XXI
Mlle. Gilberte was soon far away; and Marius de Tregars remainedmotionless at the corner of the street, following her with his eyesthrough the darkness.
She was walking fast, staggering over the rough pavement. LeavingMarius, she fell back upon the earth from the height of her dreams.The deceiving illusion had vanished, and, returned to the world ofsad reality, she was seized with anxiety.
How long had she been out? She knew not, and found it impossibleto reckon. But it was evidently getting late; for some of the shopswere already closing.
Meantime, she had reached the house. Stepping back, and looking up,she saw that there was light in the parlor.
"Mother has returned," she thought, trembling with apprehension.
She hurried up, nevertheless; and, just as she reached the landing,Mme. Favoral opened the door, preparing to go down.
"At last you are restored to me!" exclaimed the poor mother, whosesinister apprehensions were revealed by that single exclamation. "Iwas going out to look for you at random,--in the streets, anywhere."
And, drawing her daughter within the parlor, she clasped her in herarms with convulsive tenderness, exclaiming,
"Where were you? Where do you come from? Do you know that it isafter nine o'clock?"
Such had been Mlle. Gilberte's state of mind during the whole ofthat evening, that she had not even thought of finding a pretextto justify her absence. Now it was too late. Besides, whatexplanation would have been plausible? Instead, therefore, ofanswering,
"Why, dear mother," she said with a forced smile, "has it nothappened to me twenty times to go out in the neighborhood?"
But Mme. Favoral's confiding credulity existed no longer.
"I have been blind, Gilberte," she interrupted; "but this time myeyes must open to evidence. There is in your life a mystery,something extraordinary, which I dare not try to guess."
Mlle. Gilberte drew herself up, and, looking her mother straight inthe eyes, with her beautiful, clear glance,
"Would you suspect me of something wrong, then?" she exclaimed.
Mme. Favoral stopped her with a gesture.
"A young girl who conceals something from her mother always doeswrong," she uttered. "It is a long while since I have had for thefirst time the presentiment that you were hiding something from me.But, when I questioned you, you succeeded in quieting my suspicions.You have abused my confidence and my weakness."
This reproach was the most cruel that could be addressed to Mlle.Gilberte. The blood rushed to her face, and, in a firm voice,
"Well, yes," said she: "I have a secret."
"Dear me!"
"And, if I did not confide it to you, it is because it is also thesecret of another. Yes, I confess it, I have been imprudent in theextreme; I have stepped beyond all the limits of propriety and socialcustom; I have exposed myself to the worst calumnies. But never,--Iswear it,--never have I done any thing of which my conscience canreproach me, nothing that I have to blush for, nothing that I regret,nothing that I am not ready to do again to-morrow."
"I said nothing, 'tis true; but it was my duty. Alone I had tosuffer the responsibility of my acts. Having alone freely engagedmy future, I wished to bear alone the weight of my anxiety. I shouldnever have forgiven myself for having added this new care to all yourother sorrows."
Mme. Favoral stood dismayed. Big tears rolled down her witheredcheeks.
"Don't you see, then," she stammered, "that all my past suffering isas nothing compared to what I endure to-day? Good heavens! what haveI ever done to deserve so many trials? Am I to be spared none of thetroubles of this world? And it is through my own daughter that I amthe most cruelly stricken!"
This was more than Mlle. Gilberte could bear. Her heart was breakingat the sight of her mother's tears, that angel of meekness andresignation. Throwing her arms around her neck, and kissing her onthe eyes,
"Mother," she murmured, "adored mother, I beg of you do not weepthus! Speak to me! What do you wish me to do?"
Gently the poor woman drew back.
"Tell me the truth," she answered.
Was it not certain that this was the very thing she would ask; infact, the only thing she could ask? Ah! how much would the younggirl have preferred one of her father's violent scenes, andbrutalities which would have exalted her energy, instead ofcrushing it!
Attempting to gain time,
"Well, yes," she answered, "I'll tell you every thing, mother, butnot now, to-morrow, later."
She was about to yield, however, when her father's arrival cutshort their conversation.
The cashier of the Mutual Credit was quite lively that night. Hewas humming a tune, a thing which did not happen to him four timesa year, and which was indicative of the most extreme satisfaction.But he stopped short at the sight of the disturbed countenance of hiswife and daughter.
"What is the matter?" he inquired.
"Nothing," hastily answered Mlle. Gilberte,--"nothing at all,father."
"Then you are crying for your amusement," he said. "Come, be candidfor once, and confess that Maxence has been at his tricks again!"
