XIII.
It was pure childishness on Pascal's part to doubt Baron Trigault'swillingness to agree even with closed eyes to any measures he mightpropose. He ought to have recollected that their interests wereidentical, that they hated the same men with equal hatred, and that theywere equally resolved upon vengeance. And certainly the events which hadoccurred since their last interview had not been of a nature to modifythe baron's intentions. However, misfortune had rendered Pascal timidand suspicious, and it was not until he reached the baron's house thathis fears vanished. The manner in which the servants received him provedthat the baron greatly esteemed him: for the man must be stupid indeedwho does not know that the greeting of the servants is ever in harmonywith the feelings of the master of the house. "Will you be kind enoughto follow me?" said the servant to whom he handed his card. "The baronis very busy, but that doesn't matter. He gave orders that monsieurshould be shown up as soon as he arrived."
Pascal followed without a word. The elegance of this princely abodenever varied. The same careless, prodigal, regal luxury was apparenteverywhere. The servants--whose name was legion--were always passingnoiselessly to and fro. A pair of horses, worth at least a thousandlouis, and harnessed to the baroness's brougham, were stamping andneighing in the courtyard; and the hall was, as usual, fragrant with theperfume of rare flowers, renewed every morning.
On his first visit Pascal had only seen the apartments on the groundfloor. This time his guide remarked that he would take him upstairsto the baron's private room. He was slowly ascending the broad marblestaircase and admiring the bronze balustrade, the rich carpet, themagnificent frescoes, and the costly statuary, when a rustle of silkresounded near him. He had only time to step aside, and a lady passedhim rapidly, without turning her head, or even deigning to look at him.She did not appear more than forty, and she was still very beautiful,with her golden hair dressed high on the back of her head. Her costume,brilliant enough in hue to frighten a cab horse, was extremely eccentricin cut; but it certainly set off her peculiar style of beauty toadmirable advantage.
"That's the baroness," whispered the servant, after she had passed.
Pascal did not need to be told this. He had seen her but once, and thenonly for a second; but it had been under such circumstances that heshould never forget her so long as he lived. And now he understood thestrange and terrible impression which had been produced upon him when hesaw her first. Mademoiselle Marguerite was the living prototype of thislady, save as regards the color of her hair. And there would have beenno difference in this respect had the baroness allowed her locks toretain their natural tint. Her hair had been black, like Marguerite's,and black it had remained until she was thirty-five, when she bleachedit to the fashionable color of the time. And every fourth day even nowher hairdresser came to apply a certain compound to her head, afterwhich she remained in the bright sunlight for several hours, so as toimpart a livelier shade of gold to her dyed locks.
Pascal had scarcely regained his composure, when the servant opened thedoor of an immense apartment as large as a handsome suite of rooms,and magnificently furnished. Here sat the baron, surrounded by severalclerks, who were busily engaged in putting a pile of papers anddocuments in order.
But as soon as Pascal entered, the baron rose, and cordially holding outhis hand, exclaimed, "Ah! here you are at last, Monsieur Maumejan!"
So he had not forgotten the name which Pascal had assumed. This was afavorable omen. "I called, monsieur----" began the young man.
"Yes--I know--I know!" interrupted the baron. "Come, we must have atalk."
And, taking Pascal's arm, he led him into his private sanctum, separatedfrom the large apartment by folding-doors, which had been removed, andreplaced by hangings. Once there he indicated by a gesture that theycould be heard in the adjoining room, and that it was necessary tospeak in a low tone. "You have no doubt come," said he, "for the moneyI promised that dear Marquis de Valorsay--I have it all ready for you;here it is." So saying, he opened an escritoire, and took out a largeroll of bank-notes, which he handed to Pascal. "Here, count it," headded, "and see if the amount is correct."
But Pascal, whose face had suddenly become as red as fire, did not uttera word in reply. On receiving this money a new but quite natural thoughthad entered his mind for the first time. "What is the matter?" inquiredthe baron, surprised by this sudden embarrassment. "What has happened toyou?"
"Nothing, monsieur, nothing! Only I was asking myself--if I ought--if Ican accept this money."
"Bah! and why not?"
"Because if you lend it to M. de Valorsay, it is perhaps lost."
"PERHAPS! You are polite----"
"Yes, monsieur, you are right. I ought to have said that it is sure tobe lost; and hence my embarrassment. Is it not solely on my accountthat you sacrifice a sum which would be a fortune to many men? Yes. Verywell, then. I am asking myself if it is right for me to accept such asacrifice, when it is by no means certain that I shall ever be able torequite it. Shall I ever have a hundred thousand francs to repay you?"
"But isn't this money absolutely necessary to enable you to winValorsay's confidence?"
"Yes, and if it belonged to me I should not hesitate."
Though the baron had formed a high estimate of Pascal's character, hewas astonished and deeply touched by these scruples, and this excessivedelicacy of feeling. Like most opulent men, he knew few poor people whowore their poverty with grace and dignity, and who did not snatch at atwenty-franc piece wherever they chanced to find it. "Ah, well, my dearFerailleur," he said, kindly, "don't trouble yourself on this score.It's not at your request nor solely on your account that I make thissacrifice."
"Oh!"
"No; I give you my word of honor it isn't. Leaving you quite out of thequestion, I should still have lent Valorsay this money; and if you donot wish to take it to him, I shall send it by some one else."
After that, Pascal could not demur any further. He took the baron'sproffered hand and pressed it warmly, uttering only this one word, mademore eloquent than any protestations by the fervor with which it wasspoken: "Thanks!"
The baron shrugged his shoulders good-naturedly, like a man who fails tosee that he has done anything at all meritorious, or even worthy of theslightest acknowledgment. "And you must understand, my dear sir," heresumed, "that you can employ this sum as you choose, in advancing yourinterests, which are identical with mine. You can give the money toValorsay at such a time and under such conditions as will best serveyour plans. Give it to him in an hour or in a month, all at once or infifty different instalments, as you please. Only use it like the ropeone ties round a dog's neck before drowning him."
The keenest penetration was concealed beneath the baron's carelessgood-nature. Pascal knew this, and feeling that his protector understoodhim, he said: "You overpower me with kindness."
"Nonsense!"
"You offer me just what I came to ask for."
"So much the better."
"But you will allow me to explain my intentions?"
