IV
M. de Tregars and Maxence were in luck. They had a good driver anda fair horse; and in twenty minutes they were at the trunk store.As soon as the cab stopped,
"Well," exclaimed M. de Tregars, "I suppose it has to be done."
And, with the look of a man who has made up his mind to do somethingwhich is extremely repugnant to him, he jumped out, and, followedby Maxence, entered the shop.
It was a modest establishment; and the people who kept it, husbandand wife, seeing two customers coming in, rushed to meet them, withthat welcoming smile which blossoms upon the lips of every Parisianshopkeeper.
"What will you have, gentlemen?"
And, with wonderful volubility, they went on enumerating everyarticle which they had for sale in their shop,--from the"indispensable-necessary," containing seventy-seven pieces of solidsilver, and costing four thousand francs, down to the humblestcarpet-bag at thirty-nine cents.
But Marius de Tregars interrupted them as soon as he could get anopportunity, and, showing them their bill,
"It was here, wasn't it," he inquired, "that the two trunks werebought which are charged in this bill?"
"Yes, sir," answered simultaneously both husband and wife.
"When were they delivered?"
"Our porter went to deliver them, less than two hours after theywere bought."
"Where?"
By this time the shopkeepers were beginning to exchange uneasy looks.
"Why do you ask?" inquired the woman in a tone which indicated thatshe had the settled intention not to answer, unless for good andvalid reason.
To obtain the simplest information is not always as easy as mightbe supposed. The suspicion of the Parisian tradesman is easilyaroused; and, as his head is stuffed with stories of spies androbbers, as soon as he is questioned he becomes as dumb as an oyster.
But M. de Tregars had foreseen the difficulty:
"I beg you to believe, madame," he went on, "that my questions arenot dictated by an idle curiosity. Here are the facts. A relativeof ours, a man of a certain age, of whom we are very fond, and whosehead is a little weak, left his home some forty-eight hours since.We are looking for him, and we are in hopes, if we find these trunks,to find him at the same time."
With furtive glances, the husband and wife were tacitly consultingeach other.
"The fact is," they said, "we wouldn't like, under any consideration,to commit an indiscretion which might result to the prejudice of acustomer."
"Fear nothing," said M. de Tregars with a reassuring gesture. "Ifwe have not had recourse to the police, it's because, you know, itisn't pleasant to have the police interfere in one's affairs. Ifyou have any objections to answer me, however, I must, of course,apply to the commissary."
The argument proved decisive.
"If that's the case," replied the woman, "I am ready to tell all Iknow."
"Well, then, madame, what do you know?"
"These two trunks were bought on Friday afternoon last, by a man ofa certain age, tall, very thin, with a stern countenance, andwearing a long frock coat."
"No more doubt," murmured Maxence. "It was he."
"And now," the woman went on, "that you have just told me that yourrelative was a little weak in the head, I remember that thisgentleman had a strange sort of way about him, and that he keptwalking about the store as if he had fleas on his legs. And awfulparticular he was too! Nothing was handsome enough and strongenough for him; and he was anxious about the safety-locks, as hehad, he said, many objects of value, papers, and securities, to putaway."
"And where did he tell you to send the two trunks?"
"Rue du Cirque, to Mme.--wait a minute, I have the name at the endof my tongue."
"You must have it on your books, too," remarked M. de Tregars.
The husband was already looking over his blotter.
"April 26, 1872," he said. "26, here it is: 'Two leather trunks,patent safety-locks: Mme. Zelie Cadelle, 49 Rue du Cirque.'"
Without too much affectation, M. de Tregars had drawn near to theshopkeeper, and was looking over his shoulder.
"What is that," he asked, "written there, below the address?"
"That, sir, is the direction left by the customer 'Mark on each endof the trunks, in large letters, "Rio de Janeiro."'"
Maxence could not suppress an exclamation. "Oh!"
But the tradesman mistook him; and, seizing this magnificentopportunity to display his knowledge,
"Rio de Janeiro is the capital of Brazil," he said in a tone ofimportance. "And your relative evidently intended to go there; and,if he has not changed his mind, I doubt whether you can overtakehim; for the Brazilian steamer was to have sailed yesterday fromHavre."
