by Eugène Sue
“You are no doubt astonished at seeing me so well informed,” said Adrienne; “fortunately, before I have done, I hope to astonish you still more. But to return to these daughters of Marshal Simon: your highness will understand, that it is impossible for me to leave them in charge of the good people who have afforded them a temporary asylum. Though this family is honest, and hard-working, it is not the place for them. I shall go and fetch them hither, and lodge them in apartments on the ground-floor, along with the soldier’s wife, who will do very well to take care of them.”
Upon these words, D’Aigrigny and the baron looked at each other, and the baron exclaimed: “Decidedly, she’s out of her head.”
Without a word to Tripeaud, Adrienne continued: “Marshal Simon cannot fail to arrive at Paris shortly. Your highness perceives how pleasant it will he, to be able to present his daughters to him, and prove that they have been treated as they deserve. To-morrow morning I shall send for milliners and mantua makers, so that they may want for nothing. I desire their surprised father, on his return, to find them every way beautiful. They are pretty, I am told, as angels — but I will endeavor to make little Cupids of them.”
“At last, madame, you must have finished?” said the princess, in a sardonic and deeply irritated tone, whilst D’Aigrigny, calm and cold in appearance, could hardly dissemble his mental anguish.
“Try again!” continued the princess, addressing Adrienne. “Are there no more relations that you wish to add to this interesting family-group? Really a queen could not act with more magnificence.”
“Right! I wish to give my family a royal reception — such as is due to the son of a king, and the daughters of the Duke de Ligny. It is well to unite other luxuries of life with the luxury of the hospitable heart.”
“The maxim is assuredly generous,” said the princess, becoming more and more agitated; “it is only a pity that you do not possess the mines of El Dorado to make it practicable.”
“It was on the subject of a mine, said to be a rich one, that I also wished to speak to your highness. Could I find a better opportunity? Though my fortune is already considerable, it is nothing to what may come to our family at any moment. You will perhaps excuse, therefore, what you are pleased to call my royal prodigalities.”
D’Aigrigny’s dilemma became momentarily more and more thorny. The affair of the medals was so important, that he had concealed it even from Dr. Baleinier, though he had called in his services to forward immense interests. Neither had Tripeaud been informed of it, for the princess believed that she had destroyed every vestige of those papers of Adrienne’s father, which might have put him on the scent of this discovery. The abbe, therefore was not only greatly alarmed that Mdlle. de Cardoville might be informed of this secret, but he trembled lest she should divulge it.
The princess, sharing the alarms of D’Aigrigny, interrupted her niece by exclaiming: “Madame, there are certain family affairs which ought to be kept secret, and, without exactly understanding to what you allude, I must request you to change the subject.”
“What, madame! are we not here a family party? Is that not sufficiently evident by the somewhat ungracious things that have been here said?”
“No matter, madame! when affairs of interest are concerned, which are more or less disputable, it is perfectly useless to speak of them without the documents laid before every one.”
“And of what have we been speaking this hour, madame, if not of affairs of interest? I really do not understand your surprise and embarrassment.”
“I am neither surprised nor embarrassed, madame; but for the last two hours, you have obliged me to listen to so many new and extravagant things, that a little amaze is very permissible.”
“I beg your highness’s pardon, but you are very much embarrassed,” said Adrienne, looking fixedly at her aunt, “and M. d’Aigrigny also — which confirms certain suspicions that I have not had the time to clear up. Have I then guessed rightly?” she added, after a pause. “We will see—”
“Madame, I command you to be silent,” cried the princess, no longer mistress of herself.
“Oh, madame!” said Adrienne, “for a person who has in general so much command of her feelings, you compromise yourself strangely.”
Providence (as some will have it) came to the aid of the princess and the Abbe d’Aigrigny at this critical juncture. A valet entered the room; his countenance bore such marks of fright and agitation, that the princess exclaimed as soon as she saw him: “Why, Dubois! what is the matter?”
“I have to beg pardon, your highness, for interrupting you against your express orders, but a police inspector demands to speak with you instantly. He is below stairs, and the yard is full of policemen and soldiers.”
