Other People's Money

by Emile Gaboriau

  XV

  It was done: Gilberte Favoral had just irrevocably disposed ofherself. Prosperous or wretched, her destiny henceforth was linkedwith another. She had set the wheel in motion; and she could nolonger hope to control its direction, any more than the will canpretend to alter the course of the ivory ball upon the surface ofthe roulette-table. At the outset of this great storm of passionwhich had suddenly surrounded her, she felt an immense surprise,mingled with unexplained apprehensions and vague terrors.

  Around her, apparently, nothing was changed. Father, mother,brother, friends, gravitated mechanically in their accustomed orbits.The same daily facts repeated themselves monotonous and regular asthe tick-tack of the clock.

  And yet an event had occurred more prodigious for her than the movingof a mountain.

  Often during the weeks that followed, she would repeat to herself,"Is it true, is it possible even?"

  Or else she would run to a mirror to make sure once more that nothingupon her face or in her eyes betrayed the secret that palpitatedwithin her.

  The singularity of the situation was, moreover, well calculated totrouble and confound her mind.

  Mastered by circumstances, she had in utter disregard of all acceptedideas, and of the commonest propriety, listened to the passionatepromises of a stranger, and pledged her life to him. And, the pactconcluded and solemnly sworn, they had parted without knowing whenpropitious circumstances might bring them together again.

  "Certainly," thought she, "before God, M. de Tregars is my betrothedhusband; and yet we have never exchanged a word. Were we to meet insociety, we should be compelled to meet as strangers: if he passes byme in the street, he has no right to bow to me. I know not where heis, what becomes of him, nor what he is doing."

  And in fact she had not seen him again: he had given no sign of life,so faithfully did he conform to her expressed wish. And perhapssecretly, and without acknowledging it to herself, had she wished himless scrupulous. Perhaps she would not have been very angry to seehim sometimes gliding along at her passage under the old Arcades ofthe Rue des Vosges.

  But, whilst suffering from this separation, she conceived for thecharacter of Marius the highest esteem; for she felt sure that hemust suffer as much and more than she from the restraint which heimposed upon himself.

  Thus he was ever present to her thoughts. She never tired ofturning over in her mind all he had said of his past life: shetried to remember his words, and the very tone of his voice.

  And by living constantly thus with the memory of Marius de Tregars,she made herself familiar with him, deceived to that extent, bythe illusion of absence, that she actually persuaded herself thatshe knew him better and better every day.

  Already nearly a month had elapsed, when one afternoon, as shearrived on the Place Royal; she recognized him, standing near thatsame bench where they had so strangely exchanged their pledges.

  He saw her coming too: she knew it by his looks. But, when shehad arrived within a few steps of him, he walked off rapidly,leaving on the bench a folded newspaper.

  Mme. Favoral wished to call him back and return it; but Mlle.Gilberte persuaded her not to.

  "Never mind, mother," said she, "it isn't worth while; and, besides,the gentleman is too far now."

  But while getting out her embroidery, with that dexterity which neverfails even the most naive girls, she slipped the newspaper in herwork-basket.

  Was she not certain that it had been left there for her?

  As soon as she had returned home, she locked herself up in her ownroom, and, after searching for some time through the columns, sheread at last:

  "One of the richest and most intelligent manufacturers in Paris,M. Marcolet, has just purchased in Grenelle the vast groundsbelonging to the Lacoche estate. He proposes to build upon thema manufacture of chemical products, the management of which is tobe placed in the hands of M. de T--.

  "Although still quite young, M. de T---- is already well known inconnection with his remarkable studies on electricity. He was,perhaps, on the eve of solving the much controverted problem ofelectricity as a motive-power, when his father's ruin compelled himto suspend his labors. He now seeks to earn by his personal industrythe means of prosecuting his costly experiments.

