CHAPTER XX.
A COUNCIL OF WAR.
Mad with his terrible forebodings, Andre hurried through the streets inthe direction of the Hotel de Mussidan, caring little for the attentionthat his excited looks and gestures caused. He had no fixed plan as towhat to do when he arrived there, and it was only on reaching the Ruede Matignon that he recovered sufficient coolness to deliberate andreflect.
He had arrived at the desired spot; how should he set to work to obtainthe information that he required? The evening was a dark one, and thegas-lamps showed a feeble light through the dull February fog. Therewere no signs of life in the Rue de Matignon, and the silence was onlybroken by the continuous surge of carriage wheels in the Faubourg SaintHonore. This gloom, and the inclemency of the weather, added to theyoung painter's depression. He saw his utter helplessness, and feltthat he could not move a step without compromising the woman he somadly adored. He walked to the gate of the house, hoping to gain someinformation even from the exterior aspect of the house; for it seemed tohim that if Sabine were dying, the very stones in the street would uttersounds of woe and lamentation; but the fog had closely enwrapped thehouse, and he could hardly see which of the windows were lighted. Hisreasoning faculties told him that there was no use in waiting, but aninner voice warned him to stay. Would Modeste, who had written to him,divine, by some means that he was there, in an agony of suspense, andcome out to give him information and solace? All at once a thoughtdarted across his mind, vivid as a flash of lightning.
"M. de Breulh will help me," cried he; "for though I cannot go to thehouse, he will have no difficulty in doing so."
By good luck, he had M. de Breulh's card in his pocket, and hurriedoff to his address. M. de Breulh had a fine house in the Avenue del'Imperatrice, which he had taken more for the commodiousness of thestables than for his own convenience.
"I wish to see M. de Breulh," said Andre, as he stopped breathless atthe door, where a couple of footmen were chatting.
The men looked at him with supreme contempt. "He is out," one of them atlast condescended to reply.
Andre had by this time recovered his coolness, and taking out DeBreulh's card, wrote these words on it in pencil: "One moment'sinterview. ANDRE."
"Give this to your master as soon as he comes in," said he.
Then he descended the steps slowly. He was certain that M. de Breulh wasin the house, and that he would send out after the person who had leftthe card almost at once. His conclusion proved right; in five minuteshe was overtaken by the panting lackey, who, conducting him back tothe house, showed him into a magnificently furnished library. De Breulhfeared that some terrible event had taken place.
"What has happened?" said he.
"Sabine is dying;" and Andre at once proceeded to inform De Breulh ofwhat had happened since his departure.
"But how can I help you?"
"You can go and make inquiries at the house."
"Reflect; yesterday I wrote to the Count, and broke off a marriage,the preliminaries of which had been completely settled; and withintwenty-four hours to send and inquire after his daughter's health wouldbe to be guilty of an act of inexcusable insolence; for it would lookas if I fancied that Mademoiselle de Mussidan had been struck down by myrupture of the engagement."
"You are right," murmured Andre dejectedly.
"But," continued De Breulh, after a moment's reflection, "I have adistant relative, a lady who is also a connection of the Mussidanfamily, the Viscountess de Bois Arden, and she will be glad to be ofservice to me. She is young and giddy, but as true as steel. Come withme to her; my carriage is ready."
The footmen were surprised at seeing their master on such terms ofintimacy with the shabbily dressed young man, but ventured, of course,on no remarks.
Not a word was exchanged during the brief drive to Madame de BoisArden's house.
"Wait for me," exclaimed De Breulh, springing from the vehicle as soonas it drew up; "I will be back directly."
Madame de Bois Arden is justly called one of the handsomest women inParis. Very fair, with masses of black hair, and a complexion to whichart has united itself to the gifts of nature, she is a woman who hasbeen everywhere, knows everything, talks incessantly, and generally verywell. She spends forty thousand francs per annum on dress. She is alwayscommitting all sorts of imprudent acts, and scandal is ever busy withher name. Half a dozen of the opposite sex have been talked of inconnection with her, while in reality she is a true and faithful wife,for, in spite of all her frivolity, she adores her husband, and isin great awe of him. Such was the character of the lady into whoseapartment M. de Breulh was introduced. Madame de Bois Arden was engagedin admiring a very pretty fancy costume of the reign of Louis XV., oneof Van Klopen's masterpieces, when M. de Breulh was announced, which shewas going to wear, on her return from the opera, at a masquerade ball atthe Austrian Ambassador's. Madame de Bois Arden greeted her visitor witheffusion, for they had been acquaintances from childhood, and alwaysaddressed each other by their Christian names.