Notwithstanding the profound surprise which this new incident occasioned her, the princess, determining to profit by the opportunity thus afforded, to concert prompt measures with D’Aigrigny on the subject of Adrienne’s threatened revelations, rose, and said to the abbe: “Will you be so obliging as to accompany me, M. d’Aigrigny, for I do not know what the presence of this commissary of police may signify.”
D’Aigrigny followed the speaker into the next room.
CHAPTER XLI. TREACHERY.
THE PRINCESS DE Saint-Dizier, accompanied by D’Aigrigny, and followed by the servants, stopped short in the next room to that in which had remained Adrienne, Tripeaud and the doctor.
“Where is the commissary?” asked the princess of the servant, who had just before announced to her the arrival of that magistrate.
“In the blue saloon, madame.”
“My compliments, and beg him to wait for me a few moments.”
The man bowed and withdrew. As soon as he was gone Madame de Saint Dizier approached hastily M. d’Aigrigny, whose countenance, usually firm and haughty, was now pale and agitated.
“You see,” cried the princess in a hurried voice, “Adrienne knows all. What shall we do? — what?”
“I cannot tell,” said the abbe, with a fixed and absent look. “This disclosure is a terrible blow to us.”
“Is all, then, lost?”
“There is only one means of safety,” said M. d’Aigrigny;— “the doctor.”
“But how?” cried the princess. “So, sudden? this very day?”
“Two hours hence, it will be too late; ere then, this infernal girl will have seen Marshal Simon’s daughters.”
“But — Frederick! — it is impossible! M. Baleinier will never consent. I ought to have been prepared before hand as we intended, after to-day’s examination.”
“No matter,” replied the abbe, quickly; “the doctor must try at any hazard.”
“But under what pretext?”
“I will try and find one.”
“Suppose you were to find a pretext, Frederick, and we could act immediately — nothing would be ready down there.”
“Be satisfied: they are always ready there, by habitual foresight.”
“How instruct the doctor on the instant?” resumed the princess.
“To send for him would be to rouse the suspicions of your niece,” said M. d’Aigrigny, thoughtfully; “and we must avoid that before everything.”
“Of course,” answered the princess; “her confidence in the doctor is one of our greatest resources.”
“There is a way,” said the abbe quickly; “I will write a few words in haste to Baleinier: one of your people can take the note to him, as if it came from without — from a patient dangerously ill.”
“An excellent idea!” cried the princess. “You are right. Here — upon this table — there is everything necessary for writing. Quick! quick — But will the doctor succeed?”
“In truth, I scarcely dare to hope it,” said the marquis, sitting down at the table with repressed rage. “Thanks to this examination, going beyond our hopes, which our man, hidden behind the curtain, has faithfully taken down in shorthand — thanks to the violent scenes, which would necessarily have occurred to-morrow and th
e day after — the doctor, by fencing himself round with all sorts of clever precautions, would have been able to act with the most complete certainty. But to ask this of him to-day, on the instant! — Herminia — it is folly to think of!” — The marquis threw down the pen which he held in his hand; then he added, in a tone of bitter and profound irritation: “At the very moment of success — to see all our hopes destroyed! — Oh, the consequences of all this are incalculable. Your niece will be the cause of the greatest mischief — oh! the greatest injury to us.”
It is impossible to describe the expression of deep rage and implacable hatred with which D’Aigrigny uttered these last words.
“Frederick,” cried the princess with anxiety, as she clasped her hands strongly around the abbe’s, “I conjure you, do not despair! — The doctor is fertile in resources, and he is so devoted to us. Let us at least, make the attempt.”
“Well — it is at least a chance,” said the abbe, taking up the pen again.
“Should it come to the worst.” said the princess, “and Adrienne go this evening to fetch General Simon’s daughters, she may perhaps no longer find them.
“We cannot hope for that. It is impossible that Rodin’s orders should have been so quickly executed. We should have been informed of it.”