  "He is not the first to tread this path. Is it not to the inventionof the machine bearing his name, that the engineer Giffard owes thefortune which enables him to continue to seek the means of steeringballoons? Why should not M. de T--, who has as much skill and energy,have as much luck?"

  "Ah! he does not forget me," thought Mlle. Gilberte, moved to tearsby this article, which, after all, was but a mere puff, written byMarcolet himself, without the knowledge of M. de Tregars.

  She was still under that impression, thinking that Marius was alreadyat work, when her father announced to her that he had discovered ahusband, and enjoined her to find him to her liking, as he, themaster, thought it proper that she should.

  Hence the energy of her refusal.

  But hence also, the imprudent vivacity which had enlightened Mme.Favoral, and which made her say:

  "You hide something from me, Gilberte?"

  Never had the young girl been so cruelly embarrassed as she was atthis moment by this sudden and unforeseen perspicacity.

  Would she confide to her mother?

  She felt, indeed, no repugnance to do so, certain as she was, inadvance, of the inexhaustible indulgence of the poor woman; and,besides, she would have been delighted to have some one at lastwith whom she could speak of Marius.

  But she knew that her father was not the man to give up a projectconceived by himself. She knew that he would return to the chargeobstinately, without peace, and without truce. Now, as she wasdetermined to resist with a no less implacable obstinacy, sheforesaw terrible struggles, all sorts of violence and persecutions.

  Informed of the truth, would Mme. Favoral have strength enough toresist these daily storms? Would not a time come, when, called uponby her husband to explain the refusals of her daughter, threatened,terrified, she would confess all?

  At one glance Mlle. Gilberte estimated the danger; and, drawing fromnecessity an audacity which was very foreign to her nature:

  "You are mistaken, dear mother," said she, "I have concealed nothingfrom you."

  Not quite convinced, Mme. Favoral shook her head.

  "Then," said she, "you will yield."

  "Never!"

  "Then there must be some reason you do not tell me."

  "None, except that I do not wish to leave you. Have you everthought what would be your existence if I were no longer here? Haveyou ever asked yourself what would become of you, between my father,whose despotism will grow heavier with age, and my brother?"

  Always prompt to defend her son:

  "Maxence is not bad," she interrupted: "he will know how tocompensate me for the sorrows he has inflicted upon me."

  The young girl made a gesture of doubt:

  "I wish it, dear mother," said she, "with all my heart; but I darenot hope for it. His repentance to-night was great and sincere; butwill he remember it to-morrow? Besides, don't you know that fatherhas fully resolved to separate himself from Maxence? Think ofyourself alone here with father."

  Mme. Favoral shuddered at the mere idea.

  "I would not suffer very long," she murmured. Mlle. Gilbertekissed her.

  "It is because I wish you to live to be happy that I refuse tomarry," she exclaimed. "Must you not have your share of happinessin this world? Let me manage. Who knows what compensations thefuture may have in store for you? Besides, this person whom fatherhas selected for me does not suit me. A stock-jobber, who wouldthink of nothing but money,--who would examine my house-accountsas papa does yours, or else who would load me with cashmeres anddiamonds, like Mme. de Thaller, to make of me a sign for his shop?No, no! I want no such man. So, mother dear, be brave, take sidesboldly with your daughter, and we shall soon be rid of this would-behusband."

  "Your fath
er will bring him to you: he said he would."

  "Well, he is a man of courage, if he returns three times."

  At this moment the parlor-door opened suddenly.

  "What are you plotting here again?" cried the irritated voice ofthe master. "And you, Mme. Favoral, why don't you go to bed?"

  The poor slave obeyed, without saying a word. And, whilst makingher way to her room:

  "There is trouble ahead," thought Mlle. Gilberte. "But bash! If Ido have to suffer some, it won't be great harm, after all. SurelyMarius does not complain, though he gives up for me his dearesthopes, becomes the salaried employe of M. Marcolet, and thinks ofnothing but making money,--he so proud and so disinterested!"

