonwill be in bed," thought he.
"At last one morning," continued Noel, "after a night of rage, Idetermined to end all uncertainty. I was in that desperate state ofmind, in which the gambler, after successive losses, stakes upon a cardhis last remaining coin. I plucked up courage, sent for a cab, and wasdriven to the de Commarin mansion."
The old amateur detective here allowed a sigh of satisfaction to escapehim.
"It is one of the most magnificent houses, in the Faubourg St. Germain,my friend, a princely dwelling, worthy a great noble twenty timesmillionaire; almost a palace in fact. One enters at first a vastcourtyard, to the right and left of which are the stables, containingtwenty most valuable horses, and the coach-houses. At the end rises thegrand facade of the main building, majestic and severe, with its imm
ensewindows, and its double flight of marble steps. Behind the house isa magnificent garden, I should say a park, shaded by the oldest treeswhich perhaps exist in all Paris."
This enthusiastic description was not at all what M. Tabaret wanted. Butwhat could he do, how could he press Noel for the result of his visit!An indiscreet word might awaken the advocate's suspicions, and reveal tohim that he was speaking not to a friend, but to a detective.
"Were you then shown over the house and grounds?" asked the old fellow.
"No, but I have examined them alone. Since I discovered that I was theonly heir of the Rheteau de Commarin, I have found out the antecedentsof my new family.
"Standing before the dwelling of my ancestors," continued Noel, "youcannot comprehend the excess of my emotion. Here, said I, is the housein which I was born. This is the house in which I should have beenreared; and, above all, this is the spot where I should reign to-day,whereon I stand an outcast and a stranger, devoured by the sad andbitter memories, of which banished men have died. I compared mybrother's brilliant destinies with my sad and labourious career; and myindignation well nigh overmastered reason. The mad impulse stirred meto force the doors, to rush into the grand salon, and drive out theintruder,--the son of Madame Gerdy,--who had taken the place of theson of the Countess de Commarin! Out, usurper, out of this. I am masterhere. The propriety of legal means at once recurred to my distractedmind, however, and restrained me. Once more I stood before thehabitation of my fathers. How I love its old sculptures, its grand oldtrees, its shaded walls, worn by the feet of my poor mother! I loveall, even to the proud escutcheon, frowning above the principal doorway,flinging its defiance to the theories of this age of levellers."
This last phrase conflicted so directly with the code of opinionshabitual to Noel, that old Tabaret was obliged to turn aside, to concealhis amusement.
"Poor humanity!" thought he; "he is already the grand seigneur."
"On presenting myself," continued the advocate, "I demanded to see theCount de Commarin. A Swiss porter, in grand livery, answered, the countwas travelling, but that the viscount was at home. This ran counter tomy designs; but I was embarked; so I insisted on speaking to the son indefault of the father. The Swiss porter stared at me with astonishment.He had evidently seen me alight from a hired carriage, and sodeliberated for some moments as to whether I was not too insignificant aperson to have the honour of being admitted to visit the viscount."
"But tell me, have you seen him?" asked old Tabaret, unable to restrainhis impatience.
"Of course, immediately," replied the advocate in a tone of bitterraillery. "Could the examination, think you, result otherwise than inmy favour? No. My white cravat and black costume produced their naturaleffect. The Swiss porter entrusted me to the guidance of a chasseur witha plumed hat, who, led me across the yard to a superb vestibule, wherefive or six footmen were lolling and gaping on their seats. One of thesegentlemen asked me to follow him. He led me up a spacious staircase,wide enough for a carriage to ascend, preceded me along an extensivepicture gallery, guided me across vast apartments, the furniture ofwhich was fading under its coverings, and finally delivered me into thehands of M. Albert's valet. That is the name by which Madame Gerdy's sonis known, that is to say, my name."
"I understand, I understand."
"I had passed an inspection; now I had to undergo an examination. Thevalet desired to be informed who I was, whence I came, what was myprofession, what I wanted and all the rest. I answered simply, that,quite unknown to the viscount, I desired five minutes' conversation withhim on a matter of importance. He left me, requesting me to sit down andwait. I had waited more than a quarter of an hour, when he reappeared.His master graciously deigned to receive me."
It was easy to perceive that the advocate's reception rankled in hisbreast, and that he considered it an insult. He could not forgive Alberthis lackeys and his valet. He forgot the words of the illustrious duke,who said, "I pay my lackeys to be insolent, to save myself the troubleand ridicule of being so." Old Tabaret was surprised at his youngfriend's display of bitterness, in speaking of these trivial details.
"What narrow-mindedness," thought he, "for a man of such intelligence!Can it be true that the arrogance of lackeys is the secret of thepeople's hatred of an amiable and polite aristocracy?"
"I was ushered into a small apartment," continued Noel, "simplyfurnished, the only ornaments of which were weapons. These, rangedagainst the walls, were of all times and countries. Never have I seenin so small a space so many muskets, pistols, swords, sabres, and foils.One might have imagined himself in a fencing master's arsenal."
The weapon used by Widow Lerouge's assassin naturally recurred to theold fellow's memory.
