La clique dorée. English

by Emile Gaboriau

  XII.

  Like all energetic natures, Daniel felt a wonderful relief as soon as hehad formed an irrevocable decision. He would even have enjoyed the peacethat had once more returned to his mind, but for the savage hatred whichhad accumulated in his heart, and which confused his thoughts wheneverhe remembered Miss Brandon.

  Providentially, it seemed to him, Maxime had not gone out, or, rather,having been to breakfast at the English cafe with some of his friends,he had just returned.

  In ten words Daniel had told him every thing, and even shown him thatmasterpiece of forgery, which he attributed to Miss Brandon's mind, andM. Elgin's skill. Then, without heeding Maxime's exclamations of wonderand indignation, loud and deep as they were, he continued,--

  "Now, my dear Maxime, listen to me. It may be my last will which I amgoing to give in your charge."

  And, when his friend tried to remonstrate, he insisted,--

  "I know what I am saying. I am sure I hope I shall not be buried outthere; but the climate is murderous, and I may encounter a cannon-ball.It is always better to be prepared."

  He paused a moment to collect his thoughts; and then he went on.

  "You alone, in this world, Maxime, know all my private affairs. I haveno secret from you. I have friends whom I have known longer than you;but I have none in whom I feel more confidence. Besides, my old friendsare all sailors,--men, who, like myself, may at any moment be sent,Heaven knows where. Now I want a reliable, safe, and experienced man,possessed of prudence and energy, and sure not to leave Paris. Will yoube that man, Maxime?"

  M. de Brevan, who had remained in his chair, rose, and, putting his handon his heart, said,--

  "Between us, Daniel, oaths are useless; don't you think so? I say,therefore, simply, you may count upon me."

  "And I do count upon you," exclaimed Daniel,--"yes, blindly andabsolutely; and I am going to give you a striking proof of it."

  For a few moments it looked as if he were trying to find some brief andyet impressive form for his communication; and then he said, speakingvery rapidly,--

  "If I leave in despair, it is because I leave Henrietta in the hands ofthe enemy. What persecution she will have to endure! My heart bleeds atthe mere thought. Miss Brandon must be meditating some terrible blow, orshe would not have been so anxious to keep me at a distance."

  He sobbed almost, so great was his excitement; but he instantly becamemaster again of his emotion, and continued,--

  "Well, Maxime, I shall ask you to watch over Henrietta. I intrust her toyou as I would intrust her to my brother, if I had one."

  M. de Brevan was about to state some objections; but Daniel cut himshort, saying,--

  "I will tell you how and in what manner you can watch over MissVille-Handry. To-morrow evening I shall see her, and tell her the newmisfortune which has befallen us. I shall take leave of her then. I knowshe will be terrified; but then, to reassure her, I shall explain to herthat I leave her a friend, another myself, ready, like myself, to assisther at her first summons, and ready, like myself, to run any danger inorder to succor her. I shall tell her to appeal to you as if it were tomyself; to write to you as she used to write to me; to keep you informedof all they may attempt to do; to consult and to obey you withouthesitation.

  "As to what you will have to do, Maxime, I cannot tell you that, evenin a general way, as I know nothing of Miss Brandon's plans. I relyupon your experience to do what is most expedient. Still there are twoalternatives which I can foresee. It may be that her father's housebecomes impossible for Henrietta, and that she should wish to leaveit. It may also be, that, under certain circumstances, you may think itinexpedient for her to remain there, and that you have to advise herto escape. In either case, you will take Henrietta to an old lady, arelative of mine, who lives at the Rosiers, a little village in thedepartment of Maine-et-Loire, and whose address I will give you, while Iwill inform her beforehand of what may happen."

  He paused, trying to remember if there was any thing else, and,recalling nothing, he said,--

  "This, my dear Maxime, is all I expect you to do for me."

  With open brow, a clear eye, and grave face, M. de Brevan replied ina solemn tone of voice, speaking like a man who feels that he deservessuch confidence,--

  "Friend Daniel, you may sail without fear."

  But Daniel had not done yet.

  Pressing his friend's hand heartily, he thanked him, and then witha careless air, under which he very imperfectly concealed his realembarrassment, he said,--

  "There remains only to provide the means for carrying out thesemeasures, and for possible contingencies. You are not rich, my dearMaxime, I mean rich in comparison with the people who are your friends;you have told me so more than once."

