XV.
Agitated and excited though he was, M. Wilkie had not once ceased tothink of M. de Coralth and the Marquis de Valorsay. What would theydo in such a position, and how should he act to conform himself to theprobable example of these models of deportment? Manifestly he ought toassume that stolid and insolent air of boredom which is considered asure indication of birth and breeding. Convinced of this, and seizedwith a laudable desire to emulate such distinguished examples, he hadperched himself upon a trunk, where he still sat with his legs crossed.He now pretended to suppress a yawn, as he growled, "What! some morelong phrases--and another melodramatic display?"
Absorbed in the memories she had invoked, Madame d'Argeles paid no heedto Wilkie's impertinence. "Yes, I must talk with you," she said, "andmore for your sake than for my own. I must tell you who I am, andthrough what strange vicissitudes I have passed. You know what familyI belong to. I will tell you, however--for you may be ignorant of thefact--that our house is the equal of any in France in lineage, splendorof alliance, and fortune. When I was a child, my parents lived at theHotel de Chalusse, in the Faubourg Saint Germain, a perfect palace,surrounded by one of those immense gardens, which are no longer seen inParis--a real park, shaded with century-old trees. Certainly everythingthat money could procure, or vanity desire, was within my reach; andyet my youth was wretchedly unhappy. I scarcely knew my father, whowas devoured by ambition, and had thrown himself body and soul intothe vortex of politics. Either my mother did not love me, or thoughtit beneath her dignity to make any display of sensibility; but at allevents her reserve had raised a wall of ice between herself and me. Asfor my brother he was too much engrossed in pleasure to think of amere child. So I lived quite alone, too proud to accept the love andfriendship of my inferiors--abandoned to the dangerous inspirations ofsolitude, and with no other consolation than my books--books which hadbeen chosen for me by my mother's confessor, and which were calculatedto fill my imagination with visionary and romantic fancies. The onlyconversation I heard dealt with the means of leaving all the familyfortune to my brother, so that he might uphold the splendor of the name,and with the necessity of marrying me to some superannuated nobleman whowould take me without a dowry, or of compelling me to enter one of thosearistocratic convents, which are the refuge, and often the prison, ofpoor girls of noble birth.
"I do not pretend to justify my fault, I am only explaining it. Ithought myself the most unfortunate being in the world--and such Ireally was, since I honestly believed it--when I happened to meet ArthurGordon, your father. I saw him for the first time at a fete given at thehouse of the Comte de Commarin. How he, a mere adventurer, had succeededin forcing his way into the most exclusive society in the world, is apoint which I have never been able to explain. But, alas! it is only tootrue that when our glances met for the first time, my heart was stirredto its inmost depths; I felt that it was no longer mine--that I was nolonger free! Ah! why does not God allow a man's face to reflect atleast something of his nature? This man, who was a corrupt and audacioushypocrite, had that air of apparent nobility and frankness whichinspires you with unlimited confidence, and the melancholy expression onhis features seemed to indicate that he had known sorrow, and had goodcause to rail at destiny. In his whole appearance there was certainlya mysterious and fatal charm. I afterward learned that this was only anatural result of the wild life he had led. He was only twenty-six, andhe had already been the commander of a slave ship, and had fought inMexico at the head of one of those guerilla bands which make politics anexcuse for pillage and murder. He divined only too well the impressionhe had made upon my heart. I met him twice afterward in society. He didnot speak to me; he even pretended to avoid me, but standing a littleon one side, he watched my every movement with burning eyes in whichI fancied I could read a passion as absorbing as my own. At last heventured to write to me. The moment a letter addressed to me in anunknown hand was covertly handed me by my maid, I divined that it camefrom him. I was frightened, and my first impulse was to take it, notto my mother--whom I regarded as my natural enemy--but to my father.However, he chanced to be absent; I kept the letter, I read it, Ianswered it--and he wrote again.
