La clique dorée. English

by Emile Gaboriau

  XVI.

  But, this confidence which Henrietta expressed was only apparent. In herheart she suffered from the most terrible presentiments. A secret voicetold her that this scene, no doubt well prepared and carefully broughtabout, was but another step leading to the final catastrophe.

  Days, however, passed by, and nothing unusual happened. It looked as ifthey had resolved, after that crisis, to give her a short respite, andtime to recover.

  Even the watch kept upon her movements was not quite as strict asheretofore. The countess kept out of her way. Mrs. Brian had given upthe desire to frighten her by her incessant remarks. Her father she sawbut rarely; for he was entirely absorbed in the preparations for thePennsylvania Petroleum Society. Thus, a week later, all seemed to haveentirely forgotten the terrible explosion produced by the letter to theDuke of Champdoce.

  All? By no means. There was one of the inmates of the palace whorecalled it daily,--M. Thomas Elgin.

  On the very evening after the scene, his generous indignation had so fargotten the better of his usual reserve, and his pledge of neutrality,that he had taken the Countess Sarah aside, and overwhelmed her withsharp reproaches.

  "You will have to eat your own words," he had told her, among otherthings, "if you use such abominable means to gratify your hatred."

  It is true, that, when he thus took his kinswoman aside, he also tookpains to be overheard by Henrietta. And besides, for fear, perhaps, thatshe might not fully appreciate his sentiments, he had stealthily pressedher hand, and whispered into her ear,--

  "Poor, dear girl! But I am here. I shall watch."

  This sounded like a promise to afford her protection, which certainlywould have been efficient if it had been sincere. But was it sincere?

  "No; most assuredly not!" said M. de Brevan when he was consulted. "Itcan be nothing but vile hypocrisy and the beginning of an abominablefarce. You will see, madam."

  What Henrietta really saw was, that the Hon. M. Elgin suddenly underwenta complete metamorphosis. A new Sir Thorn appeared, whom no one wouldhave ever suspected under the cloak of icy reserve which the former hadworn. His sympathetic pity of former days was succeeded by more tendersentiments. It was not pity now, which animated his big, blue-chinaeyes, but the half-suppressed flame of a discreet passion. In public hedid not commit himself much; but there was no little attention whichhe did not pay Henrietta by stealth. He never left the room beforeher; and, on the reception-evenings, he always took a seat by her, andremained there till the end. The most direct result of these manoeuvreswas to keep M. de Brevan from her. The latter became naturally veryindignant at this, and began to dislike Sir Thorn to such an extent,that he could hardly contain himself.

  "Well, madam," he said to Henrietta on one of the few occasions when hecould speak to her,--"well, what did I tell you? Does the wretch showhis hand clearly enough now?"

  Henrietta discouraged her curious lover as much as she could; but it wasimpossible for her to avoid him, as they lived under the same roof, andsat down twice a day at the same table.

  "The simplest way," was M. de Brevan's advice, "would be, perhaps, toprovoke an explanation."

  But he did not wait to be asked. One morning, after breakfast, he waitedfor Henrietta in the vestibule; and, when she appeared, he said in anembarrassed manner,--

  "I must speak to you, madam; it is absolutely necessary."

  She did not manifest any surprise, and simply replied,--

  "Follow me, sir."

  She entered into the parlor, and he came with her. For about a minutethey remained there alone, standing face to face,--she trying to keep upher spirits, although blushing deeply; he, apparently so overcome, thathe had lost the use of his voice. At last, all of a sudden, and asif making a supreme effort, Sir Thorn began in a breathless voice todeclare, that, according to Henrietta's answer, he would be the happiestor the most unfortunate of mortals. Touched by her innocence, and thepersecutions to which she was exposed, he had at first pitied her,then, discovering in her daily more excellent qualities, unusual energy,coupled with all the charming bashfulness of a young girl, he had nolonger been able to resist such marvellous attractions.

