La clique dorée. English

by Emile Gaboriau

  XXX.

  It struck midnight; but the poor people in the little parlor in theHotel du Louvre hardly thought of sleep. How could they have becomeaware of the flight of time, as long as all their faculties were bentupon the immense interests that were at stake? On the struggle whichthey were about to undertake depended Count Ville-Handry's life andhonor, and the happiness and whole future life of Daniel and Henrietta.

  And Papa Ravinet and his sister had said,--"As for us, even more thanthat depends upon it." The old dealer, therefore, drew up an easy-chair, sat down, and began in a somewhat husky voice,--

  "The Countess Sarah is not Sarah Brandon, and is not an American. Herreal name, by which she was known up to her sixteenth year, is ErnestineBergot; and she was born in Paris, in the suburb of Saint Martin, juston the line of the corporation. To tell you in detail what the firstyears of Sarah were like would be difficult indeed. There are things ofthat kind which do not bear being mentioned. Her childhood might be herexcuse, if she could be excused at all.

  "Her mother was one of those unfortunate women of whom Paris devoursevery year several thousands; who come from the provinces in woodenshoes, and are seen, six months later, dressed in all the fashion; andwho live a short, gay life, which invariably ends in the hospital.

  "Her mother was neither better nor worse than the rest. When herdaughter came, she had neither the sense to part with her, nor thecourage--perhaps (who knows?) she had not the means--to mend her ways.Thus the little one grew up by God's mercy, but at the Devil's bidding,living by chance, now stuffed with sweet things, and now half-killed byblows, fed by the charity of neighbors, while her mother remained forweeks absent from her lodgings.

  "Four years old, she wandered through the neighborhood dressed infragments of silk or velvet, with a faded ribbon in her hair, butwith bare feet in her torn shoes, hoarse, and shivering with severecolds,--very much after the fashion of lost dogs, who rove aroundopen-air cooking-shops,--and looking in the gutters for cents with whichto buy fried potatoes or spoilt fruit.

  "At a later time she extended the circle of her excursions, and wanderedall over Paris, in company of other children like herself, stoppingon the boulevards, before the brilliant shops or performing jugglers,trying to learn how to steal from open stalls, and at night asking in aplaintive voice for alms in behalf of her poor sick father. When twelveyears old she was as thin as a plank, and as green as a June apple, withsharp elbows and long red hands. But she had beautiful light hair, teethlike a young dog's, and large, impudent eyes. Merely upon seeing her goalong, her head high with an air of saucy indifference, coquettish underher rags, and walking with elastic steps, you would have guessed inher the young Parisian girl, the sister of the poor 'gamin,' a thousandtimes more wicked than her brothers, and far more dangerous to society.She was as depraved as the worst of sinners, fearing neither God nor theDevil, nor man, nor anything.

  "However, she did fear the police.

  "For from them she derived the only notions of morality she everpossessed; otherwise, it would have been love's labor lost to talk toher of virtue or of duty. These words would have conveyed no meaningto her imagination; she knew no more about them than about the abstractideas which they represent.

  "One day, however, her mother, who had virtually made a servant of her,had a praiseworthy inspiration. Finding that she had some money, shedressed her anew from head to foot, bought her a kind of outfit, andbound her as an apprentice to a dressmaker.

  "But it came too late.

  "Every kind of restraint was naturally intolerable to such a vagabondnature. The order and the regularity of the house in which she livedwere a horror to her. To sit still all day long, a needle in her hand,appeared to her harder than death itself. The very comforts around herembarrassed her, and she felt as a savage would feel in tight boots. Atthe end of the first week, therefore, she ran away from the dressmaker,stealing a hundred francs. As long as these lasted, she roved overParis. When they were spent, and she was hungry, she came back to hermother.

  "But her mother had moved away, and no one knew what had become of her.She was inquired after, but never found. Any other person would havebeen in despair. Not she. The same day she entered as waiter in acheap coffee-house. Turned out there, she found employment in a lowrestaurant, where she had to wash up the dishes and plates. Sent awayhere, also, she became a servant in two or three other places of stilllower character; then, at last, utterly disgusted, she determined to donothing at all.

  "She was sinking into the gutter, she was on the point of being lostbefore she had reached womanhood, like fruit which spoils before it isripe, when a man turned up who was fated to arm her for life's Struggle,and to change the vulgar thief into the accomplished monster ofperversity whom you know."

  Here Papa Ravinet suddenly paused, and, looking at Daniel, said,--

  "You must not believe, M. Champcey, that these details are imaginary.I have spent five years of my life in tracing out Sarah's earlylife,--five years, during which I have been going from door to door,ever in search of information. A dealer in second-hand goods enterseverywhere without exciting suspicion. And then I have witnesses toprove everything I have told you so far,--witnesses whom I shall summon,and who will speak whenever the necessity arises to establish theidentity of the Countess Sarah."

  Daniel made no reply.

  Like Henrietta, even like Mrs. Bertolle, at this moment he wascompletely fascinated by the old gentleman's manner and tone. Thelatter, after having rested for a few minutes, went on,--

  "The man who picked up Sarah was an old German artist, painter andmusician both, of rare genius, but a maniac, as they called him. At allevents, he was a good, an excellent man.

  "One winter morning, as he was at work in his studio, he was struck bythe strange ring in a woman's voice, which recited in the court-yardbelow a popular song. He went to the window, and beckoned the singer tocome up. It was Sarah; and she came. The good German used often to speakof the deep compassion which seized him as he saw this tall girl offourteen come into his studio,--a child, stained by vice already, thinlike hunger itself, and shivering in her thin calico dress. But he wasat the same time almost dazzled by the rich promises of beauty in herface, the pure notes of her superb voice, which had withstood so far,and the surprising intelligence beaming in her features.

  "He guessed what there was in her; he saw her, in his mind's eye, suchas she was to be at twenty.