  He touched a wound which was always open, and always bleeding.

  "Certainly," replied M. de Brevan, "in comparison with a number of myfriends, with men like Gordon Chalusse, for instance, I am only a poordevil."

  Daniel did not notice the bitterness of this reply.

  "Now," he said, "suppose, at a given moment, Miss Henrietta's safetyshould make a certain sum of money necessary,--perhaps a very largesum,--are you sure you will always have enough in your drawer, and beable to dispose of it without inconvenience?"

  "Ah! you expect too much of me; but I have friends."

  "And you would ask them! you would expose yourself to the humiliation ofhearing those set excuses which serve to conceal refusals! I could neverpermit that."

  "I assure you"--

  "Let me tell you that I have forgotten nothing. Although my means aremodest, I can, by selling out some bonds, realize enough to secure youagainst any embarrassment on that score. I also own property in Anjouwhich is valued at fifty or sixty thousand dollars, and I mean to sellit."

  The other man opened his eyes wide.

  "You mean," he said slowly.

  "To sell it, yes. You heard right. Except, however, my home, my father'shouse, with the little garden in front, the orchard, and the meadowadjoining the house. In that house my father and my mother have livedand died. I find them there, so to _say_, whenever I go in; theirthoughts are still filling the rooms, after so many years. The gardenand the orchard are the first little bits of land my father bought fromhis earnings as ploughboy. He cultivated them in his leisure hours, andthere is literally not a foot of soil which he has not moistened withthe sweat of his brow. They are sacred to me; but the rest--I havealready given orders."

  "And you expect to sell every thing in the three days before yourdeparture?"

  "Oh, no! But you are here."

  "What can I do?"

  "Take my place, I should think. I will leave you a power-of-attorney.Perhaps, if you make haste, you can get fifty thousand dollars for theproperty. You will invest that so as to be able to use it any moment.And, if ever Miss Henrietta should be compelled to leave her father'shouse, you will hand the money over to her."

  M. de Brevan had turned very pale.

  "Excuse me," he said, "excuse me."

  "What?"

  "Well, it seems to me it would be more suitable to leave some one elsein charge of that."

  "Whom?"

  "Oh! I do not know,--a more experienced man! It may be that the propertywill not bring as much as you expect. Or I might invest the money in thewrong funds. Money questions are so delicate!"

  But Daniel said, shrugging his shoulders,--

  "I do not understand why you should hesitate to undertake so simple athing, when you have already consented to render me so signal and sodifficult a service."

  So simple! M. de Brevan did not look upon it in that light.

  A nervous shiver, which he could hardly conceal, ran down his backbone;drops of perspiration broke out on his temples; and he turned deadlypale.

  "Fifty thousand dollars! That is an enormous sum."

  "Oh, yes!" replied Daniel in the most careless manner.

  And, looking at the clock, he added,--

  "Half-past three. Come, Maxime
, be quick. My carriage is waiting. Thenotary expects us between three and four o'clock."

  This notary was an exceptional man. He took an interest in the affairsof his clients, and sometimes even listened to hear their explanations.When Daniel had told him what he intended doing, he replied,--

  "You have nothing to do, M. Champcey, but to give M. de Brevan apower-of-attorney in proper form."

  "Would it be possible," asked Daniel, "to have it drawn up at once?"

  "Why not? It can be recorded this evening; and to-morrow"--

  "Well, then, lose no time."

  The notary called his chief clerk, gave him briefly his instructions,then, making a sign to Daniel, he drew him into a kind of recessresembling an enormous cupboard, adjoining his office, in which he"confessed" his clients, as he called it. When they were there, hesaid,--

  "How is it, M. Champcey, do you really owe this M. de Brevan so muchmoney?"

  "Not a cent."

  "And you leave your entire fortune thus in his hands! You must havemarvellous confidence in the man."

  "As much as in myself."

  "That is a good deal. And if he should, during your absence, run awaywith the fifty thousand dollars?"

  Daniel was a little shaken; but he remained firm.

  "Oh!" he said, "there are still some honest people in the world."

  "Ah?" laughed the notary.