Whatever may have been his intentions, M. de Tregars remainedperfectly calm.
"If that's the case," he said to the shopkeepers, "I think I hadbetter give up the chase. I am much obliged to you, however, foryour information."
But, once out again,
"Do you really believe," inquired Maxence, "that my father hasleft France?"
M. de Tregars shook his head.
"I will give you my opinion," he uttered, "after I have investigatedmatters in the Rue du Cirque."
They drove there in a few minutes; and, the cab having stopped atthe entrance of the street, they walked on foot in front of No. 49.It was a small cottage, only one story in height, built between asanded court-yard and a garden, whose tall trees showed above theroof. At the windows could be seen curtains of light-colored silk,--a sure indication of the presence of a young and pretty woman.
For a few minutes Marius de Tregars remained in observation; but,as nothing stirred,
"We must find out something, somehow," he exclaimed impatiently.
And noticing a large grocery store bearing No. 62, he directed hissteps towards it, still accompanied by Maxence.
It was the hour of the day when customers are rare. Standing inthe centre of the shop, the grocer, a big fat man with an air ofimportance, was overseeing his men, who were busy putting thingsin order.
M. de Tregars took him aside, and with an accent of mystery,
"I am," he said, "a clerk with M. Drayton, the jeweler in the Ruede la Paix; and I come to ask you one of those little favors whichtradespeople owe to each other."
A frown appeared on the fat man's countenance. He thought, perhaps,that M. Drayton's clerks were rather too stylish-looking; or else,perhaps, he felt apprehensive of one of those numerous petty swindlesof which shopkeepers are constantly the victims.
"What is it?" said he. "Speak!"
"I am on my way," spoke M. de Tregars, "to deliver a ring which alady purchased of us yesterday. She is not a regular customer, andhas given us no references. If she doesn't pay, shall I leave thering? My employer told me, 'Consult some prominent tradesman of theneighborhood, and follow his advice.'"
Prominent tradesman! Delicately tickled vanity was dancing in thegrocer's eyes.
"What is the name of the lady?" he inquired.
"Mme. Zelie Cadelle."
The grocer burst out laughing.
"In that case, my boy," he said, tapping familiarly the shoulderof the so-called clerk, "whether she pays or not, you can deliverthe article."
The familiarity was not, perhaps, very much to the taste of theMarquis de Tregars. No matter.
"She is rich, then, that lady?" he said.
"Personally no. But she is protected by an old fool, who allowsher all her fancies."
"Indeed!"
"It is scandalous; and you cannot form an idea of the amount ofmoney that is spent in that house. Horses, carriages, servants,dresses, balls, dinners, card-playing all night, a perpetualcarnival: it must be ruinous!"
M. de Tregars never winced.
"And the old man who pays?" he asked; "do you know him?"
"I have seen him pass,--a tall, lean, old fellow, who doesn't lookvery rich, either. But excuse me: here is a customer I must waitupon."
Having walked out into the street,
"We must separate now," declared M. de Tregars to Maxence.
"What! You wish to--"
"Go and wait for me in that cafe yonder, at the corner of the street.I must see that Zelie Cadelle and speak to her."
And without suffering an objection on the part of Maxence, he walkedresolutely up to the cottage-gate, and rang vigorously.
At the sound of the bell, one of those servants stepped out into theyard, who seem manufactured on purpose, heaven knows where, for thespecial service of young ladies who keep house,--a tall rascal withsallow complexion and straight hair, a cynical eye, and a low,impudent smile.
"What do you wish, sir?" he inquired through the grating.
"That you should open the door, first," uttered M. de Tregars, withsuch a look and such an accent, that the other obeyed at once.
"And now," he added, "go and announce me to Mme. Zelie Cadelle."
"Madame is out," replied the valet.
And noticing that M. de Tregars shrugged his shoulders,
"Upon my word," he said, "she has gone to the bois with one of herfriends. If you won't believe me, ask my comrades there."
And he pointed out two other servants of the same pattern as himself,who were silting at a table in the carriage-house, playing cards,and drinking.