  "Then he asked her how she had come to be reduced to such misery, whoshe was, where her parents lived, and what they did for a living. Whenshe had told him that she stood quite alone, and was dependent on noone, he said to her,--

  "'Well, if you will stay with me, I will adopt you; you shall be mydaughter; and I will make you an eminent artist.'

  "The studio was warm, and it was bitterly cold outside. Sarah had noroof over her head, and had eaten nothing for twenty-four hours. Sheaccepted.

  "She accepted, be it understood, not doubting, in her perversity, butthat this kind old man had other intentions besides those he mentionedin offering her a home. She was mistaken. He recognized in hermarvellous talents, and thought of nothing but of making of her a truemarvel, which should astonish the world. He devoted himself heart andsoul to his new favorite, with all the enthusiastic ardor of an artist,and all the jealous passion of an amateur.

  "It was a hard task, however, which he had undertaken. Sarah could noteven read. She knew nothing, except sin.

  "How the old German went to work to keep this untamable vagabond athome, how he made her bend to his will, and submit to his lessons, noone will ever be able to tell. It was long a problem for me also. Someof the neighbors told me that he treated her harshly, beating her oftenbrutally; but neither threats nor blows were apt to make an impressionon Sarah Brandon. A friend of the old man's thought he had guessed theriddle: he thought the old artist had succeeded in arousing Sarah'spride. He had kindled in her a boundless ambition and the mostpassionate covetousness. He intoxicated her with fairyl
ike hopes.

  "'Follow my counsels,' he used to say to her, 'and at twenty you will bea queen,--a queen of beauty, of wit, and of genius. Study, and theday will come when you will travel through Europe, a renowned artist,welcomed in every capital, _feted_ everywhere, honored, and glorified.Work, and wealth will come with fame,--immense, boundless wealth,surpassing all your dreams. You will have the finest carriages, the mostmagnificent diamonds; you will draw from inexhaustible purses; the wholeworld will be at your feet; and the women will turn pale with envy andjealousy when they see you. Among men there will be none so noble, noneso great, none so rich, but he will beg for one of your looks; and theywill fight for one of your smiles. Only work and study!'

  "At all events, Sarah did work, and studied with a steady perseverancewhich spoke of her faith in the promises of her old master, and of theinfluence he had obtained over her through her vanity. At first shehad been deterred by the extreme difficulties which beset so latea beginning; but her amazing natural gifts had soon begun to showthemselves, and in a short time her progress was almost miraculous.

  "It is true that her innate sagacity had made her soon find out howignorant she was of the world. She saw that society did not exclusivelyconsist, as she had heretofore imagined, of people like those she hadknown. She felt, for instance, what she had never suspected before, thather unfortunate mother, with all her friends and companions, were onlythe rare exceptions, laid under the ban by the immense majority.

  "At last she actually learned to know the tree of good fruit, afterhaving for so many years known only the tree of forbidden fruit. Shelistened with eager curiosity to all the old artist had to tell her. Andhe knew much; for the eccentric old man had travelled for a long timeover the world, and observed man on every step of the social ladder. Hehad been a favorite artist at the court of Vienna; he had had severalof his operas brought out in Italy; and he had been admitted to the bestsociety in Paris. At night, therefore, while sipping his coffee, hisfeet on the andirons, and his long pipe in his mouth, he would soonforget himself amid the recollections of his youth. He described to herthe splendor of courts, the beauty of women, the magnificence of theirtoilets, and the intrigues which he had seen going on around him. Hespoke to her of the men whose portraits he had painted, of the mannersand the jealousies behind the stage, and of the great singers who hadsung in his operas.

  "Thus it came about, that, two years later, no one would have recognizedthe lean, wretched-looking vagabond of the suburbs in this fresh, rosygirl, with the lustrous eyes and the modest mien, whom they called inthe house the 'pretty artist in the fifth story.'

  "And yet the change was only on the surface.

  "Sarah was already too thoroughly corrupted, when the good German pickedher up, to be capable of being entirely changed. He thought he hadinfused his own rough honesty into her veins: he had only taught her anew vice,--hypocrisy.

  "The soul remained corrupt; and all the charms with which it wasoutwardly adorned became only so many base allurements, like thosebeautiful flowers which unfold their splendor on the surface ofbottomless swamps, and thus lead those whom they attract to miserabledeath.

  "At that time, however, Sarah did not yet possess that marvellousself-control which became one of her great charms hereafter; and at theend of two years she could endure this peaceful atmosphere no longer;she grew homesick after sin.

  "As she was already a very fair musician, and her voice, trained bya great master, possessed amazing power, she urged her old teacher toprocure her an engagement at one of the theatres. He refused in a mannerwhich made it clear to her that he would never change his mind on thatsubject. He wanted to secure to his pupil one of those debuts which arean apotheosis; and he had decided, as he told her, that she should notappear in public till she had reached the full perfection of her voiceand her talent,--certainly not before her nineteenth or twentieth year.

  "That meant she should wait three or four years longer,--a century!

  "In former days Sarah would not have hesitated a moment; she would haverun away.

  "But education had changed her ideas. She was quite able now to reflectand to calculate. She asked herself where she could go, alone, withoutmoney, without friends, and what she should do, and what would become ofher.

  "She knew what destitution meant, and she was afraid of it now.

  "When she thought of the life her mother had led,--a long series ofnights spent in orgies, and of days without bread; that life of distressand disgrace, when she depended on the whims of a good-for-nothing, orthe suspicions of a police constable,--Sarah felt the cold perspirationbreak out on her temples.

  "She wanted her liberty; but she did not want it without money. Viceattracted her irresistibly; but it was gorgeous vice, seated in acarriage, and bespattering with mud the poor, honest women who had towalk on foot, while it was envied by the crowd, and worshipped by thefoolish. She remained, therefore, and studied hard.