  And, from the manner in which he shook his head, it was clearly seenthat experience had made him very sceptical on that subject.

  "If you would only listen to me," he resumed, "I could prove to you"--

  But Daniel interrupted him, and said,--

  "I have no desire, sir, to change my mind; but, even if I should wish todo so, I cannot retract my word. There are particular circumstances inthis case which I cannot explain to you in so short a time."

  The notary raised his eyes to the ceiling, and said in a tone of greatpity,--

  "At least, let me make him give you a deed of defeasance."

  "Very well, sir."

  This was done, but in such carefully guarded terms, that even the mostexquisite susceptibility on the part of Maxime could not have beenhurt. It was five o'clock, when the power-of-attorney and the deed weresigned, and the two friends left the worthy notary's office. It wastoo late now for Daniel to write to Henrietta to send him for that sameevening the key to the little garden-gate; but he wrote to get it forthe next evening.

  After that, having dined with M. de Brevan, he went all over Paris insearch of the thousand little things which are necessary for such a longand perilous voyage. He came home late, and was fortunate enough to fallasleep as soon as he had lain down. The next morning he breakfasted inhis rooms, for fear of being out of the house when they should bring himthe key.

  It came towards one o'clock. It was brought by a large girl, nearlythirty years old, with a cross expression of face, and eyes more thanmodestly seeking the ground, and with narrow lips which seemed tobe perpetually engaged in reciting prayers. This was Clarissa, whomHenrietta considered the safest of her waiting-women, and whom she hadtaken into her confidence.

  "Miss Henrietta," she said to Daniel, "has given me this key and thisletter for you, sir. She expects an answer."

  Daniel tore the envelope, and read,--

  "Take care, O my darling friend! to resort to this dangerous expedientwhich we ought to reserve for the last extremity. Is what you have totell me really so important as you say? I can hardly believe it; and yetI send you the key. Tell Clarissa the precise hour at which you will behere."

  Alas! the poor girl had no idea of the terrible news that was in storefor her.

  "Request Miss Henrietta," said Daniel to the maid, "to expect me atseven o'clock."

  Sure now of seeing Henrietta, Daniel slipped the key in his pocket, andhurried away. He had only a short afternoon to himself, and there werestill a thousand things to get, and countless preparations to make.

  At his notary's, where he went first, he found the papers ready; allthe formalities had been fulfilled. But, at the moment when the deed wasplaced before him, the worthy lawyer said in a prophetic voice,--

  "M. Champcey, take care, reflect! I call that tempting a man prettystrongly when you hand over to him fifty thousand dollars the day beforeyou start on a long and dangerous expedition."

  "Ah! What matters my fortune, if I only see my Henrietta again?"

  The notary looked discouraged.

  "Ah! if there is a woman in the affair, I have nothing more to say."

  It was as well. The next moment Daniel had forgotten him and his sombrepresentiments.

  Seated in M. de Brevan's little sitting-room, he was handing over hisdeeds and papers to his faithful confidant, explaining to him how hemight make the most of the different parcels of land which he owned; howcertain woods might be sold together; how, on the other hand, a largefarm, now held by one tenant, might be advantageously divided into smalllots, and sold at auction.

  M. de Brevan did not look so pale now. He had recovered his self-possession, and laid aside his usual reserve in order to show himselfall eagerness for his friend.

  He declared that he would see to it that his friend Daniel should notbe robbed. He intended, therefore, to go himself to Anjou to call uponthose who were likely to purchase, and to be present at the sale. In hisopinion, it would be wiser to sell piecemeal, without hurry. If moneywas needed, why, one could always get it at the bank.

  Daniel was deeply touched by the devotion of his friend, whose intenseselfishness he had noticed but too often. Nor was this all. Capable ofthe greatest sacrifices where Daniel's interests were at stake, M.de Brevan had formed a grand resolution. He proposed to overcome hisaversion to Miss Brandon, and to seek, immediately after her marriage,an introduction at Count Ville-Handry's palace, for the purpose ofgoing there constantly. He might have to play a disagreeable part, headmitted; but he would thus be enabled to see Miss Henrietta frequently;he would hear every thing that happened, and be at hand whenever sheshould need advice or assistance.