But M. de Tregars did not mean to be imposed upon. He felt certainthat the man was lying. Instead, therefore, of discussing,
"I want you to take me to your mistress," he ordered, in a tone thatadmitted of no objection; "or else I'll find my way to her alone."
It was evident that he would do just as he said, by force if needsbe. The valet saw this, and, after hesitating a moment longer,
"Come along, then," he said, "since you insist so much. We'll talkto the chambermaid."
And, having led M. de Tregars into the vestibule, he called out,"Mam'selle Amanda!"
A woman at once made her appearance who was a worthy mate for thevalet. She must have been about forty, and the most alarmingduplicity could be read upon her features, deeply pitted by thesmall-pox. She wore a pretentious dress, an apron like astage-servant, and a cap profusely decorated with flowers andribbons.
"Here is a gentleman," said the valet, "who insists upon seeingmadame. You fix it with him."
Better than her fellow servant, Mlle. Amanda could judge with whomshe had to deal. A single glance at this obstinate visitorconvinced her that he was not one who can be easily turned off.
Putting on, therefore, her pleasantest smile, thus displaying atthe same time her decayed teeth,
"The fact is that monsieur will very much disturb madame," sheobserved.
"I shall excuse myself."
"But I'll be scolded."
Instead of answering, M. de Tregars took a couple oftwenty-franc-notes out of his pocket, and slipped them into herhand.
"Please follow me to the parlor, then," she said with a heavy sigh.
M. de Tregars did so, whilst observing everything around him withthe attentive perspicacity of a deputy sheriff preparing to makeout an inventory.
Being double, the house was much more spacious than could havebeen thought from the street, and arranged with that science ofcomfort which is the genius of modern architects.
The most lavish luxury was displayed on all sides; not that solid,quiet, and harmonious luxury which is the result of long years ofopulence, but the coarse, loud, and superficial luxury of the_parvenu_, who is eager to enjoy quick, and to possess all that hehas craved from others.
The vestibule was a folly, with its exotic plants climbing alongcrystal trellises, and its Sevres and China jardinieres filled withgigantic azaleas. And along the gilt railing of the stairs marbleand bronze statuary was intermingled with masses of growing flowers.
"It must take twenty thousand francs a year to keep up thisconservatory alone," thought M. de Tregars.
Meantime the old chambermaid opened a satinwood door with silverlock.
"That's the parlor," she said. "Take a seat whilst I go and tellmadame."
In this parlor everything had been combined to dazzle. Furniture,carpets, hangings, every thing, was rich, too rich, furiously,incontestably, obviously rich. The chandelier was a masterpiece,the clock an original and unique piece of work. The pictureshanging upon the wall were all signed with the most famous names.
"To judge of the rest by what I have seen," thought M. de Tregars,"there must have been at least four or five hundred thousand francsspent on this house."
And, although he was shocked by a quantity of details which betrayedthe most absolute lack of taste, he could hardly persuade himselfthat the cashier of the Mutual Credit could be the master of thissumptuous dwelling; and he was asking himself whether he had notfollowed the wrong scent, when a circumstance came to put an end toall his doubts.
Upon the mantlepiece, in a small velvet frame, was Vincent Favoral'sportrait.
M. de Tregars had been seated for a few minutes, and was collectinghis somewhat scattered thoughts, when a slight grating sound, anda rustling noise, made him turn around.
Mme. Zelie Cadelle was coming in.
She was a woman of some twenty-five or six, rather tall, lithe, andwell made. Her face was pale and worn; and her heavy dark hair wasscattered over her neck and shoulders. She looked at once sarcasticand good-natured, impudent and naive, with her sparkling eyes, herturned-up nose, and wide mouth furnished with teeth, sound and white,like those of a young dog. She had wasted no time upon her dress;for she wore a plain blue cashmere wrapper, fastened at the waistwith a sort of silk scarf of similar color.
From the very threshold,
"Dear me!" she exclaimed, "how very singular!"
M. de Tregars stepped forward.
"What?" he inquired.
"Oh, nothing!" she replied,--"nothing at all!"
And without ceasing to look at him with a wondering eye, butsuddenly changing her tone of voice,
"And so, sir," she said, "my servants have been unable to keep youfrom forcing yourself into my house!"