  "Perhaps, in spite of everything, in spite of herself and her execrableinstincts, Sarah might have become a great artist, if the old German hadnot been taken from her by a terrible accident.

  "One fine afternoon in April, in the beginning of spring, he was smokinghis pipe at the window, when he heard a noise in the street, and leanedover to see.

  "The bar broke,--he tried in vain to hold on to the window-frame,--andthe next moment he fell from the fifth story to the ground, and waskilled instantly.

  "I have held in my own hands the police report of the accident. Itstates that the fall was unavoidable; and that, if no such calamity hadoccurred before, this was due to the simple fact, that, during the badweather, nobody had thought of looking out of the window. The castingsof the little railing in front were found to be broken in two places,and so long ago, that a thick layer of rust had filled up the cracks.The wooden part had become perfectly loose, as the mortar thatoriginally had kept it in place had been apparently eaten away by thewinter frosts."

  Daniel and Henrietta had turned very pale. It was evident that the sameterrible suspicion had flashed upon their mind.

  "Ah! it was Sarah's work," they exclaimed simultaneously. "It was Sarahwho had broken the bar, and loosened the wooden rods; she had, no doubt,been watching for months to see her benefactor fall and kill himself."

  Papa Ravinet shook his head.

  "I do not say that," he said; "and, at all events, it would beimpossible to prove it at this time,--I mean, to prove it against herdenial. It is certain that no one suspected Sarah. She seemed to be indespair; and everybody pitied her sincerely. Was she not ruined by thismisfortune?

  "The old artist had left no will. His relatives, of whom several livedin Paris, rushed to his rooms; and their first act was to dismiss Sarah,after having searched her trunks, and after giving her to understandthat she ought to be very grateful if she was allowed to take away allshe said she owed to the munificence of her late patron.

  "Still the inheritance was by no means what the heirs had expected.Knowing that the deceased had had ample means, and how simply he hadalways lived, they expected to find in his bureau considerable savings.There was nothing. A single bond for less than two thousand dollars, anda small sum in cash, were all that was found.

  "Ah! I have long endeavored to find out what had become of the variousbonds and the ready money of the old artist; for everybody who had knownhim agreed that there must be some. Do you know what I discovered bydint of indefatigable investigations? I procured leave to examine thebooks of the savings-bank in which he invested his earnings for the yearof his death; and I found there, that on the 17th of April, that is,five days before the poor German's fall, a certain Ernestine Bergot haddeposited a sum of fifteen hundred francs."

  "Ah, you see!" exclaimed Daniel. "Weary of the simple life with the oldman, she murdered him in order to get hold of his money."

  But the old gentleman continued, as if he had heard nothing,--

  "What Sarah did during the three first months of her freedom, I cannottell. If she went and rente
d furnished lodgings, she did it under afalse name. A clerk in the mayor's office, who is a great lover ofcuriosities, and for whom I have procured many a good bargain, hadall the lists of lodging-houses for the four months from April to Julycarefully examined; but no Ernestine Bergot could be found.

  "I am quite sure, however, that she thought of the stage. One ofthe former secretaries of the Lyric Theatre told me he recollecteddistinctly a certain Ernestine, beautiful beyond description, who, cameseveral times, and requested a trial. She was, however, refused, simplybecause her pretensions were almost ridiculous. And this was quitenatural; for her head was still full of all the ambitious dreams of theold artist.

  "The first positive trace I find of Sarah in that year appears towardsthe end of summer. She was then living in a fashionable street witha young painter full of talent, and very rich, called Planix. Did shereally love him? The friends of the unfortunate young man were sure shedid not. But he--he worshipped her; he loved her passionately, madly,and was so absurdly jealous, that he became desperate if she stayed outan hour longer than he expected. Hence she often complained of his love,which restrained her cherished liberty; and still she bore it patientlytill fate threw in her way Maxime de Brevan."

  At the name of the wretch who had been so bent upon ruining them both,and who had been so nearly successful, Henrietta and Daniel trembled,and looked at each other. But Papa Ravinet did not give them, time toask any questions, and continued, as calmly as if he had been reading areport,--

  "It was several years before this, that Justin Chevassat, released fromthe galleys, had made a nobleman of himself, and claimed before all theworld to be Maxime de Brevan. We need not be surprised, in this age ofours, where impudence takes the place of everything else, that he shouldhave promptly succeeded in making his way into high life, and in beingadmitted to many houses which were considered more or less exclusive.In a society which seems to have adopted for its motto the words'Toleration and Discretion,' and where, consequently, anybody isadmitted without question, Justin Chevassat very naturally had a greatsuccess. He had carefully prepared his way, like those adventurers whonever appear abroad without having their passports in much better orderthan most honest travellers. He had learned prudence by experience; forhis antecedents were stormy enough, though less so than Sarah's.

  "Justin's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Chevassat, now concierges of No. 23Water Street, were, some thirty-eight or forty years ago, living in theupper part of the suburb of Saint Honore. They had a very modest littleshop, partly restaurant, partly bar: their customers were generally theservants of the neighborhood. They were people of easy principles andloose morals,--as there are so many in our day,--honest enough as longas there is nothing to be gained by being otherwise. As their tradeprospered, they were not dishonest; and, when any of their customersforgot their portemonnaies at the shop, they always returned them. Thehusband was twenty-four, and the wife nineteen years old, when, to theirgreat joy, a son was born. There was rejoicing in the shop; and thechild was christened Justin, in honor of his godfather, who was no lessa personage than the valet of the Marquis de Brevan.

