Other People's Money

by Emile Gaboriau

  XVI

  It was not without mature thought that M. Costeclar had determinedto withdraw, despite M. Favoral's pressing overtures. Howeverinfatuated he might be with his own merits, he had been compelledto surrender to evidence, and to acknowledge that he had not exactlysucceeded with Mlle. Gilberte. But he also knew that he had thehead of the house on his side; and he flattered himself that hehad produced an excellent impression upon the guests of the house.

  "Therefore," had he said to himself, "if I leave first, they willsing my praise, lecture the young person, and make her listen toreason."

  He was not far from being right. Mme. Desclavettes had beencompletely subjugated by the grand manners of this pretender; andM. Desclavettes did not hesitate to affirm that he had rarely metany one who pleased him more.

  The others, M. Chapelain and old Desormeaux, did not, doubtless,share this optimism; but M. Costeclar's annual half-millionobscured singularly their clear-sightedness.

  They thought perhaps, they had discovered in him some alarmingfeatures; but they had full and entire confidence in their friendFavoral's prudent sagacity.

  The particular and methodic cashier of the Mutual Credit was notapt to be enthusiastic; and, if he opened the doors of his house toa young man, if he was so anxious to have him for his son-in-law,he must evidently have taken ample information.

  Finally there are certain family matters from which sensible peoplekeep away as they would from the plague; and, on the question ofmarriage especially, he is a bold man who would take side for oragainst.

  Thus Mme. Desclavettes was the only one to raise her voice. TakingMlle. Gilberte's hands within hers:

  "Let me scold you, my dear," said she, "for having received thus apoor young man who was only trying to please you."

  Excepting her mother, too weak to take her defence, and her brother,who was debarred from interfering, the young girl understood readily,that, in that parlor, every one, overtly or tacitly, was against her.The idea came to her mind to repeat there boldly what she had alreadytold her father that she was resolved not to marry, and that shewould not marry, not being one of those weak girls, without energy,whom they dress in white, and drag to church against their will.

  Such a bold declaration would be in keeping with her character.But she feared a terrible, and perhaps degrading scene. The mostintimate friends of the family were ignorant of its most painfulsores. In presence of his friends, M. Favoral dissembled, speakingin a mild voice, and assuming a kindly smile. Should she suddenlyreveal the truth?

  "It is childish of you to run the risk of discouraging a cleverfellow who makes half a million a year," continued the wife of theold bronze-merchant, to whom such conduct seemed an abominable crimeof _lese-money_. Mlle. Gilberte had withdrawn her hands.

  "You did not hear what he said, madame."

  "I beg your pardon: I was quite near, and involuntarily--"

  "You have heard his--propositions?"

  "Perfectly. He was promising you a carriage, a box at the opera,diamonds, freedom. Isn't that the dream of all young ladies?"

  "It is not mine, madame!"

  "Dear me! What better can you wish? You must not expect more froma husband than he can possibly give."

  "That is not what I shall expect of him."

  In a tone of paternal indulgence, which his looks belied:

  "She is mad," suggested M. Favoral.

  Tears of indignation filled Mlle. Gilberte's eyes.

  "Mme. Desclavettes," she exclaimed, "forgets something. She forgetsthat this gentleman dared to tell me that he proposed to settle uponthe woman he marries a large fortune, of which his creditors wouldthus be cheated in case of his failure in business."

  She thought, in her simplicity, that a cry of indignation would riseat these words. Instead of which:

  "Well, isn't it perfectly natural?" said M. Desclavettes.

  "It seems to me more than natural," insisted Mme. Desclavettes,"that a man should be anxious to preserve from ruin his wife andchildren."

  "Of course," put in M. Favoral.

  Stepping resolutely toward her father:

  "Have you, then, taken such precautions yourself?" demanded Mlle.Gilberte.

  "No," answered the cashier of the Mutual Credit. And, after amoment of hesitation:

  "But I am running no risks," he added. "In business, and when aman may be ruined by a mere rise or fall in stocks, he would beinsane indeed who did not secure bread for his family, and, aboveall, means for himself, wherewith to commence again. The Baron deThaller did not act otherwise; and, should he meet with a disaster,Mme. de Thaller would still have a handsome fortune."

  M. Desormeaux was, perhaps, the only one not to admit freely thattheory, and not to accept that ever-decisive reason, "Others do it."

  But he was a philosopher, and thought it silly not to be of his time.He therefore contented himself with saying:

  "Hum! M. de Thaller's creditors might not think that mode ofproceeding entirely regular."

  "Then they might sue," said M. Chapelain, laughing. "People canalways sue; only when the papers are well drawn--"

  Mlle. Gilberte stood dismayed. She thought of Marius de Tregarsgiving up his mother's fortune to pay his father's debts.

  "What would he say," thought she, "should he hear such opinions!"

  The cashier of the Mutual Credit resumed:

  "Surely I blame every species of fraud. But I pretend, and Imaintain, that a man who has worked twenty years to give a handsomedowry to his daughter has the right to demand of his son-in-lawcertain conservative measures to guarantee the money, which, afterall, is his own, and which is to benefit no one but his own family."