"I hope, madame," said M. de Tregars with a polite bow, "that youwill excuse my persistence. I come for a matter which can sufferno delay."
She was still looking at him obstinately. "Who are you?" she asked.
"My name will not afford you any information. I am the Marquis deTregars."
"Tregars!" she repeated, looking up at the ceiling, as if in searchof an inspiration. "Tregars! Never heard of it!"
And throwing herself into an arm chair,
"Well, sir, what do you wish with me, then? Speak!"
He had taken a seat near her, and kept his eyes riveted upon hers.
"I have come, madame," he replied, "to ask you to put me in the wayto see and speak to the man whose photograph is there on themantlepiece."
He expected to take her by surprise, and that by a shudder, a cry,a gesture, she might betray her secret. Not at all.
"Are you, then, one of M. Vincent's friends?" she asked quietly.
M. de Tregars understood, and this was subsequently confirmed, thatit was under his Christian name of Vincent alone, that the cashierof the Mutual Credit was known in the Rue du Cirque.
"Yes, I am a friend of his," he replied; "and if I could see him,I could probably render him an important service."
"Well, you are too late."
"Why?"
"Because M. Vincent put off more than twenty-four hours since?"
"Are you sure of that?"
"As sure as a person can be who went to the railway stationyesterday with him and all his baggage."
"You saw him leave?"
"As I see you."
"Where was he going?"
"To Havre, to take the steamer for Brazil, which was to sail on thesame day; so that, by this time, he must be awfully seasick."
"And you really think that it was his intention to go to Brazil?"
"He said so. It was written on his thirty-six trunks in lettershalf a f
oot high. Besides, he showed me his ticket."
"Have you any idea what could have induced him to expatriate himselfthus, at his age?"
"He told me he had spent all his money, and also some of otherpeople's; that he was afraid of being arrested; and that he wasgoing yonder to be quiet, and try to make another fortune."
Was Mme. Zelie speaking in good faith? To ask the question wouldhave been rather naive; but an effort might be made to find out.Carefully concealing his own impressions, and the importance heattached to this conversation,
"I pity you sincerely, madame," resumed M. de Tregars; "for you mustbe sorely grieved by this sudden departure."
"Me!" she said in a voice that came from the heart. "I don't carea straw."
Marquis de Tregars knew well enough the ladies of the class to whichhe supposed that Mme. Zelie Cadelle must belong, not to be surprisedat this frank declaration.
"And yet," he said, "you are indebted to him for the princelymagnificence that surrounds you here."
"Of course."
"He being gone, as you say, will you be able to keep up your styleof living?"
Half raising herself from her seat,
"I haven't the slightest idea of doing so," she exclaimed. "Neverin the whole world have I had such a stupid time as for the lastfive months that I have spent in this gilded cage. What a bore,my beloved brethren! I am yawning still at the mere thought of thenumber of times I have yawned in it."
M. de Tregars' gesture of surprise was the more natural, that hissurprise was immense.
"You are tired being here?" he said.
"To death."
"And you have only been here five months?"
"Dear me; yes! and by the merest chance, too, you'll see. One dayat the beginning of last December, I was coming from--but no matterwhere I was coming from. At any rate, I hadn't a cent in my pocket,and nothing but an old calico dress on my back; and I was goingalong, not in the best of humor, as you may imagine, when I feelthat some one is following me. Without looking around, and fromthe corner of my eye, I look over my shoulder, and I see arespectable-looking old gentleman, wearing a long frock-coat."
"M. Vincent?"
"In his own natural person, and who was walking, walking. I quietlybegin to walk slower; and, as soon as we come to a place where therewas hardly any one, he comes up alongside of me."
Something comical must have happened at this moment, which Mme.Zelie Cadelle said nothing about; for she was laughing most heartily,--a frank and sonorous laughter.
"Then," she resumed, "he begins at once to explain that I remindhim of a person whom he loved tenderly, and whom he has just hadthe misfortune to lose, adding, that he would deem himself thehappiest of men if I would allow him to take care of me, and insureme a brilliant position."
"You see! That rascally Vincent!" said M. de Tregars, just to besaying something.