  Henrietta, still mistress of herself, because she was convinced that M.Elgin was only playing a wretched farce, observed him as closely as shecould, and, when he paused a moment, began,--

  "Believe me, sir"--

  But he interrupted her, saying with unusual vehemence,--

  "Oh! I beseech you, madam, let me finish. Many in my place would havespoken to your father; but I thought that would hardly be fair in yourexceptional position. Still I have reason to believe that Count Ville-Handry would look upon my proposals with favor. But then he wouldprobably have attempted to do violence to your feelings. Now I wishto be indebted to you only, madam, deciding in full enjoyment of yourliberty; for"--

  An expression of intense anxiety contracted the features of his usuallyso impassive face; and he added with great earnestness,--

  "Miss Henrietta, I am an honorable man; I love you. Will you be mywife?"

  By a stroke of instinctive genius, he had found the only argument,perhaps, that might have procured credit for his sincerity.

  But what did that matter to Henrietta? She began, saying,--

  "Believe me, sir. I fully appreciate the honor you do me; but I am nolonger free"--

  "I beseech you"--

  "Freely, and among all men, I have chosen M. Daniel Champcey. My life isin his hands."

  He tottered as if he had received a heavy blow, and stammered with ahalf-extinct voice,--

  "Will you not leave me a glimpse of hope?"

  "I would do wrong if I did so, sir, and I have never yet deceived anyone."

  But the Hon. M. Elgin was not one of those men who despair easily, andgive up. He was not discouraged by a first failure; and he showed itvery soon. The very next day he became a changed man, as if Henrietta'srefusal had withered the very roots of his life. In his carriage, hisgestures, and his tone of voice, he betrayed the utmost dejection. Helooked as if he had grown taller and thinner. A bitter smile curled onhis lips; and his magnificent whiskers, usually so admirably kept, nowhung down miserably on his chest. And this intense melancholy grew andgrew, till it became so evident to all the world, that people asked thecountess,--

  "What is the matter with poor M. Elgin? He looks funereal."

  "He is unhappy," was the answer, accompanied by a sigh, which soundedas if it had been uttered in order to increase curiosity, and stimulatepeople to observe him more closely. Several persons did observe him; andthey soon found out that Sir Thorn no longer took his seat by Henriettaas formerly, and that he avoided every occasion to address her a word.

  For all that he was not resigned; far from that. He only laid siege froma distance now, spending whole evenings in looking at her from afar,absorbed in mute ecstasy. And at all times, incessantly and everywhere,she met him, as if he had been her shadow, or as if he had beencondemned to breathe the air which had been displaced by her petticoats.One would have thought him endowed with the gift of multiplying himself;for he was inevitably seen wherever she was,--leaning against thedoor-frame, or resting his elbow on the mantlepiece, his eyes fixed uponher. And, when she did not see him, she felt his looks still weighingher down. M. de Brevan, having been made aware of his importunateattentions, seemed to check his indignation only with great difficulty.Once or twice he spoke of calling out this wretched fellow (so he calledSir Thorn); and, in order to quiet him, Henrietta had to repeat to himover and over again, that, after such an encounter, he would no longerbe able to appear at the palace, and would thus deprive her of the onlyfriend to whom she could look for assistance.

  He yielded; but he said after careful consideration,--

  "This abominable persecution cannot go on, madam: this man compromisesyou too dreadfully. You ought to lay your complaint before CountVille-Handry."

  She decided to do so, not without great reluctance; but the countstopped her at the first word s
he uttered.

  "I think, my daughter, your vanity blinds you. Before M. Elgin, whois one of the most eminent financiers in all Europe, should think ofa little insignificant person like you, he would look a long timeelsewhere."

  "Permit me, father"--

  "Stop! If you should, however, not deceive yourself, it would be thegreatest good luck for you, and an honor of which you ought to be veryproud indeed. Do you think it would be easy to find a husband for you,after all the unpleasant talk to which you have given occasion?"

  "I do not wish to marry, father."

  "Of course not. However, as such a marriage would meet all my wishes, asit would serve to tighten the bonds which unite us with this honorablefamily (if M. Thomas Elgin should really have such intentions asyou mention), I should know, I think, how to force you to marry him.However, I shall speak to him, and see."

  He spoke to him indeed, and soon; for the very next morning the countessand Mrs. Brian purposely went out, so as to leave Henrietta and SirThorn alone. The honorable gentleman looked sadder than usually. Hebegan thus,--

  "Is it really true, madam, that you have made complaint to your father?"

  "Your pertinacity compelled me to do so," replied Henrietta.

  "Is the idea of becoming my wife so very revolting to you?"