"Alas! from that moment my conduct was inexcusable. I knew that it wasworse than a fault to continue this clandestine correspondence. I knewmy parents would never give my hand in marriage to a man who was not ofnoble birth. I knew that I was risking my reputation, the spotless honorof our house, my happiness, and life! Still I persisted--I was possessedwith a strange madness that made me ready to brave every danger.Besides, he gave me no time to breathe, or reflect. Everywhere,constantly, every instant, he compelled me to think of him. By somemiracle of address and audacity, he had discovered a means of intrudingupon my presence, even in my father's house. For instance, every morningI found the vases in my room full of choice flowers, though I was neverable to discover what hands had placed them there. Ah! how can one helpbelieving in an omnipresent passion which one inhales with the very airone breathes! How can one resist it?
"I only discovered Arthur Gordon's object when it was too late. Hehad come to Paris with the fixed determination of trapping some richheiress, and forcing her family to give her to him with a largedowry, after one of those disgraceful scandals which render a marriageinevitable. At the very same time he was pursuing two other rich younggirls, persuaded that one of the three would certainly become hisvictim.
"I was the first to yield. One of those unforeseen events which arethe work of Providence, was destined to decide my fate. Several times,already, in compliance with Arthur's urgent entreaties, I had met him atnight time in a little pavilion in our garden. This pavilion containeda billiard-room and a spacious gallery in which my brother practisedfencing and pistol shooting with his masters and friends. There, thanksto the liberty I enjoyed, we thought ourselves perfectly secure fromobservation, and we were imprudent enough to light the candles. Onenight when I had just joined Arthur in the pavilion, I thought I heardthe sound of hoarse, heavy breathing behind me. I turned round in afright and saw my brother standing on the threshold. Oh! then I realizedhow guilty I had been! I felt that one or the other of these two men--mylover or my brother--would not leave that room alive.
"I tried to speak, to throw myself between them, but I found I couldneither speak nor move; it was as if I had been turned to stone. Nor didthey exchange a word at first. But at last my brother drew two swordsfrom their scabbards, and throwing one at Arthur's feet, exclaimed: 'Ihave no wish to assassinate you. Defend yourself, and save your life ifyou can!' And as Arthur hesitated, and seemed to be trying to gain timeinstead of picking up the weapon that was lying on the floor near him,my brother struck him in the face with the flat side of his sword, andcried: 'Now will you fight, you coward! In an instant it was all over.Arthur caught up the sword, and springing upon my brother, disarmed him,and wounded him in the breast. I saw this. I saw the blood spurt outupon my lover's hands. I saw my brother stagger, beat the air wildlywith his hands, and fall apparently lifeless to the floor. Then I, too,lost consciousness and fell!"
Any one who had seen Madame d'Argeles as she stood there recoiling inhorror, with her features contracted, and her eyes dilated, wouldhave realized that by strength of will she had dispelled the mistsenshrouding the past, and distinctly beheld the scene she wasdescribing. She seemed to experience anew the same agony of terror shehad felt twenty years before; and this lent such poignant intensity tothe interest of her narrative that if M. Wilkie's heart was not exactlytouched, he was, as he afterward confessed, at least rather interested.But Madame d'Argeles seemed to have forgotten his existence. She wipedaway the foam-flecked blood which had risen to her lips, and in the samemournful voice resumed her story.
"When I regained my senses it was morning, and I was lying, stilldressed, on a bed in a strange room. Arthur Gordon was standing at thefoot of the bed anxiously watching my movements. He did not give me timeto question him. 'You are in my house,' said he. 'Your brother is dead!'Almighty God! I thought I sho
uld die as well. I hoped so. I prayedfor death. But, in spite of my sobs, he pitilessly continued: 'It is aterrible misfortune which I shall never cease to regret. And yet, it washis own fault. You, who witnessed the scene, know that it was so.You can still see on my face the mark of the blow he dealt me. I onlydefended myself and you.' I was ignorant then of the accepted code ofduelling. I did not know that by throwing himself upon my brother beforehe was on guard, Arthur Gordon had virtually assassinated him. He reliedupon my ignorance for the success of the sinister farce he was playing.'When I saw your brother fall,' he continued, 'I was wild with terror;and not knowing what I did, I caught you up in my arms and brought youhere. But don't tremble, I know that you are not in my house of your ownfree will. A carriage is below and awaits your orders to convey youto your parents' home. It will be easy to find an explanation for lastnight's catastrophe. Slander will not venture to attack such a familyas yours.' He spoke in the constrained tone, and with that air which abrave man, condemned to death, would assume in giving utterance to hislast wishes. I felt as if I were going mad. 'And you!' I exclaimed,'you! What will become of you?' He shook his head, and with a lookof anguish, replied: 'Me! What does it matter about me! I am ruinedundoubtedly. So much the better. Nothing matters now that I must liveapart from you'! Ah! he knew my heart. He knew his power! Swayed by anemotion which was madness rather than heroism, I sprang toward him, andclasped him in my arms: 'Then I, too, am lost!' I cried. 'Since fateunited us, nothing but death shall separate us. I love you. I am youraccomplice. Let the curse fall upon both!'