"You are mistaken, father: I swear it!"
He asked no further questions, being in his nature not very curious,whether because family matters were of so little consequence to him,or because he had a vague idea that his general behavior deprivedhim of all right to their confidence.
"Very well, then," he said in a gruff tone, "let us all go to bed.I have worked so hard to-day, that I am quite exhausted. Peoplewho pretend that business is dull make me laugh. Never has M. deThaller been in the way of making so much money as now."
When he spoke, they obeyed. So that Mlle. Gilberte was thus goingto have the whole night before her to resume possession of herself,to pass over in her mind the events of the evening, and deliberatecoolly upon the decision she must come to; for, she could not doubtit, Mme. Favoral would, the very next day, renew her questions.
What should she say? All? Mlle. Gilberte felt disposed to do soby all the aspirations of her heart, by the certainty of indulgentcomplicity, by the thought of finding in a sympathetic soul the echoof her joys, of her troubles, and of her hopes.
Yes. But Mme. Favoral was still the same woman, whose firmestresolutions vanished under the gaze of her husband. Let a pretendercome; let a struggle begin, as in the case of M. Costeclar,--wouldshe have strength enough to remain silent? No!
Then it would be a fearful scene with M. Favoral. He might,perhaps, even go to M. de Tregars. What scandal! For he was a manwho spared no one; and then a new obstacle would rise between them,more insurmountable still than the others.
Mlle. Gilberte was thinking, too, of Marius's projects; of thatterrible game he was about to play, the issue of which was to decidetheir fate. He had said enough to make her understand all itsperils, and that a single indiscretion might suffice to set atnought the result of many months' labor and patience. Besides, tospeak, was it not to abuse Marius's confidence. How could sheexpect another to keep a secret she had been unable to keep herself?
At last, after protracted and painful hesitation, she decided thatshe was bound to silence, and that she would only vouchsafe thevaguest explanations.
It was in vain, then, that, on the next and the following days,Mme. Favoral tried to obtain that confession which she had seen,as it were, rise to her daughter's lips. To her passionateadjurations, to her tears, to her ruses even, Mlle. Gilberteinvariably opposed equivocal answers, a story through which nothingcould be guessed, save one of those childish romances which stopat the preface,--a schoolgirl love for a chimerical hero.
There was nothing in this very reassuring to a mother; but Mme.Favoral knew her daughter too well to hope to conquer her invincibleobstinacy. She insisted no more, appeared convinced, but resolvedto exercise the utmost vigilance. In vain, however, did she displayall the penetration of which she was capable. The severestattention did not reveal to her a single suspicious fact, n
ot acircumstance from which she could draw an induction, until, at last,she thought that she must have been mistaken.
The fact is, that Mlle. Gilberte had not been long in feelingherself watched; and she observed herself with a tenaciouscircumspection that could hardly have been expected of her resoluteand impatient nature. She had trained herself to a sort of cheerfulcarelessness, to which she strictly adhered, watching everyexpression of her countenance, and avoiding carefully those hoursof vague revery in which she formerly indulged.
For two successive weeks, fearing to be betrayed by her looks, shehad the courage not to show herself at the window at the hour whenshe knew Marius would pass. Moreover, she was very minutelyinformed of the alternatives of the campaign undertaken by M. deTregars.
More enthusiastic than ever about his pupil, the Signor GismondoPulei never tired of singing his praise, and with such pomp ofexpression, and so curious an exuberance of gesticulation, that Mme.Favoral was much amused; and, on the days when she was present ather daughter's lesson, she was the first to inquire,
"Well, how is that famous pupil?"
And, according to what Marius had told him,
"He is swimming in the purest satisfaction," answered the candidmaestro. "Every thing succeeds miraculously well, and much beyondhis hopes."
Or else, knitting his brows--
"He was sad yesterday," he said, "owing to an unexpecteddisappointment; but he does not lose courage. We shall succeed."
The young girl could not help smiling to see her mother assistingthus the unconscious complicity of the Signor Gismondo. Then shereproached herself for having smiled, and for having thus come,through a gradual and fatal descent, to laugh at a duplicity atwhich she would have blushed in former times. In spite of herself,however, she took a passionate interest in the game that was beingplayed between her mother and herself, and of which her secret wasthe stake. It was an ever-palpitating interest in her hithertomonotonous life, and a source of constantly-renewed emotions.