Mme. Zelie shook her head.
"You know him," she resumed. "He is not young; he is not handsome;he is not funny. I did not fancy him one bit; and, if I had onlyknown where to find shelter for the night, I'd soon have sent himto the old Nick,--him and his brilliant position. But, not havingenough money to buy myself a penny-loaf, it wasn't the time to puton any airs. So I tell him that I accept. He goes for a cab; weget into it; and he brings me right straight here."
Positively M. de Tregars required his entire self-control to concealthe intensity of his curiosity.
"Was this house, then, already as it is now?" he interrogated.
"Precisely, except that there were no servants in it, except thechambermaid Amanda, who is M. Favoral's confidante. All the othershad been dismissed; and it was a hostler from a stable near by whocame to take care of the horses."
"And what then?"
"Then you may imagine what I looked like in the midst of all thismagnificence, with my old shoes and my fourpenny skirt. Somethinglike a grease-spot on a satin dress. M. Vincent seemed delighted,nevertheless. He had sent Amanda out to get me some under-clothingand a ready-made wrapper; and, whilst waiting, he took me allthrough the house, from the cellar to the garret, saying thateverything was at my command, and that the next day I would have abattalion of servants to wait on me."
It was evidently with perfect frankness that she was speaking, andwith the pleasure one feels in telling an extraordinary adventure.But suddenly she stopped short, as if discovering that she wasforgetting herself, and going farther than was proper.
And it was only after a moment of reflection that she went on,
"It was like fairyland to me. I had never tasted the opulence ofthe great, you see, and I had never had any money except that whichI earned. So, during the first days, I did nothing but run up anddown stairs, admiring everything, feeling everything with my ownhands, and looking at myself in the glass to make sure that I wasnot dreaming. I rang the bell just to make the servants come up;I spent hours trying dresses; then I'd have the horses put to thecarriage, and either ride to the bois, or go out shopping. M.Vincent gave me as much money as I wanted; and it seemed as though Inever spent enough. I shout, I was like a mad woman."
A cloud appeared upon Mme. Zelie's countenance, and, changingsuddenly her tone and her manner,
"Unfortunately," she went on, "one gets tired of every thing. Atthe end of two weeks I knew the house from top to bottom, and aftera month I was sick of the whole thing; so that one night I begandressing.
"'Where do you want to go?' Amanda asked me.'Why, to Mabille, to dance a quadrille, or two.''Impossible!''Why?''Because M. Vincent does not wish you to go out at night.''We'll see about that!'
"The next day, I tell all this to M. Vincent; and he says that Amandais right; that it is not proper for a woman in my position tofrequent balls; and that, if I want to go out at night, I can stay.Get out! I tell you what, if it hadn't been for the fine carriage,and all that, I would have cleared out that minute. Any way, Ibecame disgusted from that moment, and have been more and more eversince; and, if M. Vincent had not himself left, I certainly would."
"To go where?"
"Anywhere. Look here, now! do you suppose I need a man to supportme! No, thank Heaven! Little Zelie, here present, has only toapply to any dressmaker, and she'll be glad to give her four francsa day to run the machine. And she'll be free, at least; and she canlaugh and dance as much as she likes."
M. de Tregars had made a mistake: he had just discovered it.
Mme. Zelie Cadelle was certainly not particularly virtuous; but shewas far from being the woman he expected to meet.
"At any rate," he said, "you did well to wait patiently."
"I do not regret it."
"If you can keep this house--"
She interrupted him with a great burst of laughter.
"This house!" she exclaimed. "Why, it was sold long ago, with everything in it,--furniture, horses, carriages, every thing except me.A young gentleman, very well dressed, bought it for a tall girl, wholooks like a goose, and has far over a thousand francs of red hair onher head."
"Are you sure of that?"
"Sure as I live, having seen with my own eyes the young swell andhis red-headed friend counting heaps of bank-notes to M. Vincent.They are to move in day after to-morrow; and they have invited meto the house-warming. But no more of it for me, I thank you! Iam sick and tired of all these people. And the proof of it is, Iam busy packing my things; and lots of them I have too,--dresses,underclothes, jewelry. He was a good-natured fellow, old Vincentwas, anyhow. He gave me money enough to buy some furniture. Ihave hired a small apartment; and I am going to set up dress-makingon my own hook. And won't we laugh then! and won't we have somefun to make up for lost time! Come, my children, take your placesfor a quadrille. Forward two!"