  "Dear Maxime," repeated Daniel, "dear, excellent friend, how can I everthank you for all you are doing for me!"

  As the day before, they dined together at one of the restaurants on theboulevard; and after dinner M. de Brevan insisted upon accompanyinghis friend back to Count Ville-Handry's house. As they reached it longbefore the appointed hour, they walked up and down on the sidewalk whichruns along the wall of the immense park belonging to the palace. It wasa cold but perfectly clear night. There was not a cloud in the sky, nomist nor haze; and the moon was shining so brightly, that one could haveread by its light.

  In the meantime seven o'clock struck at a neighboring convent.

  "Come, courage, my friend!" said M. de Brevan.

  And, pressing his hand once more cordially, he walked off rapidly in thedirection of the Invalides.

  Daniel had not answered a word. Terribly excited, he had drawn near thesmall door, examining anxiously all the surroundings. The street wasdeserted. But he trembled so violently, that for a moment he thoughthe would never be able to turn the key in the rusty lock. At last hesucceeded in opening it, and he slipped into the garden.

  No one there. He was the first on the spot.

  Looking for some dark place under the tall trees, he hid himself there,and waited. It seemed to him a century. He had counted sixty by thebeating of his pulse ever so many times, and was beginning to be veryanxious, when at last he heard some dry branches crackling under rapidfootsteps. A shadow passed between the trees. He went forward, andHenrietta was standing before him.

  "What is it now, great God!" she said anxiously. "Clarissa said youlooked so pale and undone, that I have been terribly frightened."

  Daniel had come to the conclusion that the plain truth would be lesscruel than the most skilful precautions.

  "I have been ordered on active service," he replied, "and I must be onboard ship the day after tomorrow."

  And then, without concealing any thing, he told he
r all he had sufferedsince the day before. Miss Ville-Handry felt as if she had been stunnedby a crushing blow. She was leaning against a tree. Did she even hearDaniel? Yes; for, suddenly rousing herself, she said,--

  "You will not obey! It is impossible for you to obey!"

  "Henrietta, my honor is at stake."

  "Ah, what does it matter?"

  He was about to reply; but she continued in a broken voice,--

  "You will certainly not go when you have heard me. You think I amstrong, brave, and capable to breast the storm? You are mistaken. I wasonly drawing upon your energy, Daniel. I am a child, full of daring aslong as it rests on its mother's knee, but helpless as soon as it feelsthat it is left to itself; I am only a woman, Daniel; I am weak."

  The unhappy man felt his strength leaving him; he could no longer bearthe restraint which he had imposed upon himself.

  "You insist upon sending me off in utter despair?" he asked her. "Ah, Ihave hardly courage enough for myself!"

  She interrupted him with a nervous laugh, and said in bitter sarcasm,--

  "It would be courage to stay, to despise public opinion."

  And, as any thing appeared to her preferable to such a separation, sheadded,--

  "Listen! If you will stay, I will yield. Let us go together to myfather, and I will tell him that I have overcome my aversion to MissBrandon. I will ask him to present me to her; _I_ will humble myselfbefore her."

  "That is impossible, Henrietta."

  She bent towards him, joining her hands; and in a suppliant voice sherepeated,--

  "Stay, I beseech you, in the name of our happiness! If you have everloved me, if you love me now, stay!"

  Daniel had foreseen this heartrending scene; but he had vowed, that,if his heart should break, he would have the fortitude to resistHenrietta's prayers and tears.

  "If I were weak enough to give way now, Henrietta," he said, "you woulddespise me before the month is over; and I, desperate at having to dragout a life of disgrace, would blow out my brains with a curse on you."

  With her arms hanging listlessly by her side, her hands crossed behindher, Miss Ville-Handry stood there motionless, like a statue. She feltin her heart that Daniel's resolution was not to be shaken.

  Then he said in a gentle voice,--

  "I am going, Henrietta; but I leave you a friend of mine,--a true andnoble friend, who will watch over you. You have heard me speak of himoften,--Maxime de Brevan. He knows my wishes. Whatever may happen,consult him. Ah! I should leave more cheerfully if you would promise meto trust this faithful friend, to listen to his advice, and to followhis directions."

  "I promise you, Daniel, I will obey him."

  But a rustling of the dry leaves interrupted them.