"It is quite unnecessary, my dear sir."
"Excuse me; if I follow my present plan, I shall be obliged to ascribecertain sentiments, words, and even acts, to you, which you mightperhaps disavow, and--"
With a careless toss of the head, accompanied by a disdainful snap ofthe fingers, the baron interrupted him. "Set to work, and don't giveyourself the slightest uneasiness about that. You may do whatever youlike, if you only succeed in unmasking this dear marquis, and Coralth,his worthy acolyte. Show me up in whatever light you choose. Who willyou be in Valorsay's eyes? Why, Maumejan, one of my business agents,and I can always throw the blame on you." And as if to prove that he haddivined even the details of the scheme devised by his young friend, headded: "Besides, every one knows that a millionaire's business agent isanything but a pleasant person to deal with. A millionaire, who is nota fool, must always smile, and no matter how absurd the demands upon himmay be, he must always answer: 'Yes, certainly, certainly--I should beonly
too happy!' But then he adds: 'You must arrange the matter with myagent. Confer with him.' And it is the unlucky agent who must object,declare that his employer has no money at his disposal just now, andfinally say, 'No.'"
Pascal was still disposed to insist, but the baron was obdurate. "Oh!enough, enough!" he exclaimed. "Don't waste precious time in idlediscussion. The days are only twenty-four hours long: and as you see,I'm very busy, so busy that I've not touched a card since the day beforeyesterday. I am preparing a delightful surprise for Madame Trigault, mydaughter, and my son-in-law. It has been rather a delicate operation,but I flatter myself that I have succeeded finely." And he laughed alaugh that was not pleasant to hear. "You see, I've had enough ofpaying several hundred thousand francs a year for the privilege ofbeing sneered at by my wife, scorned by my daughter, swindled by myson-in-law, and vilified and anathematized by all three of them. I amstill willing to go on paying, but only on conditions that they giveme in return for my money, if not the reality, at least a show of love,affection, and respect. I'm determined to have the semblance of thesethings; I'm quite resolved on that. Yes, I will have myself treated withdeference. I'll be petted and coddled and made much of, or else I'llsuspend payment. It was one of my old friends, a parvenu like myself--aman whose domestic happiness I have envied for many years--who gave methis receipt: 'At home,' said he, 'with my wife, my daughters, and mysons-in-law, I'm like a peer of England at an hotel. I order first-classhappiness at so much a month. If I get it I pay for it; if I don't getit, I cut off the supplies. When I get extras I pay for them cheerfully,without haggling. Follow my example, my old friend, and you'll have acomfortable life.' And I shall follow his advice, M. Ferailleur, for Iam convinced that his theory is sound and practicable. I have led thislife long enough. I'll spend my last days in peace, or, as God hears me,I'll let my family die of starvation!"
His face was purple, and the veins on his forehead stood out likewhipcords, but not so much from anger as from the constraint he imposedupon himself by speaking in a whisper. He drew a long breath, and thenin a calmer tone, resumed: "But you must make haste and succeed, M.Ferailleur, if you don't want the young girl you love to be deprivedof her rightful heritage. You do not know into what unworthy hands theChalusse property is about to fall." He was on the point of tellingPascal the story of Madame d'Argeles and M. Wilkie, when he wasinterrupted by the sound of a lively controversy in the hall.
"Who's taking such liberty in my house?" the baron began. But thenext instant he heard some one fling open the door of the large roomadjoining, and then a coarse, guttural voice called out: "What! he isn'there! This is too much!"
The baron made an angry gesture. "That's Kami-Bey," said he, "the Turkwhom I am playing that great game of cards with. The devil take him! Hewill be sure to force his way in here--so we may as well join him, M.Ferailleur."
On reentering the adjoining apartment Pascal beheld a very corpulentman, with a very red face, a straggling beard, a flat nose, small,beadlike eyes, and sensual lips. He was clad in a black frock-coat,buttoned tight to the throat, and he wore a fez. This costume gave himthe appearance of a chunky bottle, sealed with red wax. Such, indeed,was Kami-Bey, a specimen of those semi-barbarians, loaded with gold whoare not attracted to Paris by its splendors and glories, but rather byits corruption--people who come there persuaded that money will purchaseanything and everything, and who often return home with the sameconviction. Kami was no doubt more impudent, more cynical and morearrogant than others of his class. As he was more wealthy, he had morefollowers; he had been more toadied and flattered, and victimized toa greater extent by the host of female intriguers, who look upon everyforeigner as their rightful prey.
He spoke French passably well, but with an abominable accent. "Hereyou are at last!" he exclaimed, as the baron entered the room. "I wasbecoming very anxious."
"About what, prince?"
Why Kami-Bey was called prince no one knew, not even the man himself.Perhaps it was because the lackey who opened his carriage door on hisarrival at the Grand Hotel had addressed him by that title.
"About what!" he repeated. "You have won more than three hundredthousand francs from me, and I was wondering if you intended to give methe slip."
The baron frowned, and this time he omitted the title of princealtogether. "It seems to me, sir, that according to our agreement, wewere to play until one of us had won five hundred thousand francs," hesaid haughtily.
"That's true--but we ought to play every day."
"Possibly: but I'm very busy just now. I wrote to you explaining this,did I not? If you are at all uneasy, tear up the book in which theresults of our games are noted, and that shall be the end of it. Youwill gain considerably by the operation."
Kami-Bey felt that the baron would not tolerate his arrogance, and sowith more moderation he exclaimed: "It isn't strange that I've becomesuspicious. I'm so victimized on every side. Because I'm a foreignerand immensely rich, everybody fancies he has a right to plunder me. Men,women, hotel-keepers and merchants, all unite in defrauding me. If Ibuy pictures, they sell me vile daubs at fabulous prices. They askridiculous amounts for horses, and then give me worthless, worn-outanimals. Everybody borrows money from me--and I'm never repaid. I shallbe ruined if this sort of thing goes on much longer."
He had taken a seat, and the baron saw that he was not likely to getrid of his guest very soon; so approaching Pascal he whispered: "You hadbetter go off, or you may miss Valorsay. And be careful, mind; for he isexceedingly shrewd. Courage and good luck!"