And, bouncing out of her chair, she began sketching out one ofthose bold cancan steps which astound the policemen on duty in theball-rooms.
"Bravo!" said M. de Tregars, forcing himself to smile,--"bravo!"
He saw clearly now what sor
t of woman was Mme. Zelie Cadelle; howhe should speak to her, and what cords he might yet cause to vibratewithin her. He recognized the true daughter of Paris, wayward andnervous, who in the midst of her disorders preserves an instinctivepride; who places her independence far above all the money in theworld; who gives, rather than sells, herself; who knows no law buther caprice, no morality but the policeman, no religion but pleasure.
As soon as she had returned to her seat,
"There you are dancing gayly," he said, "and poor Vincent isdoubtless groaning at this moment over his separation from you."
"Ah! I'd pity him if I had time," she said.
"He was fond of you?"
"Don't speak of it."
"If he had not been fond of you, he would not have put you here."
Mme. Zelie made a little face of equivocal meaning.
"What proof is that?" she murmured.
"He would not have spent so much money for you."
"For me!" she interrupted,--"for me! What have I cost him of anyconsequence? Is it for me that he bought, furnished, and fittedout this house? No, no! He had the cage; and he put in the bird,--the first he happened to find. He brought me here as he mighthave brought any other woman, young or old, pretty or ugly, blondeor brunette. As to what I spent here, it was a mere bagatellecompared with what the other did,--the one before me. Amanda kepttelling me all the time I was a fool. You may believe me, then,when I tell you that M. Vincent will not wet many handkerchiefswith the tears he'll shed over me."
"But do you know what became of the one before you, as you call her,--whether she is alive or dead, and owing to what circumstances thecage became empty?"
But, instead of answering, Mme. Zelie was fixing upon Marius deTregars a suspicious glance. And, after a moment only,
"Why do you ask me that?" she said.
"I would like to know."
She did not permit him to proceed. Rising from her seat, andstepping briskly up to him,
"Do you belong to the police, by chance?" she asked in a tone ofmistrust.
If she was anxious, it was evidently because she had motives ofanxiety which she had concealed. If, two or three times she hadinterrupted herself, it was because, manifestly, she had a secretto keep. If the idea of police had come into her mind, it isbecause, very probably, they had recommended her to be on her guard.
M. de Tregars understood all this, and, also, that he had tried togo too fast.
"Do I look like a secret police-agent?" he asked.
She was examining him with all her power of penetration.
"Not at all, I confess," she replied. "But, if you are not one, howis it that you come to my house, without knowing me from this sideof sole leather, to ask me a whole lot of questions, which I amfool enough to answer?"
"I told you I was a friend of M. Favoral."
"Who's that Favoral?"
"That's M. Vincent's real name, madame."
She opened her eyes wide.
"You must be mistaken. I never heard him called any thing butVincent."
"It is because he had especial motives for concealing hispersonality. The money he spent here did not belong to him: hetook it, he stole it, from the Mutual Credit Company where he wascashier, and where he left a deficit of twelve millions."
Mme. Zelie stepped back as though she had trodden on a snake.
"It's impossible!" she cried.
"It is the exact truth. Haven't you seen in the papers the caseof Vincent Favoral, cashier of the Mutual Credit?"
And, taking a paper from his pocket, he handed it to the young woman,saying, "Read."
But she pushed it back, not without a slight blush. "Oh, I believeyou!" she said.
The fact is, and Marius understood it, she did not read veryfluently.
"The worst of M. Vincent Favoral's conduct," he resumed, "is, that,while he was throwing away money here by the handful, he subjectedhis family to the most cruel privations."
"Oh!"
"He refused the necessaries of life to his wife, the best and theworthiest of women; he never gave a cent to his son; and hedeprived his daughter of every thing."
"Ah, if I could have suspected such a thing!" murmured Mme. Zelie.
"Finally, and to cap the--climax, he has gone, leaving his wifeand children literally without bread."