  They turned round. A man was cautiously approaching them.

  "My father!" cried Henrietta.

  And, pushing Daniel towards the gate, she begged him to flee.

  To remain would only have been to risk a painful explanation, insults,perhaps even a personal collision. Daniel understood that but too well.

  "Farewell," he said to Henrietta, "farewell! Tomorrow you will receive aletter from me."

  And he escaped, but not so promptly that he should not have heard thecount's angry voice, as he said,--

  "Ah, ah! Is this the virtuous young lady who dares to insult MissSarah?"

  As soon as Daniel had locked the door again, he listened for a moment,hoping that he might hear something of importance. But he could onlymake out a few indistinct exclamations, then nothing, nothing more.

  It was all over now. He would have to sail without seeing Henriettaagain, without enjoying that bitter happiness of holding her once morein his arms. And yet he had told her nothing of all he had to tell her;he had not spoken to her of half his recommendations, nor given her athousandth part of his tender farewells.

  How had they been surprised? How came it about that the count had stayedat home, instead of hurrying off immediately after dinner, as was hiscustom? Why should he have inquired after his daughter, he who generallytook no more trouble about her than if she had not existed?

  "Ah, we have been betrayed!" thought the unhappy man.

  By whom? By that unpleasant maid evidently, whom he had seen thatmorning; by that very Clarissa in whom Henrietta put such confidence. Ifthat was so,--and it was but too probable,--to whom should he send hisletters hereafter? Here, again, he saw himself reduced to Maxime deBrevan as the only one who could convey news from him to Henrietta. Ah!he recognized but too clearly the execrable but most cunning policy ofMiss Brandon.

  "The wretch!" he swore; "the infamous woman!"

  Wrath, mad wrath, set his brains on fire. And he could do nothingagainst that woman!

  "But she does not stand alone!" he suddenly exclaimed. "There is a manthere who shelters her under his responsibility,--Sir Thorn!"

  M. Elgin might be insulted; he might be struck in the face, and thus becompelled to fight.

  And, without considering this absurd plan, he hurried to Circus Street.Although it was barely eight o'clock, Miss Brandon's house looked as ifeverybody were asleep. He rang the bell, however; and, when a servantcame to the door, he inquired,--

  "M. Thomas Elgin?"

  "M. Elgin is absent," replied the servant.

  "At what hour will he be back?"

  "He is not coming home to-night."

  And whether he had received special instructions, or was only actingupon general orders, he added,--

  "Mrs. Brian is at the theatre; but Miss Brandon is at home."

  Daniel's wrath changed into a kind of cold fury.

  "They expected me," he thought.

  And he hesitated. Should he see Miss Brandon? But for what end? He wasjust turning away, when a sudden thought occurred to him. Why should henot talk with her, come to an understanding, and perhaps make a bargainwith her?

  "Show me to Miss Brandon's room," he said to the servant.

  She sat, as she always did when left alone in the house, in the littleboudoir, where Daniel had already once been carried by her. Dressed in along dressing-wrapper of pale-blue cashmere, her hair scarcely taken upat all, she was reading, reclining on a sofa.

  As the door opened, she raised herself carelessly a little, and, withoutturning around, asked,--

  "Who is that?"

  But, when the servant announced the name of M. Champcey, she rose with abound, almost terrified, dropping the book which she had in her hand.

  "You!" she murmured as soon as the servant had left. "Here, and of yourown accord?"

  Firmly resolved this time to remain master of his sensations, Daniel hadstopped in the middle of the room, as stiff as a statue.

  "Don't you know, madam, what brings me here? All your combinations havesucceeded admirably; you triumph, and we surrender."

  She looked at him in perfect amazement, stammering--

  "I do not understand you. I do not know what you mean."

  He shrugged his shoulders, and continued in an icy tone,--

  "Do me the honor to think that I am not altogether a fool. I have seenthe letter which you have sent to the minister, signed with my name. Ihave held that masterpiece of forgery in my hand and know now how youfree yourself of my presence!"

  Miss Brandon interrupted him with an angry gesture,--

  "Then it is really so! He has done it; he has dared do it!"

  "Who is this he? M. Thomas Elgin, no doubt?"

  "No, not he; another man."