Courage! It was not necessary to recommend that to Pascal. He who hadtriumphed over his despair in the terrible hours, when he had reason tosuppose that Marguerite believed him guilty and had abandoned him, couldscarcely lack courage. While he was condemned to inaction, his mind hadno doubt been assailed by countless doubts and fears; but now that heknew whom he was to attack--now that the decisive moment had come, hewas endowed with indomitable energy; he had turned to bronze, and hefelt sure that nothing could disconcert or even trouble him in future.The weapons he had to use were not at all to his taste, but he had notbeen allowed a choice in the matter; and since his enemies had decidedon a warfare of duplicity, he was resolved to surpass them in cunning,and vanquish them by deception.
So, while hastening to the Marquis de Valorsay's residence, he tookstock of his chances, and recapitulated his resources, striving toforesee and remember everything. Thus if he failed--for he admitted thepossibility of defeat, without believing in it--he would have no causeto reproach himself. Only fools find consolation in saying: "Who couldhave foreseen that?" Great minds do foresee. And Pascal felt almostcertain that he was fully prepared for any emergency.
That morning, before leaving home, he had dressed with extreme care,realizing that the shabby clothes he had worn on his first visit to theTrigault mansion would not be appropriate on such an occasion as this.The baron's agent could scarcely have a poverty-stricken appearance,for contact with millionaires is supposed to procure wealth as surelyas proximity to fire insures warmth. So he arrayed himself in a suitof black, which was neither too elegant nor too much worn, and donneda broad white necktie. He could see only one immediate, decisive chanceagainst him. M. de Valorsay might possibly recognize him. He thoughtnot, but he was not sure; and anxious on this account, he at firstdecided to disguise himself. However, on reflection, he concluded notto do so. An imperfect disguise would attract attention and awakensuspicion; and could he really disguise his physiognomy? He was certainhe could not. Very few men are capable of doing so successfully, evenafter long experience. Only two or three detectives and half a dozenactors possess the art of really changing their lineaments. Thus afterweighing the pros and cons, Pascal determined to present himself as hewas at the marquis's house.
On approaching M. de Valorsay's residence in the Avenue des ChampsElysees, he slackened his pace. The mansion, which stood between acourtyard and a garden, was very large and handsome. The stables andcarriage-house--really elegant structures--stood o
n either side of thecourtyard, near the half-open gate of which five or six servants wereamusing themselves by teasing a large dog. Pascal was just saying tohimself that the coast was clear, and that he should incur no danger bygoing in, when he saw the servants step aside, the gate swing back, andM. de Coralth emerged, accompanied by a young, fair-haired man, whosemustaches were waxed and turned up in the most audacious fashion. Theywere arm in arm, and turned in the direction of the Arc de Triomphe.Pascal's heart thrilled with joy. "Fate favors me!" he said to himself."If it hadn't been for Kami-Bey, who detained me a full quarter of anhour at Baron Trigault's, I should have found myself face to face withthat miserable viscount, and then all would have been lost. But now I'msafe!"
It was with this encouraging thought that he approached the house.
"The marquis is very busy this morning," said the servant to whom Pascaladdressed himself at the gate. "I doubt if he can see you." But whenPascal handed him one of his visiting cards, bearing the name ofMaumejan, with this addition in pencil: "Who calls as the representativeof Baron Trigault," the valet's face changed as if by enchantment."Oh!" said he, "that's quite a different matter. If you come from BaronTrigault, you will be received with all the respect due to the Messiah.Come in. I will announce you myself."
Everything in M. de Valorsay's house, as at the baron's residence,indicated great wealth, and yet a close observer would have detected adifference. The luxury of the Rue de la Ville-l'Eveque was of a real andsubstantial character, which one did not find in the Avenue des ChampsElysees. Everything in the marquis's abode bore marks of the haste whichmars the merest trifle produced at the present age. "Take a seat here,and I will see where the marquis is," said the servant, as he usheredPascal into a large drawing-room. The apartment was elegantly furnished,but had somewhat lost its freshness; the carpet, which had once been amarvel of beauty, was stained in several places, and as the servants hadnot always been careful to keep the shutters closed, the sunlight hadperceptibly faded the curtains. The attention of visitors was at onceattracted by the number of gold and silver cups, vases, and statuettesscattered about on side-tables and cheffoniers. Each of these objectsbore an inscription, setting forth that it had been won at such a race,in such a year, by such a horse, belonging to the Marquis de Valorsay.These were indeed the marquis's chief claims to glory, and had cost himat least half of the immense fortune he had inherited. However, Pascaldid not take much interest in these trophies, so the time of waitingseemed long. "Valorsay is playing the diplomat," he thought. "He doesn'twish to appear to be anxious. Unfortunately, his servant has betrayedhim."
At last the valet returned. "The marquis will see you now, monsieur,"said he.
This summons affected Pascal's heart like the first roll of a drumbeating the charge. But his coolness did not desert him. "Now is thedecisive moment," he thought. "Heaven grant that he may not recognizeme!" And with a firm step he followed the valet.
M. de Valorsay was seated in the apartment he usually occupied when heremained at home--a little smoking-room connected with his bedroom. Hewas to all intents busily engaged in examining some sporting journals.A bottle of Madeira and a partially filled glass stood near him. As theservant announced "Monsieur Maumejan!" he looked up and his eyes metPascal's. But his glance did not waver; not a muscle of his face moved;his countenance retained its usually cold and disdainful expression.Evidently he had not the slightest suspicion that the man he had triedto ruin--his mortal enemy--was standing there before him.
"M. Maumejan," said he, "Baron Trigault's agent?"
"Yes, monsieur----"
"Pray be seated. I am just finishing here; I shall be at leisure in amoment."
Pascal took a chair. He had feared that he might not be able to retainhis self-control when he found himself in the presence of the scoundrelwho, after destroying his happiness, ruining his future, and deprivinghim of his honor--dearer than life itself--was at that momentendeavoring, by the most infamous manoeuvres, to rob him of the womanhe loved. "If my blood mounted to my brain," he had thought, "I shouldspring upon him and strangle him!" But no. His arteries did not throbmore quickly; it was with perfect calmness--the calmness of a strongnature--that he stealthily watched M. de Valorsay. If he had seen him aweek before he would have been startled by the change which the past fewdays had wrought in this brilliant nobleman's appearance. He was littlemore than a shadow of his former self. And seen at this hour, beforeplacing himself in his valet's hands, before his premature decrepitudehad been concealed by the artifices of the toilet, he was reallyfrightful. His face was haggard, and his red and swollen eyelidsbetrayed a long-continued want of sleep.