Transported with indignation,
"Why, that man must have been a horrible old scoundrel!" exclaimedthe young woman.
This is just the point to which M. de Tregars wished to bring her.
"And now," he resumed, "you must understand the enormous interestwe have in knowing what has become of him."
"I have already told you."
M. de Tregars had risen, in his turn. Taking Mme. Zelie's hands,and fixing upon her one of those acute looks, which search for thetruth down to the innermost recesses of the conscience,
"Come, my dear child," he began in a penetrating voice, "you are aworthy and honest girl. Will you leave in the most frightfuldespair a family who appeal to your heart? Be sure that no harmwill ever happen through us to Vincent Favoral."
She raised her hand, as they do to take an oath in a court ofjustice, and, in a solemn tone,
"I swear," she uttered, "that I went to the station with M. Vincent;that he assured me that he was going to Brazil; that he had hispassage-ticket; and that all his baggage was marked, 'Rio deJaneiro.'"
The disappointment was great: and M. de Tregars manifested it bya gesture.
"At least," he insisted, "tell me who the woman was whose place youtook here."
But already had the young woman returned to her feeling of mistrust.
"How in the world do you expect me to know?" she replied. "Go andask Amanda. I have no accounts to give you. Besides, I have togo and finish packing my trunks. So good-by, and enjoy yourself."
And she went out so quick, that she caught Amanda, the chambermaid,kneeling behind the door.
"So that woman was listening," thought M. de Tregars, anxious anddissatisfied.
But it was in vain that he begged Mme. Zelie to return, and to heara single word more. She disappeared; and he had to resign himselfto leave the house without learning any thing more for the present.
He had remained there very long; and he was wondering, as he walkedout, whether Maxence had not got tired waiting for him in the littlecafe where he had sent him.
But Maxence had remained faithfully at his post. And when Marius deTregars came to sit by him, whilst exclaiming, "Here you are at last!"he called his attention at the same time with a gesture, and a winkfrom the corner of his eye, to two men sitting at the adjoining tablebefore a bowl of punch.
Certain, now, that M. de Tregars would remain on the lookout, Maxencewas knocking on the table with his fist, to call the waiter, who wasbusy playing billiards with a customer.
And when he came at last, justly annoyed at being disturbed,
"Give us two mugs of beer," Maxence ordered, "and bring us a packof cards."
M. de Tregars understood very well that something extraordinary hadhappened; but, unable to guess what, he leaned over towards hiscompanion.
"What is it?" he whispered.
"We must hear what these two men are saying; and we'll play a gameof piquet for a subterfuge."
The waiter returned, bringing two glasses of a muddy liquid, a pieceof cloth, the color of which was concealed under a layer of dirt, anda pack of cards horribly soft and greasy.
"My deal," said Maxence.
And he began shuffling, and giving the cards, whilst M. de Tregarswas examining the punch-drinkers at the next table.
In one of the two, a man still young, wearing a striped vest withalpaca sleeves, he thought he recognized one of the rascally-lookingfellows he had caught a glimpse of in Mme. Zelie Cadelle'scarriage-house.
The other, an old man, whose inflamed complexion and blossomingnose betrayed old habits of drunkenness, looked very much like acoachman out of place. Baseness and duplicity bloomed upo
n hiscountenance; and the brightness of his small eyes rendered stillmore alarming the slyly obsequious smile that was stereotyped uponhis thin and pale lips.
They were so completely absorbed in their conversation, that theypaid no attention whatever to what was going on around them.
"Then," the old one was saying, "it's all over."
"Entirely. The house is sold."
"And the boss?"
"Gone to America."
"What! Suddenly, that way?"
"No. We supposed he was going on some journey, because, every daysince the beginning of the week, they were bringing in trunks andboxes; but no one knew exactly when he would go. Now, in the nightof Saturday to Sunday, he drops in the house like a bombshell, wakesup everybody, and says he must leave immediately. At once weharness up, we load the baggage up, we drive him to the WesternRailway Station, and good-by, Vincent!"
"And the young lady?"
"She's got to get out in the next twenty-four hours; but she don'tseem to mind it one bit. The fact is we are the ones who grievethe most, after all."