  "I have told you, sir, I am no longer free."

  "Yes, to be sure! You love M. Daniel Champcey. You love him. He knowsit; for you had told him so, no doubt: and yet he has forsaken you."

  Sometimes, in her innermost heart, Henrietta had accused Daniel. Butwhat she thought she would permit no one else to think. She replied,therefore, haughtily,--

  "It was a point of honor with M. Champcey, and it was so with me. Ifhe had hesitated, I would have been the first one to say to him, 'Dutycalls; you must go.'"

  Sir Thorn shook his head with a sardonic smile, and said,--

  "But he did not hesitate. It is ten months now since he left you; andno one knows for how many more months, for how many years, he will beabsent. For his sake you suffer martyrdom; and, when he returns, he mayhave long since forgotten you."

  Her eyes beaming with faith, Henrietta rose to her full height, andreplied,--

  "I believe in Daniel as surely as in myself."

  "And if they convinced you that you were mistaken?"

  "They would render me a very sad service, which would bring no reward toany one."

  Sir Thorn's lips moved, as if he were about to answer. A thought seemedto stop him. Then in a stifled voice, with a gesture of despair, headded,--

  "Keep your illusions, madam; and farewell."

  He was going to leave the room; but she threw herself in his way,crossed her arms, and said to him in an imperative tone,--

  "You have gone too far, sir, to retrace your steps. You are bound nowto justify your insidious insinuations, or, to confess that they werefalse."

  Then he seemed to make up his mind, and said, speaking rapidly,--

  "You will have it so? Well, be it so. Know, then, since you insist uponit, that M. Daniel Champcey has been deceiving you most wickedly; thathe does not love you, and probably never did love you."

  "That is what you say," replied Henrietta.

  Her haughty carriage, the disdain, rather than disgust, with whichshe spoke, could not fail to exasperate M. Elgin. He checked himself,however, and said, in a short and cutting tone,--

  "I say so because it is so; and any one but you, possessing a less nobleignorance of evil, would long since have discovered the truth. Towhat do you attribute Sarah's implacable enmity? To the memory of youroffences on the occasion of her wedding? Poor child! If that had beenall, her indifference would have given you back your place months ago.Jealousy alone is capable of that fierce and insatiable hatred whichcannot be disarmed by tears or submission,--that hatred which timeincreases, instead of diminishing. Between Sarah and you, MissHenrietta, there stands a man."

  "A man?"

  "Yes,--M. Daniel Champcey."

  Henrietta felt as if a sharp knife had been plunged into her bosom.

  "I do not understand you, sir," she said.

  He, shrugging his shoulders, and assuming an air of commiseration, wenton,--

  "What? You will not understand that Sarah is your rival; that she hasloved M. Champcey; that she is still madly in love with him? Ah! theyhave deceived Mrs. Brian and myself cruelly."

  "How so?"

  He turned his head aside, and murmured, as if speaking to himself,--

  "-------- -------- was her lover."

  Miss Ville-Handry discerned the truth with admirable instinct, drewherself up, and said in her most energetic way,--

  "That is false!"

  Sir Thorn trembled; but that was all.

  "You have asked me to tell the truth," he said coldly, "and I have doneso. Try to remember. Have you forgotten that little scene, after whichM. Champcey fled from our house in the middle of the night, bareheaded,without taking his overcoat?"

  "Sir?"

  "Did you not think that was extraordinary? That night, you see, wediscovered the whole thing. After having been one of the foremost torecommend to Sarah to marry your father, M. Champcey came and asked herto give up that marriage. He had, before that, tried to have it brokenoff through your agency, madam, using thus his influence over you, hisbetrothed, for the benefit of his passion."

  "Ah! You lie impudently, sir!" said Henrietta.

  To this charge, which fell like a blow upon his face, he only replied,--

  "I have proofs."

  "What proofs?"

  "Letters written by M. Champcey to Sarah. I have obtained two; and Ihave them here in my pocket-book."

  He put at the same time his hand to his pocket. She stopped him.

  "These letters would prove nothing to me, sir."

  "But"--

  She cast a withering glance at him, and said, in a voice of unbearablecontempt,--

  "Those who have sent a letter to the Navy Department, which pretended tohave been written by Daniel, cannot find any difficulty in imitating hissignature. Let us break off here, sir. I forbid you ever to speak to meagain."

