IV.
As a millionaire and a gambler, Baron Trigault enjoyed all sorts ofprivileges. He assumed the right to be brutal, ill-bred, cynical andbold; to be one of those persons who declare that folks must take themas they find them. But his rudeness now was so thoroughly offensivethat under any other circumstances the marquis would have resented it.However, he had special reasons for preserving his temper, so he decidedto laugh.
"Yes, these stories always end in the same way, baron," said he. "Youhaven't touched a card this morning, and I know your hands are itching.Excuse me for making you waste precious time, as you say; but what youhave just heard was only a necessary preface."
"Only a preface?"
"Yes; but don't be discouraged. I have arrived at the object of my visitnow."
As Baron Trigault was supposed to enjoy an income of at least eighthundred thousand francs a year, he received in the course of atwelvemonth at least a million applications for money or help, and forthis reason he had not an equal for detecting a coming appeal. "Goodheavens!" he thought, "Valorsay is going to ask me for money." In fact,he felt certain that the marquis's pretended carelessness concealed realembarrassment, and that it was difficult for him to find the words hewanted.
"So I am about to marry," M. de Valorsay resumed--"I wish to break offmy former life, to turn over a new leaf. And now the wedding gifts,the two fetes that I propose giving, the repairs at Valorsay, and thehoneymoon with my wife--all these things will cost a nice little sum."
"A nice little sum, indeed!"
"Ah, well! as I'm not going to wed an heiress, I fear I shall run atrifle short. The matter was worrying me a little, when I thought ofyou. I said to myself: 'The baron, who always has money at his disposal,will no doubt let me have the use of five thousand louis for a year.'"
The baron's eyes were fixed upon his companion's face. "Zounds!" heexclaimed in a half-grieved, half-petulant tone; "I haven't the amount!"
It was not disappointment that showed itself on the marquis's face; itwas absolute despair, quickly concealed.
But the baron had detected it; and he realized his applicant's urgentneed. He felt certain that M. de Valorsay was financially ruined--andyet, as it did not suit his plans to refuse, he hastily added: "When Isay I haven't that amount, I mean that I haven't got it on hand just atthis moment. But I shall have it within forty-eight hours; and if youare at home at this time on the day after to-morrow, I will send you oneof my agents, who will arrange the matter with you."
A moment before, the marquis had allowed his consternation to showitself; but this time he knew how to conceal the joy that filled hissoul. So it was in the most indifferent manner, as if the affair wereone of trivial importance, that he thanked the baron for being soobliging. Plainly enough, he now longed to make his escape, and indeed,after rattling off a few commonplace remarks, he rose to his feet andtook his leave, exclaiming: "Till the day after to-morrow, then!"
The baron sank into an arm-chair, completely overcome. A martyr to apassion that was stronger than reason itself, the victim of a fatal lovewhich he had not been able to drive from his heart, Baron Trigault hadpassed many terrible hours, but never had he been so completely crushedas at this moment when chance revealed the secret which he had vainlypursued for years. The old wounds in his heart opened afresh, and hissufferings were poignant beyond description. All his efforts tosave this woman whom he at once loved and hated from the depths ofdegradation, had proved unavailing. "And she has extorted money from theCount de Chalusse," he thought; "she sold him the right to adopt theirown daughter." And so strange are the workings of the human heart, thatthis circumstance, trivial in comparison with many others, drove theunfortunate baron almost frantic with rage. What did it avail him thathe had become one of the richest men in Paris? He allowed his wife eightthousand francs a month, almost one hundred thousand francs a year,merely for her dresses and fancies. Not a quarter-day passed, but whathe paid her debts to a large amount, and in spite of all this, she hadsunk so low as to extort money from a man who had once loved her. "Whatcan she do with it all?" muttered the baron, overcome with sorrow andindignation. "How can she succeed in spending the income of severalmillions?"
A name, the name of Ferdinand de Coralth, rose to his lips; but he didnot pronounce it. He saw Pascal emerging from the smoking-room; andthough he had forgotten the young advocate's very existence, hisappearance now restored him to a consciousness of reality. "Ah, well!M. Ferailleur?" he said, like a man suddenly aroused from some terriblenightmare. Pascal tried to make some reply, but he was unable to doso--such a flood of incoherent thoughts was seething and foaming inhis brain. "Did you hear, M. de Valorsay?" continued the baron. "Nowwe know, beyond the possibility of doubt, who Mademoiselle Marguerite'smother is. What is to be done? What would you do in my place?"
"Ah, monsieur! how can I tell?"
"Wouldn't your first thought be of vengeance! It is mine. But upon whomcan I wreak my vengeance? Upon the Count de Chalusse? He is dead.Upon my wife? Yes, I might do so; but I lack the courage--MademoiselleMarguerite remains."
"But she is innocent, monsieur; she has never wronged you."
The baron did not seem to hear this exclamation. "And to makeMademoiselle Marguerite's life one long misery," said he, "I need onlyfavor her marriage with the marquis. Ah, he would make her cruellyexpiate the crime of her birth."
"But you won't do so!" cried Pascal, in a transport, "it would beshameful; I won't allow it. Never, I swear before high Heaven! never,while I live, shall Valorsay marry Marguerite. He may perhaps vanquishme in the coming struggle; he may lead her to the threshold of thechurch, but there he will find me--armed--and I will have justice--humanjustice in default of legal satisfaction. And, afterward, the law maytake its course!"