“It is true. Write then to the doctor; I will send you Dubois, to carry your letter. Courage, Frederick! we shall yet be too much for that ungovernable girl.” Madame de Saint-Dizier added, with concentrated rage: “Oh, Adrienne! Adrienne! you shall pay dearly for your insolent sarcasms, and the anxiety you have caused us.”
As she went out, the princess turned towards M. d’Aigrigny, and said to him: “Wait for me here. I will tell you the meaning of this visit of the police, and we will go in together.”
The princess disappeared. D’Aigrigny dashed off a few words, with a trembling hand.
CHAPTER XLII. THE SNARE.
AFTER THE DEPARTURE of Madame de Saint-Dizier and the marquis, Adrienne had remained in her aunt’s apartment with M. Baleinier and Baron Tripeaud.
On hearing of the commissary’s arrival, Mdlle. de Cardoville had felt considerable uneasiness; for there could be no doubt that, as Agricola had apprehended, this magistrate was come to search the hotel and extension, in order to find the smith, whom he believed to be concealed there.
Though she looked upon Agricola’s hiding-place as a very safe one, Adrienne was not quite tranquil on his account; so in the event of any unfortunate accident, she thought it a good opportunity to recommend the refugee to the doctor, an intimate friend, as we have said, of one of the most influential ministers of the day. So, drawing near to the physician, who was conversing in a low voice with the baron, she said to him in her softest and most coaxing manner: “My good M. Baleinier, I wish to speak a few words with you.” She pointed to the deep recess of one of the windows.
“I am at your orders, madame,” answered the doctor, as he rose to follow Adrienne to the recess.
M. Tripeaud, who, no longer sustained by the abbe’s presence, dreaded the young lady as he did fire, was not sorry for this diversion. To keep up appearances, he stationed himself before one of the sacred pictures, and began again to contemplate it, as if there were no bounds to his admiration.
When Mdlle. de Cardoville was far enough from the baron, not to be overheard by him, she said to the physician, who, all smiles and benevolence, waited for her to explain: “My good doctor, you are my friend, as you were my father’s. Just now, notwithstanding the difficulty of your position, you had the courage to show yourself my only partisan.”
“Not at all, madame; do not go and say such things!” cried the doctor, affecting a pleasant kind of anger. “Plague on’t! you would get me into a pretty scrape; so pray be silent on that subject. Vade retro Satanas! — which means: Get thee behind me, charming little demon that you are!”
“Do not be afraid,” answered Adrienne, with a smile; “I will not compromise you. Only allow me to remind you, that you have often made me offers of service, and spoken to me of your devotion.”
“Put me to the test — and you will see if I do not keep my promises.”
“Well, then! give me a proof on the instant,” said Adrienne, quickly.
“Capital! this is how I like to be taken at my word. What can I do for you?”
“Are you still very intimate with your friend the minister?”
“Yes; I am just treating him for a loss of voice, which he always has, the day they put questions to him in the house. He likes it better.”
“I want you to obtain from him something very important for me.”
“For you? pray, what is it?”
At this instant, the valet entered the room, delivered a letter to M. Baleinier, and said to him: “A footman has just brought this letter for you, sir; it is very pressing.”
The physician took the letter, and the servant went out.
“This is one of the inconveniences of merit,” said Adrienne, smiling; “they do not leave you a moment’s rest, my poor doctor.”
“Do not speak of it, madame,” said the physician, who could not conceal a start of amazement, as he recognized the writing of D’Aigrigny; “these patients think we are made of iron, and have monopolized the health which they so much need. They have really no mercy. With your permission, madame,” added M. Baleinier, looking at Adrienne before he unsealed the letter.
Mdlle. de Cardoville answered by a graceful nod. Marquis d’Aigrigny’s letter was not long; the doctor read it at a single glance, and, notwithstanding his habitual prudence, he shrugged his shoulders, and said hastily: “Today! why, it’s impossible. He is mad.”
“You speak no doubt of some poor patient, who has placed all his hopes in you — who waits and calls for you at this moment. Come, my dear M. Baleinier, do not reject his prayer. It is so sweet to justify the confidence we inspire.”