"A keen observer would certainly have detected a gleam of fiendish joyin his eyes. But he protested, or pretended to protest. With feignedenergy he refused to accept such a sacrifice. He could not link mydestiny to his, for misery had ever been his lot; and now that this lastand most terrible misfortune had overtaken him, he was more than everconvinced that there was a curse hanging over him! He would not sufferme to bring misery upon myself, and eternal remorse upon him. But themore he repulsed me, the more obstinately I clung to him. The moreforcibly he showed the horror of the sacrifice, the more I was convincedthat my honor compelled me to make it. So at last he yielded, or seemedto yield, with transports of gratitude and love. 'Well! yes, I acceptyour sacrifice, my darling!' he exclaimed. 'I accept it; and before theGod who is looking down upon us, I swear that I will do all that is inhuman power to repay such sublime and marvellous devotion.' And, bendingover me, he printed a kiss upon my forehead. 'But we must fly!' heresumed, quickly. 'I have my happiness to defend now! I will not sufferany one to discover us and separate us now. We must start at once,without losing a moment, and gain my native land, America. There, weshall be safe. For rest assured they will search for us. Who knows buteven now the officers of the law are upon our track? Your family isall-powerful--I am a mere nobody--we should be crushed if they discoverus. They would bury you in a gloomy cloister, and I should be tried asa common thief, or as a vile assassin.' My only answer was: 'Let us go!Let us go at once!'
"It had been easy for him to foresee what the result of this interviewwould be. A vehicle was indeed waiting at the door, but not forthe purpose of conveying me to the Hotel de Chalusse--as was provedconclusively by the fact that his trunks were already strapped upon it.Besides, the coachman must have received his instructions in advance forhe drove us straight to the Havre Railway station without a word. Itwas not until some months afterward that these trifles, which entirelyescaped my notice at the time, opened my eyes to the truth. When wereached the station we found a train ready to start, and we took ourplaces in it. I tried to quiet my conscience with miserable sophistries.Remembering that God has said to woman: To follow thy husband thou shaltabandon all else, native land, paternal home, parents and friends, Itold myself that this was the husband whom my heart had instinctivelychosen, and that it was my duty to follow him and share his destiny. Andthus I fled with him, although I thought I left a corpse behind me--thecorpse of my only brother."
M. Wilkie was actually so much interested that he forgot his anxietyconcerning his attitude, and no longer thought of M. de Coralth and theMarquis de Valorsay. He even sprang up, and exclaimed: "Amazing!"
But Madame d'Argeles had already resumed: "Such was my great,inexcusable, irreparable fault. I have told you the whole truth, withouttrying either to conceal or justify anything. Listen to my chastisement!On our arrival at Le Havre the next day, Arthur confessed that he wasgreatly embarrassed financially. Owing to our precipitate flight, he hadnot had time to realize the property he possessed--at least so he toldme--a banker, on whom he had depended, had moreover failed him, and hehad not sufficient money to pay our passage to New York. This amazedme. My education had been absurd, like that of most young girls inmy station. I knew nothing of real life, of its requirements anddifficulties. I knew, of course, that there were rich people and poorpeople, that money was a necessity, and that those who did not possessit would stoop to any meanness to obtain it. But all this was not veryclear in my mind, and I never suspected that a few francs more orless would be a matter of vital importance. So I was not in the leastprepared for the request to which this confession served as preface, andArthur Gordon was obliged to ask me point-blank if I did not happen tohave some money about me, or some jewelry which could be converted intomoney. I gave him all I had, my purse containing a few louis, a ring anda necklace, with a handsome diamond cross attached to it. However,the total value was comparatively small, and such was Arthur'sdisappointment that he made a remark which frightened me even then,though I did not fully understand its shameful meaning until afterward:'A woman who repairs to a rendezvous should always have all thevaluables she possesses about her. One never knows what may happen.'