  Mlle. Gilberte's anticipations were but too soon realized. When M.Favoral made his appearance the next morning, he had the sombre browand contracted lips of a man who has spent the night ruminating aplan from which he does not mean to swerve.

  Instead of going to his office, as usual, without saying a word toany one, he called his wife and children to the parlor; and, afterhaving carefully bolted all the doors, he turned to Maxence.

  "I want you," he commenced, "to give me a list of your creditors.See that you forget none; and let it be ready as soon as possible."

  But Maxence was no longer the same man. After the terrible andwell-deserved reproaches of his sister, a salutary revolution hadtaken place in him. During the preceding night, he had reflectedover his conduct for the past four years; and he had been dismayedand terrified. His impression was like that of the drunkard, who,having become sober, remembers the ridiculous or degrading actswhich he has committed under the influence of alcohol, and, confusedand humiliated, swears never more to drink.

  Thus Maxence had sworn to himself to change his mode of life,promising that it would be no drunkard's oath, either. And hisattitude and his looks showed the pride of great resolutions.

  Instead of lowering his eyes before the irritated glance of M.Favoral, and stammering excuses and vague promises:

  "It is useless, father," he replied, "to give you the list you askfor. I am old enough to bear the responsibility of my acts. Ishall repair my follies: what I owe, I shall pay. This very day Ishall see my creditors, and make arrangements with them."

  "Very well, Maxence," exclaimed Mme. Favoral, delighted.

  But there was no pacifying the cashier of the Mutual Credit.

  "Those are fine-sounding words," he said with a sneer; "but I doubtif the tailors and the shirt-makers will take them in payment.That's why I want that list."

  "Still--"

  "It's I who shall pay. I do not mean to have another such sceneas that of yesterday in my office. It must not be said that myson is a sharper and a cheat at the very moment when I find for mydaughter a most unhoped-for match."

  And, turning to Mlle. Gilberte:

  "For I suppose you have got over your foolish ideas," he uttered.

  The young girl shook her head.

  "My ideas are the same as they were last night."

  "Ah, ah!"

  "And so, father, I beg of you, do not insist. Why wrangle andquarrel? You must know me well enough to know, that, whatever mayhappen, I shall never yield."

  Indeed, M. Favoral was well aware of his daughter's firmness; forhe had already been compelled on several occasions, as he expressedit himself, "to strike his flag" before her. But he could notbelieve that she would resist when he took certain means ofenforcing his will.

  "I have pledged my word," he said.

  "But I have not pledged mine, father."

  He was becoming excited: his cheeks were flushed; and his littleeyes sparkled.

  "And suppose I were to tell you," he resumed, doing at least to hisdaughter the honor of controlling his anger: "suppose I were totell you that I would derive from this marriage immense, positive,and immediate advantages?"

  "Oh!" she interrupted with a look of disgust, "oh, for mercy's sake!"

  "Suppose I were to tell you that I have a powerful interest in it;that it is indispensable to the success of vast combinations?"

  Mlle. Gilberte looked straight at him.

  "I would answer you," she exclaimed, "that it does not suit me tobe made use of as an earnest to your combinations. Ah! it's anoperation, is it? an enterprise, a big speculation? and you throwin your daughter in the bargain as a bonus. Well, no! You cantell your partner that the thing has fallen through."

  M. Favoral's anger was growing with each word.

  "I'll see if I can't make you yield," he said.

  "You may crush me, perhaps. Make me yield, never!"

  "Well, we shall see. You will see--Maxence and you--whether thereare no means by which a father can compel his rebellious children tosubmit to his authority."

  And, feeling that he was no longer master of himself, he left,swearing loud enough to shake the plaster from the stair-walls.

  Maxence shook with indignation.

  "Never," he uttered, "never until now, had I understood the infamyof my conduct. With a father such as ours, Gilberte, I should beyour protector. And now I am debarred even of the right tointerfere. But never mind, I have the will; and all will soon berepaired."