  "But to have a son is a small matter. To bring him up till he isseven or eight years old, is nothing. The difficulty is to give him aneducation which shall secure him a position in the world. This thoughtnow began to occupy the minds of his parents incessantly. These stupidpeople, who had a business which supported them handsomely, and enabledthem, in the course of time, to amass a small fortune, did not see thatthe best thing they could have done would have been to enlarge it, andto leave it to their son. But no. They vowed they would sacrifice alltheir savings, and deprive themselves even of the necessaries of life,in order that their Justin might become a 'gentleman.'

  "And what a gentleman! The mother dreamed of him as a rich broker, or,at the very least, a notary's first clerk. The father preferred seeinghim a government official, holding one of those much-coveted places,which give the owner, after twenty-five years' service, a title, and anincome of some six or seven hundred dollars.

  "The result of all these speculations was, that, at the age of nine,Master Justin was sent to a high school. He conducted himself there justbadly enough to be perpetually on the brink of being sent away, withoutever being really expelled. This made but little impression upon the twoChevassats. They had become so accustomed to look upon their son as asuperior being, that it never entered their mind to think he was not thefirst, the best, and the most remarkable pupil of the establishment. IfJustin's reports were bad,--and they were always bad,--they accusedthe teachers of partiality. If he gained no prize at the end of theyear,--and he never got any,--they did not know what to do for him toconsole him for having been victimized by such cruel injustice.

  "The consequences of such a system need hardly be stated.

  "When Justin was fourteen years old, he despised his parents thoroughly,treated them like servants, and was so much ashamed of them, that hewould not allow his mother to come and see him in the parlor of thecollege to which he had been admitted of late. When he was at homeduring vacations, he would have cut his right arm off rather than helphis father, or pour out a glass of wine for a customer. He even stayedaway from the house on the plea that he could not endure the odors fromthe kitchen.

  "Thus he reached his seventeenth year. His course was not completed;but, as he was tired of college-life, he declared he would not returnthere, and he never did return. When his father asked him timidly whathe proposed doing, he shrugged his shoulders as his sole reply. What didhe do? Nothing. He idled about Paris.

  "To dress in the height of fashion; to walk up and down before the mostrenowned restaurants, with a toothpick in his mouth; to hire a carriage,and drive it himself, having a hired groom in livery by his side,--thiswas the delight of those days. At night he gambled; and, when he lost,there was the till in his father's shop.

  "His parents had rented for him, and comfortably furnished, a nice setof rooms in their house, and tried by all manner of servility to keephim at home, neglecting even their own business in order to be alwaysready for his orders. But this did not prevent him from being constantlyaway. He said he could not possibly receive his friends in a house wherehis name was to be seen on the signboard of such a low establishment.

  "It was his despair to be the son of a restaurant-keeper, and to becalled Chevassat.

  "But greater grief was to come to him after two years' idle andexpensive life such as has been described.

  "One fine morning when he needed a couple of hundred dollars, hisparents told him, with tears in their eyes, that they had not twentydollars in the house; that they were at the end of their resources; thatthe day before a note of theirs had been protested; and that they wereat that moment on the brink of bankruptcy. They did not reproach Justinwith having spent all their savings; oh, no! On the contrary, theyhumbly asked his pardon, if they were no longer able to provide for hiswants. And, with fear and trembling, they at last ventured to suggest,that perhaps it would be well if he should seek some kind of work.

  "He told them coolly that he would think it over, but that he must havehis two hundred dollars. And he got them. His father and mother hadstill a watch and some jewelry; they pawned everything and brought himthe proceeds.

  "Still he saw that the till he had considered inexhaustible was reallyempty, and that henceforth his pockets also would be empty, unless hecould devise some means to fill them. He went, therefore, in search ofsome employment; and his godfather, the valet, found one for him at thehouse of a banker, who was in want of a reliable young man to be trainedfor his business, and hereafter to be intrusted with the management ofhis funds."

  Papa Ravinet's voice changed so perceptibly as he uttered these lastwords, that Daniel and Henrietta, with one impulse, asked him,--

  "Is anything the matter, sir?"

  He did not make any reply; but his sister, Mrs. Bertolle, said,--

  "No, there is nothing the matter with my brother;" and she looked at himwith a nod of encourageme
nt.

  "I am all right," he said, like an echo. Then, making a great effort, hecontinued,--

  "Justin Chevassat was at twenty precisely what you know him to be asMaxime de Brevan,--a profound dissembler, a fierce egotist devoured byvanity, in fine, a man of ardent passions, and capable of anything tosatisfy his desires.

  "The hope of getting rich at once by some great stroke was already sodeeply rooted in his mind, that it gave him the strength to change hishabits and manner of life from one day to another, and to keep up thedeceit with a perseverance unheard of at his age. This lazy, profligategambler rose with the day, worked ten hours a day, and became the modelof all clerks. He had resolved to win the favor of his patron, and to betrusted. He succeeded in doing it by the most consummate hypocrisy. Sothat, only two years after he had first been admitted into the house,he had already been promoted to a place which conferred upon him thekeeping of all the valuables of the firm.

  "This occurred before those accidents which have, since that time,procured for the keepers of other people's money such a sad reputation.Nowadays it seems almost an ordinary event to hear of some cashier'srunning away with the funds intrusted to his keeping; and no one isastonished. To create a sensation by such an occurrence, the sum must bealmost fabulous, say, two or three millions. And, even in that case, theloser is by no means the man in whom the world is most interested.

  "At the time of which I am now speaking, defalcations were quite rare asyet. Financial companies and brokers did not contemplate being robbed bytheir own clerks as one of the ordinary risks. When they knew the keysof their safe to be in the hands of an honest man, whose family and modeof life were well known, they slept soundly. Justin Chevassat's patronwas thus sleeping soundly for ten months, when one Sunday he wasspecially in need of certain bonds which Justin used to keep in one ofthe drawers of his desk. He did not like to have his clerk hunted up onsuch a day; so he simply sent for a locksmith to open the drawer.