"Want of money was keeping us prisoners at Le Havre, when Arthur Gordonchanced to meet an old acquaintance, who was the captain of an Americansailing vessel. He confided his embarrassment to his friend, and thelatter, whose vessel was to sail at the end of the same week, kindlyoffered us a free passage. The voyage was one long torture to me, for itwas then that I first served my apprenticeship in shame and disgrace.By the captain's offensive gallantry, the lower officers' familiarity ofmanner, and the sailors' ironical glances whenever I appeared on deck, Isaw that my position was a secret for no one. Everybody knew that I wasthe mistress and not the wife of the man whom I called my husband: and,without being really conscious of it, perhaps, they made me cruellyexpiate my fault. Moreover, reason had regained its ascendency, my eyeswere gradually opening to the truth, and I was beginning to learn thereal character of the scoundrel for whom I had sacrificed all that makeslife desirable.
"Not that he had wholly ceased to practise dissimulation. But after theevening meal he often lingered at table smoking and drinking withhis friend the captain, and when he joined me afterward, heated withalcohol, he shocked me by advocating theories which were both noveland repulsive to me. Once, after drinking more than usual, he entirelyforgot his assumed part, and revealed himself in his true character.He declared he bitterly regretted that our love affair had ended sodisastrously. It was deplorable to think that so happily conceived andso skilfully conducted a scheme should have terminated in bloodshed. Andthe blow had fallen just as he fancied he had reached the goal; just ashe thought he would reap the reward of his labor. In a few weeks' moretime he would undoubtedly have gained sufficient influence over me topersuade me to elope with him. This would, of course, have caused agreat scandal; the next day there would have been a family conclave; acompromise would have been effected, and finally, a marriage arrangedwith a large dowry, to hush up the affair. 'And I should now be arich man,' he added, 'a very rich man--I should be rolling through thestreets of Paris in my carriage, instead of being on board this cursedship, eating salt cod twice a day, and living on charity.'
"Ah! it was no longer possible to doubt. The truth was as clear asdaylight. I had never been loved, not even an hour, not even a moment.The loving letters which had blinded me, the protestations of affectionwhich had deceived
me, had been addressed to my father's millions, notto myself. And not unfrequently I saw Arthur Gordon's face darken, as hetalked with evident anxiety about what he could do to earn a living forhimself and me in America. 'I have had trouble enough to get on alone,'he grumbled. 'What will it be now? To burden myself with a pennilesswife! What egregious folly! And yet I couldn't have acted differently--Iwas compelled to do it.' Why had he been compelled to do it? why hadhe not acted differently?--that was what I vainly puzzled my brainto explain. However, his gloomy fears of poverty were not realized. Adelightful surprise awaited him at New York. A relative had recentlydied, leaving him a legacy of fifty thousand dollars--a small fortune.I hoped that he would now cease his constant complaints, but he seemedeven more displeased than before. 'Such is the irony of fate,' herepeated again and again. 'With this money, I might easily have marrieda wife worth a hundred thousand dollars, and then I should be rich atlast!' After that, I had good reason to expect that I should soon beforsaken--but no, shortly after our arrival, he married me. Had he doneso out of respect for his word? I believed so. But, alas! this marriagewas the result of calculation, like everything else he did.
"We were living in New York, when one evening he came home, looking verypale and agitated. He had a French newspaper in his hand. 'Read this,'he said, handing it to me. I took the paper as he bade me, and readthat my brother had not been killed, that he was improving, and thathis recovery was now certain. And as I fell on my knees, bursting intotears, and thanking God for freeing me from such terrible remorse, heexclaimed: 'We are in a nice fix! I advise you to congratulate yourself!'From that time forward, I noticed he displayed the feverish anxiety ofa man who feels that he is constantly threatened with some great danger.A few days afterward, he said to me: 'I cannot endure this! Have ourtrunks ready to-morrow, and we will start South. Instead of callingourselves Gordon, we'll travel under the name of Grant.' I did notventure to question him. He had quite mastered me by his cruel tyranny,and I was accustomed to obey him like a slave in terror of the lash.However, during our long journey, I learned the cause of our flight andchange of name.