"The viscount," said Noel, speaking slowly, "was half lying on a divanwhen I entered. He was dressed in a velvet jacket and loose trousers ofthe same material, and had around his neck an immense white silk scarf.I do not cherish any resentment against this young man; he has never tohis knowledge injured me: he was in ignorance of our father's crime; Iam therefore able to speak of him with justice. He is handsome, bearshimself well, and nobly carries the name which does not belong to him.He is about my height, of the same dark complexion, and would resembleme, perhaps, if he did not wear a beard. Only he looks five or sixyears younger; but this is readily explained, he has neither worked,struggled, nor suffered. He is one of the fortunate ones who arrivewithout having to start, or who traverse life's road on such softcushions that they are never injured by the jolting of their carriage.On seeing me, he arose and saluted me graciously."
"You must have been dreadfully excited," remarked old Tabaret.
"Less than I am at this moment. Fifteen preparatory days of mentaltorture exhausts one's emotions. I answered the question I saw uponhis lips. 'Sir,' said I, 'you do not know me; but that is of littleconsequence. I come to you, charged with a very grave, a very sadmission, which touches the honour of the name you bear.' Without doubthe did not believe me, for, in an impertinent tone, he asked me, 'Shallyou be long?' I answered simply, 'Yes.'"
"Pray," interrupted old Tabaret, now become very attentive, "do not omita single detail; it may be very important, you understand."
"The viscount," continued Noel, "appeared very much put out. 'The factis,' he explained, 'I had already disposed of my time. This is the hourat which I call on the young lady to whom I am engaged, Mademoiselled'Arlange. Can we not postpone this conversation?'"
"Good! another woman!" said the old fellow to himself.
"I answered the viscount, that an explanation would admit of no delay;and, as I saw him prepare to dismiss me, I drew from my pocket thecount's correspondence, and presented one of the letters to him. Onrecognizing his father's handwriting, he became more tractable, declaredhimself at my service, and asked permission to write a word of apologyto the lady by whom he was expected. Having hastily written the notehe handed it to his valet, and ordered him to send at once to Madamed'Arlange, He then asked me to pass into the next room, which was hislibrary."
"One word," interrupted the old fellow; "was he troubled on seeing theletters?"
"Not the least in the world. After carefully closing the door, hepointed to a chair, seated himself, and said, 'Now, sir, explainyourself.' I had had time to prepare myself for this interview whilstwaiting in the ante-room. I had decided to go straight to the point.'Sir,' said I, 'my mission is painful. The facts I am about to reveal toyou are incredible. I beg you, do not answer me until you have read theletters I have here. I beseech you, above all, to keep calm.' He lookedat me with an air of extreme surprise, and answered, 'Speak! I can hearall.' I stood up, and said, 'Sir, I must inform you that you are not thelegitimate son of M. de Commarin, as this correspondence will prove toyou. The legitimate son exists; and he it is who sends me.' I kept myeyes on his while speaking, and I saw there a passing gleam of fury.For a moment I thought he was about to spring at my throat. He soonrecovered himself. 'The letters,' said he in a short tone. I handed themto him."
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"How!" cried old Tabaret, "these letters,--the true ones? Howimprudent!"
"And why?"
"If he had--I don't know; but--" the old fellow hesitated.
The advocate laid his hand upon his friend's shoulder. "I was there,"said he in a hollow tone; "and I promise you the letters were in nodanger."
Noel's features assumed such an expression of ferocity that the oldfellow was almost afraid, and recoiled instinctively. "He would havekilled him," thought he.
"That which I have done for you this evening, my friend," resumed theadvocate, "I did for the viscount. I obviated, at least for the moment,the necessity of reading all of these hundred and fifty-six letters.I told him only to stop at those marked with a cross, and to carefullyread the passages indicated with a red pencil."
"It was an abridgment of his penance," remarked old Tabaret.
"He was seated," continued Noel, "before a little table, too fragileeven to lean upon. I was standing with my back to the fireplace in whicha fire was burning. I followed his slightest movements; and I scannedhis features closely. Never in my life have I seen so sad a spectacle,nor shall I forget it, if I live for a thousand years. In less than fiveminutes his face changed to such an extent that his own valet would nothave recognized him. He held his handkerchief in his hand, with whichfrom time to time he mechanically wiped his lips. He grew paler andpaler, and his lips became as white as his handkerchief. Large drops ofsweat stood upon his forehead, and his eyes became dull and clouded, asif a film had covered them; but not an exclamation, not a sigh, not agroan, not even a gesture, escaped him. At one moment, I felt such pityfor him that I was almost on the point of snatching the letters from hishands, throwing them into the fire and taking him in my arms, crying,'No, you are my brother! Forget all; let us remain as we are and loveone another!'"
M. Tabaret took Noel's hand, and pressed it. "Ah!" he said, "I recognisemy generous boy."
"If I have not done this, my friend, it is because I thought to myself,'Once these letters destroyed, would he recognise me as his brother?'"
"Ah! very true."