  "Name him!"

  She hesitated, hung her head, and then said with a great effort,--

  "I knew they wished to separate us; and, without knowing precisely whatmeans they would employ, I suspected them. And, when I came to you theother day, I wanted to say to you, 'Have a care!' and you, M. Champcey,you drove me from you."

  He looked upon her with such an ironical smile that she broke off, andcried,--

  "Ah, he does not believe me! Tell me that you do not believe me!"

  He bowed ceremoniously,
and replied in his gravest manner,--

  "I believe, Miss Brandon, that you desire to become Countess Ville-Handry; and you clear everything out of your path that can hinder you inyour plans."

  She was about to answer; but he did not give her time, and continued,--

  "Mark, I pray, that I make no charges. Come, let us play openly. Youare too sensible and too practical to hate us--Miss Henrietta andmyself--from gratuitous and purely platonic motives. You hate us becausewe are in your way. How are we in your way? Tell me; and, if you willpromise to help us, we--Henrietta and I--pledge ourselves not to standin your way."

  Miss Brandon looked as if she could not trust her ears.

  "But, sir, this is a bargain, I should say, which you propose?"

  "Yes, indeed! And, that there may be no misunderstanding, I will mentionthe precise terms: if you will swear to be kind to Henrietta during myabsence, to protect her against violence on the part of her father, andnever to force her to act contrary to her sentiments for me, I will giveyou, in return, my word that I shall give up to you, without disputeand without reserve, the whole immense fortune possessed by CountVille-Handry."

  Succumbing to her grief, Miss Brandon seemed to be almost fainting; andbig tears rolled down her cheeks.

  "Have I not yet been humiliated sufficiently?" she said in a low voice."Must you add shame to shame? Daniel, you think I am very mean."

  And, checking the sobs which impeded her words, she went on,--

  "And yet I cannot blame you for it, I cannot. No, you are right! Everything is against me; every thing bears witness against me. Yes, I mustappear a very wicked girl in your eyes. If you knew the truth, however,Daniel--if I could, if I dared, tell you all!"

  She drew nearer to him, all trembling; and then continued in a stilllower tone of voice, as if she feared to be overheard,--

  "Do you not understand yet that I am no longer my own? Unfortunate asI am, they have taken me, bound me, fettered me. I have no longer theright to have a will of my own. If they say, 'Do this!' I must needs doit. What a life I lead! Great God! Ah, if you had been willing, Daniel!If you were willing even now!"

  She became excited almost to exaltation; her eyes, moist with tears,shone with matchless splendor; passing blushes colored her face; and hervoice had strange, weird vibrations.

  Was she forgetting herself? Was she really about to betray her secret?or was she merely inventing a new falsehood? Why should he not let hergo on?

  "That is no answer, Miss Brandon," at last said Daniel. "Will youpromise me to protect Henrietta?"

  "Do you really love her so dearly, your Henrietta?"

  "Better than life!"

  Miss Brandon turned as white as the lace on her dress; a flash ofindignation shot through her eyes; and, drying her tears, she saidcurtly,--

  "Oh!"

  Then Daniel replied,--

  "You will give me no answer, madam?"

  And, as she persisted in her silence, he resumed,--

  "Very well, then, I understand. You declare open war. Be it so! Onlylisten to me carefully. I am setting out on a dangerous expedition, andyou hope I shall never return. Undeceive yourself, Miss Brandon; I shallreturn. With a passion like mine, with so much love in one's heart, andso much hatred, a man can defy every thing. The murderous climate willnot touch me; and, if I had ten rifle-balls in my body, I should stillhave the strength to return, and hold you to an account for what youhave done to Henrietta. And if you have touched a hair on her head, ifyou have made her shed a single tear, by all that is holy, it will bringill luck to you, and ill luck to others!"

  He was going to leave her, when a thought struck him.

  "I ought to tell you, moreover," he added, "that I leave a faithfulfriend behind me; and, if the count or his daughter should die verysuddenly, the coroner will be informed. And now, madam, farewell--or,rather, till we meet again!"

  At eight o'clock on the evening of the next day, after having left inM. de Brevan's hands a long letter for Henrietta, and after having givenhim his last instructions, Daniel took his seat in the train which wasto take him to his new post.