"'Your brother, d--n him,' he said, one day, 'is hunting for meeverywhere! He wants to kill me or to deliver me up to justice, I don'tknow which. He pretends that I tried to murder him!' It was strange;but Arthur Gordon, who was bravery personified, and who exposed himselfagain and again to the most frightful dangers, felt a wild, unreasoning,inconceivable fear of my brother. It was this dread that had decidedhim to burden himself with me. He feared that if he left me, lyingunconscious beside my brother's lifeless form, I might on recovering mysenses reveal the truth, and unconsciously act as his accuser. You wereborn in Richmond, Wilkie, where we remained nearly a month, during whichtime I saw but little of your father. He had formed the acquaintanceof several rich planters, and spent his time hunting and gambling withthem. Unfortunately, fifty thousand dollars could not last long at thisrate; and, in spite of his skill as a gambler, he returned home onemorning ruined. A fortnight later when he had sold our effects, andborrowed all the money he could, we embarked again for France. Itwas not until we reached Paris that I discovered the reasons that hadinfluenced him in returning to Europe. He had heard of my father andmother's death, and intended to compel me to claim my share of theproperty. He dared not appear in person on account of my brother. Atlast the hour of my vengeance had arrived; for I had taken a solemn oaththat this scoundrel who had ruined me should never enjoy the fortunewhich had been his only object in seducing me. I had sworn to die inchby inch and by the most frightful tortures rather than give him onepenny of the Chalusse millions. And I kept my word.
"When I told him that I was resolved not to assert my rights, he seemedutterly confounded. He could not understand how the down-trodden slavedared to revolt against him. And when he found that my decision wasirrevocable, I thought he would have an attack of apoplexy. It made himwild with rage to think that he was only separated from this immensefortune--the dream of his life--by a single word of mine, and to findthat he had not the power to extort that word from me. Then began astruggle between us, which became more and more frightful as themoney he possessed gradually dwindled away. But it was in vain that heresorted to brutal treatment; in vain that he struck me, tortured me,and dragged me about the floor by the hair of my head! The thought thatI was avenged, that his sufferings equalled mine, increased my couragea hundredfold, and made me almost insensible to physical pain. Hewould certainly have been the first to grow weary of the struggle, ifa fiendish plan had not occurred to him. He said to himself that ifhe could not conquer the wife, he COULD conquer the mother and hethreatened to turn his brutality to you, Wilkie. To save you--for I knewwhat he was capable of--I pretended to waver, and I asked twenty-fourhours for reflection. He granted them. But the next day I left himforever, flying from him with you in my arms."
M. Wilkie turned white, and a cold chill crept up his spine. However,it was not pity for his mother's sufferings, nor shame for his father'sinfamy that agitated him, but ever the same terrible fear of incurringthe enmity of this dangerous coveter of the Chalusse millions. Wouldhe be able to hold his father at bay even with the assistance of M. deCoralth and the Marquis de Valorsay? A thousand questions rose to hislips, for he was eager to hear the particulars of his mother's flight;but Madame d'Argeles hurried on with her story as if she feared herstrength would fail before she reached the end.
"I was alone with you, Wilkie, in this great city," she resumed. "Ahundred francs was all that I possessed. My first care was to find aplace of shelter. For sixteen francs a month, which I was compelled topay in advance, I found a small, meagrely furnished room in the FaubourgSaint Martin. It was badly ventilated and miserably lighted, but stillit was shelter. I said to myself that we could live there together by mywork, Wilkie. I was a proficient in feminine accomplishments; I was anexcellent musician, and I thought I should have no difficulty in earningthe four or five francs a day which I considered absolutely necessaryfor our subsistence. Alas! I discovered only too soon what chimericalhopes I had cherished. To give music lessons it is necessary to obtainpupils. Where should I find them? I had no one to recommend me, and Iscarcely dared show myself in the streets, so great was my fear thatyour father would discover our hiding-place. At last, I decided to tryto find some employment in needlework, and timidly offered my servicesat several shops. Alas! it is only those who have gone about from doorto door soliciting work who know the misery of the thing. To ask almswould be scarcely more humiliating. People sneered at me, and replied(when they deigned to reply at all) that 'there was no business doing,and they had all the help they wanted.' My evident inexperience wasprobably the cause of many of these refusals, as well as my attire, forI still had the appearance of being a rich woman. Who knows what theytook me for? Still the thought of you sustained me, Wilkie, and nothingdaunted me.