The fact is, he had suffered terribly during the past week. A man maybe a scapegrace and a spendthrift and may boast of it; he may have noprinciple and no conscience; he may be immoral, he may defy God and thedevil, but it is nevertheless true that he suffers fearful anguishof mind when he is guilty, for the first time, of a positive crime,forbidden by the laws and punishable with the galleys. And who can sayhow many crimes the Marquis de Valorsay had committed since the dayhe provided his accomplice, the Viscount de Coralth, with those fatalcards? And apart from this there was something extremely appalling inthe position of this ruined millionaire, who was contending desperatelyagainst his creditors for the vain appearance of splendor, withthe despairing energy of a ship-wrecked mariner struggling for thepossession of a floating spar. Had he not confessed to M. Fortunat thathe had suffered the tortures of the damned in his struggle to maintaina show of wealth, while he was often without a penny in his pocket, andwas ever subject to the pitiless surveillance of thirty servants?His agony, when he thought of his precarious condition, could only becompared to that of a miner, who, while ascending from the bowels ofthe earth, finds that the rope, upon which his life depends, is slowlyparting strand by strand, and who asks himself, in terror, if the fewthreads that still remain unsevered will be strong enough to raise himto the mouth of the pit.
However, the moment which M. de Valorsay had asked for had lengthenedinto a quarter of an hour, and he had not yet finished his work. "Whatthe devil is he doing?" wondered Pascal, who was following his enemy'sslightest movement with eager curiosity.
Countless sporting newspapers were strewn over the table, the chairs,and the floor around the marquis, who took them up one after another,glanced rapidly through their columns, and threw them on the flooragain, or placed them on a pile before him, first marking certainpassages with a red pencil. At last, probably fearing that Pascal wasgrowing impatient, he looked up and said:
"I am really very sorry to keep you waiting so long, but some one iswaiting for this work to be completed."
"Oh! pray continue, Monsieur le Marquis," interrupted Pascal. "Strangeto say, I have a little leisure at my command just now."
The marquis seemed to feel that it was necessary to make some remarkin acknowledgment of this courtesy on his visitor's part, and so, ashe continued his work, he condescended to explain its purpose. "I amplaying the part of a commentator," he remarked. "I sold seven of myhorses a few days ago, and the purchaser, before paying the stipulatedprice, naturally required an exact and authentic statement of eachanimal's performances. However, even this does not seem to havesatisfied the gentleman, for he has now taken it into his head to askfor such copies of the sporting journals as record the victories ordefeats of the animals he has purchased. A gentleman is not so exactinggenerally. It is true, however, that I have a foreigner to dealwith--one of those half-civilized nabobs who come here every year toastonish the Parisians with their wealth and display, and who, by theiridiotic prodigality, have so increased the price of everything that lifehas become well-nigh an impossibility to such of us as don't care tosquander an entire fortune in a couple of years. These folks are thecurse of Paris, for, with but few exceptions, they only use theirmillions to enrich notorious women, scoundrels, hotel-keepers, andjockeys."
Pascal at once thought of the foreigner, Kami-Bey, whom he had met atBaron Trigault's half an h
our before, and who had complained so bitterlyof having had worthless scrubs palmed off upon him when he fanciedhe had purchased valuable animals. "Kami-Bey must be this exactingpurchaser," thought Pascal, "and it's probable that the marquis,desperately straitened as he is, has committed one of those fraudswhich lead their perpetrator to prison?" The surmise was by no meansfar-fetched, for in sporting matters, at least, there was cause tosuspect Valorsay of great elasticity of conscience. Had he not alreadybeen accused of defrauding Domingo's champions by a conspiracy?
At last the marquis heaved a sigh of relief. "I've finished," hemuttered, as he tied up the bundle of papers he had laid aside, andafter ringing the bell, he said to the servant who answered the summons:"Here, take this package to Prince Kami at the Grand Hotel."
Pascal's presentiments had not deceived him, and he said to himself:"This is a good thing to know. Before this evening I shall look intothis affair a little."
A storm was decidedly gathering over the Marquis de Valorsay's head. Didhe know it? Certainly he must have expected it. Still he had sworn tostand fast until the end. Besides, he would not concede that all waslost; and, like most great gamblers, he told himself that since hehad so much at stake, he might reasonably hope to succeed. He rose,stretched himself, as a man is apt to do after the conclusion of atiresome task, and then, leaning against the mantel-shelf, he exclaimed:"Now, Monsieur Maumejan, let us speak of the business that brings youhere." His negligent attitude and his careless tone were admirablyassumed, but a shrewd observer would not have been deceived by them, orby the indifferent manner in which he added: "You bring me some moneyfrom Baron Trigault?"
Pascal shook his head, as he replied: "I regret to say that I don't,Monsieur le Marquis."
This response had the same effect as a heavy rock falling upon M.de Valorsay's bald pate. He turned whiter than his linen, and eventottered, as if his lame leg, which was so much affected by suddenchanges in the weather, had utterly refused all service. "What! Youhaven't--this is undoubtedly a joke."
"It is only too serious!"
"But I had the baron's word."
"Oh! his word!"
"I had his solemn promise."
"It is sometimes impossible to keep one's promises, sir."
The consequences of this disappointment must have been terrible, for themarquis could not maintain his self-control. Still he strove valiantlyto conceal his emotion. He thought to himself that if he allowed thisman to see what a terrible blow this really was, he would virtuallyconfess his absolute ruin, and have to renounce the struggle, and ownhimself vanquished and lost. So, summoning all his energy, he masteredhis emotion in some degree, and, instead of appearing desperate,succeeded in looking only irritated and annoyed. "In short," he resumed,angrily, "you have brought no money! I counted on a hundred thousandfrancs this morning. Nothing! This is kind on the baron's part! Butprobably he doesn't understand the embarrassing position in which heplaces me."
"Excuse me, Monsieur le Marquis, he understands it so well that, insteadof informing you by a simple note, he sent me to acquaint you with hissincere regret. When I left him an hour ago, he was really disconsolate.He was particularly anxious I should tell you that it was not his fault.He counted upon the payment of two very large amounts, and both of thesehave failed him."