There was at once so much analogy, and such contradiction, between the object of this letter, written just before by Adrienne’s most implacable enemy, and these words of commiseration which she spoke in a touching voice, that Dr. Baleinier himself could not help being struck with it. He looked at Mdlle. de Cardoville with an almost embarrassed air, as he replied: “I am indeed speaking of one of my patients, who counts much upon me — a great deal too much — for he asks me to do an impossibility. But why do you feel so interested in an unknown person?”
“If he is unfortunate, I know enough to interest me. The person for whom I ask your assistance with the minister, was quite as little known to me; and now I take the deepest interest in him. I must tell you, that he is the son of the worthy soldier who brought Marshal Simon’s daughters from the heart of Siberia.”
“What! he is—”
“An honest workman, the support of his family; but I must tell you all about it — this is how the affair took place.”
The confidential communication which Adrienne was going to make to the doctor, was cut short by Madame Saint-Dizier, who, followed by M. d’Aigrigny, opened abruptly the door. An expression of infernal joy, hardly concealed beneath a semblance of extreme indignation, was visible in her countenance.
M. d’Aigrigny threw rapidly, as he entered the apartment, an inquiring and anxious glance at M. Baleinier. The doctor answered by a shake of the head. The abbe bit his lips with silent rage; he had built his last hopes upon the doctor, and his projects seemed now forever annihilated, notwithstanding the new blow which the princess had in reserve for Adrienne.
“Gentlemen,” said Madame de Saint-Dizier, in a sharp, hurried voice, for she was nearly choking with wicked pleasure, “gentlemen, pray be seated! I have some new and curious things to tell you, on the subject of this young lady.” She pointed to her niece, with a look of ineffable hatred and disdain.
“My poor child, what is the matter now?” said M. Baleinier, in a soft, wheedling tone, before he left the window where he was standing with Adrienne. “Whatever happens, count upon me!” — And the physician went t
o seat himself between M. d’Aigrigny and M. Tripeaud.
At her aunt’s insolent address, Mdlle. de Cardoville had proudly lined her head. The blood rushed to her face, and irritated at the new attacks with which she was menaced, she advanced to the table where the princess was seated, and said in an agitated voice to M. Baleinier: “I shall expect you to call on me as soon as possible, my dear doctor. You know that I wish particularly to speak with you.”
Adrienne made one step towards the arm-chair, on which she had left her hat. The princess rose abruptly, and exclaimed: “What are you doing, madame?”
“I am about to retire. Your highness has expressed to me your will, and I have told you mine. It is enough.”
She took her hat. Madame de Saint-Dizier, seeing her prey about to escape, hastened towards her niece, and, in defiance of all propriety, seized her violently by the arm with a convulsive grasp, and bade her, “Remain!”
“Fie, madame!” exclaimed Adrienne, with an accent of painful contempt, “have we sunk so low?”
“You wish to escape — you are afraid!” resumed Madame de Saint-Dizier, looking at her disdainfully from head to foot.
With these words “you are afraid,” you could have made Adrienne de Cardoville walk into a fiery furnace. Disengaging her arm from her aunt’s grasp, with a gesture full of nobleness and pride, she threw down the hat upon the chair, and returning to the table, said imperiously to the princess: “There is something even stronger than the disgust with which all this inspires me — the fear of being accused of cowardice. Go on, madame! I am listening!”
With her head raised, her color somewhat heightened, her glance half veiled by a tear of indignation, her arms folded over her bosom, which heaved in spite of herself with deep emotion, and her little foot beating convulsively on the carpet, Adrienne looked steadily at her aunt. The princess wished to infuse drop by drop, the poison with which she was swelling, and make her victim suffer as long as possible, feeling certain that she could not escape. “Gentlemen,” said Madame de Saint-Dizier, in a forced voice, “this has occurred: I was told that the commissary of police wished to speak with me: I went to receive this magistrate; he excused himself, with a troubled air, for the nature of the duty he had to perform. A man, against whom a warrant was out, had been seen to enter the garden-house.”