  "The first thing he saw was a draft signed by himself; and yet he hadnever put his name to such a paper. Still, most assuredly, it was hissignature; he would have sworn to it in court. And yet he was as sure ashe was standing there, that it was not he who had put his name, and thesomewhat complicated ornament belonging to it, where he saw it written.

  "His first amazement was succeeded by grievous apprehension. He had theother drawers opened likewise, searched them, and soon discovered allthe details of a formidable and most ingenious plan, by which he was tobe robbed at a single blow of more than a million.

  "If he had slept soundly one month longer, he would have been ruined.His favorite clerk was a wretch, a forger of matchless skill. Heinstantly sent for a detective; and the next morning, when JustinChevassat came as usual, he was arrested. It was then thought thathis crime was confined to this abortive attempt. Not so. A minute andcareful examination of all the papers soon revealed other misdeeds.Evidence was found, that, on the very next day after the day on which hehad been appointed confidential clerk, he had stolen a thousand dollars,concealing his theft by a false entry. Since that time not a week hadpassed without his laying hands on a more or less considerable sum;and all these thefts had been most ingeniously covered by such skilfulimitations of other people's signatures, that he had once been sick fora fortnight, and yet his substitute had never become aware of anything.In fine, it appeared that the sum total of his defalcations amounted tosome eighty thousand dollars.

  "What had he done with all that money? The magistrate before whom he wasbrought at once asked that question. He replied that he had not a centleft. His explanations and his excuses were the old story pleaded by allwho put their hands into their neighbors' pockets.

  "To hear him, no one could be more innocent than he was, however guiltyhe might appear at first sight. He was like one of those men who allowtheir little finger to be caught in a machine. His only fault was thedesire to speculate on 'Change. Did not his employer speculate himself?Having lost some money, and fearing to lose his place if he did not pay,the fatal thought had occurred to him to borrow from the strong box.From that moment he had only cherished one thought,--to restore whathe had taken. If he speculated anew, it was from extreme honesty, andbecause he constantly hoped to gain enough to make restitution. Butmost extraordinary ill luck had pursued him; so that, seeing the deficitgrowing larger and larger, and overcome with remorse and terror, he hadalmost gone mad, and ceased to put any restraint upon himself.

  "He laid great stress upon the fact that his whole eighty thousanddollars had been lost on 'Change, and that he would have looked uponhimself as the meanest of rascals, if he had spent any part of it on hispersonal enjoyments. Unfortunately the forged checks and drafts in hisdrawer destroyed the force of this plea. Convinced that the sums he hadthus obtained were not lost, the investigating magistrate suspectedthe parents of the accused. He questioned them, and obtained sufficientevidence against them to justify their arrest. But they could notbe convicted at the trial, and had to be released. Justin Chevassat,however, appeared at the assizes.

  "Matters looked very serious for him; but he had the good luck offalling in with a young lawyer who initiated in his case a system ofpleading which has since become very popular. He made no effort toexculpate his client: he boldly accused the banker. 'Was it the act ofa sensible man,' he said, 'to trust so young a man with such importantsums? Was it not tempting him beyond his powers of resistance, andalmost provoking him to become dishonest? What, this banker neverexamined his books for so many months? What kind of a business was it,where a cashier could so easily take eighty thousand dollars, and remainundiscovered? And then, what immorality in a banker to speculate on'Change, and thus to set so bad an example to his young, inexperiencedclerks!'

  "Justin Chevassat escaped with twenty years' penal servitude.

  "What he was at the galleys, you may imagine from what you know of him.He played the 'repentant criminal,' overflowing with professions ofsorrow for the past, and amendment in future, and cringing and crouchingat the feet of the officials of the prison. He carried on this comedy sosuccessfully, that, after three years and a half, he was pardoned.But he had not lost his time in prison. The contact with the vilestof criminals had sharpened his wits, and completed his education inrascality. He came out of prison an accomplished felon. And even whilehe still dragged the chain and ball along with him, he was alreadyplanning and maturing new plots for the future, which he afterwardsexecuted with success. He conceived the idea of bursting forth in a newshape, under which no one would ever suspect his former identity.

  "How he went about to do this, I am enabled to tell you accurately.Through his godfather, the valet, who had died before his trial, JustinChevassat knew the history of the Brevan family in its minutest details.It was a very sad story. The old marquis had died insolvent, afterhaving lost his five sons, who had gone abroad to make their fortunes.The noble family had thus become extinct; but Justin proposed tocontinue its lineage. He knew that the Brevans were originally fromMaine; that they had formerly owned immense estates in the neighborhoodof Mans; and that they had not been there for more than twenty years.Would they still be remembered in a land where they had once been allpowerful? Most assuredly they would. Would people take the trouble toinquire minutely what had become of the marquis and his five sons? Asassuredly not.

  "Chevassat's plot was based upon these calculations.

  "As soon as he was free once more, he devoted all his energies to thedestruction of every trace of his identity; and, when he thought he hadaccomplished this, he went to Mans, assuming the name of one of the sonsof the marquis, who had been nearly of his own age. No one doubted for amoment that he was Maxime de Brevan. Who could have doubted it, whenhe purchased the old family mansion for a considerable sum, althoughit only consisted of a ruinous castle, and a small farm adjoining thehouse? He paid cash, moreover, proving thus the correctness of themagistrate's suspicions as to his story about losses on 'Change, and asto the complicity of his parents. He even took the precaution o
fliving on his little estate for four years, practising the life ofa country-gentleman, received with open arms by the nobility of theneighborhood, forming friendships, gaining supporters, and becoming moreand more identified with Maxime de Brevan.

  "What was his aim at that time? I always thought he was looking outfor a wealthy wife, so as to consolidate his position; and he came nearrealizing his hopes.

  "He was on the point of marrying a young lady from Mans, who would havebrought him half a million in money, and the banns had already beenpublished, when, all of a sudden, the marriage was broken off, no oneknew why.