The marquis had now recovered a little from the shock, though he wasstill very pale. He looked at Pascal with evident distrust, for he knewwith what sweet excuses well-bred people envelope their refusals. "Sothe baron is disconsolate," he remarked, in a tone of perceptible irony.
"He is indeed!"
"Poor baron! Ah! I pity him--pity him deeply."
As cold and as unmoved as a statue, Pascal seemed quite unconsciousof the effect of the message he had brought--quite unconscious ofValorsay's sufferings and self-constraint. "You think I am jesting,monsieur," he said, quietly, "but I assure you that the baron is veryshort of money just now."
"Nonsense! a man worth seven or eight millions of francs."
"I should say ten millions, at least."
"Then the excuse is all the more absurd."
Pascal shrugged his shoulders disdainfully. "It astonishes me, Monsieurle Marquis, to hear YOU speak in this way. It is not the magnitude ofa man's income that constitutes affluence, but rather the way in whichthat income is spent. In this foolish age, almost all rich people arein arrears. What income does the baron derive from his ten millions offrancs? Not more than five hundred thousand. A very handsome fortune, nodoubt, and I should be more than content with it. But the barongambles, and the baroness is the most elegant--in other words, the mostextravagant--woman in Paris. They both of them love luxury, and theirestablishment is kept up in princely style. What are five hundredthousand francs under such circumstances as those? Their situation mustbe something like that of several millionaires of my acquaintance, whoare obliged to take their silver to the pawn-broker's while waiting fortheir rents to fall due."
This excuse might not be true, but it was certainly a very plausibleone. Had not a recent lawsuit revealed the fact that certain rich folks,who had an income of more than a hundred thousand francs a year, hadkept a thieving coachman for six months, simply because, in all thattime, they were not able to raise the eight hundred francs they owedhim, and which must be paid before he was dismissed? M. de Valorsay knewthis, but a terrible disquietude seized him. Had people begun to suspectHIS embarrassment? Had any rumor of it reached Baron Trigault's ears?This was what he wished to ascertain. "Let us understand each other,Monsieur Maumejan," said he; "the baron was unable to procure this moneyhe had promised me to-day--but when will he let me have it?"
Pascal opened his eyes in pretended astonishment, and it was with an airof the utmost simplicity that he replied, "I concluded the baron wouldtake no further action in the matter. I judged so from his partingwords: 'It consoles me a little,' he said, 'to think that the Marquisde Valorsay is very rich and very well known, and that he has a dozenfriends who will be delighted to do him this trifling service.'"
Until now, M. de Valorsay had cherished a hope that the loan was onlydelayed, and the certainty that the decision was final, crushed him. "Myruin's known," he thought, and feeling that his strength was desertinghim, he poured out a brimming glass of Madeira, which he emptied at asingle draught. The wine lent him fictitious energy. Fury mounted to hisbrain; he lost all control over himself, and springing up, with his facepurple with rage, he exclaimed: "It's a shame! an infamous shame! andTrigault deserves to be severely punished. He has no business to keep aman in hot water for three days about such a trifle. If he had said'No' in the first place, I should have made other arrangements, and Ishouldn't now find myself in a dilemma from which I see no possible wayof escape. No gentleman would have been guilty of such a contemptibleact--no one but a shopkeeper or a thief would have stooped to suchmeanness! This is the result of admitting these ridiculous parvenus intosociety, just because they happen to have money."
It certainly hurt Pascal to hear these insults heaped upon the baron,and it hurt him all the more since they were entirely due to the coursehe had personally adopted.
However, a gesture, even a frown, might endanger the success of hisundertaking, so he preserved an impassive countenance. "I must say thatI don't understand your indignation, Monsieur le Marquis," he said,coldly. "I can see why you might feel annoyed, but why you should flyinto a passion--"
"Ah! you don't know----" began M. de Valorsay, but he stopped short. Itwas time. The truth had almost escaped his lips.
"Know what?" inquired Pascal.
But the marquis was again upon his guard. "I have a debt that must bepaid this evening, at all hazards--a sacred obligation--in short, a debtof honor."
"A debt of one hundred thousand francs?"
"No, it is only twenty-five thousand."
"Is it possible that a rich man like you can be troubled about such atrifling sum, which any one would lend you?"
M. de Valorsay interrupted him with a contemptuous sneer. "Didn't
youjust tell me that we were living in an age when no one has any moneyexcept those who are in business? The richest of my friends haveonly enough for themselves, even if they have enough. The time of oldstockings, stuffed full of savings, is past! Shall I apply to a banker?He would ask two days for reflection, and he would require the names oftwo or three of my friends on the note. If I go to my notary, there willbe endless forms to be gone through, and remonstrances without number."
For a moment or more already, Pascal had been moving about uneasilyon his chair, like a man who is waiting for an opportunity to make asuggestion, and as soon as M. de Valorsay paused to take breath, heexclaimed: "Upon my word! if I dared----"
"Well?"
"I would offer to obtain you these twenty-five thousand francs."
"You?"
"Yes, I."
"Before six o'clock this evening?"
"Certainly."
A glass of ice-water presented to a parched traveller while journeyingover the desert sands of Sahara could not impart greater relief anddelight than the marquis experienced on hearing Pascal's offer. Heliterally felt that he was restored to life.
For ruin was inevitable if he did not succeed in obtaining twenty-fivethousand francs that day. If he could procure that amount he mightobtain a momentary respite, and to gain time was the main thing.Moreover, the offer was a sufficient proof that his financialdifficulties were not known. "Ah! I have had a fortunate escape," hethought. "What if I had revealed the truth!"
But he was careful to conceal the secret joy that filled his heart. Hefeared lest he might say "Yes" too quickly, so betray his secret, andplace himself at the mercy of the baron's envoy. "I would willinglyaccept your offer," he exclaimed, "if----"
"If what?"
"Would it be proper for me, after the baron has treated me in such acontemptible manner, to have any dealings with one of his subordinates?"
Pascal protested vigorously. "Allow me to say," he exclaimed, "that I amnot any one's subordinate. Trigault is my client, like thirty or fortyothers--nothing more. He employs me in certain difficult and delicatenegotiations, which I conduct to the best of my ability. He pays me, andwe are each of us perfectly independent of the other."