  Left alone, a few moments after, Mlle. Gilberte was congratulatingherself upon her firmness.

  "I am sure," she thought, "Marius would approve, if he knew."

  She had not long to wait for her reward. The bell rang: it was herold professor, the Signor Gismondo Pulei, who came to give her hisdaily lesson.

  The liveliest joy beamed upon his face, more shriveled than anapple at Easter; and the most magnificent anticipations sparkled inhis eyes.

  "I knew it, signora!" he exclaimed from the threshold: "I knew thatangels bring good luck. As every thing succeeds to you, so mustevery thing succeed to those who come near you."

  She could not help smiling at the appropriateness of the compliment.

  "Something fortunate has happened to you, dear master?" she asked.

  "That is to say, I am on the high-road to fortune and glory," hereplied. "My fame is extending; pupils dispute the privilege ofmy lesson."

  Mlle. Gilberte knew too well the thoroughly Italian exaggeration ofthe worthy maestro to be surprised.

  "This morning," he went on, "visited by inspiration, I had risenearly, and I was working with marvelous facility, when there was aknock at my door. I do not remember such an occurrence since theblessed day when your worthy father called for me. Surprised, Inevertheless said, 'Come in;' when there appeared a tall and robustyoung man, proud and intelligent-looking."

  The young girl started.

  "Marius!" cried a voice within her.

  "This young man," continued the old Italian, "had heard me spokenof, and came to apply for lessons. I questioned him; and from thefirst words I discovered that his education had been frightfullyneglected, that he was ignorant of the most vulgar notions of thedivine art, and that he scarcely knew the difference between asharp and a quaver. It was really the A, B, C, which he wished meto teach him. Laborious task, ungrateful labor! But he manifestedso much shame at his ignorance, and so much desire to be instructed,that I felt moved in his favor. Then his countenance was mostwinning, his voice of a superior tone; and finally he offered mesixty francs a month. In short, he is now my pupil."

  As well as she could, Mlle. Gilberte was hiding her blushes behinda music-book.

  "We remained over two hours talking," said the good and simplemaestro, "and I believe that he has excellent dispositions.Unfortunately, he can only take two lessons a week. Although anobleman, he works; and, when he took off his glove to hand me amonth in advance, I noticed that one of his hands was blackened,as if burnt by some acid. But never mind, signora, sixty francs,together with what your father gives me, it's a fortune. The endof my career will be spared the privations of its beginning. Thisyoung man will help making me known. The morning has been dark;but the sunset will be glorious."

  The young girl could no longer have a
ny doubts: M. de Tregars hadfound the means of hearing from her, and letting her hear from him.

  The impression she felt contributed no little to give her thepatience to endure the obstinate persecution of her father, who,twice a day, never failed to repeat to her:

  "Get ready to properly receive my protege on Saturday. I have notinvited him to dinner: he will only spend the evening with us."

  And he mistook for a disposition to yield the cold tone in whichshe answered:

  "I beg you to believe that this introduction is wholly unnecessary."

  Thus, the famous day having come, he told his usual Saturday guests,M. and Mme. Desclavettes, M. Chapelain, and old man Desormeaux:

  "Eh, eh! I guess you are going to see a future son-in-law!"

  At nine o'clock, just as they had passed into the parlor, the soundof carriage-wheels startled the Rue St. Gilles.

  "There he is!" exclaimed the cashier of the Mutual Credit.

  And, throwing open a window:

  "Come, Gilberte," he added, "come and see his carriage and horses."

  She never stirred; but M. Desclavettes and M. Chapelain ran. It wasnight, unfortunately; and of the whole equipage nothing was visiblebut the two lanterns that shone like stars. Almost at the same timethe parlor-door flew open; and the servant, who had been properlytrained in advance, announced:

  "Monsieur Costeclar."

  Leaning toward Mme. Favoral, who was seated by her side on the sofa,

  "A nice-looking man, isn't he? a really nice-looking man," whisperedMme. Desclavettes.