"What, you here at this hour, Gontran!" said the lady. "Is it a vision,or only a miracle?" But the smile died away upon her lips, as she caughta glimpse of her visitor's pale and harassed face. "Is there anythingthe matter?" asked she.
"Not yet," answered he, "but there may be, for I hear that Mademoisellede Mussidan is dangerously ill."
"Is she really? Poor Sabine! what is the matter with her?"
"I do not know; and I want you, Clotilde, to send one of your people toinquire into the truth of what we have heard."
Madame de Bois Arden opened her eyes very wide.
"Are you joking?" said she. "Why do you not send yourself?"
"It is impossible for me to do so; and if you have any kindness ofheart, you do as I ask you; and I want you also to promise me not to saya word of this to any one."
Excited as she was by this mystery, Madame de Bois Arden did not askanother question.
"I will do exactly what you want," replied she, "and respect yoursecret. I would go at once, were it not that Bois Arden will never sitdown to dinner without me; but the moment we have finished I will go."
"Thanks, a thousand times; and now I will go home and wait for news fromyou."
"Not at all,--you will remain here to dinner."
"I must,--I have a friend waiting for me."
"Do as you please, then," returned the Viscountess, laughing. "I willsend round a note this evening."
De Breulh pressed her hand, and hurried down, and was met by Andre atthe door, for he had been unable to sit still in the carriage.
"Keep up your courage. Madame de Bois Arden had not heard ofMademoiselle Sabine's illness, and this looks as if it was not a veryserious matter. We shall have the real facts in three hours."
"Three hours!" groaned Andre, "what a lapse of time!"
"It is rather long, I admit; but we will talk of her while we wait, foryou must stay and dine with me."
Andre yielded, for he had no longer the energy to contest anything. Thedinner was exquisite, but the two men were not in a condition of mindto enjoy it, and scarcely consumed anything. Vainly did they endeavorto speak on indifferent subjects, and when the coffee had been served inthe library, they relapsed into utter silence. As the clock struck ten,however, a knock was heard at the door, then whisperings, and the rustleof female attire, and lastly Madame de Bois Arden burst upon them like atornado.
"Here I am," cried she.
It was certainly rather a hazardous step to pay such a late visit to abachelor's house, but then the Viscountess de Bois Arden did exactly asshe pleased.
"I have come here, Gontran," exclaimed she, with extreme vehemence, "totell you that I think your conduct is abominable and ungentlemanly."
"Clotilde!"
"Hold your tongue! you are a wretch! Ah! now I can see why you did notwish to write and inquire about poor Sabine. You well knew the effectthat your message would have on her."
M. de Breulh smiled as he turned to Andre and said,--
"You see that I was right in what I told you."
This remark for the first time attracted Madame de Bois Arden'sattention to the fact that a stranger was present, and she trembled lestshe had committed some grave indiscretion.
"Gracious heavens!" exclaimed she, with a start, "why, I thought that wewere alone!"
"This gentleman has all my confidence," replied M. de Breulh seriously;and as he spoke he laid his hand upon Andre's shoulder. "Permit me tointroduce M. Andre to you, my dear Clotilde; he may not be known to-day,but in a short time his reputation will be European."
Andre bowed, but for once in her life the Viscountess felt embarrassed,for she was surprised at the extremely shabby attire of thisconfidential friend, and then there seemed something wanting to thename.
"Then," resumed De Breulh, "Mademoiselle de Mussidan is really ill, andour information is correct."
"She is."
"Did you see her?"