From the look which Valorsay gave Pascal, one would have sworn that hesuspected who his visitor really was. But such was not the case. It wassimply this: a strange, but by no means impossible, idea had flashedthrough the marquis's mind--"Oh!" thought he, "this unknown party withwhom Maumejan offers to negotiate the loan, is probably none otherthan the baron himself. That worthy gambler has invented this ingeniousmethod of obliging me so as to extort a rate of interest which he wouldnot dare to demand openly. And why not? There have been plenty of suchinstances. Isn't it a well-known fact that the N---- Brothers, themost rigidly honest financiers in the world, have never under anycircumstances directly obliged one of their friends? If their ownfather, of whom they always speak with the greatest veneration, askedthem to lend him fifty francs for a month, they would say to him asthey do to every one else: 'We are rather cramped just now; but see thatrascal B----.' And that rascal B----, who is the most pliable tool inexistence, will, providing father N---- offers unquestionable security,lend the old gentleman his son's money at from twelve to fifteen percent. interest, plus a small commission."
These ideas and recollections were of considerable assistance inrestoring Valorsay's composure. "Enough said, then," he answered,lightly. "I accept with pleasure. But----"
"Ah! so there is a but!"
"There is always one. I must warn you that it will be difficult for meto repay this loan in less than two months."
This, then, was the time he thought necessary for the accomplishment ofhis designs.
"That does not matter," replied Pascal, "and even if you desire a longerdelay.""That will be unnecessary, thank you! But there is one thing more."
"What is that?"
"What will this negotiation cost me?"
Pascal had expected this question, and he had prepared a reply which wasin perfect keeping with the spirit of the role he had assumed. "I shallcharge you the ordinary rates," he answered, "six per cent. interest,plus one-and-a-half per cent. commission."
"Bah!"
"Plus the remuneration for my trouble and services."
"And what remuneration will satisfy you?"
"One thousand francs. Is it too much?"
If the marquis had retained the shadow of a doubt, it vanished now."Ah!" he sneered, "that strikes me as a very liberal compensation foryour services!"
But he would gladly have recalled the sneer when he saw how the agentreceived it. Pascal drew up his head with a deeply injured air, andremarked in the chilling tone of a person who is strongly tempted toretract his word, "Then there is nothing more to be said, M. le Marquis;and since you find the conditions onerous----"
"I did not say so," interrupted M. de Valorsay, quickly--"I did not eventhink it!"
This gave Pascal an opportunity to present his programme, and he availedhimself of it. "Others may pretend to oblige people merely from motivesof friendship," he remarked. "But I am more honest. If I do anythingin the way of business, I expect to be paid for it; and I vary my termsaccording to my clients' need. It would be impossible to have a fixedprice for services like mine. When, on two different occasions, I saveda gentleman of your acquaintance from bankruptcy, I asked ten thousandfrancs the first time, and fifteen thousand the second. Was that anexaggerated estimate of my services? I might boast with truth thatI once assured the marriage of a brilliant viscount by keeping hiscreditors quiet while his courtship was in progress. The day after thewedding he paid me twenty thousand francs. Didn't he owe them to me? If,instead of being a trifle short of money, you happened to be ruined,I should not ask you merely for a thousand francs. I should study yourposition, and fix my terms according to the magnitude of the peril fromwhich I rescued you."
There was not a sentence, not a word of this cynical explanation whichhad not been carefully studied beforehand. There was not an expressionwhich was not a tempting bait to the marquis's evil instincts. But Mde Valorsay made no sign. "I see that you are a shrewd man, MonsieurMaumejan," said he, "and if I am ever in difficulty I shall apply toyou."
Pascal bowed with an air of assumed modesty; but he was inwardlyjubilant, for he felt that his enemy would certainly fall into the trapwhich had been set for him. "And now, when shall I have this money?"inquired the marquis.
"By four o'clock."
"And I need fear no disappointment as in the baron's case?"
"Certainly not. What interest would M. Trigault have in lending you ahundred thousand francs? None whatever. With me it is quite a differentthing. The profit I'm to realize is your security. In business mattersdistrust your friends. Apply to usurers rather than to them. Questionpeople who are in difficulties, and ninety-five out of a hundred willtell you that their worst troubles have been caused by those who calledthemselves their best friends."
He had risen to take leave, when the door of the smoking-room opened,and a servant appeared and said in an undertone: "Madame Leon is in thedrawing-room with Dr. Jodon. They wish to see you, monsieur."
Though Pascal had armed himself well against any unexpected mischance,he changed color on hearing the name of the worthy housekeeper. "All islost if this creature sees and recognizes me!" he thought.
Fortunately the Marquis was too much engrossed in his own affairs tonote the momentary agitation of Baron Trigault's envoy. "It is strangethat I can't have five minutes' peace and quietness," he said. "I toldyou that I was at home to no one."
"But----"
"Enough! Let the lady and gentleman wait."
The servant withdrew.
The thought of passing out through the drawing-room filled Pascal withconsternation. How could he hope to escape Madame Leon's keen eyes?Fortunately M. de Valorsay came to his relief, for as Pascal was aboutto open the same door by which he had entered, the marquis exclaimed:"Not that way! Pass out here--this is the
shortest way."
And leading him through his bedroom the marquis conducted him to thestaircase, where he even feigned to offer him his hand, saying: "Aspeedy return, dear M. Maumejan."
It is not at the moment of peril that people endure the worst agony; itis afterward, when they have escaped it. As he went down the staircase,Pascal wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. "Ah! it was a narrowescape!" he exclaimed, under his breath.
He felt proud of the manner in which he had sustained a part sorepugnant to his nature. He was amazed to find that he could utterfalsehoods with such a calm, unblushing face--he was astonished at hisown audacity. And what a success he had achieved! He felt certain thathe had just slipped round M. de Valorsay's neck the noose which wouldstrangle him later on. Still he was considerably disturbed by MadameLeon's visit to the marquis. "What is she doing here with thisphysician?" he asked himself again and again. "Who is this man? What newpiece of infamy are they plotting to require his services?" One of thosepresentiments which are prompted by the logic of events, told him thatthis physician had been, or would be, one of the actors in the vileconspiracy of which he and Mademoiselle Marguerite were the victims.But he had no leisure to devote to the solution of this enigma. Timewas flying, and before returning to the marquis's house he must find outwhat had aroused the suspicions of the purchaser of those horses, thebiographies of which had been so rigidly exacted. Through the baron, hemight hope to obtain an interview with Kami-Bey--and so it was to thebaron's house that Pascal directed his steps.