The days became weeks, and the weeks months; and Mme. Favoralrelaxed her useless surveillance, and, little by little, gave itup almost entirely. She still thought, that, at a certain moment,something unusual had occurred to her daughter; but she feltpersuaded, that, whatever that was, it had been forgotten.
So that, on the stated days, Mlle. Gilberte could go and lean uponthe window, without fear of being called to account for the emotionwhich she felt when M. de Tregars appeared. At the expected hour,invariably, and with a punctuality to shame M. Favoral himself, heturned the corner of the Rue Turenne, exchanged a rapid glance withthe young girl, and passed on.
His health was completely restored; and with it he had recoveredthat graceful virility which results from the perfect blending ofsuppleness and strength. But he no longer wore the plain garmentsof former days. He was dressed now with that elegant simplicitywhich reveals at first sight that rarest of objects,--a "perfectgentleman." And, whilst she accompanied him with her eyes as hewalked towards the Boulevard, she felt thoughts of joy and priderising from the bottom of her soul.
"Who would ever imagine," thought she, "that this young gentlemanwalking away yonder is my affianced husband, and that the day isperhaps not far, when, having become his wife, I shall lean uponhis arm? Who would think that all my thoughts belong to him, thatit is for my sake that he has given up the ambition of his life,and is now prosecuting another object? Who would suspect that itis for Gilberte Favoral's sake that the Marquis de Tregars iswalking in the Rue St. Gilles?"
And, indeed, Marius did deserve some credit for these walks; forwinter had come, spreading a thick coat of mud over the pavementof all those little streets which are always forgotten by thestreet-cleaners.
The cashier's home had resumed its habits of before the war, itsdrowsy monotony scarcely disturbed by the Saturday dinner, by M.Desclavettes' naivetes or old Desormeaux's puns.
Maxence, in the mean time, had ceased to live with his parents. Hehad returned to Paris immediately after the Commune; and, feeling nolonger in the humor to submit to the paternal despotism, he hadtaken a small apartment on the Boulevard du Temple; but, at thepressing instance of his mother, he had consented to come everynight to dine at the Rue St. Gilles.
Faithful to his oath, he was working hard, though without gettingon very fast. The moment was far from propitious; and the occasion,which he had so often allowed to escape, did not offer itself again.For lack of any thing better, he had kept his clerkship at therailway; and, as two hundred francs a month were not quite sufficientfor his wants, he spent a portion of his nights copying documentsfor M. Chapelain's successor.
"What do you need so much money for?" his mother said to him whenshe noticed his eyes a little red.
"Every thing is so dear!" he answered with a smile, which wasequivalent to a confidence, and yet which Mme. Favoral did notunderstand.
He had, nevertheless, managed to pay all his debts, little bylittle. The day when, at last, he held in his hand the lastreceipted bill, he showed it proudly to his father, begging him tofind him a place at the Mutual Credit, where, with infinitely lesstrouble, he could earn so much more.
M. Favoral commenced to giggle.
"Do you take me for a fool, like your mother?" he exclaimed. "Anddo you think I don't know what life you lead?"
"My life is that of a poor devil who works as hard as he can."
"Indeed! How is it, then, that women are constantly seen at yourhouse, whose dresses and manners are a scandal in the neighborhood?"
"You have been deceived, father."
"I have seen."
"It is impossible. Let me explain."
"No, you would have your trouble for nothing. You are, and you willever remain, the same; and it would be folly on my part to introduceinto an office where I enjoy the esteem of all, a fellow, who, someday or other, will be fatally dragged into the mud by some lostcreature."
Such discussions were not calculated to make the relations betweenfather and son more cordial. Several times M. Favoral hadinsinuated, that, since Maxence lodged away from home, he might aswell dine away too. And he would evidently have notified him todo so, had he not been prevented by a remnant of human respect,and the fear of gossip.
On the other hand, the bitter regret of having, perhaps, spoiledhis life, the uncertainty of the future, the penury of the moment,all the unsatisfied desires of youth, kept Maxence in a state ofperpetual irritation.
The excellent Mme. Favoral exhausted all her arguments to quiet him.
"Your father is harsh for us," she said; "but is he less harsh forhimself? He forgives nothing; but he has never needed to beforgiven himself. He does not understand youth, but he has neverbeen young himself; and at twenty he was as grave and as cold asyou see him now. How could he know what pleasure is?--he to whomthe idea has never come to take an hour's enjoyment."