"I finally succeeded in obtaining some bands of muslin to embroider, andsome pieces of tapestry work to fill in. Unremunerative employment, nodoubt, especially to one ignorant of the art of working quickly, ratherthan well. By rising with daylight, and working until late at night,I scarcely succeeded in earning twenty sous a day. And it was not longbefore even this scanty resource failed me. Winter came, and the coldweather with it. One morning I changed my last five-franc piece--itlasted us a week. Then I pawned and sold everything that was notabsolutely indispensable until nothing was left me but my patched dressand a single skirt. And soon an evening came when the owner of ourmiserable den turned us into the street because I could no longer paythe rent.
"This was the final blow! I tottered away, clinging to the walls forsupport; too weak from lack of food to carry you. The rain was falling,and chilled us to the bones. You were crying bitterly. And all thatnight and all the next day, aimless and hopeless, we wandered about thestreets. I must either die of want or return to your father. I preferreddeath. Toward evening--instinct having led me to the Seine--I sat downon one of the stone benches of the Point-Neuf, holding you on my kne
esand watching the flow of the dark river below. There was a strangefascination--a promise of peace in its depths--that impelled me almostirresistibly to plunge into the flood. If I had been alone in the world,I should not have stopped to consider a second, but on your account,Wilkie, I hesitated."
Moved by the thought of the danger he had escaped, M. Wilkie shuddered."B-r-r-r!" he growled. "You did well to hesitate."
She did not even hear him, but continued: "I at last decided that itwas best to put an end to this misery, and rising with difficulty, I wasapproaching the parapet, when a gruff voice beside us exclaimed: 'Whatare you doing there?' I turned, thinking some police officer had spoken,but I was mistaken. By the light of the street lamp, I perceived a manwho looked some thirty years of age, and had a frank and rather genialface. Why this stranger instantly inspired me with unlimited confidenceI don't know. Perhaps it was an unconscious horror of death that made melong for any token of human sympathy. However it may have been, I toldhim my story, but not without changing the names, and omitting manyparticulars. He had taken a seat beside me on the bench, and I saw bigtears roll down his cheeks as I proceeded with my narrative. 'It isever so! it is ever so!' he muttered. 'To love is to incur the risk ofmartyrdom. It is to offer one's self as a victim to every perfidy, tothe basest treason and ingratitude.' The man who spoke in this fashionwas Baron Trigault. He did not allow me to finish my story. 'Enough!' hesuddenly exclaimed, 'follow me!' A cab was passing, he made us get in,and an hour later we were in a comfortable room, beside a blazing fire,with a generously spread table before us. The next day, moreover, wewere installed in a pleasant home. Alas! why wasn't the baron generousto the last? You were saved, Wilkie, but at what a price!"
She paused for a moment, her face redder than fire; but soon masteringher agitation, she resumed: "There was one great cause of dissensionbetween the baron and myself. I wished you to be educated, Wilkie,like the son of a noble family, while he desired you should receive thepractical training suited to a youth who would have to make his own wayin the world, and win position, fortune, and even name for himself.Ah! he was a thousand times right, as events have since proved only toowell! But maternal love blinded me, and, after an angry discussion,he went away, declaring he would not see me again until I became morereasonable. He thought that reflection would cure me of my folly.Unfortunately, he was not acquainted with the fatal obstinacy which isthe distinguishing characteristic of the Chalusse family. While I waswondering how I could find the means of carrying the plans I had formedfor you into execution, two of the baron's acquaintances presentedthemselves, with the following proposal: Aware of the enormous profitsderived by clandestine gambling dens, they had conceived the project ofopening a public establishment on a large scale, where any Parisian orforeigner, if he seemed to be a gentleman, and possessed of means,would find no difficulty in obtaining admission. By taking certainprecautions, and by establishing this gambling den in a privatedrawing-room, they believed the scheme practicable, and came to suggestthat I should keep the drawing-room in question, and be their partnerin the enterprise. Scarcely knowing what I pledged myself to, I acceptedtheir offer, influenced--I should rather say decided--by theexalted positions which both these gentlemen occupied, by the publicconsideration they enjoyed, and the honored names they bore. And thatsame week this house was rented and furnished, and I was installed in itunder the name of Lia d'Argeles.