  M. Elgin laughed in a terrible way.

  "That is your last word?" he asked.

  Instead of answering him, she drew a step aside, thus opening the way tothe door, at which she pointed with her finger.

  "Well," said Sir Thorn with an accent of fierce threatening, "rememberthis; I have sworn you shall be my wife, whether you will or not; and mywife you shall be!"

  "Leave the room, sir, or I must give it up to you!"

  He went out swearing; and, more dead than alive, Henrietta sank intoan arm-chair. As long as she had been in the presence of the enemy, herpride had enabled her to keep up the appearance of absolute faith inDaniel; but, now she was alone, terrible doubts began to beset her. Wasthere not something true in the evident exaggerations of the Hon. M.Elgin? She was not quite sure. Had not Sarah also boasted of it, thatshe loved Daniel, and that she had been in his room? Finally, Henriettarecalled with a shudder, that, when Daniel had told her of his adventurein Circus Street, he had appeared embarrassed towards the end, and hadfailed fully to explain the reasons of his flight.

  And to crown the matter, when she had tried to draw from M. de Brevanadditional information on the subject, she had been struck by hisembarrassment, and the lame and confused way in which he had defendedhis friend.

  "Ah, now all is really over!" she thought. "The measure of my sufferingsis full indeed!"

  Unfortunately it was not yet full. A new persecution awaited her,infamous, monstrous, by the side of which all the others amounted tonothing.

  "Whether you will, or not, you shall be mine," had Sir Thorn said; andfrom that moment he was bent upon convincing her that he was not the manto shrink from any thing, even unto violence.

  He was no longer the sympathetic defender of former days, nor thetimid lover, nor the sighing, rejected lover, who followed Henriettaeverywhere. He was, henceforth, a kind of wild be
ast, pursuing her,harassing her, persecuting her, with his eyes glaring at her withabominable lust. He no longer looked at her furtively, as formerly;but he lay in wait for her in the passages, ready, apparently, to throwhimself upon her; projecting his lips as if to touch her cheeks, andextending his arms as if to seize her around her waist. A drunken lackeypursuing a scullion would not have looked and acted more impudently.

  Terrified, the poor girl threw herself on her knees before her father,beseeching him to protect her. But he pushed her back, and reproachedher for slandering the most honorable and most inoffensive of men.Blindness could go no farther.

  And Sir Thorn knew probably of her failure; for the next day he lookedat her, laughing, as if he felt that he now might venture upon anything. And he did venture upon something, that so far would have seemedimpossible. One evening, or rather one night, when the count and thecountess were at a ball, he came and knocked at the door of Henrietta'schamber.

  Frightened, she rang the bell; and the servants who came up freed herfrom the intruder. But from that moment her terrors had no limit; and,whenever the count went out at night with his wife, she barricadedherself up in her chamber, and spent the whole night, dressed, in achair. Could she remain any longer standing upon the brink of an abysswithout name? She thought she could not; and after long and painfulhesitation, she said one evening to M. de Brevan,--

  "My mind is made up; I must flee."

  Taken aback, as if he had received a blow upon his head, with his mouthwide open, his eyes stretched out, M. de Brevan had turned deadly pale;and the perspiration pearled in large drops on his temples, while hishands trembled like the eager hands of a man who touches, and is aboutto seize, a long-coveted prize.

  "Then," he stammered out, "you are decided; you will leave your father'shouse?"

  "I must," she said; and her eyes filled with bright tears. "And thesooner I can do it the better; for every moment I spend here now maybring a new danger. And yet, before risking any thing decisive, it mightbe better first to write to Daniel's aunt in order to ask her about thedirections she may have received, and to tell her that very soon I shallcome to ask for her pity and her protection."

  "What? You think of seeking refuge at the house of that estimable lady?"

  "Certainly."

  M. de Brevan, now entirely master of himself, and calculating with hisusual calmness, gravely shook his head, and said,--

  "You ought to be careful, madam. To seek an asylum at the house of ourfriend's relative might be a very grave imprudence."

  "But Daniel recommended it to me in his letter."