After the more than cordial reception which the baron had granted himthat morning, it was quite natural that the servants should receive himas a friend of the household. They would scarcely allow him to explainwhat he desired. It was the pompous head valet in person who ushered himinto one of the small reception-rooms, exclaiming: "The baron's engaged,but I'm sure he would be annoyed if he failed to see you; and I willinform him at once."
A moment later, the baron entered quite breathless from his hurrieddescent of the staircase. "Ah! you have been successful," he exclaimed,on seeing Pascal's face.
"Everything is progressing as favorably as I could wish, Monsieurle Baron, but I must speak with that foreigner whom I met here thismorning."
"Kami-Bey?"
"Yes." And in a few words, Pascal explained the situation.
"Providence is certainly on our side," said the baron, thoughtfully."Kami is still here."
"Is it possible?"
"It's a fact. Did you think it would be easy to get rid of thisconfounded Turk! He invited himself to breakfast without the slightestceremony, and would give me no peace until I promised to play with himfor two hours. I was closeted with him, cards in hand, when they told meyou were here. Come, we'll go and question him."
They found the interesting foreigner in a savage mood. He had beenwinning when the servant came for the baron, and he feared that aninterruption would change the luck. "What the devil took you away?" heexclaimed, with that coarseness of manner which was habitual with him,and which the flatterers around him styled "form." "A man should no morebe disturbed when he's playing than when he's eating."
"Come, come, prince," said the baron, good-naturedly, "don't be angry,and I'll give you three hours instead of two. But I have a favor to askof you."
The foreigner at once thrust his hand into his pocket, with such anatural gesture, that neither the baron nor Pascal could repress asmile, and he himself understanding the cause of their merriment brokeinto a hearty laugh. "It's purely from force of habit," said he. "Ah!since I've been in Paris---- But what do you wish?"
The baron sat down, and gravely replied: "You told us scarcely an hourago that you had been cheated in the purchase of some horses."
"Cheated! it was worse than highway robbery."
"Would it be indiscreet to ask you by whom you have been defrauded?"
Kami-Bey's purple cheeks became a trifle pale. "Hum!" said he, inan altered tone of voice, "that is a delicate question. My defrauderappears to be a dangerous fellow--a duellist--and if I disclose hisknavery, he is quite capable of picking a quarrel with me--not that I amafraid of him, I assure you, but my principles don't allow me to fight.When a man has an income of a million, he doesn't care to expose himselfto the dangers of a duel."
"But, prince, in France folks don't do a scoundrel the honor to crossswords with him."
"That's just what my steward, who is a Frenchman, told me; but nomatter. Besides, I am not sufficiently sure of the man's guilt to noiseit abroad. I have no positive proofs as yet."
He was evidently terribly frightened, and the first thing to be done wasto reassure him. "Come," insisted the baron, "tell us the man's name.This gentleman here"--pointing to Pascal--"is one of my most esteemedfriends. I will answer for him as I would for myself; and we will swearupon our honor not to reveal the secret we ask you for, without yourpermission."
"Truly?"
"You have our word of honor," replied both the baron and Pascal in abreath.
After casting a half-frightened glance around him, the worthy Turkseemed to gather courage. But no! He deliberated some time, and thenrejoined: "Really, I'm not sufficiently convinced of the accuracy of mysuspicions to incur the risk of accusing a man who belongs in the verybest society; a man who is very rich and very highly respected, and whowould tolerate no imputations upon his character."
It was plain that he would not speak. The baron shrugged his shoulders,but Pascal stepped bravely forward. "Then I will tell you, prince," hesaid, "the name that you are determined to hide from us."
"Oh!"
"But you must allow me to remark that the baron and myself retract thepromise we made you just now."
"Naturally."
"Then, your defrauder is the Marquis de Valorsay!"
If Kami-Bey had seen an emissary of his sovereign enter theroom carrying the fatal bow-string he would not have seemed moreterror-stricken. He sprang nervously on to his short, fat legs, his eyeswildly dilating and his hands fluttering despairingly. "Don't speak soloud! don't speak so loud!" he exclaimed, imploringly.
As he did not even attempt to deny it, the truth of the assertion mightbe taken for granted. But Pascal was not content with this. "Now that weknow the fact, I hope, Prince, that you will be sufficiently obliging totell us how it all happened," he remarked.
Poor Kami. He was in despair. "Alas!" he replied, reluctantly, "nothingcould be more simple. I wanted to set up a racing stable. Not that Icare much for sport. I can scarcely distinguish a horse from a mule--butmorning and evening, everybody says to me: 'Prince, a man like you oughtto make your name celebrated on the turf.' Besides I never open a paperwithout reading: 'Such a man ought to be a patron of the noblest ofsports.' At last, I said to myself: 'Yes, they are right. I ought totake part in racing.' So I began to look about for some horses. I hadpurchased several, when the Marquis de Valorsay proposed to sell mesome of his, some that were very well known, and that had--so he assuredme--won at least ten times the amount they had cost him. I acceptedhis offer, and visited his stables, where I selected seven of his besthorses and paid for them; and I paid a good round price, I assure you.Now comes the knavery. He has not given me the horses I purchased. Thereal animals, the valuable ones--have been sold in England under falsenames, and although the horses sent to me may be like the others inappearance, they are really only common animals, wanting both in bloodand speed."
Pascal and the baron exchanged astonished glances. It must be confessedthat frauds of every description are common enough in the racing world,and a great deal of dishonest manoeuvring results from greed for gainunited with the fever of gambling. But never before had any one beenaccused of such an audacious and impudent piece of rascality as thatwhich Kami-Bey imputed to Valorsay.
"How did you fail to discover this at the outset, prince?" inquiredPascal in an incredulous tone.
"Because my time was so much occupied."
"But your servants?"
"Ah! that's another thing. I shouldn't be
at all surprised if it wereproved that the man who has charge of my stables had been bribed by themarquis."
"Then, how were your suspicions aroused?"