"But this was not all. There still remained the task of creatingfor myself one of those scandalous reputations that attract publicattention. This proved an easy task, thanks to the assistance of mysilent partners, and the innocent simplicity of several of their friendsand certain journalists. As for myself, I did my best to insure thesuccess of the horrible farce which was to lend infamous notorietyto the name of Lia d'Argeles. I had magnificent equipages and superbdresses, and I made myself conspicuous at the theatres and all places ofpublic resort. As is generally the case when one is acting contrary toconscience, I called the most absurd sophistries to my assistance. Itried to convince myself that appearances are nothing, that reality iseverything, and that it did not matter if I were known as a courtesansince rumor lied, and my life WAS really chaste. When the baron hastenedto me and tried to rescue me from the abyss into which I had flungmyself; it was too late. I had discovered that the business would provesuccessful; and for your sake, I longed for money as passionately, asmadly, as any miser. Last year my gaming-room yielded more than onehundred and fifty thousand francs clear profit, and I received as myshare the thirty-five thousand francs which you squandered. Now you knowme as I really am. My associates, my partners, the men whose secretI have faithfully kept, walk the streets with their heads erect. Theyboast of their unsullied honor, and they are respected by every one.Such is the truth, and I have no reason to make their disgrace known.Besides, if I proclaimed it from the house-tops, no one would believeme. But you are my son, and I owe you the truth, the whole truth!"
In any age but the present, Madame d'Argeles's story would have seemedabsolutely incredible. Nowadays, however, such episodes are by no meansrare. Two men--two men of exalted rank and highly respected, to use acommon expression--associate in opening a gaming-house under the veryeyes of the police, and in coining money out of a woman's supposeddisgrace. 'Tis after all but an everyday occurrence.
The unhappy woman had told her story with apparent coldness, and yet,in her secret heart, she perhaps hoped that by disclosing her terriblesacrifice and long martyrdom, she would draw a burst of gratitude andtenderness from her son, calculated to repay her for all her sufferings.But the hope was vain. It would have been easier to draw water from asolid rock than to, extract a sympathetic tear from Wilkie's eyes.He was only alive to the practical side of this narrative, and whatimpressed him most was the impudent assurance of Madame d'Argeles'sbusiness associates. "Not a bad idea; not bad at all," he exclaimed.And, boiling over with curiosity, he continued: "I would give somethinghandsome to know those men's names. Really you ought to tell me. Itwould be worth one's while to know."
Any other person than this interesting young man would have beencrushed by the look his mother gave him--a look embodying the deepestdisappointment and contempt. "I think you must be mad," she remarkedcoldly. And as he sprang up, astonished that any one should doubt hisabundant supply of good sense, "Let us put an end to this," she sternlyadded.
Thereupon she hastily went into the adjoining room, reappearing a momentlater with a roll of papers in her hand. "Here," she remarked, "ismy marriage certificate, your certificate of birth, and a copy of myrenunciation--a perfectly valid document, since the court has authorizedit, owing to my husband's absence. All these proofs I am ready andwilling to place at your disposal, but on one condition."
This last word fell like a cold shower-bath upon Wilkie's exultant joy."What is this condition?" he anxiously inquired.
"It is that you should sign this deed, which has been drawn up by mynotary--a deed by which you pledge yourself to hand me the sum of twomillion francs on the day you come into possession of the Chalusseproperty."
Two millions! The immensity of the sum struck Wilkie dumb withconsternation. Nor did he forget that he would be compelled to givethe Viscount de Coralth the large reward he had promised him--a rewardpromised in writing, unfortunately. "I shall have nothing left," hebegan, piteously.