The baron looked at him with deep emotion. "Ah, you know what it is tolove!" he exclaimed; and in a hollow voice, he added: "and thus it wasthat I loved Marguerite's mother."
The breakfast-table had not been cleared, and a large decanter of waterwas still standing on it. The baron poured out two large glasses, whichhe drained with feverish avidity, and then he began to walk aimlesslyabout the room.
Pascal held his peace. It seemed to him that his own destiny was beingdecided in this man's mind, that his whole future depended upon thedetermination he arrived at. A prisoner awaiting the verdict of the jurycould not have suffered more intense anxiety. At last, when a minute,which seemed a century, had elapsed, the baron paused. "Now as before,M. Ferailleur," he said, roughly, "I'm for you and with you. Give meyour hand--that's right. Honest people ought to protect and assist oneanother when scoundrels assail them. We will reinstate you in publicesteem, monsieur. We will unmask Coralth, and we will crush Valorsayif we find that he is really the instigator of the infamous plot thatruined you."
"What, monsieur! Can you doubt it after your conversation with him?"
The baron shook his head. "I've no doubt but what Valorsay is ruinedfinancially," said he. "I am certain that my hundred thousand francswill be lost forever if I lend them to him. I would be willing to swearthat he bet against his own horse and prevented the animal from winning,as he is accused of doing."
"You must see, then--"
"Excuse me--all this does NOT explain the great discrepancy between yourallegations and his story. You assure me that he cares nothing whateverfor Mademoiselle Marguerite; he pretends that he adores her."
"Yes, monsieur, yes--the scoundrel dared to say so. Ah! if I had notbeen deterred by a fear of losing my revenge!"
"I understand; but allow me to conclude. According to you, MademoiselleMarguerite possesses several millions. According to him, she hasn't apenny of her own. Which is right? I believe he is. His desire to borrowa hundred thousand francs of me proves it; and, besides, he wouldn'thave come this morning to tell me a falsehood, which would be discoveredto-morrow. Still, if he is telling the truth, it is impossible toexplain the foul conspiracy you have suffered by."
This objection had previously presen
ted itself to Pascal's mind, andhe had found an explanation which seemed to him a plausible one. "M. deChalusse was not dead," said he, "when M. de Coralth and M. de Valorsaydecided on this plan of ridding themselves of me. Consequently,Mademoiselle Marguerite was still an heiress."
"That's true; but the very day after the commission of the crime, theaccomplices must have discovered that it could do them no good; so, whyhave they still persisted in their scheme?"
Pascal tried to find a satisfactory answer, but failed.
"There must be some iniquitous mystery in this affair, which neither younor I suspect," remarked the baron.
"That is exactly what my mother told me."
"Ah! that's Madame Ferailleur's opinion? Then it is a good one. Come,let us reason a little. Mademoiselle Marguerite loved you, you say?"
"Yes."
"And she has suddenly broken off the engagement?"
"She wrote to me that the Count de Chalusse extorted from her a promiseon his death-bed, that she would marry the Marquis de Valorsay."
The baron sprang to his feet. "Stop," he cried--"stop! We now have aclue to the truth, perhaps. Ah! so Mademoiselle Marguerite has writtento you that M. de Chalusse commanded her to marry the marquis! Then thecount must have been fully restored to consciousness before he breathedhis last. On the other hand, Valorsay pretends that MademoiselleMarguerite is left without resources, simply because the count diedtoo suddenly to be able to write or to sign a couple of lines. Can youreconcile these two versions of the affair, M. Ferailleur? Certainlynot. Then which version is false? We must ascertain that point. Whenshall you see Mademoiselle Marguerite again?"
"She has requested me NEVER to try to see her again."
"Very well! She must be disobeyed. You must discover some way of seeingher without anyone's knowledge. She is undoubtedly watched, so don'twrite on any account." He reflected for a moment, and then added: "Weshall, perhaps, become morally certain of Valorsay's and Coralth'sguilt, but there's a wide difference between this and the establishmentof their guilt by material proofs. Two scoundrels who league to ruin anhonest man don't sign a contract to that effect before a notary. Proofs!Ah! where shall we find them? We must gain an intimate knowledge ofValorsay's private life. The best plan would be to find some man devotedto our interests who would watch him, and insinuate himself into hisconfidence."
Pascal interrupted the baron with an eager gesture. Hope glittered inhis eyes. "Yes!" he exclaimed, "yes; it is necessary that M. de Valorsayshould be watched by a man of quick perception--a man clever enoughto make himself useful to the marquis, and capable of rendering him animportant service in case of need. I will be the man, monsieur, if youwill allow me. The thought occurred to me just now while I was listeningto you. You promised to send some one to Valorsay's house with money.I entreat you to allow me to take the place of the man you intended tosend. The marquis doesn't know me, and I am sufficiently sure of myselfto promise you that I will not betray my identity. I will present myselfas your agent; he will give me his confidence. I shall take him money orfair promises, I shall be well received, and I have a plan----"
He was interrupted by a rap at the door. The next moment a footmanentered, and informed his master that a messenger wished to speak to himon urgent business. "Let him come in," said the baron.
It was Job, Madame Lia d'Argeles's confidential servant, who enteredthe room. He bowed respectfully, and, with an air of profound mysteryexclaimed: "I have been looking for the baron everywhere. I was orderedby madame not to return without him."
"Very well," said M. Trigault. "I will go with you at once."