"Have I, then, been guilty of any crimes, to be thus treated by myfather?" exclaimed Maxence, flushed with anger. "Our existence hereis an unheard-of thing. You, poor, dear mother!--you have neverhad the free disposition of a five-franc-piece. Gilberte spendsher days turning her dresses, after having had them dyed. I amdriven to a petty clerkship. And my father has fifty thousandfrancs a year!"
Such, indeed, was the figure at which the most moderate estimatedM. Favoral's fortune. M. Chapelain, who was supposed to be wellinformed, insinuated freely that his friend Vincent, besides beingthe cashier of the Mutual Credit, must also be one of its principalstock-holders. Now, judging from the dividend which had just beenpaid, the Mutual Credit must, since the war, have realized enormousprofits. All its enterprises were successful; and it was on thepoint of negotiating a foreign loan which would infallibly fill itsexchequer to overflowing.
M. Favoral, moreover, defended himself feebly from these accusationsof concealed opulence. When M. Desormeaux told him, "Come, now,between us, candidly, how many millions have you?" he had such astrange way of affirming that people were very much mistaken, thathis
friends' convictions became only the more settled. And, assoon as they had a few thousand francs of savings, they promptlybrought them to him, imitated in this by a goodly number of thesmall capitalists of the neighborhood, who were wont to remarkamong themselves,
"That man is safer than the bank!"
Millionaire or otherwise, the cashier of the Mutual Credit becamedaily more difficult to live with. If strangers, those who hadwith him but a superficial intercourse, if the Saturday gueststhemselves, discovered in him no appreciable change, his wife andhis children followed with anxious surprise the modifications ofhis humor.
If outwardly he still appeared the same impassible, precise, andgrave man, he showed himself at home more fretful than an old maid,--nervous, agitated, and subject to the oddest whims. Afterremaining three or four days without opening his lips, he wouldbegin to speak upon all sorts of subjects with amazing volubility.Instead of watering his wine freely, as formerly, he had begun todrink it pure; and he often took two bottles at his meal, excusinghimself upon the necessity that he felt the need of stimulatinghimself a little after his excessive labors.
Then he would be taken with fits of coarse gayety; and he relatedsingular anecdotes, intermingled with slang expressions, whichMaxence alone could understand.
On the morning of the first day of January, 1872, as he sat downto breakfast, he threw upon the table a roll of fifty napoleons,saying to his children,
"Here is your New Year's gift! Divide, and buy anything you like."
And as they were looking at him, staring, stupid with astonishment,
"Well, what of it?" he added with an oath. "Isn't it well, once ina while, to scatter the coins a little?"
Those unexpected thousand francs Maxence and Mlle. Gilberte appliedto the purchase of a shawl, which their mother had wished forten years.
She laughed and she cried with pleasure and emotion, the poor woman;and, whilst draping it over her shoulders,
"Well, well, my dear children," she said: "your father, after all,is not such a bad man."
Of which they did not seem very well convinced. "One thing is sure,"remarked Mlle. Gilberte: "to permit himself such liberality, papamust be awfully rich."
M. Favoral was not present at this scene. The yearly accounts kepthim so closely confined to his office, that he remained forty-eighthours without coming home. A journey which he was compelled toundertake for M. de Thaller consumed the balance of the week.
But on his return he seemed satisfied and quiet. Without giving uphis situation at the Mutual Credit, he was about, he stated, toassociate himself with the Messrs. Jottras, M. Saint Pavin of"The Financial Pilot," and M. Costeclar, to undertake theconstruction of a foreign railway.
M. Costeclar was at the head of this enterprise, the enormousprofits of which were so certain and so clear; that they could befigured in advance.
And whilst on this same subject,
"You were very wrong," he said to Mlle. Gilberte, "not to make hasteand marry Costeclar when he was willing to have you. You will neverfind another such match,--a man who, before ten years, will be afinancial power."
The very name of M. Costeclar had the effect of irritating the younggirl.
"I thought you had fallen out?" she said to her father.
"So we had," he replied with some embarrassment, "because he hasnever been willing to tell me why he had withdrawn; but peoplealways make up again when they have interests in common."
Formerly, before the war, M. Favoral would certainly never havecondescended to enter into all these details. But he was becomingalmost communicative. Mlle. Gilberte, who was observing him withinterested attention, fancied she could see that he was yieldingto that necessity of expansion, more powerful than the will itself,which besets the man who carries within him a weighty secret.
Whilst for twenty years he had, so to speak, never breathed a wordon the subject of the Thaller family, now he was continuallyspeaking of them. He told his Saturday friends all about theprincely style of the baron, the number of his servants and horses,the color of his liveries, the parties that he gave, what he spentfor pictures and objects of art, and even the very names of hismistresses; for the baron had too much respect for himself not tolay every year a few thousand napoleons at the feet of some younglady sufficiently conspicuous to be mentioned in the societynewspapers.