  This declaration closed the evening. It was getting late. TheSaturday guests put on their overcoats; and, as they were walkinghome,

  "Can you understand that little Gilberte?" said Mme. Desclavettes."I'd like to see a daughter of mine have such fancies! But herpoor mother is so weak!"

  "Yes; but friend Favoral is firm enough for both," interrupted M.Desormeaux; "and it is more than probable that at this very momenthe is correcting his daughter of the sin of sloth."

  Well, not at all. Extremely angry as M. Favoral must have been,neither that evening, nor the next day, did he make the remotestallusion to what had taken place.

  The following Monday only, before leaving for his office, castingupon his wife and daughter one of his ugliest looks:

  "M. Costeclar owes us a visit," said he; "and it is possible thathe may call in my absence. I wish him to be admitted; and I forbidyou to go out, so that you can have no pretext to refuse him thedoor. I presume there will not be found in my house any one boldenough to ill receive a man whom I like, and whom I have selectedfor my son-in-law."

  But was it probable, was it even possible, that M. Costeclar couldventure upon such a step after Mlle. Gilberte's treatment of him onthe previous Saturday evening?

  "No, a thousand times no!" affirmed Maxence to his mother and sister."So you may rest easy."

  Indeed they tried to be, until that very afternoon the sound ofrapidly-rolling wheels attracted Mme. Favoral to the window. Acoupe, drawn by two gray horses, had just stopped at the door.

  "It must be he," she said to her daughter.

  Mlle. Gilberte had turned slightly pale.

  "There is no help for it, mother," she said: "You must receive him."

  "And you?"

  "I shall remain in my room."

  "Do you suppose he won't ask for you?"

  "You will answer that I am unwell. He will understand."

  "But your father, unhappy child, your father?"

  "I do not acknowledge to my father the right of disposing of myperson against my wishes. I detest that man to whom he wishes tomarry me. Would you like to see me his wife, to know me given upto the most intolerable torture? No, there is no violence in theworld that will ever wring my consent from me. So, mother dear,do what I ask you. My father can say what he pleases: I take the
whole responsibility upon myself."

  There was no time to argue: the bell rang. Mlle. Gilberte hadbarely time to escape through one of the doors of the parlor,whilst M. Costeclar was entering at the other.

  If he did have enough perspicacity to guess what had just takenplace, he did not in any way show it. He sat down; and it wasonly after conversing for a few moments upon indifferent subjects,that he asked how Mlle. Gilberte was.

  "She is somewhat--unwell," stammered Mme. Favoral.

  He did not appear surprised; only,

  "Our dear Favoral," he said, "will be still more pained than I amwhen he hears of this mishap."

  Better than any other mother, Mme. Favoral must have understood andapproved Mlle. Gilberte's invincible repugnance. To her also, whenshe was young, her father had come one day, and said, "I havediscovered a husband for you." She had accepted him blindly. Bruisedand wounded by daily outrages, she had sought refuge in marriage asin a haven of safety.

  And since, hardly a day had elapsed that she had not thought itwould have been better for her to have died rather then to haveriveted to her neck those fetters that death alone can remove. Shethought, therefore, that her daughter was perfectly right. And yettwenty years of slavery had so weakened the springs of her energy,that under the glance of Costeclar, threatening her with herhusband's name, she felt embarrassed, and could scarcely stammersome timid excuses. And she allowed him to prolong his visit, andconsequently her torment, for over an half an hour; then, when hehad gone,

  "He and your father understand each other," said she to her daughter,"that is but too evident. What is the use of struggling?"

  A fugitive blush colored the pale cheeks of Mlle. Gilberte. Forthe past forty-eight hours she had been exhausting herself, seekingan issue to an impossible situation; and she had accustomed her mindto the worst eventualities.

  "Do you wish me, then, to desert the paternal roof?" she exclaimed.

  Mme. Favoral almost dropped on the floor.

  "You would run away," she stammered, "you!"

  "Rather than become that man's wife, yes!"

  "And where would you go, unfortunate child? what would you do?"

  "I can earn my living."

  Mme. Favoral shook her head sadly. The same suspicions were revivingwithin her that she had felt once before.

  "Gilberte," she said in a beseeching tone, "am I, then, no longeryour best friend? and will you not tell me from what sources youdraw your courage and your resolution?"

  And, as her daughter said nothing:

  "God alone knows what may happen!" sighed the poor woman.

  Nothing happened, but what could have been easily foreseen. WhenM. Favoral came home to dinner, he was whistling a perfect stormon the stairs. He abstained at first from all recrimination; buttowards the end of the meal, with the most sarcastic look he couldassume:

  "It seems," he said to his daughter, "that you were unwell thisafternoon?"

  Bravely, and without flinching, she sustained his look; and, in afirm voice:

  "I shall always be indisposed," she replied, "when M. Costeclarcalls. You hear me, don't you, father--always!"

  But the cashier of the Credit Mutual was not one of those men whosewrath finds vent in mere sarcasms. Rising suddenly to his feet:

  "By the holy heavens!" he screamed forth, "you are wrong to triflethus with my will; for, all of you here, I shall crush you as I dothis glass."

  And, with a frenzied gesture, he dashed the glass he held in hishand against the wall, where it broke in a thousand pieces.Trembling like a leaf, Mme. Favoral staggered upon her chair.