"Is it possible?"
"It is so. She was a good girl; and we won't soon find one likeher."
The old man seemed distressed.
"Bad luck!" he growled. "I would have liked that house myself."
"Oh, I dare say you would!"
"And there is no way to get in?"
"Can't tell. It will be well to see the others, those who havebought. But I mistrust them: they look too stupid not to be mean."
Listening intently to the conversation of these two men, it wasmechanically and at random that M. de Tregars and Maxence threwtheir cards on the table, and uttered the common terms of the gameof piquet,
"Five cards! Tierce, major! Three aces."
Meantime the old man was going on,
"Who knows but what M. Vincent may come back?"
"No danger of that!"
"Why?"
The other looked carefully around, and, seeing only two playersabsorbed in their game,
"Because," he replied, "M. Vincent is completely ruined, it seems.He spent all his money, and a good deal of other people's moneybesides. Amanda, the chambermaid, told me; and I guess she knows."
"You thought he was so rich!"
"He was. But no matter how big a bag is: if you keep taking outof it, you must get to the bottom."
"Then he spent a great deal?"
"It's incredible! I have been in extravagant houses; but nowherehave I ever seen money fly as it has during the five months that Ihave been in that house. A regular pillage! Everybody helpedthemselves; and what was not in the house, they could get from thetradespeople, have it charged on the bill; and it was all paidwithout a word."
"Then, yes, indeed, the money must have gone pretty lively," saidthe old one in a convinced tone.
"Well," replied the other, "that was nothing yet. Amanda thechambermaid who has been in the house fifteen years, told us somestories that would make you jump. She was not much for spending,Zelie; but some of the others, it seems . . ."
It required the greatest effort on the part of Maxence and M. deTregars not to play, but only to pretend to play, and to continueto count imaginary points,--"One, two, three, four."
Fortunately the coachman with the red nose seemed much interested.
"What others?" he asked.
"That I don't know any thing about," replied the younger valet."But you may imagine that there must have been more than one in thatlittle house during the many years that M. Vincent owned it,--a man whohadn't his equal for women, and who was worth millions."
"And what was his business?"
"Don't know that, either."
"What! there were ten of you in the house, and you didn't know theprofession of the man who paid you all?"
"We were all new."
"The chambermaid, Amanda, must have known."
"When she was asked, she said that he was a merchant. One thing issure, he was a queer old chap."
So interested was the old coachman, that, seeing the punch-bowlempty, he called for another. His comrade could not fail to showhis appreciation of such politeness.
"Ah, yes!" he went on, "old Vincent was an eccentric fellow; andnever, to see him, could you have suspected that he cut up suchcapers, and that he threw money away by the handful."
"Indeed!"
"Imagine a man about fifty years old, stiff as a post, with a faceabout as pleasant as a prison-gate. That's the boss! Summer andwinter, he wore laced shoes, blue stockings, gray pantaloons thatwere too short, a cotton necktie, and a frock-coat that came downto his ankles. In the street, you would have taken him for a hosierwho had retired before his fortune was made."
"You don't say so!"
"No, never have I seen a man look so much like an old miser. Youthink, perhaps, that he came in a carriage. Not a bit of it! Hecame in the omnibus, my boy, and outside too, for three sous; andwhen it rained he opened his umbrella. But the moment he hadcrossed the threshold of the house, presto, pass! complete changeof scene. The miser became pacha. He took off his old duds, puton a blue velvet robe; and then there was nothing handsome enough,nothing good enough, nothing expensive enough for him. And, whenhe had acted the my lord to his heart's content, he put on his oldtraps again, resumed his prison-gate face, climbed up on top of theomnibus, and went off as he came."
"And you were not surprised, all of you, at such a life?"
"Very much so."
"And you did not think that these singular whims must concealsomething?"
"Oh, but we did!"
"And you didn't try to find out what that something was?"
"How could we?"
"Was it very difficult to follow your boss, and ascertain where hewent, after leaving the house?"
"Certainly not; but what then?"
"Why," he replied, "you would have found out his secret in the end;and then you would have gone to him and told him, 'Give me so much,or I peach.'"
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