  "This only is certain: he was so bitterly disappointed by his failure,that he sold his property, and left the country. For the next threeyears, he lived in Paris, more completely Maxime de Brevan than ever;and then he met Sarah Brandon."

  Papa Ravinet had been speaking now for nearly three hours, and he wasbeginning to feel exhausted. He showed his weariness in his face;and his voice very nearly gave out. Still it was in vain for Daniel,Henrietta, and Mrs. Bertolle herself to unite in begging him to go andlie down for a few moments.

  "No," he replied, "I will go to the end. You do not know how importantit is that M. Champcey should be in a position to act to-morrow, orrather to-day.

  "It was at a fancy ball," he went on, "given by M. Planix, that SarahBrandon, at that time still known as Ernestine Bergot, and JustinChevassat, now Maxime de Brevan, met for the first time. He wascompletely overpowered by her marvellous beauty, and she--she wasstrangely impressed by the peculiar expression in Maxime's face. Perhapsthey divined each other's character, perhaps they had an intuitiveperception of who they were. At all events, they soon became acquainted,drawn as they were to each other by an instinctive and irresistibleattraction. They danced several times together; they sat side by side;they talked long and intimately; and, when the ball came to an end, theywere friends already.

  "They met frequently; and, if it were not profanation, I would say theyloved each other. They seemed to be made on purpose to understand,and, so to say, compliment, each other, equally corrupt as they were,devoured by the same sinful desires, and alike free from all theold-fashioned prejudices, as they called it, about justice, morals, andhonor. They could hardly help coming soon to some understanding by whichthey agreed to associate their ambitions and their plans for the future.

  "For in those early days, when their feelings were still undented, theyhad no secrets for each other. Love had torn the mask from their faces;and each one vied with the other in letting the foulness of their pastdays be seen clearly. This, no doubt, secured, first the constancy oftheir passion, and the continuation of their intimacy long after theyhad ceased loving each other.

  "For now they hate each other; but they are also afraid of each other.Ten times they have tried to break off their intimacy; and as often theyhave been compelled to renew it, bound as they feel they are to eachother by a chain far more oppressive and solid than the one JustinChevassat wore at the galleys.

  "At first, however, they had to conceal their intimacy; for they had nomoney. By joining what she had stolen from her benefactor, to what shehad obtained from M. Planix, Sarah could not make up more than someforty thousand francs. 'That was not enough,' she said, 'to "set up" themost modest establishment.' As to M. de Brevan, however economical hehad been, he had come to an end of the sums stolen from his employer.For eight or ten months now, he had been reduced to all kinds ofdangerous expedients in order to live. He rode in his carriage; buthe had been more than once very happy when he could extort atwenty-franc-piece from his parents. He visited them, of course onlyin secret; for they had in the meantime exchanged their shop, for themodest little box assigned to the concierge of No. 23 Water Street.

  "Far, therefore, from being able to be useful to Sarah, he was perfectlydelighted when she brought him one fine day ten thousand francs toalleviate his distress.

  "'Ah!' she said to him on this occasion, and often thereafter, 'whycan't we have that fool's money?' meaning her friend and lover, M.Planix.

  "The next step was naturally an attempt at obtaining this much covetedtreasure. To begin, Sarah induced him to make a last will, in which hemade her his residuary legatee. One would be at a loss to guess how shecould obtain this from a young, healthy man, full of life and happiness,if it were not that love will explain everything. When this successhad been achieved, M. de Brevan undertook to introduce in thesociety frequented by Sarah and M. Planix one of his friends, who wasconsidered, and who really was, the best swordsman in Paris, a goodfellow otherwise, honor itself, and rather patient in temper than givento quarrelling.

  "Without compromising herself, and with that abominable skill which ispeculiarly her own, Sarah, coquetted just enough with this young man,M. de Font-Avar, to tempt him to pay her some attentions. But thatvery night she complained to M. Planix of his persecution, and knew soskilfully how to excite his jealousy, and to wound his vanity, that,three days later, he allowed himself to be carried away by passion, andstruck M. de Font-Avar in the presence of a dozen friends.

  "A duel became inevitable; and M. de Brevan, pretending to try andreconcile the two young men, secretly fanned the flame. The duel cameoff one Saturday morning, in the woods near Vincennes. They fought withsmall-swords; and, after little more than a minute, M. Planix receiveda stab in his breast, fell, and was dead in an instant. He was not yettwenty-seven years old.

  "Sarah's joy was almost delirious. Accomplished actress as she was, shecould hardly manage to shed a few tears for the benefit of the public,when the body, still warm, was brought to the house. And still she hadonce loved the man, whom she had now assassinated.

  "Even as she knelt by the bedside, hiding her face in her handkerchief,she was thinking only of the testament, lying safe and snug, as sheknew, in one of the drawers of that bureau, enclosed in a large officialenvelope with a huge red wax seal.

  "It was opened and read the same day by the justice of the peace, whohad been sent for to put the seals on the deceased man's property. Andthen Sarah began to cry in good earnest. Her tears were tears of rage.For seized by a kind of remorse, and at a moment when Sarah's absencehad rendered him very angry, M. Planix had added two lines as a codicil.

  "He still said, 'I appoint Miss Ernestine Bergot my residuary legatee';but he had written underneath, 'on condition that she shall pay to eachof my sisters the sum of a hundred and fifty thousand francs.' This wasmore than three-fourths of his whole fortune.

  "When she arrived, therefore, that night, at Brevan's rooms, her firstwords were,--

  "'We have been robbed! Planix was a wretch! We won't have a hundredthousand francs left.'