"It was only by the merest chance. A jockey whom I thought of employinghad often ridden one of the animals which I fancied myself the owner of.Naturally, I showed him the horse, but he had no sooner set eyes on itthan he exclaimed: 'That the horse! Never! You've been cheated, prince!'Then we examined the others, and the fraud became apparent."
Knowing Kami's character better than Pascal, the baron had goodreason to distrust the accuracy of these statements. For the Turkishmillionaire's superb contempt of money was only affected. Vanity aloneunloosed his purse-strings. He was quite capable of presenting JennyFancy with a necklace costing five-and-twenty thousand francs for thesake of seeing his generosity recorded in the Gaulois or the Figarothe next day; but he would refuse to give a trifle to the mother of astarving family. Besides, it was his ambition to be regarded as the mostswindled man in Europe. But though he was shamefully imposed upon, itwas not voluntarily--for there was a strong dose of Arabian avarice anddistrust in his composition.
"Frankly, prince," said the baron, "your story sounds like one of thewild legends of your native land. Valorsay is certainly no fool. How isit possible that he could have been guilty of so gross a fraud--a fraudwhich might be, which could not fail to be discovered in twenty-fourhours--and which, once proven, would dishonor him forever?"
"Before perpetrating such a piece of deception upon any one else,he would have thought twice; but upon me it's different. Isn't it anestablished fact that a person incurs no risk in robbing Kami-Bey?"
"Had I been in your place I should have quietly instituted aninvestigation."
"What good would that have done? Besides, the sale was only conditional,and took place under the seal of secrecy. The marquis reserved the rightto take his horses back on payment of a stipulated sum, and the time hewas to have for consideration only expired on the day before yesterday."
"Eh! why didn't you tell us that at first?" cried the baron.
The marquis's rascality was now easily explained. Finding himself in adesperate strait, and feeling that his salvation was certain if hecould only gain a little time, he had yielded to temptation, sayingto himself, like unfaithful cashiers when they first appropriate theiremployers' money: "I will pay it back, and no one will ever know it!"However, when the day of settlement came he had found himself in asdeplorable a plight as on the day of the robbery, and he had beencompelled to yield to the force of circumstances.
"And what do you intend to do, prince?" asked Pascal.
"Ah! I am still in doubt. I have compelled the marquis to give methe papers in which the exploits of these horses are recorded. Thesestatements will be of service in case of a law-suit. But shall I orshall I not enter a complaint against him? If it were a mere question ofmoney I should let the matter drop; but he has defrauded and deceived meso outrageously that it annoys me. On the other hand, to confess thathe has cheated me in this fashion would cover me with ridicule. Besides,the man is a dangerous enemy. And what would become of me if I happenedto side against him? I should be compelled to leave Paris. Ah! I'd giveten thousand francs to any one who'd settle this cursed affair for me!"
His perplexity was so great, and his anger so intense, for that once hetore off his eternal fez and flung it on to the table, swearing like adrayman. However, controlling himself at last, he exclaimed in a toneof assumed indifference: "No matter, there's been enough said on thissubject for one day--I'm here to play--so let us begin, baron. For weare wasting precious time, as you so often remark."
Pascal had nothing more to learn; so he shook hands with the baron, madean appointment with him for the same evening, and went away.
It was only half-past two; a good hour and a half remained at hisdisposal. "I will profit by this opportunity to eat something," hethought; a sudden faintness reminding him that he had taken nothing buta cup of chocolate that day. Thereupon perceiving a cafe near by, heentered it, ordered breakfast, and lingered there until it was time toreturn to the Marquis de Valorsay's. He would have gone there beforethe appointed time if he had merely listened to the promptings of hisimpatience, so thoroughly was he persuaded that this second interviewwould be decisive. But prudence advised him not to expose himself to thedanger of an encounter with Madame Leon and Dr. Jodon.
"Well! Monsieur Maumejan," cried the marquis, as soon as Pascal made hisappearance. He had been counting the seconds with intense anxiety, ashis tone of voice unmistakably revealed.
In reply Pascal gravely drew from his pocket twenty-four bank-notes, ofa thousand francs each, and he placed them upon the table, saying:"Here is the amount, Monsieur le Marquis. I have, of course, deductedmy commission. Now, if you will write and sign a note for twenty-fivethousand francs, payable to my order two months hence, our business forto-day will be concluded."
M. de Valorsay's hand trembled nervously as he penned the desired note,for, until the very last moment, he had doubted the promises of thisunknown agent who had made his appearance so opportunely Then, when thedocument was signed, he carelessly slipped the money into a drawerand exclaimed: "So here's the needful to pay my debt of honor; but myembarrassment is none the less great. These twenty-four thousand francswon't take the place of the hundred thousand which Baron Trigaultpromised me."
And, as Pascal made no reply, the marquis began a desultory tramp up anddown the smoking-room. He was very pale, his brows were knit; he lookedlike a man who was meditating a decisive step, and who was calculatingthe consequences. But having no time to waste in hesitation, he soonpaused in front of Pascal, and exclaimed: "Since you have just lent metwenty-four thousand francs, why won't you lend me the rest?"
But Pascal shook his head. "One risks nothing by advancing twenty-fivethousand francs to a person in your position, Monsieur le Marquis.Whatever happens, such a sum as that can always be gathered fromthe wreck. But double or triple the amount! The deuce! that requiresreflection, and I must understand the situation thoroughly."
"And if I told you that I am--almost ruined, what would you reply?"
"I shouldn't be so very much surprised."
M. de Valorsay had now gone too far to draw back. "Ah, well!" heresumed, "the truth is this--my affairs are terribly involved."
"The devil! You should have told me that sooner."
"Wait; I am about to retrieve my fortune--to make it even larger thanit has ever been. I am on the point of contracting a marriage which willmake me one of the richest men in Paris; but I must have a little timeto bring the affair to a successful termination, and I need money--andmy creditors are pressing me unmercifully. You told me this morning thatyou once assisted a man who was in a similar position. Will you help me?You can set your own price on your services."
More easily overcome by joy than by sorrow, Pascal almost betrayedhimself. He had attained his object. Still, he succeeded in conqueringhis emotion, and it was in a perfectly calm voice that he replied:"I can promise nothing until I understand the situation, Monsieur leMarquis. Will you explain it to me? I am listening."