"I did, Gontran; and had you seen her, your heart would have been filledwith pity, and you would have repented your conduct toward her. Thepoor girl did not even know me. She lay in her bed, whiter than the verysheets, cold and inanimate as a figure of marble. Her large black eyeswere staring wildly, and the only sign of life she exhibited was whenthe great tears coursed down her cheeks."
Andre had determined to restrain every token of emotion in the presenceof the Viscountess, but her recital was too much for him.
"Ah!" said he, "she will die; I know it."
There was such intense anguish in his tone that even the practised womanof the world was softened.
"I assure you, sir," said she, "that you go too far; there is no presentdanger; the doctors say it is catalepsy, which often attacks persons ofa nervous temperament upon the receipt of a sudden mental shock."
"But what shock has she received?" asked Andre.
"No one told me," answered she after a short pause, "that Sabine'sillness was caused by the breaking off of her engagement; but, ofcourse, I supposed that it was."
"That was not the reason, Clotilde; but you have told us nothing; pray,go on," interposed De Breulh.
The extreme calmness of her cousin, and a glance which she observedpassing between him and Andre, enlightened the Viscountess somewhat.
"I asked as much as I dared," she replied, "but I could only get thevaguest answers. Sabine looked as if she were dead, and her father andmother hovered around her couch like two spectres. Had they slain herwith their own hands, they could not have looked more guilty; theirfaces frightened me."
"Tell me precisely what answers were given to your questions," broke inhe impatiently.
"Sabine had seemed so agitated all day, that her mother asked her if shewas suffering any pain."
"We know that already."
"Indeed!" replied the Viscountess, with a look of surprise. "It seems,cousin, that you saw Sabine that afternoon, but what became of herafterward no one appears to know; but there is positive proof that shedid not leave the house, and received no letters. At all events, it wasmore than an hour after her maid saw her enter her own room. Sabine saida few unintelligible words to the girl, who, seeing the pallor upon hermistress's face, ran up to her. Just as she did so, Sabine uttered awild shriek, and fell to the ground. She was raised up and laid upon thebed, but since then she has neither moved nor spoken."
"That is not all," said De Breulh, who had watched his cousin keenly.
The Viscountess started, and avoided meeting her cousin's eye.
"I do not understand," she faltered. "Why do you look at me like that?"
De Breulh, who had been pacing up and down the room, suddenly halted infront of the Viscountess.
"My dear Clotilde," said he, "I am sure when I tell you that the tongueof scandal has often been busy with your name, I am telling you nothingnew."
"Pooh!" answered the Viscountess. "What do I care for that?"
"But I always defended you. You are indiscreet--your presence heretonight shows this; but you are, after all, a true woman,--brave andtrue as steel."
"What do you mean by this exordium, Gontran?"
"This, Clotilde,--I want to know if I dare venture to intrust to you asecret which involves the honor of two persons, and, perhaps, the livesof more."
"Thank you, Gontran," answered she calmly. "You have formed a correctjudgment of me."
But here Andre felt that he must interpose, and, taking a step forward,said, "Have you the right to speak?"
"My dear Andre," said De Breulh, "this is a matter in which my honor isas much concerned as yours. Will you not trust me?" Then turning to theViscountess, he added, "Tell us all you heard."
"It is only something I heard from Modeste. You had hardly left thehouse, when the Baron de Clinchain made his appearance."
"An eccentric old fellow, a friend of the Count de Mussidan's. I knowhim."
"Just so; well, they had a stormy interview, and at the end of it, theBaron was taken ill, and it was with difficulty that he regained hiscarriage."
"That seems curious."
"Wait a bit. After that Octave and his wife had a terrible scenetogether, and Modeste thinks that her mistress must have heardsomething, for the Count's voice rang through the house like thunder."
Every word that the Viscountess uttered strengthened De Breulh'ssuspicions. "There is something mysterious in all this, Clotilde,"said he, "as you will say when you know the whole truth," and, withoutomitting a single detail, he related the whole of Sabine and Andre'slove story.
Madame de Bois Arden listened attentively, sometimes thrilled withhorror, and at others pleased with this tale of innocent love.
"Forgive me," said she, when her cousin had concluded; "my reproachesand accusations were equally unfounded."