M. Favoral confessed that he did not approve the baron; but it waswith a sort of bitter hatred that he spoke of the baroness. It wasimpossible, he affirmed to his guests, to estimate even approximatelythe fabulous sums squandered by her, scattered, thrown to the fourwinds. For she was not prodigal, she was prodigality itself,--thatidiotic, absurd, unconscious prodigality which melts a fortune in aturn of the hand; which cannot even obtain from money thesatisfaction of a want, a wish, or a fancy.
He said incredible things of her,--things which made Mme.Desclavettes jump upon her seat, explaining that he learned allthese details from M. de Thaller, who had often commissioned him topay his wife's debts, and also from the baroness herself, who didnot hesitate to call sometimes at the office for twenty francs; forsuch was her want of order, that, after borrowing all the savingsof her servants, she frequently had not two cents to throw to abeggar.
Neither did the cashier of the Mutual Credit seem to have a verygood opinion of Mademoiselle de Thaller.
Brought up at hap-hazard, in the kitchen much more than in theparlor, until she was twelve, and, later, dragged by her motheranywhere,--to the races, to the first representations, to thewatering-places, always escorted by a squadron of the young menof the bourse, Mlle. de Thaller had adopted a style which wouldhave been deemed detestable in a man. As soon as some questionablefashion appeared, she appropriated it at once, never finding anything eccentric enough to make herself conspicuous. She rode onhorseback, fenced, frequented pigeon-shooting matches, spoke slang,sang Theresa's songs, emptied neatly her glass of champagne, andsmoked her cigarette.
The guests were struck dumb with astonishment.
"But those people must spend millions!" interrupted M. Chapelain.
M. Favoral started as if he had been slapped on the back.
"Bash!" he answered. "They are so rich, so awfully rich!"
He changed the conversation that evening; but on the followingSaturday, from the very beginning of the dinner,
"I believe," he said, "that M. de Thaller has just discovered ahusband for his daughter."
"My compliments!" exclaimed M. Desormeaux. "And who may this boldfellow be?"
"A nobleman, of course," he replied. "Isn't that the tradition?As soon as a financier has made his little million, he starts inquest of a nobleman to give him his daughter."
One of those painful presentiments, such as arise in the inmostrecesses of the soul, made Mlle. Gilberte turn pale. Thispresentiment suggested to her an absurd, ridiculous, unlikely thing;and yet she was sure that it would not deceive her,--so sure,indeed, that she rose under the pretext of looking for something inthe side-board, but in reality to conceal the terrible emotion whichshe anticipated.
"And this gentleman?" inquired M. Chapelain.
"Is a marquis, if you please,--the Marquis de Tregars."
Well, yes, it was this very name that Mlle. Gilberte was expecting,and well that she did; for she was thus able to command enoughcontrol over herself to check the cry that rose to her throat.
"But this marriage is not made yet," pursued M. Favoral. "Thismarquis is not yet so completely ruined, that he can be made to doany thing they please. Sure, the baroness has set her heart uponit, oh! but with all her might!"
A discussion which now arose prevented Gilberte from learning anymore; and as soon as the dinner, which seemed eternal to her, wasover, she complained of a violent headache, and withdrew to her room.
She shook with fever; her teeth chattered. And yet she could notbelieve that Marius was betraying her, nor that he could have thethought of marrying such a girl as M. Favoral had described, andfor money too! Poor, ah! No,
that was not admissible. Althoughshe remembered well that Marius had made her swear to believenothing that might be said of him, she spent a horrible Sunday,and she felt like throwing herself in the Signor Gismondo's arms,when, in giving her his lesson the following Monday,
"My poor pupil," he said, "feels miserable. A marriage has beenspoken of for him, for which he has a perfect horror; and he trembleslest the rumor may reach his intended, whom he loves exclusively."
Mlle. Gilberte felt re-assured after that. And yet there remainedin her heart an invincible sadness. She could hardly doubt thatthis matrimonial scheme was a part of the plan planned by Mariusto recover his fortune. But why, then, had he applied to M. deThaller? Who could be the man who had despoiled the Marquis deTregars?
Such were the thoughts which occupied her mind on that Saturdayevening when the commissary of police presented himself in the RueSt. Gilles to arrest M. Favoral, charged with embezzling ten ortwelve millions.
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