  And indeed he really thought so himself. Gesture, attitude, smile,every thing in M. Costeclar, betrayed the satisfaction of self, andthe assurance of a man accustomed to success. His head, which wasvery small, had but little hair left; but it was artistically drawntowards the temples, parted in the middle, and cut short aroundthe forehead. His leaden complexion, his pale lips, and his dulleye, did not certainly betray a very rich blood; he had a great longnose, sharp and curved like a sickle; and his beard, of undecidedcolor, trimmed in the Victor Emmanuel style, did the greatest honorto the barber who cultivated it. Even when seen for the first time,one might fancy that he recognized him, so exactly was he like threeor four hundred others who are seen daily in the neighborhood ofthe Cafe Riche, who are met everywhere where people run who pretendto amuse themselves,--at the bourse or in the bois; at the firstrepresentations, where they are just enough hidden to be perfectlywell seen at the back of boxes filled with young ladies withastonishing chignons; at the races; in carriages, where they drinkchampagne to the health of the winner.

  He had on this occasion hoisted his best looks, and the full dress_de rigueur_--dress-coat with wide sleeves, shirt cut low in the neck,and open vest, fastened below the waist by a single button.

  "Quite the man of the world," again remarked Mme. Desclavettes.

  M. Favoral rushed toward him; and the latter, hastening, met himhalf way, and, taking both his hands into his--"I cannot tell you,dear friend," he commenced, "how deeply I feel the honor you do mein receiving me in the midst of your charming family and yourrespectable friends."

  And he bowed all around during this speech, which he delivered inthe condescending tone of a lord visiting his inferiors.

  "Let me introduce you to my wife," interrupted the cashier. And,leading him towards Mme. Favoral--"Monsieur Costeclar, my dear,"said he: "the friend of whom we have spoken so often."

  M. Costeclar bowed, rounding his shoulders, bending his lean formin a half-circle, and letting his arms hang forward.

  "I am too much the friend of our dear Favoral, madame," he uttered,"not to have heard of you long since, nor to know your merits, andthe fact that he owes to you that peaceful happiness which he enjoys,and which we all envy him."

  Standing by the mantel-piece, the usual Saturday evening guestsfollowed with the liveliest interest the evolutions of the pretender.Two of them, M. Chapelain and old Desormeaux, were perfectly ableto appreciate him at his just value; but, in affirming that he madehalf a million a year, M. Favoral had, as it were, thrown over hisshoulders that famous ducal cloak which concealed all deformities.

  Without waiting for his wife's answer, M. Favoral brought hisprotege in front of Mlle. Gilberte.

  "Dear daughter," said he, "Monsieur Costeclar, the friend of whomI have spoken."

  M. Costeclar bowed still lower, and rounded off his shoulders again;but the young lady looked at him from head to foot with such afreezing glance, that his tongue remained as if paralyzed in hismouth, and he could only stammer out:

  "Mademoiselle! the honor, the humblest of your admirers."

  Fortunately Maxence was standing three steps off--he fell back ingood order upon him, and seizing his hand, which he shook vigorously:

  "I hope, my dear sir, that we shall soon be quite intimate friends.Your excellent father, whose special concern you are, has oftenspoken to me of you. Events, so he has confided to me, have nothitherto responded to your expectations. At your age, this is nota very grave matter. People, now-a-days, do not always find at thefirst attempt the road that leads to fortune. You will find yours.From this time forth I place at your command my influence and myexperience; and, if you will consent to take me for your guide--"

  Maxence had withdrawn his hand.

  "I am very much obliged to you, sir," he answered coldly; "but I amcontent with my lot, and I believe myself old enough to walk alone."

  Almost any one would have lost countenance. But M. Costeclar wasso little put out, that it seemed as though he had expected justsuch a reception. He turned upon his heels, and advanced towardsM. Favoral's friends with a smile so engaging as to make it evidentthat he was anxious to conquer their suffrages.