"Yes, yes; never mind that; but I am afraid that there is some hiddenmystery which will place a fresh stumbling-block in our friend Andre'spath."
"Do not say that," cried Andre, in terror. "What is it?"
"That I cannot tell; for Mademoiselle de Mussidan's sake, I havewithdrawn all my pretensions to her hand,--not to leave the field opento any other intruder, but in order that she may be your wife."
"How are we to learn what has really happened?" asked the Viscountess.
"In some way or other we shall find out, if you will be our ally."
Most women are pleased to busy themselves about a marriage, and theViscountess was cheered to find herself mixed up in so romantic a drama.
"I am entirely at your beck and call," answered she. "Have you anyplan?"
"Not yet, but I will soon. As far as Mademoiselle de Mussidan isconcerned, we must act quite openly. Andre will write to her, askingfor an explanation, and you shall see her to-morrow, and if she is wellenough, give her his note."
The proposal was a startling one, and the Viscountess did not entertainit favorably.
"No," said she, "I think that would not do at all."
"Why not? However, let us leave it to Andre."
Andre, thus addressed, stepped forward, and said,--
"I do not think that it would be delicate to let Mademoiselle deMussidan know that her secret is known to any one else than ourselves."
The Viscountess nodded assent.
"If," continued Andre, "the Viscountess will be good enough to askModeste to meet me at the corner of the Avenue de Matignon; I shall bethere."
"A capital idea, sir," said the lady, "and I will give your message toModeste." She broke off her speech suddenly, and uttered a pretty littleshriek, as she noticed that the hands of the clock on the mantelpiecepointed to twenty to twelve. "Great heavens!" cried she, "and I am goingto a ball at the Austrian Embassy, and now not even dressed." And, witha coquettish gesture, she drew her shawl around her, and ran out ofthe room, exclaiming as she descended the stairs, "I will call hereto-morrow, Gontran, on my way to the Bois," and disappeared likelightning.
Andre and his host sat over the fire, and conversed for a long time. Itseemed strange that two men who had met
that morning for the first timeshould now be on such intimate terms of friendship; but such was thecase, for a mutual feeling of admiration and respect had sprung up intheir hearts.
M. de Breulh wished to send Andre home in his carriage, but this theyoung man declined, and merely borrowed an overcoat to protect him fromthe inclemency of the weather.
"To-morrow," said he, as he made his way home, "Modeste shall tell allshe knows, provided always that that charming society dame does notforget all about our existence before then."
Madame de Bois Arden, however, could sometimes be really in earnest.Upon her return from the ball she would not even go to bed, lest sheshould oversleep herself, and the next day Andre found Modeste waitingat the appointed spot, and learnt, to his great grief, that Sabine hadnot yet regained consciousness.
The family doctor betrayed no uneasiness, but expressed a wish for aconsultation with another medical man. Meanwhile, the girl promisedto meet Andre morning and evening in the same place, and give him suchscraps of information as she had been able to pick up. For two wholedays Mademoiselle de Mussidan's condition remained unchanged, and Andrespent his whole time between his own studio, the Avenue de Matignon, andM. de Breulh's, where he frequently met Madame de Bois Arden.
But on the third day Modest informed him, with tears in her eyes, thatthough the cataleptic fit had passed away, Sabine was struggling witha severe attack of fever. Modeste and Andre were so interested in theirconversation, that they did not perceive Florestan, who had gone out topost a letter to Mascarin.
"Listen, Modeste," whispered Andre, "you tell me that she is indanger,--very great danger."
"The doctor said that the crisis would take place to-day; be here atfive this evening."
Andre staggered like a madman to De Breulh's house; and so excited washe that his friend insisted upon his taking some repose, and would not,when five o'clock arrived, permit Andre to go to the appointment alone.As they turned the corner, they saw Modeste hurrying toward them.
"She is saved, she is saved!" said she, "for she has fallen into atranquil sleep, and the doctor says that she will recover."