  "Maxime, however, recovered his equanimity pretty soon; for the sumappeared to him quite large enough to pay for a crime in which they hadrun no risk, and he was quite as willing as before to marry Sarah; butshe refused to listen to him, saying that a hundred thousand francs werebarely enough for a year's income, and that they must wait. It was thenthat M. de Brevan became a gambler. The wretch actually believed inthe cards; he believed that fortunes could be made by playing. He hadsystems of his own which could not fail, and which he was bent upontrying.

  "He proposed to Sarah to risk the hundred thousand francs, promisingto make a million out of them; and she yielded, tempted by the veryboldness of his proposition.

  "They resolved they would not stop playing till they had won a million,or lost everything. And so they went to Homburg. There they led amad life for a whole month, spending ten hours every day at thegaming-table, feverish, breathless, fighting the bank with marvellousskill and almost incredible coolness. I have met an old croupier whorecollects them even now. Twice they were on the point of staking theirlast thousand-franc-note; and one lucky day they won as much as fourhundred thousand francs. That day, Maxime proposed they should leaveHomburg. Sarah, who kept the money, refused, repeating her favoritemotto, 'All, or nothing.'

  "It was nothing. Victory remained, as usual, with, the 'big battalions;'and one evening
the two partners returned to their lodgings, ruined,penniless, having not even a watch left, and owing the hotel-keeper aconsiderable sum of money.

  "That evening Maxime spoke of blowing his brains out. Never, on thecontrary, had Sarah been merrier.

  "The next morning she dressed very early and went out, saying she had aplan in her head, and would soon be back.

  "But she did not come back; and all that day M. de Brevan, devouredby anxiety, waited in vain for her return. At five o'clock, however, amessenger brought him a letter. He opened it; there were three thousandfrancs in it, and these words:--

  "'When you receive these lines, I shall be far from Homburg. Do not waitfor me. Enclosed is enough to enable you to return to Paris. You shallsee me again when our fortune is made.

  "'Sarah.'"

  "Maxime was at first overcome with amazement. To be abandoned in thisway! To be thus unceremoniously dismissed, and by Sarah! He could notrecover from it. But anger soon roused him to fury; and at the same timehe was filled with an intense desire to avenge himself. But, in order toavenge himself, he must first know how to find his faithless ally. Whathad become of her? Where had she gone?

  "By dint of meditating, and recollecting all he could gather in hismemory, M. de Brevan remembered having seen Sarah two or three times,since fortune had forsaken them, in close conversation with a tall,thin gentleman of about forty years, who was in the habit of wanderingthrough the rooms, and attracted much attention by his huge whiskers,his stiff carriage, and his wearied expression. No doubt Sarah, beingruined, had fallen an easy prey to this gentleman, who looked as if hemight be a millionaire.

  "Where did he stay? At the Hotel of the Three Kings. Maxime went thereat once. Unfortunately, he was too late. The gentleman had left thatmorning for Frankfort, by the 10.45 train, with an elderly lady, and aremarkably pretty girl.

  "Sure of his game now, M. de Brevan left immediately for Frankfort,convinced that Sarah's brilliant beauty would guide him like a star. Buthe hunted in vain all over town, inquiring at the hotels, and botheringeverybody with his questions. He found no trace of the fugitives.

  "When he returned to his lodgings that night, he wept.

  "Never in his life had he fancied himself half so unhappy. In losingSarah, he thought he had lost everything. During the five months oftheir intimacy, she had gained such complete ascendency over him, thatnow, when he was left to his own strength, he felt like a lost child,having no thought and no resolution.

  "What was to become of him, now that this woman was no longer thereto sustain and inspire him,--that woman with the marvellous talent forintrigue, the matchless courage that shrank from nothing, and theenergy which sufficed for everything? Sarah had, besides, filled hisimagination with such magnificent hopes, and opened before his covetouseyes such a vast horizon of enjoyment, that he had come to look uponthings as pitiful, which would formerly have satisfied his highestwishes. Should he, after having dreamed of those glorious achievementsby which millions are won in a day, sink back again into the meannessof petty thefts? His heart turned from that prospect with unspeakableloathing; and yet what was he to do?

  "He knew, that, if he returned to Paris, matters would not be verypleasant for him there. His creditors, made restless by his prolongedabsence, would fall upon him instantly. How could he induce them towait? Where could he get the money to pay them, at least, a percentageof his dues? How would he support himself? Were all of his dark works tobe useless? Was he to be shipwrecked before ever seeing even the distantport?

  "Nevertheless, he returned to Paris, faced the storm, passed throughthe crisis, and resumed his miserable life, associating with anotheradventurer like himself, and succeeding thus, by immensely hard work,in maintaining his existence and his assumed name. Ah! if our honestfriends could but know what misery, what humiliations and anxieties arehid beneath that false splendor of high life, which they often envy,they would think themselves fully avenged.

  "It is certain that Maxime de Brevan found times hard in those days,and actually more than once regretted that he had not remained a stupid,honest man. He thought that was so simple, and so clever.

  "Thus it came about, that, two years later, he had not yet beenreconciled to Sarah's absence. Often and often, in his hours ofdistress, he recalled her parting promise, 'You shall see me againwhen our fortune is made.' He knew she was quite capable of amassingmillions; but, when she had them, would she still think of him? Wherewas she? What could have become of her?

  "Sarah was at that time in America.

  "That tall, light-haired gentleman, that eminently respectable lady, whohad carried her off, were M. Thomas Elgin and Mrs. Brian. Who were thesepeople? I have had no time to trace out their antecedents. All I knowis, that they belonged to that class of adventurers whom one sees atall the watering-places and gambling-resorts,--at Nice, at Monaco, andduring the winter in Italy; swindlers of the highest class, who uniteconsummate skill with excessive caution; who are occasionally suspected,but never found out; and who are frequently indebted to their artof making themselves agreeable, and even useful to others, to thecarelessness of travellers, and their thorough knowledge of life, forthe acquaintance, or even friendship, of people whom one is astonishedto find in such company.