  "Yes; but he had not considered the consequences of the advice he gaveyou. Do not deceive yourself; the wrath of your enemies will be terriblewhen they find that you have escaped them. They will pursue you; theywill employ the police; they will search for you all over France. Now,it is evident, that the very first place where they will look for youwill be Daniel's relatives. The house of the old aunt will be watchedat once, and most jealously. How can you there escape from inquiry andpursuit? It would be folly to hope for safety there."

  Pensively Henrietta hung her head. Then she said,--

  "Perhaps you are right, sir."

  "Now," continued M. de Brevan, "let us see what they would do if theyshould discover you. You are not of age, consequently you are entirelydependent on the will of your father. Under the inspiration of yourstep-mother, he would attack Daniel's aunt, on the score of havinginveigled a minor, and would bring you back here."

  She seemed to reflect; then she said suddenly,--"I can implore theassistance of the Duchess of Champdoce."

  "Unfortunately, madam, they told you the truth. For a year now, the Dukeof Champdoce and his wife have been travelling in Italy."

  A gesture of despair betrayed the terrible dejection of the poor girl.

  "Great God!" she said, "what must I do?"

  A passing smile appeared on the face of M. de Brevan; and he answered inhis most persuasive manner,--

  "Will you permit me to offer you some advice, madam?"

  "Alas, sir! I beg you to do so for Heaven's sake."

  "Well, this is the only plan that seems to me feasible. To-morrowmorning I will rent in a quiet house a suitable lodging, less thanmodest, a little chamber. You will move into it, and await there yourcoming of age, or Daniel's return. No detective will ever think ofseeking the daughter of Count Ville-Handry in a poor needlewoman'sgarret."

  "And I am to stay there alone, forsaken and lost?"

  "It is a sacrifice which it seems to me you have to make for safety'ssake."

  She said nothing, weighing the two alternatives,--to remain in thehouse, or to accept M. de Brevan's proposition. After a minute shesaid,--

  "I will follow your advice, sir; only"--She was evidently painfullyembarrassed, and covered with blushes.

  "You see," she said, after long hesitation, "all this will cost money.Formerly I used to have always a couple of hundred dollars in my drawerssomewhere; but now"--

  "Madam," broke in M. de Brevan, "madam, is not my whole fortune entirelyat your disposal?"

  "To be sure, I have my jewels; and they are quite valuable."

  "For that very reason you ought to be careful not to take them with you.We must guard against every thing. We may fail. They may discovermy share in the attempt; and who knows what charges they would raiseagainst me?"

  His apprehension alone betrayed the character of the man; and still itdid not enlighten Henrietta.

  "Well, prepare every thing as you think best, sir," she said sadly. "Irely entirely upon your friendship, your devotion, and your honor."

  M. de Brevan had a slight attack of coughing, which prevented him fromanswering at first. Then, finding that Henrietta was bent upon escaping,he tried to devise the means.

  Henrietta proposed that they should wait for a night when the countwould take the countess to a ball. She might then slip into the garden,and climb the wall. But the attempt seemed to be too dangerous in M. deBrevan's eyes. He said,--

  "I think I see something better. Count Ville-Handry is going soon togive a great party?"

  "The day after to-morrow, Thursday."

  "All right. On Thursday, madam, you will complain early in the morningalready, of a bad headache, and you will send for the doctor. He willprescribe something, I dare say, which you will not take; but they willthink you are sick, and they will watch you less carefully. At night,however, towards ten o'clock, you will come down and conceal yourself atthe foot of the back-stairs, in the corner of the courtyard. You can dothat, I presume?"

  "Very easily, sir."

  "In that case all will be right. I will be here with a carriage at teno'clock precisely. My coachman, whom I will instruct beforehand, insteadof stopping at the great entrance, will pretend to go amiss, and stopjust at the foot of the staircase. I will jump out; and you, you willswiftly jump into the carriage."

  "Yes, that also can be done."

  "As the curtains will be down, no one will see you. The carriage willdrive out again, and wait for me outside; and ten minutes later I shallhave joined you."

  The plan being adopted, as every thing depended upon punctuality, M. deBrevan regulated his watch by Henrietta's; and then, rising, he said,--

  "We have already conversed longer than we ought to have done inprudence. I shall not speak to you again to-night. Till Thursday."

  And with sinking voice, she said,--

  "Till Thursday."