  This was at the beginning of the month of June, 1870. No one asyet could foresee the frightful disasters which were to mark theend of that fatal year. And yet there was everywhere in Francethat indefinable anxiety which precedes great social convulsions.The plebiscitum had not succeeded in restoring confidence. Everyday the most alarming rumors were put in circulation and it was witha sort of passion that people went in quest of news.

  Now, M. Costeclar was a wonderfully well-posted man. He had,doubtless, on his way, stopped on the Boulevard des Italiens, thatblessed ground where nightly the street-brokers labor for thefinancial prosperity of the country. He had gone through the Passagede l'Opera, which is, as is well known, the best market for the mostcorrect and the most reliable news. Therefore he might safely bebelieved.

  Placing his back to the chimney, he had taken the lead in theconversation; and he was talking, talking, talking. Being a "bull,"he took a favorable view of every thing. He believed in theeternity of the second empire. He sang the praise of the newcabinet: he was ready to pour out his blood for Emile Ollivier.True, some people complained that business was dull and slow; butthose people, he thought, were merely "bears." Business had neverbeen so brilliant. At no time had prosperity been greater. Capitalwas abundant. The institutions of credit were flourishing.Securities were rising. Everybody's pockets were full to bursting.And the others listened in astonishment to this inexhaustibleprattle, this "gab," more filled with gold spangles than Dantzigcordial, with which the commercial travelers of the bourse catchtheir customers.

  Suddenly:

  "But you must excuse me," he said, rushing towards the other end ofthe parlor.

  Mme. Favoral had just left the room to order tea to be brought in;and, the seat by Mlle. Gilberte being vacant, M. Costeclar occupiedit promptly.

  "He understands his business," growled M. Desormeaux.

  "Surely," said M. Desclavettes, "if I had some funds to dispose ofjust now."

  "I would be most happy to have him for my son-in-law," declared M.Favoral.

  He was doing his best. Somewhat intimidated by Mlle. Gilberte'sfirst look, he had now fully recovered his wits.

  He commenced by sketching his own portrait.

  He had just turned thirty, and had experience
d the strong and theweak side of life. He had had "successes," but had tired of them.Having gauged the emptiness of what is called pleasure, he onlywished now to find a partner for life, whose graces and virtueswould secure his domestic happiness.

  He could not help noticing the absent look of the young girl; buthe had, thought he, other means of compelling her attention. Andhe went on, saying that he felt himself cast of the metal of whichmodel husbands are made. His plans were all made in advance. Hiswife would be free to do as she pleased. She would have her owncarriage and horses, her box at the Italiens and at the Opera, andan open account at Worth's and Van Klopen's. As to diamonds, hewould take care of that. He meant that his wife's display ofwealth should be noticed; and even spoken of in the newspapers.

  Was this the terms of a bargain that he was offering?

  If so, it was so coarsely, that Mlle. Gilberte, ignorant of life asshe was, wondered in what world it might be that he had met with somany "successes." And, somewhat indignantly:

  "Unfortunately," she said, "the bourse is perfidious; and the manwho drives his own carriage to-day, to-morrow may have no shoes towear."

  M. Costeclar nodded with a smile.

  "Exactly so," said he. "A marriage protects one against suchreverses.

  "Every man in active business, when he marries, settles upon hiswife reasonable fortune. I expect to settle six hundred thousandfrancs upon mine."

  "So that, if you were to meet with an--accident?"

  "We should enjoy our thirty thousand a year under the very nose ofthe creditors."

  Blushing with shame, Mlle. Gilberte rose.

  "But then," said she, "it isn't a wife that you are looking for: itis an accomplice."

  He was spared the embarrassment of an answer, by the servant, whocame in, bringing in tea. He accepted a cup; and after two orthree anecdotes, judging that he had done enough for a first visit,he withdrew, and a moment later they heard his carriage driving offat full gallop.