Andre and De Breulh were transported by this news; but they did not knowthat they were watched by two men, Mascarin and Florestan, who did notlet one of their movements escape them. Warned by a brief note fromFlorestan, Mascarin had driven swiftly to Father Canon's public-house,where he thought he was certain to find the domestic, but the man wasnot there, and Mascarin, unable to endure further suspense, sent for himto the Hotel de Mussidan. When the servant informed Mascarin that thecrisis was safely passed, he drew a deep breath of relief; for he nolonger feared that the frail structure that he had built up with suchpatient care for twenty long years would be shattered at a blow bythe chill hand of death. He bent his brow, however, when he heard ofModeste's daily interviews with the young man whom Florestan termed"Mademoiselle's lover."
"Ah," muttered he, "if I could only be present at one of thoseinterviews!"
"And, as you say," returned Florestan, drawing out, as he spoke, aneat-looking watch, "it is just the hour of their meeting; and as theplace is always the same, you--"
"Come, then," broke in his patron. They went out accordingly, andreached the Champs Elysees by a circuitous route. The place wasadmirably suited to their purpose, for close by were several of thoselittle wooden huts, occupied in summer by the vendors of cakes andplaythings.
"Let us get behind one of these," said Florestan. Night was drawingin, but objects could still be distinguished, and in about five minutesFlorestan whispered, "Look, there comes Modeste, and there is the lover,but he has a pal with him to-night. Why, what can she be telling him? Heseems quite overcome."
Mascarin divined the truth at once, and found that it would be adifficult task to interfere with the love of a man who displayed so muchintensity of feeling.
"Then," remarked Mascarin, savagely, "that great booby, staggering abouton his friend's arm, is your young lady's lover?"
"Just so, sir."
"Then we must find out who he is."
Florestan put on a crafty air, and replied in gentle accents.
"The day before yesterday, as I was smoking my pipe outside, I saw thisyoung bantam swaggering down the street--not but what he seemed rathercrestfallen; but I knew the reason for that, and should look just asmuch in the dumps if my young woman was laid up. I thought, as I hadnothing to do, I might as well see who he was and where he lived; so,sticking my hands in my pockets, after him I sloped. He walked such along way, that I got precious sick of my job, but at last I ran himto earth in a house. I went straight up to the lodge, and showed theportress my tobacco pouch, and said, 'I picked up this; I think that thegentleman who has just gone in dropped it. Do you know him?' 'Of courseI do,' said she. 'He is a painter; lives on the fourth floor; and hisname is M. Andre.'"
"Was the house in the Rue de la Tour d'Auvergne?" broke in Mascarin.
"You are right, sir," returned the man, taken a little aback. "It seems,sir, that you are better informed than I am."
Mascarin did not notice the man's surprise, but he was struck with thestrange persistency with which this young man seemed to cross his plans,for he found that the acquaintance of Rose and the lover of Mademoisellede Mussidan were one and the same person, and he had a presentiment thathe would in some way prove a hindrance to his plans.
The astute Mascarin concentrated all his attention upon Andre.
The latter said something to Modeste, which caused that young woman toraise her hands to heaven, as though in alarm.
"But who is the other?" asked he,--"the fellow that looks like anEnglishman?"
"Do you not know?" returned the lackey. "Why, that is M. deBreulh-Faverlay."
"What, the man who was to marry Sabine?"
"Certainly."
Mascarin was not easily disconcerted, but this time a blasphemous oathburst from his lips.
"Do you mean," said he, "that De Breulh and this painter are friends?"
"That is more than I can tell. You seem to want to know a lot," answeredFlorestan, sulkily.
Modeste had now left the young men, who walked arm in arm in thedirection of the Avenue de l'Imperatrice.
"M. de Breulh takes his dismissal easily enough," observed Mascarin.
"He was not dismissed; it was he that wrote and broke off theengagement."
This time Mascarin contrived to conceal the terrible blow that thisinformation caused to him, and even made some jesting remark as he tookleave of Florestan; but he was in truth completely staggered, for afterthoroughly believing that the game was won, he saw that, though perhapsnot lost, his victory was postponed for an indefinite period.
"What!" said he, as he clenched his hand firmly, "shall the headstrongpassion of this foolish boy mar my plans? Let him take care of himself;for if he walks in my path, he will find it a road that leads to his owndestruction."