"In about half an hour, he had finished reading; he arose, and facing medirectly, said, 'You are right, sir. If these letters are really writtenby my father, as I believe them to be, they distinctly prove that I amnot the son of the Countess de Commarin.' I did not answer. 'Meanwhile,'continued he, 'these are only presumptions. Are you possessed ofother proofs?' I expected, of course, a great many other objections.'Germain,' said I, 'can speak.' He told me that Germain had been deadfor several years. Then I spoke of the nurse, Widow Lerouge--I explainedhow easily she could be found and questioned, adding that she lived atLa Jonchere."
"And what said he, Noel, to this?" asked old Tabaret anxiously.
"He remained silent at first, and appeared to reflect. All on a suddenhe struck his forehead, and said, 'I remember; I know her. I haveaccompanied my father to her house three times, and in my presence hegave her a considerable sum of money.' I remarked to him that this wasyet another proof. He made no answer, but walked up and down the room.At length he turned towards me, saying, 'Sir, you know M. de Commarin'slegitimate son?' I answered: 'I am he.' He bowed his head and murmured'I thought so.' He then took my hand and added, 'Brother, I bear you noill will for this.'"
"It seems to me," remarked old Tabaret, "that he might have left that toyou to say, and with more reason and justice."
"No, my friend, for he is more ill-used than I. I have not been lowered,for I did not know, whilst he! . . . ."
The old police agent nodded his head, he had to hide his thoughts, andthey were stifling him.
"At length," resumed Noel, after a rather long pause, "I asked him whathe proposed doing. 'Listen,' he said, 'I expect my father in about eightor ten days. You will allow me this delay. As soon as he returns I willhave an explanation with him, and justice shall be done. I give you myword of honour. Take back your letters and leave me to myself. This newshas utterly overwhelmed me. In a moment I lose everything: a greatname that I have always borne as worthily as possible, a magnificentposition, an immense fortune, and, more than all that, perhaps, thewoman who is dearer to me than life. In exchange, it is true, I shallfind a mother. We will console each other. And I will try, sir, to makeher forget you, for she must love you, and will miss you.'"
"Did he really say that?"
"Almost word for word."
"Hypocrite!" growled the old fellow between his teeth.
"What did you say?" asked Noel.
"I say that he is a fine young man; and I shall be delighted to make hisacquaintance."
"I did not show him the letter referring to the rupture," addedNoel; "it is best that he should ignore Madame Gerdy's misconduct. Ivoluntarily deprived myself of this proof, rather than give him furtherpain."
"And now?"
"What am I to do? I am waiting the count's return. I shall act morefreely after hearing what he has to say. Tomorrow I shall ask permissionto examine the papers belonging to Claudine. If I find the letters, I amsaved; if not,--but, as I have told you, I have formed no plan since Iheard of the assassination. Now, what do you advise?"
"The briefest counsel demands long reflection," replied the old fellow,who was in haste to depart. "Alas! my poor boy, what worry you havehad!"
"Terrible! and, in addition, I have pecuniary embarrassments."
"How! you who spend nothing?"
"I have entered into various engagements. Can I now make use of MadameGerdy's fortune, which I have hitherto used as my own? I think not."
"You certainly ought not to. But listen! I am glad you have spoken ofthis; you can render me a service.
"Very willingly. What is it?"
"I have, locked up in my secretary, twelve or fifteen thousand francs,which trouble me exceedingly. You see, I am old, and not very brave, ifany one heard I had this money--"
"I fear I cannot--" commenced the advocate.
"Nonsense!" said the old fellow. "To-morrow I will give them to youto take care of." But remembering he was about to put himself at M.Daburon's disposal, and that perhaps he might not be free on the morrow,he quickly added, "No, not to-morrow; but this very evening. Thisinfernal money shall not remain another night in my keeping."
He hurried out, and presently reappeared, holding in his hand fifteennotes of a thousand francs each. "If that is not sufficient," said he,handing them to Noel, "you can have more."
"Anyhow," replied the advocate, "I will give you a receipt for these."
"Oh! never mind. Time enough to-morrow."
"And if I die to-night?"
"Then," said the old fellow to himself, thinking of his will, "I shallstill be your debtor. Good-night!" added he aloud. "You have asked myadvice, I shall require the night for reflection. At present my brain iswhirling; I must go into the air. If I go to bed now, I am sure to havea horrible nightmare. Come, my boy; patience and courage. Who knowswhether at this very hour Providence is not working for you?"
He went out, and Noel, leaving his door open, listened to the sound ofhis footsteps as he descended the stairs. Almost immediately the cry of,"Open, if you please," and the banging of the door apprised him thatM. Tabaret had gone out. He waited a few minutes and refilled his lamp.Then he took a small packet from one of his bureau drawers, slippedinto his pocket the bank notes lent him by his old friend, and left hisstudy, the door of which he double-locked. On reaching the landing, hepaused. He listened intently as though the sound of Madame Gerdy's moanscould reach him where he stood. Hearing nothing, he descended the stairson tiptoe. A minute later, he was in the street.
L'affaire Lerouge. English Page 4