  "Sir Thorn and Mrs. Brian were both English, and, so far, they hadmanaged to live very pleasantly. But old age was approaching; and theybegan to be fearful about the future, when they fell in with Sarah. Theydivined her, as she had divined Maxime; and they saw in her an admirablemeans to secure a fortune. They did not hesitate, therefore, to offerher a compact by which she was to be a full partner, although theythemselves had to risk all they possessed,--a capital of some twentythousand dollars. You have seen what these respectable people proposedto make of her,--a snare and a pitfall. They knew very well that hermatchless beauty would catch fools innumerable, and bring in a richharvest of thousand-franc-notes.

  "The idea was by no means new, M. Champcey, as you seem to think; nor isthe case a rare one.

  "In almost all the capitals of Europe, you will find even now some ofthese almost sublimely beautiful creatures, who are exhibited inthe great world by cosmopolitan adventurers. They have six or sevenyears,--eighteen to twenty-five,--during which, their beauty and theirtact may secure an immense fortune to themselves and their comrades; andaccording to chance, to their skill, or the whims or the folly of men,they end by marrying some great personage in high life, or by keepinga wretched gambling hell in the suburbs. They may fall upon the velvetcushions of a princely carriage, or sink, step by step, to the lowestdepths of society.

  "M. Elgin and Mrs. Brian had agreed that they would exhibit Sarah inParis; that she was to marry a duke with any number of millions; andthat they should be paid for their trouble by receiving an annualallowance of some ten thousand dollars. But, in order to undertake theadventure with a good chance of success, it was indispensable that Sarahshould lose her nationality as a Parisian; that she should rise anew, asan unknown star; and, above all, that she should be trained and schooledfor the profession she was to practise.

  "Hence the trip to America, and her long residence there.

  "Chance had helped the wretches. They had hardly landed, when theyfound that they could easily introduce the girl as the daughter ofGen. Brandon, just as Justin Chevassat had managed to become Maximede Brevan. In this way, Ernestine Bergot appeared at once in the bestsociety of Philadelphia as Sarah Brandon. Not less prudent than Maxime,M. Elgin also purchased, in spite of his limited means, for a thousanddollars, vast tracts of land in the western part of the State, wherethere was no trace of oil-wells, but where there might very well be agood many, and had them entered upon the name of his ward.

  "Of all these measures, I have the evidence in hand, and can produce itat any moment."

  For some time already, Daniel and Henrietta had looked at each otherwith utter amazement. They were almost dumfounded by the prodigioussagacity, the cunning, patience, and labor which the old dealermust have employed to col
lect this vast mass of information. But hecontinued, after a short pause,--

  "Sir Thorn and Mrs. Brian found out in a few days how well they hadbeen served by their instincts in taking hold of Sarah. In less than sixmonths, this wonderful girl, whose education they had undertaken, spokeEnglish as well as they did, and had become their master, controllingthem by the very superiority of her wickedness. From the day on whichMrs. Brian explained to her the part she was expected to play, shehad assumed it so naturally and so perfectly, that all traces of artdisappeared at once. She had instinctively appreciated the immenseadvantage she would derive from personifying a young American girl,and the irresistible effect she might easily produce by her freedom ofmovement and her bold ingenuousness. Finally, at the end of eighteenmonths' residence in America, M. Elgin declared that the moment had comewhen Sarah might appear on the stage.

  "It was, therefore, twenty-eight months after their parting in Homburg,that M. de Brevan received, one morning, the following note:--

  "'Come to-night, at nine o'clock, to M. Thomas Elgin's house in CircusStreet, and be prepared for a surprise.'

  "He went there. A tall man opened the door of the sitting-room; and,at the sight of a young lady who sat before the fire, he could not helpexclaiming, 'Ernestine, is that you?'

  "But she interrupted him at once, saying, 'You are mistaken: ErnestineBergot is dead, and buried by the side of Justin Chevassat, my dearM. de Brevan. Come, lay aside that amazed air, and kiss Miss SarahBrandon's hand.'

  "It was heaven opening for Maxime. She had at last come back tohim,--this woman, who had come across his life like a tempest, and whosememory he had retained in his heart, as a dagger remains in the wound ithas made. She had come back, more beautiful than ever, irresistible inher matchless charms; and he fancied it was love which had brought herback.

  "His vanity led him astray. Sarah Brandon had long since ceased toadmire him. Familiar as she was with the life of adventurers in highlife, she had soon learned to appreciate M. de Brevan at his just value.She saw him now as he really was,--timid, overcautious, petty, incapableof conceiving bold combinations, scarcely good enough for the smallestof plots, ridiculous, in fine, as all needy scamps are.

  "Nevertheless, Sarah wanted him, although she despised him. On the pointof entering upon a most dangerous game, she felt the necessity of havingone accomplice, at least, in whom she could trust blindly. She had, tobe sure, Mrs. Brian and Sir Thorn, as he began to be called now; butshe mistrusted them. They held her, and she had no hold on them. Onthe other hand, Maxime de Brevan was entirely hers, dependent on herpleasure, as the lump of clay in the hands of the sculptor.

  "It is true that Maxime appeared almost distressed when he heard thatthat immense fortune which he coveted with all his might was still to bemade, and that Sarah was no farther advanced now than she was on the dayof their separation. She might even have said that she was less so; forthe two years and more which had just elapsed had made a large inroadupon the savings of M. Elgin and Mrs. Brian. When they had paid fortheir establishment in Circus Street, when they had advanced the hireof a _coupe_, a landau, and two saddle-horses, they had hardly fourthousand dollars left in all.

  "They knew, therefore, that they must succeed or sink in the comingyear. And, thus driven to bay, they were doubly to be feared. They weredetermined to fall furiously upon the first victim that should passwithin reach, when chance brought to them the unlucky cashier of theMutual Discount Society, Malgat."