But with a disdainful gesture Madame d'Argeles interrupted him. "Setyour mind at rest," said she. "You will still be immensely rich. All theestimates which have been made are far below the mark. When I was a girlI often heard my father say that his income amounted to more than eighthundred thousand francs a year. My brother inherited the whole property,and I would be willing to swear that he never spent more than half ofhis income."
Wilkie's nerves had never been subjected to so severe a shock. Hetottered and his brain whirled. "Oh! oh!" he stammered. This was all hecould say.
"Only I must warn you of a more than probable deception," pursued Madamed'Argeles. "As my brother was firmly resolved
to deprive me even ofmy rightful portion of the estate, he concealed his fortune in everypossible way. It will undoubtedly require considerable time and troubleto gain possession of the whole. However I know a man, formerly theCount de Chalusse's confidential agent, who might aid you in this task."
"And this man's name?"
"Is Isidore Fortunat. I saved his card for you. Here it is."
M. Wilkie took it up, placed it carefully in his pocket, and thenexclaimed: "That being the case, I consent to sign, but after thisyou need not complain. Two millions at five per cent. ought to greatlyalleviate one's sufferings."
Madame d'Argeles did not deign to notice this delicate irony. "I willtell you in advance to what purpose I intend to apply this sum," shesaid.
"Ah!"
"I intend one of these two millions to serve as the dowry of a younggirl who would have been the Count de Chalusse's sole legatee, if hisdeath had not been so sudden and so unexpected."
"And the other one?"
"The other I intend to invest for you in such a way that you can onlytouch the interest of it, so that you will not want for bread after youhave squandered your inheritance, even to the very last penny."
This wise precaution could not fail to shock such a brilliant young manas M. Wilkie. "Do you take me for a fool?" he exclaimed. "I may appearvery generous, but I am shrewd enough, never you fear."
"Sign," interrupted Madame d'Argeles, coldly.
But he attempted to prove that he was no fool by reading and rereadingthe contract before he would consent to append his name to it. At last,however, he did so, and stowed away the proofs which insured him themuch-coveted property.
"Now," said Madame d'Argeles, "I have one request to make of you.Whenever your father makes his appearance and lays claim to thisfortune, I entreat you to avoid a lawsuit, which would only make yourmother's shame and the disgrace attached to the hitherto stainless nameof Chalusse still more widely known. Compromise with him. You will berich enough to satisfy his greed without feeling it."
M. Wilkie remained silent for a moment, as if he were deliberating uponthe course he ought to pursue. "If my father is reasonable, I will bethe same," he said at last. "I will choose as an arbiter between us oneof my friends--a man who acts on the square, like myself--the Marquis deValorsay."
"My God! do you know him?"
"He is one of my most intimate friends."
Madame d'Argeles had become very pale. "Wretched boy!" she exclaimed."You don't know that it's the marquis----" She paused abruptly. One wordmore and she would have betrayed Pascal Ferailleur's secret plans, withwhich she had been made acquainted by Baron Trigault. Had she a rightto do this, even to put her son on his guard against a man whom sheconsidered the greatest villain in the world?
"Well?" insisted M. Wilkie, in surprise.
But Madame d'Argeles had recovered her self-possession. "I only wishedto warn you against too close a connection with the Marquis de Valorsay.He has an excellent position in society, but yours will be far morebrilliant. His star is on the wane; yours is just rising. All that he isregretting, you have a right to hope for. Perhaps even now he is jealousof you, and wishes to persuade you to take some false step."
"Ah! you little know him!"
"I have warned you."
M. Wilkie took up his hat, but, though he was longing to depart,embarrassment kept him to the spot. He vaguely felt that he ought not toleave his mother in this style. "I hope I shall soon have some good newsto bring you," he began.
"Before night I shall have left this house," she answered.
"Of course. But you are going to give me your new address."
"No."
"What?--No!"
She shook her head sadly, and in a scarcely audible voice responded: "Itis not likely that we shall meet again."
"And the two millions that I am to turn over to you?"
"Mr. Patterson will collect the money. As for me, say to yourselfthat I'm dead. You have broken the only link that bound me to life, byproving the futility of the most terrible sacrifices. However, I am amother, and I forgive you." Then as he did not move, and as she feltthat her strength was deserting her, she dragged herself from the room,murmuring, "Farewell!"